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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Hello there 🙋🏻‍♀️! I am a woman in desperate need of fresh Daemon fics, for his tags are running dry ♨️

Maybe something about her being insecure for being younger and inexperienced, him getting jealous of a guard's attention on her, a wedding night piece, I don't know, let your imagination run wild 🃏

Thanks in advance!

Why Do We Sleep Where We Want To Hide

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: He was the thorns around your heart, your lover, who made your heart bleed. They say love is blind because of those like you, who selflessly did anything for your selfish lover. Mayhap tis fitting love will be your doom.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, undertones of suicidal ideation, Sleeping Beauty AU, casually toxic!daemon, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: Cause im so bad at titles, i just used a line in an all time low song 'monster' (which i suggest you listen to) because besides the sleeping beauty-esque plotline, the song also inspired me. I hope you like it nyctophilic0vitnir <3 <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

"You're to be married?" I shuddered, breath hitching, lips trembling.

Daemon, who looked up at me as I shot up from my bed where we were sat on, does not even show me a glint of remorse, "it is not out of mine own want to be married to that bronze bitch."

"Then what of me?!," I shake my head, feeling hot tears streak my face, "what of us?!" I heave, "you do not even care about what-"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?!" he cuts, raising his voice, "telling you of what will become of me!" he narrows his eyes, "does that not count for something?!"

I scoff, feeling my chest tighten as my fists do. I mutter softly, as if in disbelief, "you care only for yourself, Daemon."

Like a theatre play being acted out before my eyes, I recall all of my fondest memories with him. How we met as children and bonded over our joint agenda to steal desserts from the banquet table, how he unabashedly played with me and my dolls, though his brother made fun of him, how he would braid flowers into my hair, how he would return from his travels each time with a souvenir for me, how he held my hand, how he played with my locks, how he kissed me, how he made me moan out his name in ecstasy.

He was my Daemon, my beloved prince, not a hard, miscreant the court makes him out to be.

And yet in this moment, it was pinching me in the gut. The whispers and the warnings I gave no attentions to were all darkening my memories of him.

Perhaps in fact he had been lost to me for long, and I had only been fooling myself otherwise.

He stands before me, calling out my name.

I recoil when he reaches out to me. I mumble, "if it wasn't so, you'd fight for me."

"You want me to go against my brother?" he scoffs out a dry chuckle.

The sight of his incredulous face rips at my heart. My jaw slacks as my lips pull upward, "you've done so for less."

I shake my head where he clenches his jaw.

"Tell him about us," I urge, but mutter as though it was a horrible crime, our love, "tell him, then ask my father for my hand."

His nostrils flare. He turns away, "your father would never give you to me."

I growl, shoving him away, "and you don't even want to try!?"

Daemon looks at me, shocked by my sudden aggression.

I shove him again, harder, "you cannot even agree that you care for me! And now you scorn even the notion of asking for my hand."

He calls out my name. I all but give him time to poison me with his meaningless harks. My hand that meets his cheek is enough to silence him. I shove him away one last time before storming past him, "get out."

I head to my chamber doors as he calls out my name tightly.

He says, "I did not come here to argue."

"I do not understand why you came here at all," I snip, opening the door for him. I turn, feeling my throat tighten and my eyes water at the looks of him, "get out, Daemon."

He licks his lips in annoyance, shifting on his leg as he calls my name again. He places his hands on his hips, "your childish behavior is beginning to annoy me."

I laugh, motioning to the door, "then leave!"

He huffs, "you don't think I will?!"

"I WANT YOU TO!"

"THEN I'LL FUCKING LEAVE, CUNT!"

And so he did. He stormed out and ripped the door from my grip, banging it closed on his way out.

There was an inexplicable relief when he left, relief that I got my point across, that I did not allow myself to be folly under his duress. But of course, there was a bitter tinge at the center of it all, for yes, he was this conceited man playing me, yet I did not really believe it. I still wanted to think he was mine, my sweet lover.

So seeing him in the courts, smiling at ladies, brushing the back of his hand against their necks was a repulsive sight. Watching him drink with soldiers, talking about hunting and war like it was the most exciting thing in the world was absolute ridicule. And now, beholding him win in tourneys with favors from other women was most heart-piercing.

"Daughter!" my father mutters sharply as he nudges me back into reality.

"Yes, father?" I say under my breath, rather ditzy as I turn to my left.

"Lord Westerling has asked for your favor," my mother to my right responds quickly, pulling her lips in a forced smile.

I turn front, finding the man clad in armor, holding his lance out to me. I pull a smile, grabbing a wreath, throwing it out to him, "may the Warrior grant you victory."

"Thank you, my lady," he nods, "mayhap, if I win, you will allow me a moment of your time."

I nod, without much thought.

I idlily watch as the man goes to his place and readies for the match. I only turn to his opponent when I hear the burst of High Valyrian along with the huffs of a restless steed.

When the word is given, all at once, the two ride towards each other and the Westerling fellow shoots off his horse, falling to the ground, a swift conclusion to the match. That was, until his opponent, with his avidly flashy headpiece, jumps off his horse and marches toward the felled man, as if the emissary of The Stanger herself.

I shoot up from my seat, turning to my parents, "I will relieve myself."

I do not wait for their response as I walk off, hearing the screams of a man being butchered.

Truly, it was a shock that I was caught by a bloody handed man on my way off to the privy.

