#so she pays that action that back in spades

[cavalierclavier]

What is a person? Is it their body? Is it all of their body? Pluck the eyes, peel the skin, strip the tendons, mince the meat, grind the bones. When it is all gone, do you still have who you started with?

as someone who spends a frankly unreasonable amount of time thinking about the themes of body horror, the updated fury route really got me in a chokehold

bonus version under the cut vv

[pommedepersephone]

You Say Potato, I Say Excellent! Or blocking, accents and legacy of morality tales in ‘The Resurrectionists’ minisode PART II

Alternate title: how Aziraphale’s naivety in this episode was supposed to make you a bit outraged

I have to shout out to @bowtiepastabitch for their AMAZING historical analysis of this minisode - it prompted me to finish this long ramble that has been drifting in my notes. Anyway, I have a major obsession with the ways blocking and dialogue interplay in Good Omens - you can check out my analysis of the blocking in the flashbacks in S1. But The Resurrectionists is really something special. This got so long I am splitting it into two parts. 

What we see in this minisode is a morality tale - a genre of children’s literature that was extremely popular in the early 1800s where the minisode is taking place. Catch up on the historical background in Part I.

When looking at this minisode, it is really important to look at two complementary narrative tools - Crowley’s accent and the placement of Aziraphale in relation to Crowley. Through the minisode, Crowley switches between his standard English accent and a delightful Scottish accent. But the switching isn’t random!

Scottish lines =  character Demon Crowley, who moves the plot of the story along

English lines = Crowley, the moral guide leading Aziraphale

Additionally, the two of them swap sides in their blocking frequently in this episode. Their standard placement is A/R + C/L but the swap to C/R + A/L is almost the norm in this minisode.

Analyzing Blocking and Dialogue

We open in the graveyard, with Aziraphale and Crowley in their standard placement, observing the statue of Gabriel. But then they notice Elspeth, digging up a corpse. When Aziraphale approaches Elspeth to inform her that her actions are Not Good, he actually ends up swapped with Crowley and finds himself on the left because what he is doing - making moral judgments on the actions of Elspeth with no understanding of what led her here - is doing Good, not good.

The next scene finds Crowley helping Elspeth cart the corpse away from the graveyard, while the trio debate all the other ways Elspeth could make money - Aziraphale suggests running a bookshop, farming, weaving, giving the standard Good party line about hard work blah blah blah. Aziraphale remains on the left - after all, those supposed options are completely unrealistic, unobtainable professions for someone in Elspeth's socioeconomic position. They aren't remotely helpful suggestions.

Aziraphale only finds himself back on the right when he and Crowley are introduced to Wee Morag, and have some time to listen and observe the reality of their situation.

Then, off we go to complete our journey to sell the body. Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves having a debate about morality, but Aziraphale is again ON THE LEFT as he waxes poetic about the virtues of poverty - doing Good, not good again. What I loved here was you saw the clear purpose between Crowley’s two accents as he switched mid-line -

Crowley: (SC) Oh, I'm down with wicked! (EN) Anyway, is it wicked? She needed the money. 

Upon reaching the lodging of Mr. Dalrymple, FRCSE, Crowley and Aziraphale take their standard places but this scene has one really important moment that I want to highlight. When they open the barrel to find the rotted corpse, the look on Crowley’s face is so telling. He often finds Aziraphale’s machinations amusing even when they are annoying, but here he looks decidedly disappointed. Aziraphale might have done Good by rendering the body unsellable, but what good did it do? The body is still been un-interred. Elspeth has wasted her energy, and has made a terrible first impression of the surgeon whom she needs to pay her for her services. It looks like Crowley wants to say something, but he stops himself and clenches his jaw. The PATIENCE he is showing to Aziraphale - this is a quality that Crowley has in SPADES but we really see him exercise it here.

After the discussion with Mr. Dalrymple, in which Aziraphale realizes the importance of dissections for educating medical students and thus leading to better care for the living, he asks the right question - why should the poor have to risk death to obtain bodies? But he let's himself get sidetracked by a blatant appeal to his emotions...

At this point, Aziraphale goes all in on body snatching being Good. Which... it still isn't because it is based on a broken system that disadvantages the poor? FOCUS, angel. He even goes as far as to offer to help Elspeth and Wee Morag in obtaining another corpse but note that again, he is on the LEFT -

Remember, Wee Morag is deeply conflicted about the morality of body snatching, and instead of explaining anything to her (like, that having your body dissected won't keep you out of heaven would be start) Aziraphale just sort of joins Elspeth in pressuring her to join in - which is pretty awful and coercive, but gee if that isn't just heaven's playbook for doing Good, not good.

So we return to the graveyard, and this is where everything goes sideways. Aziraphale spends basically this entire sequence on the left. First, he notices the ingenuity of the grave guns but fails to acknowledge the travesty of so much energy being spent on protecting wealthy corpses while the poor suffer. Then, the tragedy strikes. After Wee Morag is shot, Aziraphale wastes time justifying saving her, resulting in her dying before he can act. And after all this, after the heart break of seeing her partner die, we see Elspeth come to the logical conclusion. If body snatching is Good, then might as well take Wee Morag off to Mr. Dalrymple, right?

What shouldn't be overlooked is what takes place when Elspeth gets Wee Morag's body to Mr. Dalrymple. Because while Aziraphale is very clearly illustrating the dangers of black and white morality through religion, Dalrymple is showing that black and white morality through science is just as bad. Dalrymple has unshakable belief in the power of science and knowledge to alleviate human suffering and sees his work at Good. He cares about preventing illness, but ignore his role in perpetuating poverty - an unfortunate side effect of rigid belief systems of all shapes and sizes. He is downright cruel to Elspeth.

This is already getting real long, so we won't go into the absurdist comedy of the scene in the tomb - suffice to say that the surreal nature of Crowley's bargaining with Elspeth smacks of a fantastic tales of pacts made with the devil. It's delightfully unhinged.

The one line I think worth pointing out?

"Do I sound like a goat?"

I think this line is key in the narrative connection between the three minisodes in S2. All three flashbacks show Crowley and Aziraphale engaging in acts of deception, but they all have important differences:

In A Companion to Owls, the two work together, and they manage to pull off the trick and evade punishment.

In Nazi Zombies from Hell, Aziraphale comes up with a plan and Crowley goes along with it, and they barely manage to evade punishment.

In The Resurrectionists, Crowley comes up with a plan and Aziraphale goes along with it, and Crowley is sucked down to hell.

I think it's worth noting just how silly Crowley is in the first two minisodes. Bildad and Scottish Crowley are FUN even when dealing real heavy shit. Just a complete joy to watch. And we never see that level of silly from him again. Whatever happened in hell was clearly really bad since the next time we see him in St. James Park he is asking for holy water. He may have moments, but he is never the same.

Questions, comments, additional thoughts? Lay them on me. I'd love to dig into new lines of inquiry on this minisode because I just love it so much <3

[axailslink]

Help me dip my hair

Some snippets of how that situation ^^^ with all of the characters I write for.

A/n: this is for my black readers especially because well this is a black reader thing. (Dipping your hair after getting braids by the way that's what's happening here.)

Shuri Udaku

Shuri looks at the pot of water then back at you before shaking her head "I'm not doing that" you laugh seeing her weary facial expression "I'm not doing that you're not about to be mad at me because I accidentally burned you I'll have Okoye help you but I simply refuse." You grab her hand with a serious face "Okoye doesn't have hair what makes you think she knows anything about hair?" Shuri laughs "I don't know I just know I will not be blamed when you are burned." You grab your towel and press it into her hands anyway but she continues to shake her head she gently grabs your hair and pulls your head back a bit "this is giving me flashbacks." Shuri laughs as she grabs the pot and carefully dips the ends of your braids "dip them a bit further" she does as asked and you flinch purposely "damnit you burnt me" Shuri pauses in her actions "I'm sorry baby where!?" You laugh and she straight faces you as she sits the pot down "babe I'm sorry" she just glares at you as you catch your hair in the towel before it can drip all over the floor. "So you gone give me the silent treatment? It was just a joke I was joking" Shuri walks off leaving you in the kitchen you can't help but laugh to yourself.

Riri Williams

Riri happens to be a pro at this she has you sitting in the chair and wraps a towel around your shoulders "babe don't burn me" Riri nods "I got you but you got to be still" You nod slowly as she gently dips the ends of your hair she slowly pulls the pot away and grabs your hair in the towel with one hand as she carefully places the pot out of the way. Riri gently dries the hair pulling down so it doesn't curl she sections the hair off and continues to dry it when she's done she taps your shoulder. "Baby you're good" you're honestly not surprised because you knew someone was doing her hair when it wasn't you.

Vivienne Scott (Scotty)

Scotty is shaky as she pushes your head into the sink she grabs the pot and slowly pours it over the ends of your hair. Her mom watches from the couch curiously "Viv you know how to do hair?" Scotty puts the pot on the other side of the sink and places a towel under your hair "yeah I worked at a hair shop for a while." There is honestly nothing that Scotty can't do in your eyes people assume she's some kid but she's had many jobs she knows more than the average adult. "As she dries your hair over the sink you lean up and press a firm kiss to her lips causing her to smile and look away "hold on you can't be doing that all of a sudden you got me smiling." More knowledgeable than the average yet still easily flustered.

Jamie Harrison

Has absolutely no idea what she's doing so you end up doing it on your own. "You sure you just don't want to cut it short like mine?" You raise a brow at her "Jamie if you come near my head with any sort of blade I I'm going to beat the dog shit out of you." Jamie looks at you confused "I don't know what the fuck that means..." You roll your eyes and shake your head "how does that even make sense Y/n? You can beat someone until they shit like a dog... Oh my God that's what it means?" You can't help but laugh at her moment of realization even though she is still very wrong. You end up doing this on your own however Jamie does pay close attention just in case she has to later.

Rosalie Otterbourne

(help me style my finger waves since you know her character is set in the 1930s)

Rosalie eyes you from over the counter but says nothing as you play a hard game of spades with her aunt. "Rosie can you do my hair for me? Me and Salome have a big performance tonight" Rosie smiles "why you telling me like I ain't know? I arranged it" she carefully comes behind you and takes the rollers out of your hair you hand her the bobby pins which she holds in her mouth as she carefully places them. Rosalie will tell you and anyone else she knows nothing about hair but when asked oh Rosalie will deliver she's a bit heavy handed but she definitely knows what to do.

A/n: not going to lie doing these saves me so much time

[cowboyemeritus]

Another Vision (Mary Goore/Reader)

Summary: Mary's demon girlfriend pays him a visit. (18+)

Read on AO3

Notes: happy america day (i hate it here)! this just a little something to keep yall occupied between chapters of il suo campione. i'm spending the weekend with family so i won't be writing for a few days. feedback is always welcome!

In Mary’s dream, he’s floating in a vast, dark void. Instinctively, he knows that the rest of his body is there, even though there’s no light to see it by. Waving a hand in front of his face in spite of that fact, there’s resistance, like he’s underwater. The next logical step is to kick his legs and swim through whatever this darkness is, but if he moves or not he can’t tell.

He’s contemplating his next move when a laugh, rich and feminine, echoes through the inky blackness. It’s closer to a giggle, really, but it still makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Reflexively, he whips his head around, trying to pinpoint the source. Mary suddenly becomes aware of a presence in the dark sea, circling him as it draws closer. He tries to flee, waving his arms and kicking his legs, but it’s of no use. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he struggles, and his chest begins to tighten from the exertion.

When was the last time he took a breath? He can’t recall, but feels like if he tries now, the darkness will surely choke him to death. Mary’s chest burns now, his body convulsing to force him to breathe. He’s drowning. The entity is about to have him in its grasp when-

“Hey, cutie.”

Mary opens his heavy eyes slowly, relieved to find that he’s in his bed and can breathe somewhat normally. Looking down at him is a pair of glowing red eyes with slits for pupils.

He groans. “You again?” The creature sitting on his chest huffs, crossing her arms. The action pushes her ample breasts together, and despite the circumstances, he can’t deny it piques his interest.

“Thought you’d be a little happier to see me, Mare-bear,” she says. He cringes at the nickname.

“What are you doing here?” She gives him an incredulous look.

“A girl can’t visit her human boyfriend?” Mary rolls his eyes.

“I’m not your-“ He shudders as the spade of her tail drags up his thigh to play with the hem of his boxers. He knows it’s likely her thrall taking effect, but he can’t help but chub up at the sensation and the view of her plush thighs so close to his face. “There are thousands of other guys in this city for you to feed on,” he notes. “Ones who don’t need to be awake at the ass-crack of dawn.” The creature pouts.

“No one gets my vibe like you do.” She sighs, twirling a lock of hair with a clawed finger. “It’s always ‘oh my god, a demon,’ and never ‘wow, there’s a super hot, sexy lady in my room.’” There’s a pause and her leathery wings begin to unfold. “If you really want me to leave, I suppose I can-“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mary states. He grabs one of her hands and moves it to his crotch, the other finding her hip. He’s now fully hard, a tiny wet spot forming on the front of his underwear. “You started this, now you gotta finish it.”

The demon grins, the moonlight glinting off her sharp teeth. “This is why you’re my favorite, Mary Goore.” She gives his cock a playful squeeze and Mary’s whole body is wracked with pleasure, a moan wrenching itself out of him. He swears he could blow his load just from that.

“I’d better be,” he wheezes.