I gasp when I turn back, feeling my skin crawl at the fresh stain on my sleeve and the sight of the prince, removing the helm off his head, "I nigh killed your man."

"Am I supposed to applaud you, prince?"

"Why are you making this so difficult?!" Daemon seethes, hurling his metal headpiece to the ground.

I recoil at his show of violence, feeling tears threaten to spill from my eyes, "tis I that makes things difficult?" I scoff, "your depravity knows no bounds."

"It is your haughtiness that burns us both!" he bursts.

"MY HAUGHTINE-"

I cut myself off when Daemon reaches out to for my cheeks, hands covered in grime and blood, leaning in to kiss me. I am delivered when I dodge his assault and manage to shove him away. I heave, kicking his shin, groaning at the pain in my toe that comes after.

"DO NOT TOUCH ME, MONSTER!"

He calls out my name.

"Even now," I call, "you do all you can to disgrace me!"

"You think so little of me?"

"YES!" I step forward, "because you think even littler of me!"

"That is not true and you know it."

I turn away, ready to leave him. He calls out my name angrily.

I only stop in my thundering exit when I hear him say, "if you leave me now, I will never come to you again!"

I clench my jaw tightly, "good," then continue to walk away.

For once, he is true to his words.

It is laughable, that in stubborn pettiness and spite, he is capable of doing exactly as he says he would. Yet in the warmth of our love, all the musings of his promises to me were left in hell.

He called out to me with such desperation, but now, I am nothing, no one to him. In court events, he does not even regard me, he does not even grant me the courtesy of treating me like a stranger, and merely ignores my presence altogether.

I wish so badly I could pretend to have the heart to care for the men who could finally flocked to me, now that the prince was no longer my shadow. I wish so badly I could muster even the most counterfeit of smiles, to throw back even a speck of disrespect Daemon had been throwing at me constantly.

But I was not as cold as he, and I could not even smile amongst the ladies I could have called my friends, had I cultivated more time with them, rather than the Targaryen I wasted my youth on.

When my family received invitation to his wedding, that was when I decided enough was enough.

"It's you," she calls as I enter the small, dingy room I was directed to by the woman downstairs, "the gods' wills are surely planned and timed."

I push away the curtain separating the shaman and I, brows knitting deeper at the next words she says, "I heard whispers in my dreams that I would meet a child of the Warrior and the Maiden today, lovers that cannot be."

I freeze at her words.

"Come child," she beckons, "if you want what he wanted of me, I think there need not be a spell cast for you both."

"What are you talking about?" I shake my head rapidly.

"Your lover," she whispers, "of alabaster hair and mighty wealth," she motions to the pouches of gold before her.

Daemon was here? "What did he ask of you?"

"A binding spell," she says, "it is meant to bring doom to those not he who would fall in love with you find a miserable death."

I whine, "and have you cast it?!"

"You arrived before I could finish," she says, tilting her head, "but I must say, even if I do not properly end the incantation, remnants of it would still come to pass."

"Then please undo it," I say, falling to my knees in front of the woman. I drop my satchel before her feet, heavy with all the coin I could carry.

The sound of my object catches her attentions, I suppose as well the sound of strangled breathing.

She sighs, leaning towards me, "it is nary possible to undo what has been done," she sighs, "but I can transform it to something else," she reaches out for my cheek, wiping my tear away, "what is it that you want from me, my dear?"

"I..." I shudder, feeling a shiver run down my spine. What do I want?"

"I want him," I weakly admit, "I want him to love me," I sigh, "I want him so badly. I want him to love me even though did not ask for us to be together with your magic," I chew my lip roughly, "and for that I want you to take this from me."

I look up to her. She wholly pitied me. How pathetic of myself.

"You want me to destroy the love you feel for him?"

I clench my jaw, nodding once.

She sighs, "even magic is not immune to the power of love."

"Then what can you do?!" I desperately reach out to her, "please."

"I can make him come to you."

I close my mouth. I do no think I want him to.

"It is not as simple as it sounds though, child," she explains, "I would be putting you into a deep sleep, one that would make all around you concerned for your wellbeing, him, hopefully, especially. The only thing that will awaken you is a sentiment to your lover's love."

I chuckle dryly, "he would not go to me even if his life depended on it."

"I am aghast to say that there is no other way to find out than by trying, milady," she offers, "but again, I must warn you. It is truly only he that can save you."

I knit my brows, "so... I will die if I do not wake up?"

She presses her lips, nodding slowly.

"Do it then."

"Are you cert-"

"I am the most certain I have been in a while."

And so I watched her finish her spell in front of me. She bid me farewell with a kiss on the forehead.

Later than night, when I returned, I bathed, dressed myself, and kissed both my parents goodnight the way the woman did with me.

It took a week, and visits from a dozen different maesters for the news to finally reach the king. And when it reached Viserys, it took him three days to debate whether or not he should tell his little brother. When he did, all hell broke lose.

Daemon nearly destroyed the palace in his anger, in the betrayal of only knowing the information now.

And yet, in all his ire, he did not come still. He instead moped, and rioted, and wasted away in taverns, in brothels, until his feet took him to the shrine of the Seven, praying to whomever would listen, to save his love, begging on his knees like he never did, never have, never will, ever again.

Then finally, finally he caved. He could not bear the voices in his head that were murmuring the worst.

Daemon asked to see his... his love, banging on the gates, a man at the brink, distraught, disheveled. The servants that were told to allow no one in did not know what to do. When the grief struck parents finally came, they could not turn him away upon recognizing the grief on his face.

And as Daemon went into the chambers, once blooming with shared love, now left rigid, cold, and uninviting, he took one look at the shell before him, turned away, unable to stomach the sight, unwilling to believe that this was the truth, denying this memory to stain his mind.

"It has been weeks, prince Daemon," the weeping mother says, "can you not send for someone to save my beloved girl," she turns to him, "you were once friends. You should do that much."

"We were never friends!" the prince barks, cheeks wet with tears he did not want to spill, "she was-"

And yet he still could not say it.

"Even now, you do all you can to disgrace me!"

Daemon shakes his head, turning to the floor, mumbling mostly to himself, "I will not disgrace her." He turns to the bed one last time, unable to look longer than three seconds, then to the parents, nodding his head, "I will take my leave now."

When he exits the chamber, he hears an angered man scream out profanities to him. He clenches his jaw, releasing a jagged breath, "wake up soon, my love."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #hotd angst #sleeping beauty au #house of the dragon angst

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sketching-shark · 2 years

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Can I honestly ask, if you could write a post Journey story were the Tang Monk apologize to Sun Wokung for how he treated him how would it go?

Oh dang, this was actually a pretty fun request! I hope I did these characters, their circumstances, and the religious context justice.

---

Perhaps it was because he had long lived in fear of who or what might try to eat or molest him next, but the end of the journey came to the being once known as Golden Cicada less as a blessing and more as a relief. It had certainly been one to his disciples. Sun Wukong looked more relaxed than the former Tang Monk could ever remember him being, Zhu Bajie was still grumbling loudly if cheerfully about being left to clean alters (even as his mouth was already watering at the prospect of all he would get to eat), and Sha Wujing was even now embracing deities that Xuanzang came to understand had been good friends of the former sand monk before he had been thrown out of heaven, all of them relishing their reunification at last. Even Ao Lie--who Xuanzang had only really known as his inexhaustible mount--had shifted into a human form before giving all the other members of the journey a long farewell and, bursting suddenly into the shape of a glorious dragon, took off for the ocean that was his first home, promising them in a thundering voice that he would visit soon. The dragon prince had seemed particularly sad about leaving Sun Wukong, and the monkey king himself had surreptitiously brushed a stray tear away as they all watched Ao Lie leave before he turned to Xuanzang, his expression defined by a contemplative cheekiness.

"So what next for you, shifu? With your new lotus throne you could visit all the temples in the world in a single day if you so wished, even without old monkey guarding your every step!"

Xuanzang grinned, glad that becoming a buddha had not stopped his first disciple from approaching the world with a sense of fun, even if at his shifu's expense.

"I actually thought that I might visit your mountain home and see for myself the splendors you often reminisced on."

Xuanzang had hoped that his words would be met with adulation and perhaps a little ribbing about a holy man even now still wanting to indulge in earthly delights, but the newly appointed Buddha Victorious in Strife instead went suddenly, unnaturally still. The monkey king's face, so peaceful but a moment ago, started to show signs of a creeping fear.

Xuanzang coughed slightly, his throat suddenly dry from emotions he had hoped his ascension might have left behind. "Sun Wukong. Please. Tell me honestly what you want."

The monkey king's hand abruptly shot up to his head, touching, Xuanzang realized with a sudden, unexpected, and sickening feelings, the same spot where the golden fillet that he had so often used against his first disciple once sat.

"Shifu, I...I will be as honest as you ask. Our new honorable positions have given me a state of peace that for these many years on our journey I did not believe possible. But it has not dulled my longing to return to Mt. Huaguoshan or my desire to live with what remains of my family. And...and this is a part of my life that I do not want to share with you."

The monkey's serene face abruptly screwed itself into a grin that Tang Sanzang, wishing all over again that he knew what he knew now when he was younger, recognized as a grin of fear.

"Were the claims about becoming a buddha false, shifu? Why even now is my heart filled with doubts and screaming fears? I think about you coming back with me to my old home...and I see you scorning my little ones. I imagine you scolding them for their monkey natures with all the ferocity that your renewed position as a buddha has not erased from your heart. And even though it is gone I still feel the gold fillet around my head! It makes me wonder! Would my shifu ask for the fillet back, put it on one of my grandchildren's heads, and use it to control them as he once controlled me?! Why does he want to visit a land filled with creatures so similar to the one he spent fourteen years berating?! Would my shifu ask for the fillet to be placed once again on my head so that he could use me against the yaoguai of Mt. Huaguoshan?! Would he hurt my little ones?! Would he use me as his instrument to do so?! SHIFU-!!"

Sun Wukong threw himself at Tang Sanzang's feet in a sudden show of absolute, terrified submission in spite off the staring, whispering deities all around them.

"I know you never forgave me for trying to kill you, but please!! My little ones are innocent! I have taken so many yaoguai lives for you! I have been blinded and scorched in your service! I spent these last fourteen years protecting you from every calamity that came your way! Please! Please..."

Xuanzang could not see Sun Wukong's face, pressed to the stone walkway as it was, but he did see the dampness formed from the monkey king's steadily flowing tears.

"Please keep punishing me if you want. But leave my little ones be."