With a laugh, the creature shimmies downward, coming to straddle Mary’s thighs. She hooks a claw under the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down, licking her lips as his cock slaps against his stomach. The few quick pumps she gives him are agonizing, enough to have him toeing the line of his orgasm already. He knows she can sense it, and dread settles in his stomach with the knowledge that, if this is anything like their usual encounters, she won’t make this easy for him.

She likes to play with her food.

“Take it easy on me,” Mary groans, slapping a hand to his forehead when her thumb swipes over his tip, gathering a bead of precum. “Fuck’s sake.” He finds he can’t look away when she brings the digit to her lips, forked tongue swiping across it. Her eyes roll back in her head, thighs squeezing together as she moans with delight.

“Just what I’ve been craving,” she sighs. “Can’t get that flavor anywhere else.” Mary is pretty sure he’s supposed to feel flattered, but doesn’t have time to ruminate on it before the entirety of his dick is disappearing down her throat. A guttural cry escapes him, surely loud enough to wake the neighbors. Mary is certain he’ll have a noise complaint to contend with tomorrow, if not a welfare check.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Each curse is punctuated by his fist slamming into the mattress. Mary’s hips buck wildly into her mouth; he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. With a human partner, he knows the ferocity of his thrusts would be enough to bruise their throat. Though the demon’s treatment is torturous, there’s a part of Mary that’s relieved he doesn’t have to hold back. His hand snakes into her hair, forcing her head down harder onto his cock. She laughs around him, the vibrations going straight to his core.

Lost in the wet heat of her mouth, he doesn’t notice her hand slinking up his body until it’s too late. One of her claws lightly scrapes his nipple, and he has to jam his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, surely drawing blood with how hard he bites down on it. He feels himself falling over the edge, cock twitching and balls tightening as-

“You can’t cum yet, silly!” There’s a faint metallic taste in Mary’s mouth, the air crackling with static as he realizes she’s holding him in place, perpetually on the precipice of his release. It burns like Hell itself, so immobilizing that he can’t scream, cry, or even beg for her to put him out of his misery. All he can do is lay back as she rises, rubbing her slick cunt against his shaft before lining up and sinking down on him with a pleased hum. Mary’s entire body heaves, his mouth opening in a silent scream as she starts bouncing on him.

“You’re so cute, Mary,” she coos, booping his nose with the tip of a claw. “My little Mare-bear.” Every inch of his body is covered in sweat, tears streaming down his cheeks. The demon reaches between her legs to play with her clit, her pussy tightening around him to an excruciating degree. The burning sensation in his gut builds with every movement.

In the best way possible, Mary feels like he’s going to die.

Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for her moans to come closer together, her cunt fluttering every time his head hits her sweet spot. She lays on Mary’s chest so that they’re face-to-face and licks a tear from his cheek. Smothering his mouth with hers, he feels that same electric tingling as her voice echoes in his mind.

Let go. Give it all to me.

Mary cums so hard he blacks out.

When his alarm goes off at 5:30, Mary is surprised to find he feels alert and energized. He never feels this way, not even after a full eight hours. Rising from his bed, he wonders about the strange visitor and the otherworldly pleasure he experienced. Surely, he reasons, she’s just a figment of his imagination, the byproduct of being too busy for a good lay.

On his way to the kitchen, Mary catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He does a double take at the sight of a black mark on his neck. Looking more closely, he sees it’s a smudge of soot, vaguely in the shape of a pair of lips.

On second thought, having a demon girlfriend doesn’t sound too bad.

[ragingbookdragon]

Something about being thirty-nine doesn’t sit well with Alejandro. Every year reminded he’s getting older, the soldiers are getting younger, replacing the men and women who are finally retiring and spending life with their family. Alejandro ages with Las Almas, but his soul still feels as young as it did when he was seventeen, riding bikes along the peaks of the mountains with Rudy, standing atop the highest one, staring down at their city bathed in a golden crest, all their problems gone as they shout their dreams from the high heavens above and below. I want to see Las Almas free! Alejandro sometimes wishes he could go back to seventeen. So many choices he could undo, make right with people he did wrong, stop things. But he lives in the present with his actions and consequences.

Young as he may be inside, his body tells him otherwise. Every day he wakes with a new pain somewhere. His lower back, his knees, his shoulders. He thinks about the pain he used to feel when he was a teen and Abuelo would put him and Rudy to work in the gardens, hands and knees in the dirt, pulling weeds and resituating plants, hoeing the long planes of the ground, sweat dripping down his face, chest heaving with each breath. An all over body ache that was soothed with hot water and a good night’s rest—some things couldn’t be solved so easily now.

His soldiers had gifted him numerous trinkets, a few bottles of liquor, others cards with a few twenties, anything above he gave back and hounded his men about not being worth that much and that they needed it more. A few gifts even came in from the 141, something Alejandro was very happy for. Price had sent along a goody bag full of cigars, liquor, and a really intricate looking knife courtesy of Ghost, along with a note that said next year they’d all get together to celebrate his fortieth.

Alejandro was content to share his cigars and liquor with Rudy as they stared up at the night sky on the back of Alejandro’s porch, quietly reminiscing and laughing over the stories they’d made over the years when a knock sounded from the front door. Immediately the two were on guard as someone called out, “Colonel Vargas! I have a delivery from Mistress Spades!”

Alejandro relaxed, if any, and replied, “Around the back!” he’d nodded to Rudy, who’d already had a handgun waiting, and when the man came around, he held up his hands.

“I’m unarmed, sir! Just a package for you!” he had the package in his left hand, small enough that it couldn’t be an explosive, but then again, he’d seen some very impressive bombs be smaller. “Mistress Spades called for me in Laredo. I run interference for her in that area and connect with Houston. She had a package sent here and had me deliver it.”

Alejandro walked over, Rudy’s sights trained on the man, and held out his hand.

“Here you are, sir,” the man said and handed it to him. “She said to be extra careful with it, that it took forever to track it down and if I lost it, it’d be my ass.”

He laughed. “Sounds like her.” He looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He nodded at Alejandro then to Rudy and disappeared to the front, where an engine started then the echoing of him driving off reached them.

He returned to the porch and sat back next to Rudy, who was curiously awaiting him to open it. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he retorted. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Ábrelo!”

Alejandro laughed as turned the box over. A beautifully decorated box, no bigger than his palm, wrapped in thick black paper and sealed with a gold wax stamp that had Spades’ symbol on it. He gently popped the wax seal and lifted the paper, carefully unwrapping the small black box beneath. He lifted the top and picked up the gray card, elegant crimson writing he recognized as Spades’.

Catholicism always confused me, considering the idea of salvation and talking to God is something you are supposed to do in private one on one and not with a priest who orders you to pay penance for your sins. To each their own though, if that’s what helps you sleep at night. Happy Birthday, Alejandro. With love, Spades ♠

He chuckled and put the car aside before shifting the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. His eyes widened as he stared at it, heart fluttering in his chest as he reached to touch it. “Qué es?” Rudy asked, and when Alejandro didn’t respond, he leaned over, concern in his voice as he asked again, “¿Alejandro? ¿Qué pasa? ¿Qué es?”

Alejandro lifted the rosary from the box. An ornate and antique piece, made of bronze with ruby beads, the Infant of Prague sitting just above the crucifixion. Tears gathered in his gaze as he ran his thumb over the cross and flipped it, seeing the inscribed initials he so fondly remembered.

“Es el rosario de mi madre,” he managed to say, a bubble of laughter escaping him as he wiped a stray tear. “No lo he visto desde que tenía siete años. Había perdido la esperanza de encontrarlo.” Alejandro couldn’t stop the tears as he closed his eyes and pulled the rosary to his forehead, a quiet prayer for his mother. He missed her terribly every day, had never stopped looking for the cartel men that had murdered her and stolen her rosary that day at seven years old. Now it was home again.

Rudy leaned over and wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him tight and joked, “Déjale a Spades encontrar algo que has estado tratando de encontrar durante treinta y dos años en menos de seis meses.”

Alejandro couldn’t help but laugh, a full one from his chest that made his stomach hurt and he nodded his head, slipping the rosary on to rest under his shirt at his heart. It felt like his mother’s arms were around him, her lips pressed to his head like she always had done. She was home.

He looked at Rudy and smiled. “Este ha sido uno de los mejores cumpleaños de mi vida, Rudy.”

Rudy was already clambering to his feet, pulling Alejandro with him so they could go eat dinner. “Lo ha hecho, pero el año que viene va a ser increíble porque puedo darte cuarenta puñetazos y no tener ninguna repercusión.”

“OYE!”

[halsinsbiceps]

A Great and Sudden Change Update

Well hey there, folx!

It's been a long time. I've been lurking around, liking a bunch of stuff and enjoying what you're all posting. I see I've gotten some new followers and reblogs; thank you all for the love!

I wish I could say I'm making a comeback, and while that's kinda true...I'm kinda not. Life is, as you all know, ever-changing and likes to hand it out in spades when it does. For the most part things have been good, but have left me with less time to write and spend on my own hobbies.

The biggest thing is that we're MOVING! So excited about this, being closer to family, and being back where my heart belongs. But also so fucking sad, because our life was here for so long.

It'll be good, I promise. And hopefully, that will mean more writing!

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

And in the meantime, enjoy Chapter 9 of A Great and Sudden Change!

Fic below the cut, or read on AO3 here.

Throughout the arguments against Kagha, Enelya was reminded - not for the first time in recent months - why she chose to not follow the path to leadership. 

Halsin heard each member of the grove out with a patience Enelya admired. It was no wonder he was held in such high regard; each person's words were just as important as the last. Still, she did not envy him the charge of being Archdruid. She could tell by the way he held himself - back straight, shoulders tense, eyes focused on each speaker - that his duties weighed more heavily on him than she had believed. 

Kagha and the druids who had followed her orders stood against the far wall. Kagha kept her arms crossed as their peers voiced their concerns and condemnation of the group's actions. Her eyes frequently flicked over to Enelya, and every time a scowl would etch into her face anew. 

Enelya did her best to ignore the venomous glares from the woman, but as time passed her skin began to crawl, the tadpole churned in her head, and she wished the ordeal were done and over with. She gripped the staff Halsin had given her and tried her best to pay attention to those speaking, but many of them made the same points as the rest, and soon her mind began to drift. 

Would this have been her life, had she not been waylaid by grief in the weeks after meeting Halsin?, she wondered. Sitting at his side, listening to the issues of the grove come forth each tenday? It was not unlike nobles and patriars in the great cities holding court, she mused. Druids might largely deny a relationship with civilization, but there were truly more similarities than not.

When the arguments against the offending party were finished, Halsin allowed the perpetrators a chance to defend themselves. Nearly all groveled before him for forgiveness, claiming they only wanted what was best for the grove and did not intend to align themselves with the Shadow Druids. Halsin heard them all with a careful, stony expression. When it came to be her turn Kagha chose not to defend herself, instead responding to Halsin’s inquiry with stoic silence. 

Finally, sometime after nightfall, Halsin rose from his stone chair and spoke, gesturing between himself and Enelya.

"Leave us."

Rath approached Halsin and the pair spoke in low tones. The guards took Kagha’s arms and led the accused parties out of the sanctum. Rath stepped away and joined the other druids as they filed out until only Enelya and Halsin remained. When the stone door slid shut above them, Halsin released a loud sigh and sank back onto the stone seat. His head fell back against his shoulders, and he rubbed his face before letting his arms drop limply to his knees. 

Enelya found herself slowly moving towards him, as if drawn by some unseen force. He was not looking at her - his eyes were closed - but she could tell he was aware of her presence in the way his body tensed and his breathing changed. It was only when she stood directly in front of him, her knees knocking softly against his, that their eyes met. 

Enelya longed to slowly reach out and slide her fingers into his auburn hair; to gently press the pads of her thumbs into his temples and scrape her fingernails across his scalp. She wanted to trace the tattoo that twisted down his cheek with a feather-light drag of her fingertips. She knew he would melt into her touch; that his chest would reverberate with a groan as his head fell forward to rest against her stomach. The tension would seep from his body, and his hands would slide up her thighs, gripping her hips as he pulled her down onto his lap…

Gods, she wanted it.

Halsin looked up at her expectantly, hazel eyes darkening and reflecting her desire, yet full of unanswered questions. When he spoke, it was a hoarse whisper.

"What happened, Enelya?"

She shivered - whether from the damp chill of the room or from hearing her name on his lips, she wasn't sure - and stepped away from him, shaking her head.

"Halsin, I know you are eager for answers, but this is really not the time for this conversation. Your thoughts should be on Kagha’s punishment, and I should be looking for a cure for... this .” She brushed her fingers vaguely across her temple with a deep sigh.

“I have already made my decision, and will enact it tomorrow." The tone of finality in Halsin’s voice allowed for no further discussion. Faithwarden or no, she didn't dare question his authority again after their confrontation earlier in the day. Halsin continued, “As for the rest, there is no more to be done tonight.”

“There is plenty to be done,” Enelya argued. She gripped the staff in her hands again, knuckles whitening against her skin. “You could tell me more about this Moonrise, or what you do know about the tadpole, for starters. Instead you'd rather rehash our brief history?”

He frowned and rose from his seat. Silence hung between them as he gazed at her, the frown deepening. "You were not one to avoid an uncomfortable discussion,” he finally replied. “But it appears you are no longer the person you once were.”

She raised an eyebrow at his statement. “You barely knew me.”