Xuanzang supposed that he should have been shocked at this outburst, but he was not. Some part of him, more clear now than it had been when he was fully mortal and fully under the thrall of the excuses humans give themselves every day, had long known that this was what his first disciple had come to think of his master. The being once known as Golden Cicada crouched down in front of the stone monkey. Sun Wukong remained in his bow, but he did peek up at his shifu, his permanently reddened eyes bright with fear.

And then, the newly appointed Buddha of Candana Merit bowed deeply to his fellow simian.

"I understand why you feel this way. I...I was a young man when our time together started, puffed with pride in myself as the chosen bearer of the journey's burden. And then I spent many years after being reminded over and over again just how weak I actually was. All those yaoguai, looking at my bound body with hunger, muttering to themselves about what would flavor my meat best, p...pawing at my exposed flesh...I once told you that I would rather perish than kill another, but the truth is that I hated them and wanted them all to die. You were my protector, my savior on so many occasions, and the one who fulfilled that wish that I did not even dare to admit to myself. In...in my mind, you--a yaoguai and a being so capable of murder--became a constant reminder of everything I hated most about my situation and about myself. I did not trust you when I should have. I held on to my anger no matter what you did for me. Because for all the excuses I gave myself, you were the one being that I had any modicum of power over, the one being who I could express all the fury I came to foster against your kind and against myself."

Sun Wukong was staring at Tang Sanzang unabashedly and with a flurry of emotions flickering across his weathered face. The monk forced himself to continue.

"The...the way I treated you was abominable. I gave myself reason after reason, excuse after excuse, but it was ultimately all to soothe my own jealously and fear. Sun Wukong, I am so, so sorry."

He held up a hand when the monkey king moved to speak. "Before you reply, know that I will never expect nor demand your forgiveness. If you do not want me at Mt. Huaguoshan I will not go. If...if you would rather we go our separate ways and never speak again, I will respect that wish. It...it is the least I owe you. You have little reason to trust me. But I will never, ever hurt you again. I swear it."

Tang Sanzang could almost feel the discontent and even outright anger pouring from the still listening deities over the fact that a newly appointed buddha was showing such deference to the yaoguai who had once razed heaven. Perhaps it was his new buddha nature, but Tang Sanzang could not find it in himself to care.

The Buddha Victorious in Strife did not seem to be able to believe what he was hearing. His eyes flickered gold for a few moments, and while he understood Xuanzang could not help but feel sorrowful at the understanding that his first disciple felt he had to check his shifu's words to see if the former Tang Monk was speaking falsehoods. But the truth of Xuanzang's statement were confirmed. The monkey king got out of his bow and helped his shifu up from his. They regarded each other for a few seconds before Sun Wukong gave his reply.

"I can't forgive you now. I...I don't know if I ever will. But maybe some day."

The Tang Monk offered his disciple a small smile defined by all the understanding that his new buddha nature had helped him reach. "Sun Wukong, that is all that I could ever wish."

For the first time since they had first met, the monkey regarded the monk not with malice or fondness, not with agony or desperation, but with pure respect. The two bowed to each other in farewell. Sun Wukong mounted his cloud, and in an instant disappeared.

His robes slightly swirling from the gust of wind the monkey king had left in his wake, Xuanzang regarded the endless sky. He felt a little cheated that his current existence as a buddha had not actually resolved his all-too-human capacity for desires, fears, and yes, jealousy and anger. For Sun Wukong had talked often of Mt. Huaguoshan, describing it as a paradise whose natural delights far outshone that of any human design. And it had fostered yet another long-unspoken desire in Xuanzang's heart to see it for himself. To see, at least for a short time, what it might be like to exist as content as a mountain monkey that lived in a bliss of feasts of fruit and the pleasure of trusted companions.

But for all that he had completed the journey and become a buddha once again, there was still a set of sins on Xuanzang's soul that demanded atonement. And the price of this atonement, for all that it asked him to simply not go to one part in the wide world and not interact with one person and their family, filled his head and his heart with a hot pain, each one of its needles another reminder on just how often, now that everything was said and done, he had failed and failed again to support the one individual who had so often and at such enormous personal cost supported him. A small part of him wanted to cry out and demand that Sun Wukong take him to that mountain no matter how the monkey felt.

But there would be no justice in such an action. In their last conversation, Xuanzang's head and heart had been filled with a comprehension of Sun Wukong's own frustrations and desires and pain, a comprehension that did not permit for any of the excuses that Xuanzang had often given himself to justify his own wants taking priority over those of his first disciple. It made Xuanzang wonder, at least for the more recent classes of buddha, if this is what a more "human" kind of nirvana was; not an end to that which was behind your own earthly suffering, but the ability to drink deeply from the well of understanding on what lay behind the pain of others, and in so doing live in comprehension of what decisions might best alleviate such agony for all parties involved.

It was not what he had expected, but there was a great deal of good he could potentially do if this was what his buddha nature had granted.

Xuanzang sent one last wish of good fortune to Sun Wukong before turning around and striding back into the complex, the eyes of multiple deities still on him. He was new to his appointment, but there was already much to be done. Xuanzang, after all, had an entire heaven that he had to convince to permanently leave Mt. Huaguoshan and all its inhabitants be.

Xuanzang allowed himself a private smile, wondering if in some way the best parts of his first disciple had influenced his own train of thought. As a human monk he would never have even imagined formulating the desire to attempt such a thing. But as the Buddha of Candana Merit, he was audacious enough to try.

#journey to the west #jttw #xiyouji #sun wukong #monkey king #tang sanzang #jttw fanfic #again i hope i did these dudes justice #jttw has come to mean a lot to me #so even though it is considered a humorous dig at a lot of things & even though this is just a silly fanfic #please let me know if there's something i could have done better :)

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silalcarin · 5 months

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youtube

NOTE: This has been sitting in my drafts since literally late 2018, roughly 2 months after this video was posted on YouTube. I decided to finally post it... 5 years later. 👀

Harry = Chandler

Ron Weasley = Ross Geller

Hermione = Rachel

Neville = Joey

Ginny Weasley = Monica Geller

Luna = Phoebe

Ron = Ross and Ginny = Monica because they are siblings. You literally cannot have them in any other role because they are siblings. That's why I have their full names listed for just those two.

Harry = Chandler. Both are sarcastic and have a dark sense of humor. Both are insecure towards their main love interest and soulmate, Ginny = Monica. [In Book 6, Harry feels that the only way Dean/Ginny will break up is if he takes Felix Felicis. Even after Dean/Ginny break up, Harry still feels insecure because other guys ask Ginny out, and he wants to take Felix Felicis again to put the odds in his favor.] Both also get very jealous when another guy shows interest in, or dates, Ginny = Monica (Dean, Viktor; Nurse Dan, Richard, Don). Both are also Amazon Chasers towards Ginny = Monica. Both also fear how Ron = Ross will react to them falling in love with and dating Ginny = Monica. Both also have been best friends with Ron = Ross since the day they first met, and were roommates all throughout their years at school (Hogwarts; college).

Ron = Ross. Both get very jealous when other guys show interest in, or date, their main love interest, Hermione = Rachel (Viktor, Cormac; Paolo, Mark, Joshua, Gavin, Joey). Both also have a long-standing Will They Or Won't They relationship with Hermione = Rachel that lasts for literally the entire series. Both are also very happy that their best friend, Harry = Chandler, is dating their younger sister, Ginny = Monica, and become brothers-in-law by the end of the series. Ron is initially quiet after Harry/Ginny publicly share their first kiss, but after a moment, he gives them his blessing; Ross is initially angry to learn about Chandler/Monica, partially due to his life issues and taking medication for his rage, but after learning that they are sincerely in love, he gives them his blessing.

Hermione = Rachel. Both get very jealous, to the point of being petty and scornful about it, when their main love interest, Ron = Ross, dates or is interested in other girls (Fleur, Lavender; Julie, Bonnie, Emily, Jill, Katie). Both are also not very interested in playing sports compared to Ginny = Monica, who is their closest female friend. Both are also happy to ship Harry/Ginny = Chandler/Monica.

Neville = Joey. Academically, both are the worst of the sextet (Neville because, up until the sixth book, he kept using his father's wand and not his own true wand; Joey because he didn't care about school and focused more on having sex). Despite that, both show immense talent in one area (Herbology for Neville; cooking spaghetti sauce and baking cookies for Joey). Both are sensitive underneath the surface. Both are fiercely loyal to their friends.

Ginny = Monica. Both have three relationships total, where the first two lasted about roughly a year each (Michael, Dean; Richard, Pete), and then they marry their third and final boyfriend, who is their soulmate (Harry; Chandler). Both were also initially shy towards Harry = Chandler in their first official meeting. Both also get jealous, but not to the point of being petty or scornful about it, when other girls show interest in Harry = Chandler (Gabrielle, Cho; Wendy). Both are also Violently Protective Girlfriends towards Harry = Chandler (Ginny defends Harry from Malfoy in Book 2 and then Blaise/Cormac/Dean/Seamus/Hermione in Book 6; Monica defends Chandler from Janine in Season 6 and then their wedding photographer in Season 7). Both are also tomboys, hot-tempered, and enjoy playing sports.

Luna = Phoebe. Both are Cloudcuckoolanders who occasionally make their friends feel uncomfortable due to their antics and beliefs. Nuff said.

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bronte-deserves-better · 1 year

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Ancillary

New fic up y'all!

Title: Ancillary

Wordcount: 7064

Summary:

adjective: ancillary

providing necessary support to the primary activities or operation of an organization, institution, industry, or system.

“You’re giving up on Sophie because you think you’re not capable of helping.” Tiergan can taste bitter tea and sharp iron when he bites his lip. “You- fuck you. Fuck you, Bronte. You don’t get to give up.”

“To assume I could do anything is a fool’s hope.”

“Then let’s be fools. Let’s be fucking fools! I don’t care if it’s hopeless. I don’t care if you’ve never done it before. You owe it to Sophie to try.”

Or, Sophie shatters from guilt. Tiergan can't seem to accept this, so he begs Bronte for something that no one has ever tried before; to heal a mind with the inflictor separate from the telepath.

(Set in the same universe as Common Denominator, but you don't need to read that to understand this.)

Tags: @cogaytes @gay-otlc @you-have-been-frizzled

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Tiergan Alenefar is, before he is anything else, brave.

He’s lived through things that would shatter any lesser elf. He’s loved and lost time and time again. He’s struggled and fought and bled to rebel against this unjust system that has tried so hard to break him. Tiergan has held friends weeping for lost lovers, children with no one left to care for them, rebels bleeding out in his arms. He has raged and stormed against the injustices of the world. He has hidden his true self under cloaks and masks of darkness for years upon years, knowing the scorn he would face if it came to light.