"No,” he admitted softly. “But I knew your spirit. Your soul drew me in, the way you shone brighter than the moon itself.” He raised his hand above him in a sweeping gesture. “The way you stood proud and tall, and danced with abandon. It was no wonder you were a champion of Mielikki. Now…” He shook his head. His hand dropped back to his side. “You do not hold yourself in the same way. There's a darkness in you, as if your brightness has been eclipsed."

Enelya crossed her arms. "I owe you no explanation for my change. The seasons come and go and yet you do not ask the trees why their leaves fall in autumn."

"You don’t owe me that, but you do owe me the truth.” He stepped even closer, close enough to touch. “I waited for you, Enelya. And when you didn't come to me, I sent birds to find you. When that didn't work, I wrote to Francesca. All she said was you had gone deep into the forest, and she did not know when you would return." He paused. “Or if you would return.”

Enelya did not reply. Her gaze drifted to the floor near Halsin’s feet.

He reached out then, slipping his fingers under her chin to lift her head until their eyes met.

"The truth is all I ask,” Halsin repeated gently. “Or, if you won't tell me that, then tell me our coupling meant nothing to you. Tell me you didn't feel the same connection I did, and the matter can rest."

His eyes bore into hers, and she was suddenly aware of his proximity, his warmth, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Her own chest tightened under his gaze, and she bit back the urge to nuzzle her face into his large palm and let him comfort her the way she craved.

She nodded, her throat dry.

"The truth, then.”

Halsin released her chin and stepped back. Enelya tried to ignore the crumbling sensation in her chest as he did so, instead gathering her thoughts and inhaling deeply to steady herself.

“Not two weeks after you left, as I was preparing to go to them…my mother and father died." Her voice was measured, matter-of-fact. Detached. "I honored them. I buried them. And then I retreated into the forest to grieve." She unfolded her arms and held them out from her body in a supplicating gesture. "There. Now you know."

Halsin's pained look reflected the sorrow he felt. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, Enelya."

She shrugged and let her arms fall back to her sides with a quiet thump. 

"...but why did you never write?"

" Gods , Halsin!” The words burst out of her and she glared at him. “What do you want me to say? I emerged from the forest after six months , and there was no word from you. Francesca said nothing to the contrary.” She paused briefly, biting her lower lip as she looked away. “I believed you had lost interest, or that you had found another, and I thought it best to leave you be. Our physical connection was brief, Halsin, and we can't make a garden grow where roots won't take." The words fell flat, even to her own ears.

Halsin shook his head, unconvinced by her entirely unconvincing argument.

“No. It's more than that," he said. "I knew from the moment I set eyes on you that this was more than mere desire. You know it as well as I, and I think you know it still. The roots of thiramin are dormant, they simply-”

“ Enough. ” Enelya’s sharp reprimand interrupted him and echoed in the large chamber. At the same time, she held a hand up to stop him speaking. Her eyes remained focused on the wall behind him. Her next words were quieter. "You deserve more than what I have to offer, Halsin."

His brows furrowed in confusion, and Enelya thought she saw a flash of hurt cross his face. "Why do you say that?"

"You see it better than I can explain. I’m no longer your thiramin , not really.” She shuffled her feet, lowered her head and whispered, “I’m broken.”

He reached out again, this time gripping her arms firmly, willing her to look at him. When she didn't - she'd surely fall into his arms if she did - he spoke urgently. "Enelya, none of us make it through this life unscarred. Do you think I would have asked you to be with me if I didn't want something imperfect? I want all of you. I want your pain and your anger and your sadness. All of it. But if you truly wish to break our bond…” He sighed and eased his grip, rubbing his thumbs once against the bare skin of her biceps as his voice dipped to a gravelly whisper. “...then I will not force you to stay."

Enelya believed him. She believed Halsin would take her just as she was and do all he could to make her see her worth every day for as long as they both would live…but she also knew he deserved better than that; deserved more than her tainted, angry self.

So she stayed silent and prayed that the lump in her throat would not give way to tears; her teeth ached from clenching her jaw. Water lapped softly at the rocky walls below them. 

Halsin finally huffed in frustration and pulled his hands from her arms. He spoke in a low, quiet voice, nearly a growl. "Go."

She raised her head then. "What?"

Halsin waved his hand in dismissal. "Go. Celebrate. Rest." A weary look settled onto his face as he sank down onto the stone bench once more. "I must tend to some things here. I'll be along later.”

Enelya nodded numbly, then turned and climbed the stairs out of the sanctum.

She felt Halsin's eyes on her every step of the way.

The grove was largely silent, only the chirping of crickets and the occasional shout or laugh breaking through the evening air. It had cooled to a comfortable temperature after sunset, and as Enelya made her way through the hills to the ruined chapel she found the slight chill on her skin to be a comfort. The knot that had formed in her chest during her discussion with Halsin slowly loosened as she walked.

“I want all of you.” Halsin’s words echoed in her mind. She could still feel the gentle brush of his calloused fingers on her arms.

Giddiness welled in her chest but was tempered by her sadness and her determination. Regardless of what she wanted, their thiramin must be broken, for Halsin’s sake. She could not drag him down this awful road with her. She clenched her jaw, pushed the thought of him from her mind, and kept walking.

As she reached the hollow outside the ruins where they had freed Lae’zel, a quiet whimper reached her ears, shortly followed by a soft thump and a groan.

“Silence, istik , or I will slice you belly to neck.” Enelya recognized the low rasp of the gith’s voice. Her heart sank, and she sprinted toward the sound.

“I told you what I know! They’re in the mountain pass, I don’t know how many!”

“Lae’zel!”

The githyanki’s head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Enelya striding toward her. “Leave us be.”

A young tiefling man knelt before Lae’zel, holding his stomach gingerly. Judging by the way he shook and how he kept his eyes fixed on Lae’zel’s boots, Enelya guessed he was terrified.

She shoved Lae’zel away from him. “What are you doing?” she snapped. Her pain and frustration boiled into anger here, away from prying eyes.

Lae’zel’s eyes flashed at the provocation and she stepped forward again, bringing her face close to Enelya’s as she snarled. “He knows where to find a creche . Since you have been less than accommodating in my endeavor, I have chosen to take matters into my own hands.”

The tiefling scrambled to his feet and ran back to the ruins, leaving the two women to glare at each other. 

“You don’t get to go around accosting innocent people for information,” Enelya said in a low voice. She could feel her veins pulsing, anger bubbling to the surface. She bit her tongue as Lae’zel pressed even closer to her, struggling to keep her frustration in check. The gith’s breath was hot on her face.

“And what would you have me do, istik ? Stumble around this forsaken place until we become ghaik ?” Lae’zel spat. “No. I will find this creche , and a ghustil will cure me of this tadpole. It is the only way.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“My people were slaves to these mindflayers long before you even drew breath, elf. We know how they are defeated. We know how to cure ourselves of their parasites. A zaith’isk will purify me, and I will return to my path of glory.” Lae’zel stepped away then, although her glare lost none of its venom. “And I will go alone.”

The anger dissipated from Enelya’s body suddenly and her eyes widened in shock. “Lae’zel, if you leave the protection of the artefact, you’ll die before you make it to the mountains.”

“I will fall on my sword before that happens.” Uncertainty briefly crossed the gith’s face, and Enelya seized the opportunity like a hawk on its prey.

“And if you can’t?” She kept her voice soft, placating. “We were lucky last night, but ceremorphosis could be instantaneous. I know you don’t want that.”

“Do not presume to know what I want!” Lae’zel snapped again. “You have all but ignored my wishes, my advice, instead prancing around playing she'lak to everyone we come across.”

Her accusation gave Enelya pause. She hadn’t realized she was ignoring Lae’zel; the gith had been quiet, keeping mostly to herself. But she was right. Enelya had been so wrapped up in helping others - saving the tieflings, saving Halsin, stopping Kagha - that she hadn’t given any thought to helping herself, nor helping those who were helping her. Beneath Lae’zel’s angry facade, Enelya sensed there was another message: the woman was feeling left out, and wanted to be heard. Enelya shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Lae’zel. I should have taken your advice more seriously.”

Lae’zel scoffed, but her eyes softened ever so slightly. “Your apologies are a weakness.”

“Maybe among githyanki , but I do my best to listen to all my companions.” Enelya held the other woman’s gaze sincerely. “I dismissed your insight, and I should not have. Truly, seeking out this creche may be the best lead we have, now that we know Halsin cannot heal us.”

Lae’zel’s chin lifted in pride. “It is our only lead.”

“Then we will discuss a plan of action with the others in the morning. I know you are eager to be purified, but we must stick together. I ask you to be patient just a bit longer while we prepare ourselves for what’s to come.”

Lae’zel considered her solemnly. “You are soft,” she said finally, her lip turning up into a small sneer. “But you are right. Our survival seems to be contingent on the artefact, and I will not leave its protection until we know more. But you must swear we will seek out the creche at our first chance.”

“I swear it.”

Enelya stuck her right hand out. Lae’zel eyed the offered hand warily, then slapped it with her own.

Enelya laughed suddenly, and she felt lighter than she had in days. “No, it’s a handshake.” She grabbed Lae’zel’s wrist and slid her hand into the gith’s, squeezing firmly. “It means we’re holding each other to our word.”

Lae’zel scoffed, but gripped Enelya’s hand in return. “Your customs are confounding,” she grumbled.

Enelya shrugged and released Lae’zel’s hand. “You’ll get used to them.”

Lae’zel returned to the ruins with Enelya in silence, stalking off to her chosen corner. Karlach intercepted Enelya and handed her a drink.

“Look!” Karlach reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers against Enelya’s forearm before the elf even realized what was happening.

“Karlach!” Enelya gasped and pulled her arm away, then paused when she felt no pain. “Wait.” She reached out and grabbed the tiefling’s arm. “You’re not hot!”

“Ouch, let a girl down easy,” Karlach said, feigning hurt as she pressed her other hand to her chest. But a moment later she grinned. “Dammon - that’s the blacksmith - he had some extra infernal iron laying around and fixed my engine, for now anyway. Great, innit?” She suddenly pulled Enelya into a crushing hug.

“Oh!” Enelya laughed breathlessly and patted Karlach’s back awkwardly. “I’m glad, Karlach. You seem happy.”

“I am! And now, I need to find someone to cuddle with. You should too.” With a wink, Karlach waltzed off to the fire, where a group  of tieflings and a handful of druids was already gathered and dancing, drinks in hand. Enelya shook her head with a smile and went off in search of her other companions.

Besides Karlach, no one seemed to be in a particularly festive mood. Lae’zel still kept her distance. Gale was quite melancholy, waxing poetic about his magical malady. Astarion complained about the wine. Wyll was on edge, barely able to converse as he continuously glanced over his shoulder. He finally excused himself and slipped away to gaze pensively over the river.

It was when Enelya sat down next to Shadowheart that the evening finally took a more interesting turn.

The women sat in comfortable silence and nursed their drinks for several minutes, during which Halsin appeared through a crumbling doorway. An excited chorus of cheers erupted from the group dancing around the fire. Zevlor approached him with a wide smile and gripped his arm in welcome. Enelya watched Halsin’s movements keenly, unaware that she was also being watched.

Shadowheart smirked and took a drink of wine. "You lied."

Enelya glanced at her with a frown. "About what?"

"About knowing Halsin." She gestured over to the hulking druid, who was now speaking animatedly with Zevlor and a number of others who had gathered. "The tension is practically roiling off you.”

Enelya hummed, hesitating before answering. "It's…complicated," she said, looking down into her own empty cup.

"Oh?" Shadowheart sounded intrigued. She grabbed the bottle of wine next to her and leaned to pour a generous amount into Enelya's goblet, giggling as she did so. "Do tell."

Enelya chuckled at the younger woman's eagerness, then sighed and rolled out her shoulders. She gazed upwards, watching the embers from the fire spark and pop into nothingness against the night sky. "You know about soulmates, right?"

"Yes, I know about soulmates. Not sure how much I actually believe in it, but…" Shadowheart eyed her. "You and Halsin are…?"

" Thiramin is what we call it in Elven. Not just anyone can be a soulmate for us, like humans believe. Only one true thiramin exists for each elf, and we might go our whole lives without meeting them. Halsin and I met two years ago, and it was an immediate and…” Enelya shifted, trying to find the right words. “ Intense connection."

Shadowheart sucked in a breath. Her eyes gleamed. "Did you…"

"Oh yes." The wine was making Enelya bold, her tongue more loose than it normally would be. It felt good, she realized, to talk to Shadowheart about these salacious bits of her life. She bit her lip as she raised her glass again. "Several times."

Shadowheart giggled. "You climbed Mount Halsin!" she teased. It seemed Enelya was not the only one feeling the effects of the vintage swirling in their cups.

Enelya laughed in earnest then, loud and throaty with her head thrown back. "Gods. We stayed in my room for two days. It was…" she trailed off, her cheeks warming from the wine and memories. 

Shadowheart nodded. "I'm sure it was."

They sat in silence for a moment, each of them quietly watching the man in question as he chatted with the others, unaware of their gazes. 

"I'm going to break thiramin ," Enelya said abruptly. 

Shadowheart looked at her in surprise. 

Enelya continued, "I can't bind him to me any longer, not after everything I've done - to him, to others. And with this tadpole, my days are numbered. Better to give him that than nothing." She smiled ruefully and sipped at her wine.

Shadowheart murmured her sympathies. Enelya thanked her, then paused.