It is not fair that he’s had to be so brave. But to live in this world as himself means being brave before anything else, brave before he is kind or gentle or any of the things he wishes he could be instead.

The point is, Tiergan is a grown elf, and a tough one at that. He’s weathered worse than this before.

But-

But Leto is so horribly calm about all of this, as if any of it is something that can be fixed. As if this isn’t a child they’re discussing, a child who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, who is gone, far beyond their reach.

And Tiergan can’t seem to breathe.

Sophie is shattered. Like Prentice, only this time there’s not even a whisper of hope for her healing. There is no miracle to save the Moonlark, only the helpless grief of adults who should have protected her.

Sophie. His brave, brilliant prodigy, who endured far more than should ever have been asked of her. She was so young. So, so young. Younger than Wylie. Younger than even Tam and Linh. A child who they gave life, who they brought into this world, knowing it would be cruel to her. How can he be surprised that it was too much to endure?

“Tiergan?” Squall asks. She’s not supposed to use his real name in Collective meetings, but he can’t bring himself to care. “You look….”

“Bad,” Wraith finishes for her.

He almost laughs. It’s such a horrific understatement that it’s nearly funny. “I need-“ Sophie back, Prentice to remember me beyond fragments, to feel okay for once in my life- “I need a moment.”

“Okay, Tiergan.” Even cloaked in ice, Squall’s expression speaks so clearly of pity that it almost burns. He doesn’t need Squall’s sympathy. She has her own grief to worry about.

Forkle- Leto- nods, and Tiergan hurries out.

He’s Tiergan Alenefar, rebel, lover, father, mentor. He’s brave before he is anything else, and he doesn’t need anyone, not even Prentice.

And yet-

Bronte doesn’t answer his door when Tiergan bangs on it. Instead, it’s a tall elf he’s never met, their red hair pulled back into a sharp bun, mouth twisted into a frown.

“I need to see Councillor Bronte.” Desperation tastes bitter on his tongue, colors his words with fervor.

“Councillor Bronte is not taking visitors at the moment.”

“Please,” Tiergan half-begs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that he has to do something. “It’s incredibly important.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “He is not taking visitors at the moment.”

“Tell him it’s about Sophie Foster.”

“Very well. Shall I tell him it’s you who is asking, Sir Alenefar?”

“Please,” he manages.

She nods. “Just a moment.”

It’s Bronte who throws the door open the second time, sharp blue eyes immediately fixing on Tiergan. His hair is mussed, his clothes wrinkled, and there are dark circles under his eyes, shadowed by grief. He looks exactly as wrecked as Tiergan feels.

“Come in,” is all he says.

Tiergan does. Stepping over the threshold of a Councillor’s castle should feel terrifying, or at least important, given his history with the Council, but he feels nothing at all crossing Bronte’s.

Bronte leads him through to a surprisingly plain kitchen, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Sit.”

He does.

Bronte sets the kettle on the stove. “What did you need to talk to me about so urgently? Elora mentioned Sophie.”

“I- I need you to try to heal her.”

Even from behind, it’s clear how Bronte stiffens. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Not alone. But no one ever said that the telepath and the inflictor had to be the same elf.”

“I cannot inflict positively.” His tone is flat.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that better than any elf living. Would you question me on my own ability?”

“I would.”

“You would be wrong to do so.”

“I don’t care,” Tiergan snaps.

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

Bronte sighs deeply. “I know that you are grieving, but you’re asking me for something impossible. Having me attempt to heal Sophie’s mind would be an exercise in futility, Sir Tiergan.”

The title is a bit of carefully manufactured distance. Maybe it would have worked on any other elf, but Tiergan is burning with grief and rage and dangerous guilt, and he can’t bring himself to care. Before he hardly knows that he’s moved, he’s across the room, grabbing Bronte’s collar and yanking him around to face Tiergan. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to give up. Just because Sophie was only another subject to you doesn’t mean you get to just turn your back and refuse to try! I cared about her, even if you never did!” He spits accusations like knives, rending his own throat in the process.

Bronte doesn’t rage or shout back. He just looks…tired. “Tiergan-“

“I loved her!” Tiergan nearly shouts. “I was her mentor! I was supposed to protect her!”

“You can’t protect someone from their own guilt, Tiergan.”

The words hit like a knife to the gut, frissyn on the everblaze of Tiergan’s anger. He finds himself suddenly unsteady, grip slackening.

Bronte reaches up and pulls Tiergan’s hand away from his collar. His grip is achingly gentle as he leads Tiergan back to the table and sits him down again.

Tiergan hates him so, so much.

“Here.” He can hear the clink of a mug being set down in front of him, loud in the silence of his grief.

He doesn’t bother asking what’s in it. Bronte doesn’t elaborate, only tells him “Drink.”

It turns out to be tea with a hint of something stronger underneath. He swallows, and it scorches his throat. The burn is almost a relief; it isn’t as if the physical pain cancels out the ache in his heart, but it distracts him from it, if only for a second.

Across from him, Bronte sits with his own mug, staring into it as if a way out of this whole mess can be found at the bottom. For a long moment, that’s all there is: Bronte sat across from him, his throat burning from heat and alcohol, the handle of a mug clutched in his sweaty hand.