"Actually…a cleric of Shar would be able to perform the rite I need." Enelya looked at her hopefully. "If you're open to it, that is. It would be helpful."

Shadowheart thought for a moment. "Normally I would…but I have no memory of such a rite. It would have to wait until we get to Baldur's Gate, if we don't find someone who can do it otherwise." Shadowheart ran a finger around the lip of her cup. "And, if I'm honest, even if I could do it, I probably shouldn’t."

Enelya frowned. "Why not?"

"My own feelings toward Halsin are…also complicated," Shadowheart said slowly. She swirled her wine in her goblet. "My Lady does have rules, you know. It would be quite the conflict of interest to pursue a man I have released from a soulmate."

Enelya's mouth dropped open into an o, and she glanced away. "I see." 

"But if you don't want me to…I mean, you'd have to be dead to not notice someone like that!"

"Agreed," Astarion drawled as he plopped down behind Shadowheart, goblet in hand. His eyes roved lasciviously over Halsin.

"You're undead ," Shadowheart reminded him, her eyebrow quirking in amusement. 

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. "A technicality, my dear."

Enelya chuckled and stared into her cup. "Shadowheart, if you would like to try your hand at climbing Mount Halsin yourself, be my guest."

"Truly?"

"He is not beholden to me, thiramin or no. Halsin has a very open mind about relationships, and we aren't…in love, or anything like that. We barely even know each other really. Even if we were together, he would be allowed to pursue his desires, and I mine."

"Wait, you two were…" Astarion looked over at her, confusion and excitement in his eyes. 

"Yes," Enelya replied. "We were."

He gave a harsh, barking laugh. "Well, that is interesting!" He flashed a smile, then took a gulp of wine and grimaced.

At Astarion's laugh, Halsin finally caught their eyes on him, and with an amused, curious quirk of his brow, he excused himself and made his way across the clearing.

"I can't help but feel I am the subject of your discussion," he said as he reached them. A smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth.

"Why yes, Master Halsin," Shadowheart said. Her words were teasing and slightly slurred. "Enelya was just telling us how the two of you met." 

"Is that so?" He looked down at Enelya, a glint in his eye. "Well, Enelya…please don't go spilling all of my secrets." He looked down at Shadowheart, and a heated look passed between them. "I would like to keep some things to myself."

A sharp pang of jealousy roiled through Enelya’s gut. She gripped the metal stem of her goblet and tried to ignore the feeling. Jealousy and envy were not becoming traits amongst elves and druids, where casual relations and polyamory were the norm. Halsin was not her possession, even if they were currently bound by thiramin . It was her choice to end it, and to avoid her longing until she could. She would not deny him or anyone else a chance at happiness.

She watched Shadowheart as her eyes followed the movement of Halsin's hips as he slowly sauntered away. Then she looked back, and to her surprise, Astarion’s crimson eyes were trained on her. 

He glanced away quickly, but not before Enelya caught the pity in his gaze.

[pressrestartnow]

Another Love of Spades

Part 1

Fanfic of Ace and OC's adventures as they go from young pirates to the terrors of the grand line.

Characters: Ace x OC (fm) Genre: Romance Adventure Word Count: 4.7K CW: Theft, Gunshot wound, Blood, bit of Hurt/Comfort, They are silly young pirates

Let's go!

The winds were strong and pushed the clouds quickly along past the high noon sun. Kara held the hood tighter as another salty gust threatened to blow her cover. She took long even strides moving in a straight line towards the start of the busy plein air market in front of her. She nearly missed her step when she heard the screech of a marine behind her.

“Stop that maaaaaan. Stop Sir you must pay! Sir you must be good! Stop that man he is a menace!”

Okay. Not shouting at her.

Even steps Kara, she thought to herself. She sucked in a lungful of air to level out her breathing and strained to listen to the action behind her. She felt it more than heard. Heavy fast steps getting closer. The pursued was gaining on her along with his pursuers.

The plan formed quickly in her brain and she gave a blessing to whatever gods there were as this distraction would be perfect. Steady steps until she could hear him right behind her and then a sidestep and dodge into the alley to the left. A perfect plan. Only she sidestepped in sync with the stranger and they collided. Hitting the ground in a tumbled mess of limbs and a cloak. 

Ace was suddenly looking at the sky. His head hurt where it had just collided skulls with the dumbass he had run into. Bolting upright he saw The Girl he had hit was already moving off him with a very stunned look on her face. Her cloak was completely off. Now wrapped awkwardly around his arm. Her hair having been half knocked out of its knot was hanging in weird purple strands around her face. She looked his age, he thought dumbly and was now being screeched at with him by the marine. 

“He hit a lady! Get him he has fallen!” 

Ace grabbed his orange cowboy hat from where it had fallen placing it back on his head before extending a hand to the lady.

“My apologies, you surprised me jumping in the way so quickly” He felt his eyebrow twitch. She wasn’t even paying attention to his apology. Her eyes were on the shopkeep who was now pointing at them.

“That’s her the thief!” The shopkeep yelled. 

Ace groaned. Kara swore.

“They are in cahoots get both of them!” The Marine screeched. 

Pleasantries weren’t getting them anywhere. Ace went to grab the young ladies tanned arm but before he could she had his hand and yanked him up. With surprising strength she pulled him up into a run towards the stuffy depths of the plein air market.

It was a tough run. The market was packed and they dodged in between people buying sticky fruit sticks and bartering over colourful flowy pants.  Ace looked back a couple of times and saw her still there close behind him ducking under ladies trying to hand out perfume samples and the marines further back right behind both of them. They were going to have to split up.

“There’s another alley up ahead we have to split up” she shouted beside him. Ace grinned at her.

“I’ll draw them off. Very nice meeting you” and with maybe a bit more flourish than usual he jumped up on a cold noodle bar jumped and stepped over and between the bowls and flipped off into an alley. 

Kara caught herself halfway through an eye roll. She ran low and straight trying to get as many people as she could in between her and the marines before jumping into her own narrow alley.

She ran wildly on the cobblestone through the streets and back through more alleys until she fell into a crowd trying to catch her breath. The many feet of the group were moving her up the hill to the Isiltili waterfalls and great woods that made up the centre of this island. Tourists swarmed en masse on the cobblestone below the falls and on the high-viewing bridges that crossed in front of them.

Kara looked over her shoulder back to the oceanside. From here you could see straight to the docks and they were swarming with marines confirming her suspicions from this morning. She would have to lay low through the day and duck out on the charter ship at night.

Sidestepping out of the open and back into the cool shade between two rows of brick and wood houses. She checked both ends of the alley before she crouched by a small half door in the side of one of the buildings. The pin that was keeping up what was left of her updo was good and tangled in there and Kara whimpered as she pulled on her hair to free it. Her hair finally came undone and with the pin in hand, she got to work on the little storage door lock.

It would not go quickly and Kara was sweating a bit. After grabbing the beginners thieves tool kit she had from her bag the contents were spilled haphazardly on the cobblestone between her and the door. Her eyes were closed as she tried the third tool in the lock her ear almost against it. She did not see or hear the shaggy black haired young man until he was right behind her staring down at her handiwork. 

“What are you doing?”

She jumped nearly losing her grip on the pin.  “Hiding. I’ve almost go it” 

“You sure? That’s a lot of tools.” he said still looking down at her. His looming over her only made her hands more sweaty. 

“Yes, thank you” “Bah!” swearing as she dropped the next tool in nervousness and surprise hearing a shout from down the alley. Two marines popped around the corner pointing at them from where they had both entered.

“Ah, They found us” the black haired boy said. How could he sound so amused?

“Why did you lead them back to me?!” Kara exclaimed. Two marine rifles were raised and pointed right at them. She moved to plan B which was just frantically banging on the lock with her fists.

“Time to run!”

The man grabbed her around the waist and pulled her from the door before the shots could fire. Kara scooped what tools she could as he half-carried her away from her failed breaking-and-entering attempt. The young man immediately put her down once they were around the corner helping her to stand up and then they were running again.

They ran up hill towards the waterfalls. The street nearly packed shoulder to shoulder. The marines had stopped any attempt to fire lest they hit a civilian. They raced quickly between crowded snack shops with barrels of popular pickles and more touristy trinkets. A large line up outside the trinket shop further masked their position from the marines and they took the chance to dive between multiple racks of clothes outside of an open door shack.

“There’s a ship at the dock” Kara said without thinking as they sped by the trousers. How she ended up with this guy was beyond her. He seemed adept at getting away from the Marines which was something she was still figuring out. He might still be able to lead them off of her trail.

“It’s still swarming with Marines you wont be able to get there-“

“until the evening ya. So what’s your plan?” she asked

They got to the changing rooms on the other side of the entrance and he opened the curtain to shove them both in. Marine boots went stomping by mixed in with the happy chatter of tourists shopping for clothes. 

“Plan?” he said

Kara was panting heavily trying to catch her breath so she just nodded her head.

“I figure it out.” he replied. The young boy gave her a devilish grin. With the freckles he looked like a school boy about to hide a frog on his teachers chair. “Not much of a Pirate are you? What did you steal?”

Still trying to catch her breath Kara raised up the log pose on her hand. Thankfully the fragile compass had not broken and was still strapped on her wrist. Freckles acknowledge it and raised up his own arm where he wore a matching log pose. It finally clicked for her then that this was not just some food thief.

“You’re a pirate? who are you?” she said.

“Portgas D. Ace of the spade pirates. “

“Spade Pirates? never heard of them”

“We are just getting started, want to join?”

“Ha, no thank you. I just need to get to the ship before it leaves.”

“Be my guest” the boy, Ace, said and gestured to the little cloth door. He stepped out of her way so that she could exit.

Kara wiggled past him and peered out. The Marines had dispersed quite a bit but they were still patrolling up and down the main road. Any alley or open area was going to be too easy to get caught in as they had caused quite a commotion.

“My ship is at the dock on the quiet side of the island. Come with me-?"

"Kara"

"Come with me Kara and I can hide you until nightfall and then sail you back to your ship” Ace offered.

“Are you certain?”

“What else are you going to do?”

Kara had no idea. She was at a loss on how to deal with this many Marines on her tail and had no desire to get captured this early on in her adventure. She didn’t want to be a burden but he was offering and she was out of options.

“Thank you, I’ll take your offer. I think we can get to the other side going along one of the trails through the park.” upon seeing her opening she slipped out of the change room with Ace right behind her and they darted up the hill behind the shop going into the woods. 

Ace could feel his heart still racing and his head felt airy.

They moved light and quickly up along the trail to where he had left his boat that morning. It was a great day by pirate standards. A good meal and drink. Successful escape from the Marines. The day would be even better with a new crew member.

He looked at the girl. Kara wasn’t exactly the big round marksman with a love of cigars and knowledge of the best pubs on the grandline or the skilled ship hand who was good with a cannon that he originally imagined a potential first crew member to be.

She was nearly the same height as he was, a bit underfed, with sun damaged skin and long thick wavy hair. As her canvas bag shifted at her side he saw the decorated hilts of two different sized knives. They weren’t extraordinarily flashy but they looked well crafted. He didn’t see any jolly roger or pirate crew insignia and considered that it might be rude to ask her.

Being raised in the woods by Dandan Ace knew he kept a fast pace on the trail and was surprised how well she did to keep up. 

“Ah! the Isiltili waterfall you can kind of see it” she suddenly said pointing towards the gap in the trees where you could see the glittering waterfall

“hmm oh ya, in the morning its very cool. The sun hits the water and its like the whole forest lights up. Did you see it as you sailed in? It’s like a glowing beacon.”

She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t get to see it as we came in. I would have loved to. Even just being here close to it is breathtaking.” 

“The grandline is full of sights like these. With that log pose you can find your way through islands covered in jungle, ones with volcanoes, and islands where it’s always snowing.” he pointed to the compass on her wrist.

“I’ll settle with anywhere away from East Blue but a jungle island would be cool” she said it thoughtfully her eyes still on the waterfall.

Ace found himself surprisingly remorseful to tear her away from it.

His ship was anchored on the other side of the forest and they would have to keep their head down to make it through the crowds and tourist booths that were ahead of them by the entrance to the waterfall bridge.

“c’mon, I’ve gotta get to my ship before the marines spot us again.”

The stalls at the start here did not have too many customers and they were still in the line of sight of the streets below if someone looked hard enough.

“Right” Kara said and she followed.

Some of these customers were odd Ace thought as they marched along the thin trail. Two taller guys in nondescript long brown capes yet wearing very odd-looking straw fedoras with feathers were quietly admiring a pickle stall display a few stores up the hill. The pickle tender not there to take the order. More of the hats were on display at the feather stall closest to Ace and Kara.

The shopkeep was there and suddenly tripped knocking the stand of feathered fedoras all across the trail in front of them. Ace’s companion jumped back in surprise but they both bent down to retrieve the hats. 

“I thought they were taking flight” Kara quietly said kneeling on the ground next to him and Ace suppressed a laugh. With a few hats in his hands, he offered them back towards the owner.

He didn’t take them.

“Abandon hope you miserable pirates.” The shopkeeper stepped out from behind the feather shop counter holding a particularly rigid and bright orange plume in his right hand. He pointed the feathery tip toward them.

“I suppose you thought you could escape, I suppose you thought your crimes would be overlooked but no!”

The shopkeeper ripped off his white mustache which floated to the ground like a feather. Underneath the disguise was the very red faced screeching marine.