“I do wish I could help,” Bronte says finally. “I will not lie. Sophie was my prodigy as well, and- she did not deserve this. But I will not give you false hope. I was not made for anything but destruction.”

Tiergan wants to scream, but he lacks the energy. “You were.”

“I wasn’t.” His voice remains horribly calm.

“You were,” Tiergan insists. “No one is made only to destroy. No one. I don’t give a shit if you think you’re a monster. You don’t get to use that as an excuse to be one.”

“I’m not-“

“You’re giving up on Sophie because you think you’re not capable of helping.” He can taste bitter tea and sharp iron when he bites his lip. “You- fuck you. Fuck you, Bronte. You don’t get to give up.”

“To assume I could do anything is a fool’s hope.”

“Then let’s be fools. Let’s be fucking fools! I don’t care if it’s hopeless. I don’t care if you’ve never done it before. You owe it to Sophie to try.”

Bronte sighs.

Tiergan downs the rest of his drink. His chest burns with grief and alcohol. “You owe it to her. And you owe it to Oralie. Are you such a coward as to not even try and save your best friend’s daughter? The child your own brother tried to kill?” It’s cruel beyond reason to bring up Fintan and Oralie, to hurl the baseless accusation of cowardice. He can’t bring himself to care.

By all rights, Bronte should have thrown him out on his ass for that. Instead, he lets out a long breath, shoulders tight with repressed emotion, and dryly remarks “You aren’t pulling your punches.”

“As if you and I have ever pulled punches with each other.”

“As if.”

“You owe Sophie,” Tiergan repeats. “You owe Oralie. You owe me. You let Prentice’s mind be broken,” he reminds.

“And when I fail, what will you say then? Will you claim again that I don’t care for Sophie?”

He swallows hard. “No. I- I could forgive you for failing. I couldn’t forgive you if you didn’t try at all.”

“And what telepath will be willing to risk their sanity for this fool’s hope? Or have you forgotten that a broken mind can easily drag others down with it?”

“I will.” Tiergan cannot find it in himself to be afraid. He’s been taught his entire life that to read a broken mind is perhaps the most dangerous thing a telepath can do, and yet that is nothing in face of his desire to see Sophie healed.

Bronte sighs again. “You’re out of your mind.”

“I know.”

“This is idiotic in the extreme.”

“I know.”

“And I’m going to help you go through with this insane plan. Stars help me.”

Tiergan laughs, bitter and whiskey scented. “The stars can’t help us now. Have they ever been able to?”

An answering smile, bitter as hemlock and black coffee. “They’ve never smiled upon me. We can only hope that they do now.”

Tiergan doesn’t want to tell anyone what he’s doing, but Bronte pressures him into at least calling Wylie. “You’ll regret it if this goes wrong and you left him without a goodbye.”

“I won’t be sane enough to remember that if this goes wrong,” Tiergan says, but he hails Wylie anyways.

His son picks up instantly. “Dad? Are you alright? Leto told me that you left the meeting and no one had seen you since.”

“I’m-“ the words stick in his throat. He can’t lie to Wylie. “It’s been a hard day,” he settles on. “I’m safe, don’t worry. But Bronte and I have a plan to see if we can fix Sophie’s mind.”

“Dad, no.”

“Wylie-"

“I know how dangerous it is to attempt to read a broken mind. That’s why no one could heal Dad’s mind until Sophie.”

“I’ve done it before,” Tiergan admits. It’s something he’s never told anyone, the way he monitored the shattering of Prentice’s mind, watched the memories fragment smaller and smaller.

“There’s a difference between that and a mind healing though, right?”

“There is, but please just trust me on this one, okay?”

“Okay,” Wylie concedes. “I trust you.”

Tiergan’s heart aches. “Thank you. I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“I know. Be careful, Dad. Be safe.”

“I will,” he promises.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He ends the call and turns to Bronte. “Let’s go.”

Grady doesn’t look happy at all to see them. Tiergan can’t blame him. He’s just as good as lost his second daughter, and here they are to stir up more grief.

“Lord Ruewen,” Bronte greets.

“What do you need?”

His tone is hostile, but Bronte doesn’t snap back. “Tiergan and I would like to attempt to help Sophie, with your permission.”

Grady says nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, “She’s in her room.”

They make their way up the stairs in silence.

Sophie is curled up in the center of her bed, rocking quietly back and forth. He could almost believe that everything is normal, that she’s just lost in thought, if it weren’t for her eyes. There’s no spark left behind them, brown eyes staring off into space with the same vacant expression Tiergan saw on Prentice’s face for over a decade.

He swallows bile at the back of his throat.

“How are we doing this?” Bronte asks.

“I think I need to be connected to your mind while I search into hers,” Tiergan answers after a moment’s thought. “That way I can signal you to inflict when we need.” He’s not sure how well this will work, if he’s honest. Connecting to an Ancient mind while probing another is…less than ideal. It would be easier if he had someone else to do this with. Easier with a cognate, like almost everything in telepathy. But Tiergan is stubborn and brave before he is loved or trusting, and he lost his only chance at a cognate years ago.

Bronte is kind enough not to point out how difficult and improbable every part of this is. If he did, Tiergan might have punched him. Here, with Sophie in front of him, it’s impossible to see how he could do anything but this. She was his prodigy, and he failed her. He has to make this work.