Ace tossed the hats onto the counter with a bit of a sigh. Here we go.

“I am Captain Francoise of the 18th Branch of the Marines. Isiltili is my peaceful domain and not a single-” he ripped the bright orange feather he had been brandishing revealing the sword underneath “ - crime will be tolerated or forgivEN!”.

The fedora men with excessively large motions disposed of their capes and hats revealing military uniforms underneath and rifles.

Ace looked to the path past the fedora stand back to the city. Blocking that escape, from behind the counter, another marine popped up from his crouched position and raised his gun at the two of them. Another Marine much less gracefully stood up by Ace from a fully seated position where he had been lying completely obscured by the bushes. Captain Francoise smiled.

This guy was weird Ace thought but he had brought with him a lot of back up. Straight up running would lead this small army back to his ship and then he’d be hooped.

Ace looked subtly as he could off the edge of the trail over his left shoulder. The dropoff was intense and looked impossible to navigate on foot without sliding to your death. He was also pretty tired of running and this weirdo had started screaming again at the girl beside him. 

 “I’ve been here so many years awaiting for the day I could prove my great defence against a true miscreant and she has arrived!” Weirdo marine pointed the sword to her

“ What?” she looked at him confused. She continued “I am leaving I am off your island in a second I have the one small thing I need and now I'll go”

“You will not go anywhere. I reported you the moment I saw you, a girl with purple hair. Well my military connections are perfection they saw you come in on a ship from Lelou. Not many tourists from Lelou only escaping rebels! My men reported a girl with purple hair walking off the cargo ship alone.”

Ace grumbled a bit too himself. This guy was spending quite a bit of energy on her. She must be a big shot and he was being ignored.

“A rebel girl named Kara from Lelou with purple hair and exceptionally thin eyebrows! I see you now!”

Ace couldn’t resist looking and saw that she did have exceptionally thin eyebrows. Her bangs mostly covered them but they were especially visible when she scrunched what hair was barely on her face into an expression of disbelief. 

“Again, I’ve barely done anything on this Island and I’ve no interest in being stuck here” She stepped back towards his side where the drop off was.

She’s gunna try to run again ace thought. But no name is made by constantly running. 

“Well now that we all know each other I should introduce myself. My name is Portgas D. Ace and I am going to be the Pirate King.”

Leaning back Ace got out of range of the gun closest to his left. He grabbed the barrel pointing it uphill towards Captain Francoise as he punched the marine. The gun shot off hitting the tree cover above the marines. All of them ducked to avoid the spray of tree bark. 

Ace swore in his head. He didn’t want to accidentally hit some passerby.

He ripped the gun out of the marine's hands and used the butt of the gun to knock its owner out before tossing the rifle into the woods. He then rounded on the next guy up the hill and before he could regain his rifle aim Ace had him in a grapple.

One shot flew past his shoulder hitting the ground near where Kara was. She stood there genuinely shocked for a moment as the bullet whizzed by.

Ace knocked his Marine to the ground and shouted back to her. She was still frozen until the Marine on her right finally jumped into action and grabbed her arm. Ace couldn’t see the rest of what happened as he turned to challenge Francoise with his defeatherized sword. He only heard the grunt of the marine behind hitting the ground and Kara’s shout after.

“Ace up in the woods!”

 They had gained the edge of that fight but it had all been for nothing. Francoise fresh recruits marched out of the bushes each with a disguising fern on their head. A row of standard issued gun barrels all lined up pointed towards them.

Ace knew about their famed inaccuracy but at such close range they didn’t stand a chance he booked it back towards where Kara had stood and saw her already running ahead down the trail to more tree cover before the bullets rained to the ground.

Gunfire. For the first time since leaving her home island Kara heard shots fired in her direction. She was frozen behind the thick tree she was using for cover. Angry that she was stuck and pissed at her current companion who was lying down sheltered poorly by a boulder and clearly nursing a bullet wound.

Ace’s face was scrunched up in pain and Kara felt her heart tighten.

The marines might’ve left him alone if she had gone. From her position behind the tree, there was a decent path into the city and the boats at the harbour were in eyesight.

The boy was clutching his side blood leaking between his fingers. Most likely by leaving he would be fine. They would capture him sure but they would treat his bullet wound and probably send him on his way after being punished for his infraction. Maybe he could escape after her. Maybe he could make it down that hill but not alone and not easily with an injury like that.

Kara caught his eye across the path. Willing for him to see how sorry she was. He was bleeding out on the forest floor but looking at her he just smiled a devilish grin. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. 

Reaching for one of the two knives on her belt Kara held it up to her chest and waited for the break in the shots. The smallest gap and she took it.

Pivoting elegantly away from the tree and across the distance towards where Ace lay she threw the knife precisely towards where the Marine captain stood. Narrowly missing his head he screamed and dropped to his knees.

Now beside Ace, she grabbed him as shots began to ring off again.

 “Hold onto me” she said as she pulled him close and maneuvered them both over the edge and down the steep incline off the trail.

The rocks roughed up her legs and back as they went down and they both pitched forward once they hit a large root rolling down along the plant life until they landed at the lower trail.

Kara got up quickly and grabbed Ace who looked near passing out from the bullet wound at his side. Flinging his arm over her shoulder she commanded he get up and they hobbled over the next edge of the lower trail and started slowly stumbling down on foot this time to the beach.

The sounds of the marines thankfully getting further away. She helped him climb down the shelf of rocks and collapsed under his weight when they finally hit the sand. 

“Where’s your ship” she shook him a bit. Ace weakly pointed to a partially hidden inlet up a head.

A couple of cabins were on the beach and a small dock with very tiny sailboats. Not the kind you could live comfortably in. Ace guided her as best as he could in between grunts of pain towards it and when the coast was clear they darted out into the open. Their footsteps sounded uncomfortably loud on the dock but they still made it onto the little ship. 

On the boat a small human sized hatch was hidden under a crate of fishing supplies. Kara popped it open and slowly lowered Ace down before sliding in herself, closing the hatch, and doing what she could to wiggle the crate back on top with the piece of rope ace had tied to the bottom.

Finally, she could breathe for a second.

Ace’s ship was cramped. No room to stand up and most of the space was taken up by a long cabin bed on one side and barrels of fresh water and what she assumed were crates of food on the other.

Ace was lying on the floor. His freckles and black hair in stark contrast to his paling face. Kara whispered his name and he stirred a bit.

“I gotta get you in the bed” she moved him as gently as she could disturbed at how little strength he had to assist. He was pretty thin and it worried Kara not certain how much blood he could lose before really needing a doctor which she wasn’t. He wasn’t puking blood so that could be a good sign.

She rummaged around his cabin until she found an abysmally put-together first aid kit. A few bandages and thankfully a needle and thread.

She would have to do as much as she could to clean the wound with the water and whatever liquor he had stashed in his ship. She sat next to him on the bed gently moving his open collared shirt to the side. Close to him so she could more easily deal with the wound she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. With what best she could find for tweezers she got to the dirty work of pulling out the bullet shards wincing as he did. She thanked whatever gods there were that for the moment he was still alive

The stitches were bad. She felt horrible about it. She had only ever watched them be done and didn’t have the most gentle hand but she tried what she could whispering kindly to him as she did. 

“I am sorry, I’m so sorry, almost done, it’s almost done”

Ace unfortunately was semi conscious yet was struggling to speak in the pain. 

“don’t talk” she said “Just hang in there okay?”

“You saved me. You are a shitty pirate.” he groaned

“I am not a pirate, and I havent saved you yet. We gotta get you a doctor. You lost so much blood and the stitches aren’t quite right—“

“Why?” he got out but then he scowled. She had pulled a little too tightly on the next stitch.

“sorry” she said again. She hated how unsteady her hands were and how the rocking of the ship wasn’t helping.

“Why” he got out again taking a big breath. “Did you save me?”

Kara looked down to the stitches trying to be gentler and come up with the right answer. “ I couldn’t just leave you. You are like me. Starting out. It’s too soon for you Portgas D. Ace. You’ve got stuff to do.”

Ace almost smiled at that and mumbled “Hm, stuff” and then was quiet

“Ace?” Her voice wavering a bit. She saw the rise and fall of his chest but his eyes were firmly shut. He was clearly passed out. Kara finished the stitch and covered the wound with a bandage. Seeing him breathing didn’t provide her with much relief. Putting her hand on his forehead she felt him burning up. Her heart constricted and she brushed his hair from his face. He looked so young and he was out here all on his own.

“Don’t die on me Portgas D. Ace” she whispered.

She sat there next to him a little longer studying his face. Hearing drops of rain as it hit the wood deck outside and hoping that would deter the marines from looking for them too intensely. Her whole body was aching from being cramped in the cabin and the scratches on her back and legs needed washing too. Cleaning up as best she could with the old rags he had she then collapsed on the floor leaning her head near his on the bed and counting his breaths until she fell asleep.

Ace woke up the next morning. The little light shining through some cracks in the ship deck. He could feel the usual damp spots that told him that it had rained last night. His attempt to sit up was an immediate failure and every memory of pain from the day before came back.

As careful as he could he felt the bandage at his side. More pain but he wasn't dead. He might not be able to sail for a bit. Looking from the bandage he looked at her sleeping face half obscured by her long bangs falling forward in disarray.

She had missed her ship too he thought guiltily. Not a pirate. Would she still allow him to sail her to wherever she was going? He scarcely allowed himself to hope it. Yet he knew there were a lot of things Kara hadn’t told him and maybe he didn’t need to hear them. There were a lot of things he wouldn’t tell her and that didn’t mean they couldn’t sail together.

He was still watching her as she began to stir. Her neck cracked as she stretched it gently and looked over at him with half-open eyes. 

“You are still alive” Kara said. Her voice cracking a bit from the early morning but she was smiling. 

“I wasn’t going to die” he replied.

“Well you almost had me fooled” she raised her hand up and leaned over towards him to check his temperature.

Ace felt the heat rise a bit to his face fully realizing for the first time the position he was in half naked on his bed with this girl in his boat. 

“Still a bit feverish” she said. She looked still half asleep and half worried her hand lingering a moment before she quickly drew it back. 

“I am sorry you missed your boat” Ace said. 

She looked surprised as if she had forgotten it herself. “Oh it’s fine, just a charter to get off this island there will be more but I gotta get you some antibiotics first unless you have money for a doctor?” Ace shook his head. Pirating was not that lucrative yet. He felt okay, if just a little hot and really sore. 

“All right, I’ll see you in a bit” and she got up grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder before carefully exciting.

He watched her open the hatch and take a breath of the fresh sea air. Enjoying the moment of the sun on her face and the wind as she eyed the beach for any more marines. Then the hatch was closed and she was gone.

See you for Part 2 on October 1st!

[fragileizywriting]

except i'm showing you the differences between the action and how they make a whole new different story, even though they have the same dialogue!

demon lovin (2021):

He settles back on the headboard, dragging her with him to sit in his lap. They’re a mess of scents and textures, limbs and bruises-- Adrien’s hands smooth against her back as she leans into his shoulder, her thighs squelching between his from the simmering heat of her sex.  At the moment, her body is in a resting state, preserving energy to process the food in her. But she knows that her body will be ready almost instantly if they were to start up a second-round-- knowing that at the end of the day, she’s a creature of habit. And the habit is come. He chuckles. “So headstrong, aren’t you?” “I like being right.” She lets her tail hang off of her knee uselessly, the spade a dark block of color against the white sheets. He hums, and kisses her temple when he pushes her bangs back from her face. It’s a soft little gesture that is completely at odds with the heat in his eyes, and it makes her involuntary shiver. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to prove you wrong?”

demon lovin (2024):

He snatches her right up. Onto his lap she goes, curled in to a man whose body heat is tremendously high for someone who’s completely naked. They’re a mess of scents and textures, limbs and bruises— Adrien’s hands smooth against her back as she leans into his shoulder, her thighs squelching as they brush against one another, sticky from sex. Their position is familiar; the same angle and same way he held her in Elysium just hours ago, helping her wake up when she’d lost all of her magic. “And what about you, Miss Meimei? How are you feeling?” “Cared for.” “Lord. Who would’ve guessed two little words would make me feel happy and guilty, all at the same time.” “I didn’t mean to say that to make you feel worse,” she tries. “I just feel like people are finally listening to me for once. It’s not something I’m used to. It’s kind of scary.” “I promised you, none of that will happen again.” “So headstrong, aren’t you?” “I like being right.” He hums against her temple when he kisses the skin underneath her bangs. It’s a soft little gesture, one mirrored with what she’d given Luka, which means that Adrien’s been paying attention. It makes her shiver. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to prove you wrong?”

[sharpsuite]

∗ 58﹕ sender is found collapsed by receiver . (for ann)

↳ 100 NONVERBAL PROMPTS

With the fall of The Beach in the ten of hearts game, everyone was forced back into SURVIVAL MODE. There would be no more parties, no more electricity, no more pretending the days were okay. Especially not with the face cards reveal. Any sort of peace that MIGHT be found could easily be destroyed by the King of Spades and his hunt for the survivors. Somehow the death game arenas had become both death trap and safety. Ann wasn't content with that. Not when there were so many unanswered questions. Maybe learning more about whatever the Borderlands was would help more. It made sense; it was a logical approach in her eyes. To solve a case you neeed the details ; to handle the changed game of this world, she needed more details about it. She had the days ; her visa already had a fair number of days even before the ten of hearts. She could afford venturing off on her own.

Ann had been used to seeing bodies even BEFORE the borderlands given her line of work, but it was still grim to see so many who had survived this long just to fail. She didn't pay too much attention to their faces ( didn't want to see their expressions of HORROR or FEAR or DESPAIR ). At least, not until she spotted a familiar figure laying on the ground, the smoldering remains of a burning blimp of one of the face cards still burning in the distance.

" Pat? " Ann's voice was soft, as if speaking it would somehow affect reality. ( ILLOGICAL, she knew that. ) Her hesitation lingers only a minute before she rushes over to the collapsed form and kneels down beside her. She doesn't care how the hot asphalt burn her knees as she quickly rolls Pat over and pulls her onto her lap. Despite the fear in her heart, her actions remain calm and methodical. There's a pulse, she's not dead. It eases the panic in her chest a moment. No major injuries either, nothing besides the normal scraps and bruises most of them have. Ann isn't a doctor, but she can at least assume then that it was either exhaustion, the heat, or both that had ended up taking a toll on her. " It's okay. You're okay. " And maybe it won't mean anything to Pat, Ann's not assure how aware she is ; if she's entirely unconscious or not. DOESN'T MATTER. " I've got you. Let's get you somewhere cooler. "

Ann moves Pat carefully, shifting until she can pick up the other woman with a huff of effort. It's not hard once she has her up, carrying her carefully into the shaded inside of a nearby building. There's not MUCH here, but cool tile and shade is better than hot asphalt and sun. Ann sets her down carefully and then drops the backpack from her shoulder. She pulls out a strip of cloth and soaks it in a bit of her water, wringing it out before she places the damp cloth around the back of Pat's neck in an effort to help cool her down. " You're going to be okay. " Ann says, her voice calm and confident despite the songbird of worry lurking in her chest. / @cartelheir

[crack-art-n-stuff]

Another Day~

What are you willing to give to achieve success?

Have you ever wanted something that much? Ever had something you wanted to prove?

It's common sense to give your all if you want it that much. Hard work usually pays off. But most ignore the good luck needed. Fate is unfair. So, luck is needed just as much as hard work.

You had hard work in spades? But luck?

Not so much.

Sometimes, those lows almost make it hard to believe in these moments. Bright pink and red lights swept over the stage. The roaring stadium-filled audience combined with the blaring speakers should've made you deaf quite some time ago. You stayed in the back wings, keeping an eye on your rather troublesome bosses. Watching them basking in the limelight, drinking in that attention and admiration. You could see the euphoria in Nervah's eyes as he winked at a woman in the audience. Haven's finger glided along the guitar strings with seemingly practiced ease. 

Sometimes, it sent a chill up your spine as you saw them differently from others. This attention and energy they drained from others had their focus like sharks when there is blood in the water. What bothered you more was those looks, those glances they gave you. As if they could still see you from the corner of their eyes, even from your farther back spot. There were seduced backstage hands that should've blocked your place.

"Call out my name!"

"Call out my name."

Even when their eyes aren't on you, you feel like their words are trying to burough themselves into your head.

Dammit. 

As much as they irritated you at times, they were real sirens. Able to ensnare others with their words and actions. Even you fell victim to them at first, before you knew better.

By the time the concert ended, you were ready to throw yourself on your plush bed. But your work was far from over. Not when you were contracted to two demons. Locked in their dressing room, they let their tails and miniature forms of their wings out. But kept their human appearances for the most part. Nervah's hair was a bit longer, reaching to his lower back. Haven's hair was in a similar state, though half his face was covered by the hair and the back was in a half up half down style. 

You were forced to lay down on the couch as Nervah squished you in a hug, splaying himself on top of you. Arms wrapped tightly around your torso, you might consider yourself lucky you could even breathe. His heart-tipped tail swayed back and forth behind him, not unsimilar to a dog. His shirt was discarded to free his wings, which were happily flapping without lifting him anywhere.

"How was I, Manager? I was drop-dead gorgeous, wasn't it? You couldn't take your eyes off of me, huh?" He questioned as he nuzzled his face into your chest. 

The younger twin was likely just putting words in your mouth, but she had grown used to it at this point. So, you gave him bland "yeah" and "sure". Not like he was paying attention. Unlike the older twin.

Haven was skimming through cards that came with the gift baskets they paid no mind to earlier. At first, you didn't see anything special or different about the card, even when you noticed the kiss mark on the back along with some numbers. It wasn't the first and likely wouldn't have been the last time.

The older twin let a small flame begin where he held it, before tossing it to the side. The card turned to ash before it touched the ground.

He stepped towards you and his brother, the latter not making any movements other than burying himself firmly in your chest. Bending over, Haven's long chestnut framed his face and yours, as it encompassed yours. Leaning closer, his hair slowly covering the space around the cushion your head laid on. His hand landed near your shoulder to hold himself up. 

"He's right. We did well", he spoke lowly, "So, we deserve rewards, no?"

With that, his lips touched yours. It wasn't heated, just barely there. But there was something clear in it. There was no reason to rush or press farther. They weren't going to let you go anyway. Not like there was a place you could escape to. 

In the kiss, you could feel yourself grow tired, losing energy. Keeping your eyes open was becoming more and more difficult. As he pulled away, you could see his lime-green eyes glow. 

Selfish bastard.

"You should take a nap, y/n. You worked hard, too. Let us handle everything."

Like always.

After you let your eyes close, you felt Haven drag Nervah off of you. The sudden release of pressure was appreciated. After you heard some clothes rustling, you felt yourself being lifted like a princess and the door unlocking. You felt yourself being carried away. You finally succumbed to the dwindling energy and fell asleep, hearing Nervah's excited chatter as your background noise.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Did I turn the incubi models into singers? Yes. Why? Because who doesn’t want a cute demon to serenade them. Also, no one told me not to. :P

So, this one is a little longer than the last one. Not gonna lie, was kinda nervous posting this. But I always appreciate any and all constructive criticism and other forms of feedback.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. Imma yeet myself out a first floor window.

Have a great day!

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 69

Cw:mentions of sexual slavery, description of a misscarriage, casual mentions of physical assault

Taglist:@stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Gif by @the-dragonqueenblog

Mysaria had never dreamed of having a child until Daemon came into her life.

She had been born in a pillow house; daughter of Yi-Tish slaves whose purpose was to keep the brothel filled their progeny.

She was one of many, and just like many of her brothers and sisters, Mysaria managed to seduce an adventurer or a merchant to escape her fate.

Mysaria knew every dance, the brothelkeeper spared no expense in that.

And it was because of her dancing that she made her way into the Sunset Kingdoms as a free woman.

It was because of her dancing that Prince Daemon took her as his mistress. His only mistress.

Then when the Heir for a Day was burned along with his mother, she discovered her womb had quickened with her dragon’s seed.

Mysaria had never wanted children until she felt that fluttering inside her womb and imagined a silver haired child with the perfect blend of its parents’ features.

Some nights he was a boy with almond shaped violet eyes burning Lys to the ground with his dragon alongside his father.

Other nights, she was a girl, so innocent and beautiful that Mysaria weeps of joy at knowing her daughter will never be exploited like she was.

But that child and all her hopes and dreams died with it on that boat to Lys.

Princess Rhaenyra had killed her child, her baby that was the size of her hand when he bleed out of her.

The women who attended her then had cried and wept with her, for her.

That miscarriage had rendered her barren.

Not that Daemon, her Rogue Prince, knew.

As far as he knows, there was no baby and she had never been able to have one anyways.

As far as he knows, she is loyal to them.

But Mysaria is loyal to no one except herself.

She will make them pay.

Rhaenyra for killing her son and Daemon for allowing it to happen.

And what better way than by making Rhaenyra lose all her children while Mysaria pits her against Daemon.

“Have you come to take him from me?” Aemma asked assuming the steps were Daemon’s.

She liked taking Aemon for walks, the occasional flight and Dragonstone Village could boast that they had seen the little prince as often as they see the princess.

“I couldn’t even if I tried.” Addam, her half-brother, said as he took off his helm.

The little traitor, Aemon had the audacity to smile at his bastard uncle.

Addam was the same age as her, only a moon or so older.

Aemma doesn’t know why it rubs her the wrong way to have two more brothers.

Was it because they looked like her and she knew eventually Joffrey would know that his father wasn’t the man who held him in that portrait?

Was it because if Addam had been trueborn, even Aemma would have been sidelined to make place for him?

Even mother liked Addam, treated him as if they were kin.

“I have expected you to return the slap, you have boldness in spades.” He comments with a small laugh so reminiscent of their late father.

“If she was anyone else, I would have. Believe me.” Aemma said and meant it.

Had it been Alicent, or anyone else, Aemma would have hit back. Fuck the consequences, fuck propriety.

But the slap had stunned her beyond speech and action, which was very unlike her. Aemma was not one to be cowered into a corner.

“What will you do now?” he asked tentatively. They had met once, when grandfather took her with him into Hull, they had played together with toy ships while grandfather conducted business with Marilda and her father.

Aemma remembers asking why he looked like her and suddenly Aemma not allowed to go to the shipyard with anyone.

“Once mother is safe on the throne, I will settle here. Hopefully things will cool down by the time Aemon has his first nameday.” Or if little Aenor or Aenna happened to come calling.

Part of her hopes she will have just one more piece of Aemond in her life, another knows she cannot handle another baby so soon.

Especially if push turns to shove and she ends up fighting her own mother.

Aemma prays it never happens, but at this point it would not surprise her if her mother declared her a traitor because of Daemon.

“There have been rumors that Princess Aemma has fallen out of favor with her mother, that the Queen struck her and threatens to disinherit her.” Larys spoke to those left in the council. “This was after Princess Aemma confronted her stepfather for murdering her father and Prince Daemon attempted to silence her through violence.”

If only he had killed her.

Once, long ago, Alicent would have tried to like the girl for Aemond’s sake, but then the war happened and her sweet Helaena had suffered because of her.

If Aemond had not helped Aemma escape, he would have been there to kill Blood and Cheese before they touched a hair on her innocent grandchildren.

“How does this help us win the war, Lord Strong?” Ironrod asked as he began to lose his patience.

“Houses Velaryon and Arryn would be amenable to joining us if Prince Aemond were to become king.” The clubfoot said and let it hang. “We would not even need to cater to Lord Baratheon’s whims.”

These people do not care about Aegon, they do not care his father named him heir in his last breath.

They want the power she had given them and take her out of the painting.

She had put them here, who did they think they were?

“You speak of treason, Lord Strong.” She warned.

“Oh, I merely speak the truth, your grace.” The man smiled and Alicent knew the game was over.

To say there was a battle was an understatement.

Or maybe everything after the Gullet just makes things feel small.

Daemon’s goldcloaks made quick work of what little defenders Aemond left as part of his plan, Alicent barricaded herself until Caraxes reminded her there was no escape and Aemma breathed easier knowing the casualties were small in number afterwards.

“Is this how you repay the love my son bears for you?” Alicent spat as she was forced to surrender.

Chains, golden chains made specially for her, clasped around her ankles and wrists and her green dress with its hems blackened by dragon’s smoke and grime as she tried to run.

“The city is yours, Princess,” the word dripped with venom as she bowed to her enemies, “You will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”

“He will, but not for you.” Her mother taunted. “If the gods are good, my sweet daughter will give him a second son. Tell me, Queen Alicent, what is duty to the feeling of your newborn child in your arms?”

But Aemma hides this sudden hope.

Was her mother willing to give Aemond a fair trial like Aemma had begged her the day she struck her?

[dieorlive]

|Entry 2|

2 Handfuls Wasn't Enough.

It messed me up but not enough to be buried or in a stupid vase.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and I went home during my lunch break. Tore through the medicine cabinet and grabbed the tramadol and lorazepam. Shoved them all in my mouth and swallowed. Laid down in my bed and closed my eyes, but I woke up to my phone ringing. It was my manager, fucking asking me if I'm coming back from my lunch anytime soon.

"The fucking nerve of this guy" I thought to myself.

I told him I had fallen asleep and was coming now. But as soon as I got off my bed I felt it. All of it. It felt like I was drugged.

Oh well fucking duh, I drugged myself. I was disappointed I didn't die so I got up and drove to work.

I don't remember getting there, but I remember sitting down on the stool and my manager looking at me and repeatedly asking me, "What did you take?" And I denied taking anything.

After work, I had the wonderful job of driving her home. I told her I didn't feel good and that her dad should get her, but she fussed and said that she told him I would do it already. Next thing I know, we are at the Kate Spade store at the outlets, and I am just standing there. Then I'm transported to my house where I asked her if I could take a nap before I bring her home, to try and sleep off the grogginess I was feeling.

The next thing I remember is waking up propped up against the wall, and she is taking my pulse and asking again if I took something earlier. I finally fess up on what I took. She started saying we needed to go to the ER, and I argued no and to butt out. I said she needed to Uber home because I obviously was not capable of driving home. She said no - she didn't want to pay, and it was already late.

So, she took my car and drove herself home with me in the passenger seat. I don't remember getting to her house, and I don't remember how I drove myself back home.

I remember one thing. Why I did it. She told me that day that I should be lucky to be with her. Because she could have easily picked anyone else. Because there were a lot of people who wanted her.

But one thing is for sure, it is ultimately my fault and my decision for everything that happened that day/night.

Only I can control my actions. My rights and my wrongs.

- M

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Beyond Midnight Final Chapter

It is 6am.

Otobe is confronted by not just Mifune but his own mindset that he's most familiar with. One nice bit of detail is the spirit of Otobe's past self is wearing the same outfit he wore when he ran away to Tokyo.

Arakawa charged in screaming and likely flailing his arms the whole way.

This arc has a central theme around having the resolve to live to the fullest and that includes doing what you feel has to be done even if you're scared.

Otobe starts as the antithesis of this. He's just coaxing through life with no goals and always taking the easy way out of everything. His choices are not based on what he feels he should do or wants out of life, but what is easiest. Contrast that with the rest of the cast who are willing to put their lives on the line to do what they can in the situation.

On the most extreme end, we have Mion who is literally fighting for her life to ensure she keeps control of the Sonozaki group. Her determination was to the point that she literally was crawling toward the place the bell was cause she felt it was worth getting.

Then we have Towada who chose to kill her abusive boyfriend so she could take back her life. She discovered too late that her choice may have been the wrong one, but she decides to move forward, first by atoning for her actions.

Then we have Arakawa. He's a normal guy who got swept into some very not normal circumstances. At every moment, he's the voice of reason when it's reasonable to abandon what's happening and save yourself. But despite that and despite him being utterly afraid for his life, he still chose to help because he couldn't just leave the others behind.

Just like last chapter, death is not treated with the same tone as the rest of the series. Mifune gets killed very nonchalantly by Mion Shion.

So yeah, that was actually Shion this whole time. Based on her remarks at being called that, it seems she had taken Mion's name after the real Mion had died. But also, Mion's spirit had possessed her during this arc so she could get the bell to Shion. And Shion survived cause Mion's spirit took the blow.

I don't get it. It's dumb.

And the last part of the story takes place at the ruins of the school where everyone died. Shion talks about her own feelings on everyone's deaths and Otobe passes on Mion's final words: "It would be great if we were twins in the next life."

Thinking on it, Shion probably survives most of the arcs in the series on account of not being in Hinamizawa at the time. So she's often left behind. Despite her connections to the others, she is part of the secondary cast.

Mion's toothpaste analogy is really silly but if you think about it, it ties into the themes of this arc. A tube of toothpaste has only so much toothpaste in it, and the tube costs the same whether you use all, half, or none of it. So if you want to get the most worth out of it, you use every last bit of the toothpaste and only discard the tube when it's empty.

So if we were to compare life to a tube of toothpaste, it has the same value whether it's partially or wholly used, but it doesn't get its maximum worth until you've gotten everything out of it.

And now the group leaves with the resolve to live their lives to the fullest. Otobe is going to go back home and figure out how to pay off his debts; Shion is going to claim her spot as the head of the Sonozaki group; Towada is going to turn herself in and then start her life over anew; and Arakawa... is gonna take a nap on the ride home before figuring out how to write his article.

And Shion leaves behind the Tamahajiki no katana and an Ace of Spades card. Just like the others, she will live her life fully. And the first step is to not be shackled by the past, but instead look forward to the future, both for this life and the next.

back

Spoiler Discussion

The feeling is mutual. Mion's final words are what Shion says in the final arc when she believes she's marching to her death to help the others.

[klaineharmony]

Hi all - I'm going to do some education here, because I teach, among other things, about social media and fanfiction and copyright, and I think the reasons why selling bound fanfiction is bad need to be spelled out. Especially for those of you who have grown up since the 2000s, fic is such a normalized part of the internet that you probably don't realize the implications of this.

First, let me be very clear about something. If you are binding a printed copy of an author's work and selling it for profit, and you didn't ask that author's permission to do so, you are doing something illegal. You are making money off of someone's intellectual property when they didn't agree to let you do that. And that's illegal, full stop.

This is why, by the way, printing and binding a copy for yourself is fine. Printing and binding a copy as a gift for a friend is fine. You aren't making any money, you're paying for the materials and doing the labor, and you aren't mass-distributing it for anyone who wants to buy one.

Now, is this a little more complicated because fanfiction itself is free? Sure. I can see someone arguing, "But authors put up their stories for free, and I'm just charging for the cost of the binding. I'm not trying to make a profit." True. But, if you did not ask the author's permission, making and selling printed copies of their work is still illegal. You still stole their product, something that they created, and are trying to sell it. It's like you are selling cheap Kate Spade knockoffs on a street corner. And, you monetized something that the original author intended to be free to readers.

I am sure someone will also make the point that fanfic authors don't have a lot of legal standing in this. They write their work for free, and fanfiction is, itself, derivative of the original work. This is true. But that is exactly why this kind of selling of fic is dangerous! You are exposing the author of that fan work (not to mention yourself!) to lawsuits because you are selling something that infringes on the copyright of the original author! And frankly, I can't believe Etsy hasn't shut down these sellers already, because they become legally liable too, when people are selling illegal products on their site.

Think of it this way. I'll invoke JKR here because she's ridiculously rich from a series that a lot of people loved, and because a lot of the fic authors being harmed right now are part of HP fandom. If you are selling bound HP fanfic, you are infrining on JKR's copyright of her work. JKR could send her entire team of lawyers after you, and hound you for the rest of your life, and you would lose, because making money off of derivative work is part of the definition of copyright infringement. You could try to argue that you aren't doing it for profit, that you aren't making money, but you would probably lose. JKR can let her lawyers argue against you until the end of time.

In addition - I'll say it again - you are infringing on the intellectual property of the HP fanfic author. Would it be harder for a fic author to make this case in a legal court? Sure, because their work is already derivative, and only the original elements of the fic are their property. But if you took that work and printed it and sold it without their permission, they could still seek damages. They weren't the ones doing the printing or making money. They weren't the ones infringing on JKR's copyright and taking money away from her profits. You, the bookbiner, were.

These kind of actions are the things that upset the very careful balance fandom has with media companies. Fandom only works in the way it does now because media companies recognized that fandom generated a lot of free publicity and enthusiasm for their products. But this? Selling fanficiton that the authors didn't give you permission to sell, and that JKR didn't give you permission to write? This is the kind of nightmare that sends fandom back into the shadows, into the days of being sued by Anne Rice and Marion Zimmer Bradley and by every Disney property under the sun, and we all go back to sneaking each other 'zines at cons because it's the only way to stay under the radar.

Learn some fandom history, and something about the legalities of copyright, and CUT. THIS. SHIT. OUT.

STOP SELLING BOUND FANFICTION

I cannot blame them for pulling their works, in fact I'm proud of them for doing so. Fanfiction is a community of gifting. As authors we write fics and share our works for free. Fanfiction is a weird, fragile, liminal space that can crumble at any time. This fragility needs to be respected.

If you want fanfiction to be around for you to enjoy, then the rules need to be respected!

You can bind fics. You can gift bound fics. DO NOT SELL BOUND FICS!!

Or soon we won't have fanfiction anymore and the world will be much darker for it.

[diordrysdale]

life of the party ⋆ andy barber

soft!dark!andy barber x female!reader

warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, college!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, andy is in his late 30s), mentions of drugs, mentions of drug-dealing, slight manipulation, mentions of stalking, unprotected sex, sir kink, overstimulation, rough sex, mean!andy.

word count ⋆ 2,134

don’t forget to like & reblog, it’s very very much appreciated bbys!!

who could blame him?

returning a few days early from his trip to get a bit peace and quiet, only to find his house packed with more shit-faced college students than he could count.

jacob was throwing his first college party at home, deciding it was perfect due to the fact his father wasn’t in town.

or so he thought.

so who could blame andy for being a bit worried for the well-being of his son.. and his own house.

andy huffed in his audi, keeping a close eye on his home as he leaned back in his leather seat as he pondered over whether he should shut down the party or not— but he became exhausted just thinking about it.

reaching for his phone, he frowned at the sight of no new messages, considering the fact he triple-texted his ex-wife about his son’s actions— it was like she was never apart of their once happy family.

what the hell do I do, laurie?

everyone’s throwing up all over the goddamn porch

he’s your fucking son too

why don’t you care?

sent at 11:39p.m

andy sighed heavily at the last message, feeling absolutely pathetic, it wasn’t fair.

he should be moving on, just like laurie was.

the brunette glanced out the window, narrowing his eyes on a certain someone.

he watched you gracefully make your way out the front door and carefully kneel on the cropped grass til you were comfortable, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back.

andy barber knew more about you than he cared to admit.

not only because jacob talked about you— constantly, might he add— but because andy liked doing his homework, his research.

he knew you were obsessed with coffee, and he noticed you always exited the shop with a different flavor.

you liked trying new things, noted.

and you could blush all you wanted, andy was convinced you loved the complements, the lingering touch of his palm against your cheek as he once thanked you for being such a great friend to his only son.

an eager question yanks him from his thoughts as he automatically brings down his window slightly.

“how much?”

he assumes she’s a classmate of yours, definitely not your friend, she’s not the type to be worthy of your friendship.

“20, and trust me, it’ll fuck you up if you don’t pace yourself— wrap it in a blunt and share it, here,” you reached into your bag for a small bubblegum paper, “tell mikey to make it for you.”

the girl squealed as the two of you exchanged items and she blew you a kiss.

andy was astonished

there was no fucking way.

you dealed?

he almost rubbed his eyes, he must be dreaming, he thought as he focused on you, who was gazing up at the star-filled sky before someone rudely interrupted once more.

“[y/n]!”

andy clenched his jaw at the sight of his son sloppily taking a seat next to you and opted to throw his arm around your shoulder.

“come on, I’ll pay double for it!” jacob begged and whined as you giggled, shoving him away and tugged at the spades of green grass.

“fuck no, jake. you’re not ready for that shit.” you stated, pushing your purse as far from your best friend as you could.

“it’s just fuckin’ molly, [y/n], I wanna share it with nat.” he pouted with lidded eyes, clearing already past his drinking limit.

andy fiddled with the door handle, on the verge of calling the cops, anything to end what exactly was happening between you and his son.

“no, jacob. now piss off before I have to tuck your drunk-ass in bed.” you turned away as jacob stood angrily.

“bitch.” he says before walking away, causing you to scoff and shake your head, convincing yourself it was another one of his tantrums.

but andy heard the curse loud and clear, it killed him to let it slide.

and before he knew it, he was stomping his way til he was hovering over you, allowing you to take your time to glance up and realize it was your best friend’s dad.

“m-mr. barber?! “ you sputtered as he practically manhandles you off the ground, your heels clicking against the concrete as he led you towards his car.

taking the hint of getting inside, you stumble into the backseat, where he unexpectedly joins you.

“open your purse.” he orders through gritted teeth without making eye contact, showing you just a taste of how cold he could be.

“mr. barber, please—“

“open. the fucking. purse.” he abruptly turns to clutch your face between his calloused fingers, falling in love with the glimmer in your [e/c] eyes.

as soon as he releases you, your shaking hands unzipped your animal-print purse to reveal over 300 dollars of marijuana, blunt papers, teeny-tiny baggies of ecstasy, and 3 packs of cigarettes.

“what’s all this, hm?” he rhetorically quizzed, rummaging through your bag as your heart pounded at your chest like a bird trapped in a cage.

“planning to sell this to jake, sweetheart?” he plucked the miniature ziplock and brought it up to your teary orbs, just in case you hadn’t gotten a good look.

“I promise you, mr. barber, I would n-never sell your son a-anything or—“ he silenced you with a finger to his own lips that had been dressed with a smirk.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he purred, dropping the pills back into place as his free hand petted your [h/c] hair, hoping to bring your trembling to a halt.

“but i just- I feel disrespected,” he tsked, turning away from your doe eyes for dramatic effect, “selling drugs under my roof, on my property? I should call the cops on you.”

you involuntarily gasped at his words, reaching for his hand and tugging it to your chest.

“sir, please, this’ll never happen again, I swear!” you cried, letting his hand stray from your grip and wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you softly to lean your forehead against his own.

and suddenly, your breathing pace synced with his.

“it helps me with extra money, mr. barber, please, tell me you understand.” you pleaded with heavy in heart— did you really care what he thought about you?

“I can’t say I’m okay with this,” he sighed, moving away to create a painfully space between the two of you which made you whimper, “but I understand.”

“which is why I want you to stop dealing.” he stats, watching your eyebrows cutely stitch together as you scooted closer to him, needing his touch of approval now more than ever.

“b-but, mr. barber, the money—“

“from now on, you ask me for anything you fucking need, got it?” he barked, startling you til you tightened your thighs together.

of course andy noticed, he was enamored by detail. anything that had to do with you, really.

“spread your legs.” he demanded, flaring his nostrils as you immediately obeyed, permitting him search blindly beneath your skirt to drag his middle and ring finger against your panties.

“god,” he laughed exasperatedly, pressing against your clothed slit to feel your slick gush through the fabric.

“rub my clit, sir,” you whispered, grinding your hips to chase any sort of pleasure he was willing to let you have.

“yeah, want me to suck on your clit, sweetheart? leave it all raw and swollen?” you gulped and nodded persistently, thoughtlessly crawling onto his lap til he shoved you, back flat against the seats— god, how perfect had it been for the two of you to be back there.

“andy, please—“

“what the fuck did you call me?” he glared at you, “remember your fucking place.” he spits with anger, yanking your panties down your legs.

“s-sir?“ you treaded cautiously and he nodded with a widening grin.

“good girl.” the contrast of his toughness and the praise made you keen, bucking your hips up subconsciously as a sign for him to observe your wetness running down to your untouched, precious hole.

“fuck me.” andy mumbled more to himself, his thumb and pointer finger spreading your pretty folds and noticed how you clenched around nothing.

andy almost collapsed.

“will you touch me, sir?” you kneaded at your clothed tits, beaming your bambi eyes as he chuckled darkly, mocking your pout for a split second as he placed three fingers onto your pussy.

“by the end of this, sweetheart, you’ll be begging me not to touch you,” he began to drive his three digits past your velvet folds, making your back arch at the intrusion, all thoughts and regrets flying out the window.

“like this, sweetheart? you like this?” the squelching noises of your juices leaking made his head spin, but he had to remain dominant.

“f-fuck,” your voice wavered, not knowing whether to focus on the thick fingers that kept fucking your soaking heat, or the man who was driving you insane.

“beg. beg for my fingers.” he buried his fingers slowly, bringing your rising orgasm to it’s apex.

“let me cum on your fingers, sir,” you sobbed as you reached down to wrap your hand around his wrist, using his fingers like a toy you could simply fuck.

“fuckin’ beg for it then.” he growled and jerked his fingers from of your slit, unknowing triggering your orgasm as your mouth fell slack and thighs shut immediately at the overwhelming feeling of bliss.

you’d left him speechless, admiring the aftershocks run through your beautiful body and the whimpers that inevitably slipped from your glossed lips.

“I-I didn’t mean to, sir, i-“ you shrieked at his sudden pounce, falling to notice the second andy released his shaft from the restraints of his slacks til he hovered over you, letting his dick rest against your mound.

“you didn’t mean to what, sweetheart? forget to ask for permission? to start cumming like a whore? you should know better.” he pumped his cock, sliding the reddening tip against your drenched inner thighs.

“I’m sorry, sir, just- please, wanna feel you deep in my pussy.” you whined and squirmed, arms wrapping around his sweating neck as you tugged at his fluffy hair, pulling him down to ghost your lips onto his.

“once I’m fucking this cunt, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” he confessed, feeling like a hopeless man on his knees for you, ready to surrender his body and soul to you.

“I don’t want you to fucking stop, andy, make me yours and fuck me raw.” the mention of his name set him off, as you knew it would.

and just like that, he buried himself to a hilt, adoring how your face morphed into what seemed like you were absorbing the pain and the pleasure of the stretch.

“does it hurt?” andy breathed out, arms threatening to give out as he left wet kisses down your exposed neck.

“y-you’re too big,” you stuttered out as your hand attempted to shove at his glistening abs but he warning you with a silent death stare.

“and you take it so fucking well.” he congratulated before beginning to drill his cock into your pussy, claiming it as his own, smiling breathlessly as you wailed out, hoping he’d stop before he forced another orgasm out of you.

“c’mere,” he grunts, wrapping his arms around you as he flips you into his lap, slamming your hips up and down, mentally capturing the way you were impaled on his thick cock.

in the midst of you losing your mind, you pressed your lips against his own for the first time, feeling his skillful tongue immediately drag against yours, swallowing your broken moans.

“can’t wait to be stuffed in this cunt every fuckin’ day, ‘cause you’re mine now, sweetheart, all mine,” he mentioned as he stole your breath once more, pistoning his member up one, two, three more times til you clenched around him, milking him, to desperately feel him claim you.

it was all you ever wanted.

“fuck-fuck-“ his voice raised an octave as he forced you to stay in place, almost forcing you to relish in the way his warm streaks of cum painted your walls.

“holy shit, [y/n],” he gasped out with a chuckle, heart racing in his throat as he glanced around to admire the fogged-up windows.

wiping his damp forehead with the back of his hand, his stomach feebly fluttered at the sight of you fast asleep on his chest, you were all tuckered out.

how he wished he could just carry you into his house bridal-style, up to his bedroom and spoon you.

but the only option was to remain in his car, in each other’s arms til the coast was clear.

and andy didn’t mind.

not one bit.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

a/n; MY FIRST FIC !!! I really hope you all enjoyed it, I’m so in love with andy, I just had to jumpstart my blog with an andy smut <3

[poisonmaximoff]

BELATED FATE (Elizabeth Olsen x FemReader).

The whole story: here.

Chapter 17. (Love)sick

Y/n's POV:

A sore throat and the sensation that my head is about to split into a thousand pieces is the first thing I felt when I woke up in the morning in my bed the next day.

Rolling over from my stomach to my back with a groan, I cover my face with hands as the bright light attacks my sensitive eyes. Grabbing the phone that was laying on the pillow right next to me, I unlock the screen and see that it's almost 1 p.m. already. I don't quite understand my current state, because I don't remember drinking much yesterday, knowing my usual norm, but the events of last night are starting to fill my memory.

Elizabeth loudly sings along to the next song, giving vent to emotions and living up this day to the fullest. Her blond locks are already tangled and a few drops of sweat appeared on her forehead, making some hairs stick to it, but she still looks like the most beautiful creature in the multiverse, who doesn't care a slightest bit about anything in the world now.

"Pick your jaw off the floor, Y/n," Olivia's booming voice makes me tear my eyes away from the woman and meet the playful smirk of my tipsy friend. "You look like a humanization of that emoji with heart eyes and saliva flowing from its mouth," she screams in my ear like I wouldn't hear anything otherwise.

That amount of alcohol I've already had today makes me want to share my feelings with the whole world and pushes me into a moment of candor:

"Liv, I think that I'm falling in love with her," I say and purse my lips, showing not-so-positive way of my own attitude towards it and her smile is replaced by an understanding glare, making her look like she just instantly sobered up in a couple of seconds.

"I know, Y/n, I know. But you remember what we once talked about, yes?"

Well, these thoughts haunted me every single day, although I struggled to get rid of them and shift my attention to something else, so I didn't even have to forget about it.

I didn't want any of this. My heart seems to have masochistic tendencies and loves to inflict pain on itself by choosing the best candidates for it.

Deep down, I initially knew where this would lead and lately I simply refused to call a spade a spade, hoping that self-gaslighting would work, but now I don't see any reason to deny my true feelings. Another problem is how to make sure that El doesn't find out about it under any circumstances. Or does she already know?

After a few more sips of the scalding liquid, my dislike for Danny, who is constantly around El, almost reaches the point of no return. "It must be me who can touch her like that," drunken thoughts rush into my head, causing a feeling of jealousy to settle in me.

"El?" I go up to her again as soon as some slow song starts playing in the speakers and colorful beautiful lights illuminate the entire stadium, creating a magical calm atmosphere, although only a few minutes ago the crowd was literally ready to explode.

"Y/n?" The rosy-cheeked beauty immediately turns to me, giving me an inquisitive look from head to toe.

"May I have this dance?" I don't know what exactly I was guided by, but the thought that Danny could invite her to dance right now, his hands could be on her body instead of mine and the alcohol in my blood make me take this bold act.

She doesn't answer and I'm about to apologize, jumping off the balcony upside down after that, but she walks up to me, accompanying the action with a sensual smile on her lips. Elizabeth wraps her left arm around my waist and takes my left hand in her right, pulling me towards herself.

"Wrap your other arm around my neck, don't be afraid," she says and I do it without thinking twice, at the moment not paying attention to what the rest of the guys will think about us.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to drink while I'm with her," I whispered to myself, wanting to slap my face because of what I did. What the hell was I thinking? First I tell myself that I have to keep my feelings in a wolfram cage, and the next moment I go ask her to dance like she's not going to get married in a month.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I decide that it's time to get out of bed and go freshen up, but dizziness and noticeable weakness make me slump back onto the bed. Shit, the reason for this is obviously not only a hangover, which, by the way, I haven't had for several years at all, and it seems like I also got sick in addition to this, getting a severe sore throat and fever as a bonus. Great, but feels like it's totally deserved.

She holds my body and hand tightly as we move to the beat of the music, not daring to look each other in the eyes even though we both should be feeling more brave now compared to normal days. My head is slightly dizzy when I look down at the crowd of people, so I bury my face in her neck and she rests her chin on the top of my head. Today I decided not to wear heels, so our height difference is greater than usual, but I'm not complaining about it at all.

I wonder how it's that we don't really need to talk when we're together. We just enjoy each other's company and discuss things from time to time, not having an awkward silence when we don't have a topic for a conversation. Even now, this moment seems so intimate to me that words would be superfluous, and that's why we can only surrender to it without thinking.

It's a fact that I feel things in a very special way around her. But what happens in the future, when I can't overcome my pain, which sooner or later will overshadow my love for El's presence in my life? How can I deal with this without hurting both of us? I suppose that now it becomes my main problem, which, as usual, I created myself, letting out the need to give my love to someone. She is just unlucky to be in the place of this very person.

Somehow hobbled to the bathroom, I look in the mirror and a small proud smile appears on my face due to the realization that I was able to remove makeup and change into pajamas even while being drunk, even though I put it on upside down. Wait, how did I get home?

"Look at them, how could they even stand on their feet?" I hear Scarlett's voice as I sit with my eyes closed, slowly chewing on a chicken nugget. Liv and I convinced everyone to go to McDonald's after the concert, because there has never been a time when we have not been here after drinking something, it's like our sacred place.

"I'm not that drunk, Mrs. Johansson, you confuse me with someone," I intervene in their conversation, opening one eye a little.

"Someone bragged to me that they're not a lightweight drinker, yeah, Y/n?" El's taunting voice makes me fully open my eyes and stare at her in disbelief.

"I'm literally not drunk, Miss Olsen." I think that my words sound more than convincing until the chuckles of the guys let me know that my speech is actually far from a sober one.

"Honey, you stumbled eight times on the way here. And why do you call everyone miss, Y/n? Sudden awakening of respectful noble gentlewoman?" Scar can't stop herself from playing with me again.

"Ya." That's all I answer before putting another nugget in my mouth.

"Sweetheart, should I call you a taxi?" My skin gets goosebumps as Elizabeth speaks to me in a while, saying it in my ear, and I seem to freeze in place. Yes, it invigorates me better than ice water.

"Please," my tongue isn't listening to me, although my consciousness is quite capable of processing everything that is happening now.

I can't believe she saw me like that! One part of me is really ashamed of this, but another is trying to reassure it that El wasn't sober either, so it's not as embarrassing as it might seem. But in any case, thinking about it only makes my headache worse as I brush my teeth and stare at the reflection of a scruffy, unhealthy-looking girl in the mirror.

A few minutes later, I decide to go back to bed and, as usual, just wait until I feel better, because I don't even have any strength to take some pills, but the sound of my ringtone ruins my plan.

"Good morning to young alcoholics!" Madison's scream is heard from the phone and I sharply move it away from my ear, wrinkling my face at the sound that is very unpleasant for me at the moment.

"Can you not yell, dumbass?" I ask in a hoarse, grumbling voice, since my mood today is much worse than yesterday.

"Oh, sounds like someone has a really bad hangover, huh?"

"Fuck off, I got sick and I feel like I've been hit by a starship," I whine, rolling over onto my side.

"Oh my god, Y/n, I told you to bring a jacket yesterday, didn't I?" The displeased voice of the girl makes me roll my eyes.

"I took it in case you didn't notice, but I was still cold." Yes, let's forget that I didn't even get to use it.

Mads only sighs heavily in response. "Will you take care of yourself or should I come over and babysit you?" Oh no. No, no, no. It has already happened once, she constantly gave me vile syrups and nasty pills, so I'd rather die than let this happen again. Therefore, after telling her that I can handle everything myself, we say goodbye to each other and I fall asleep again, preparing for having fever dreams.

Elizabeth's POV:

I spent these two days in Barcelona with the most caring, considerate, gallant and charming man of my life, but my thoughts were still stuck in Los Angeles, where a certain cute girl from my work is left.

Boyd definitely knows how to satisfy me, make me laugh and keep me from getting bored, but my smiles with him are so fake compared to what I feel around Y/n.

Never in my life have I felt so attached to any person, even if they were my partner. Every day, spent without her, seems to have no meaning and colors of life, which I lack so much. Sometimes it seems to me that Y/n doesn't even suspect what an important place she occupies in my life and what a truly wonderful person she is. She constantly underestimates it, allowing herself to think that there is nothing special about her, so I'm going to prove to her how wrong she is.

The weekend was definitely great, but now I'm very happy that I have already returned home and that I didn't have to be away from her, I mean from here, for longer time. I talked a little with Y/n in the messenger, but her rare short replies made me start to overthink if I did something wrong. So as soon as I got off the plane on Monday morning, I told Boyd that I needed to make one work-related call and went away to talk to the girl, using an opportunity to ask her if we would see each other today. Well, the call is indeed relatively work-related, so I wasn't lying.

"Yes?" A hoarse voice answered on the other side of the phone and I didn't even immediately understand that it was Y/n.

"Y/n, are you okay? Why do you sound like that and will you be at work today?"

"Oh my, I forgot to tell you, I'm sorry. I got sick, so I won't be able to go to work yet," she said, and the sound of coughing reminded me of the recent night she got cold because of me. Guilt immediately washes over me, but this time it's much stronger than what I usually feel.

"You're at home, yeah?" I have to go to her place right now and make sure nothing serious has happened, right? Like a good friend I am.

"Yes, why?" She started coughing again.

"I'll be there in an hour," I reply, and hang up before she can protest, telling my fiancé the first lie that comes to mind that I urgently need to visit my family.

A/n: i wanted to show caring elizabeth in this chapter, but it would be too long, so i'll do it in the next :)