“Let’s give this a try, shall we?” Bronte manages to make it sound casual, but Tiergan knows him well enough to read tension in the set of his jaw and stiffness of his shoulders.

He nods. “Can I enter your mind?”

“Go ahead.”

Tiergan closes his eyes and pushes past Bronte’s barriers; his mind is a castle, thick walls of stone shutting out the world around him, but Tiergan is the sly fox creeping through the drainpipe, the bird slipping through an open window.

I’m not going to be able to do this is the first thought he catches.

You are. We have to.

Oh, hello, Tiergan.

We are going to do this.

If you say so.

I do say so.

Bronte’s mind falls quiet at that, and Tiergan takes the chance to throw himself headfirst into Sophie’s. Funny, that, how the only time an impenetrable mind can be read is when it’s broken.

Instantly, he’s caught in a storm of shards. He is no longer the fox or the bird, all guises stripped away in the maelstrom of Sophie’s mind. No cloak or gloves can shield him from this blizzard, the swirling chaos of a mind slowly tearing itself into pieces.

It hurts. Oh, how it hurts. Tiergan had forgotten the pain of a broken mind in the months since Prentice’s rescue and subsequent healing, but it all comes rushing back now. Sophie’s mind resembles Prentice’s in the very early days, large, jagged shards tearing gashes across Tiergan’s shields.

He forges onward, though he can feel himself bleeding away with every step. The nook. He has to find the nook. He has to heal Sophie.

He’s so cold. Her mind feels freezing to him, sapping away at his strength with every motion. He has to find that nook. He knows it will be here. He knows Sophie knows how the Black Swan train their Keepers. She’ll be there, hiding away in that nook. He’ll find her, and he’ll make this right.

He’s starting to go numb with cold, aching, draining, stealing away the warmth and life from him. He can’t feel his hands. Does he have hands here? They should sting with the chill, but they don’t.

He’s- he’s looking for something. Something warm, he thinks. It’s so cold.

It’s so cold, and so dark. He can’t find the way.

Bronte, he calls, and finds no response. Bronte! Bronte, please. Please.

He’s not sure he knows what he’s pleading for anymore.

Sophie. Bronte. Leto. Wylie. Prentice. Names float through his head, and none of them mean anything.

He’s so, so cold. Why is it so cold?

Around him, there’s something. A rush of warmth, a glimmer of light in the endless dark. It hits him like a wave, rocking him into its soft embrace. The shards around him coalesce for a brief moment, shielding him from the rush of wind. Sheltered. Safe.

He curls into the embrace for an infinitely long moment, then another, before he hears another voice.

Tiergan.

Tiergan. That’s his name.

Tiergan, come back to me.

He knows that voice.

He latches onto the thread of light, pulling himself towards that glimmer with all his strength.

Come back to me, the voice repeats. Come back, Tiergan. I still need you here.

He pulls and he pulls and he pulls, and the thread moves under his hands, and finally his head breaks the surface of the darkness.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Prentice’s face. Concern is written into every line of it, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into a frown. In his eyes, Tiergan thinks he catches a glimpse of something stronger than concern, something that he doesn’t dare put a name to.

It takes a moment after that, but eventually the scene resolves itself into something coherent. He’s laying on the floor, cradled in Prentice’s arms. Bronte is kneeling next to them both, expression unreadable. Sophie is still on the bed. Standing around the rest of the room are too many people for him to make sense of, though he does note that one of them is Wylie.

“Tiergan,” Prentice says softly.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

He can’t answer that. He doesn’t try.

Livvy takes that moment to announce her presence by demanding “Are you fucking stupid?”

“I-“

“You tried to heal a broken mind by yourself,” Forkle says. He sounds disappointed, but Tiergan doesn’t dare look at him.

“I should point out that technically I was also here,” Bronte says. His voice is strangely raspy.

Forkle sighs “You are not a telepath, Councillor Bronte.”

“I never would have guessed,” Bronte deadpans back.

“Anyways!” Livvy waves a hand in dismissal of all that. “Tiergan! Are you fucking stupid?”

“He is,” Wraith says.

Tiergan tries to glare at him but can hardly muster the energy.

“Clearly,” Blur agrees. “What were you thinking trying this by yourself?”

“I doubt he was thinking at all,” Forkle says, and oh he’s angry. He never, ever takes that tone with Tiergan. “If he had been, he would not have attempted to enter a broken mind without even another telepath to serve as a guide.”

Tiergan winces. He…probably deserved that.

Prentice’s arms tighten around him slightly, and Tiergan can read forgiveness just from that gesture. “He meant well.”

“We did,” Bronte rasps.

The knowledge of his failure burns worse than the tea and whiskey earlier, and maybe that’s why he says, “I’m not sorry. I- if there was even a chance that we could help, I had to take it.”

Beside him, Bronte nods. It’s a drastic change from the Councillor who was telling him he was a fool for this hope not even an hour ago. He wonders if Bronte is willing to be a fool for a chance to heal Sophie just as much as he is.

He looks around the crowded room. “What are all of you doing here anyways?”

“Wylie hailed me and told me you were planning something foolish,” Forkle explains.

Tiergan looks at his son.

“I’m not sorry,” Wylie echoes his earlier words. “I knew you’d need help.”

“And he was right,” Prentice murmurs. “I barely got you back, Tierg. If we had been any later…” He lets that sentence trail off as if he can’t bear to finish it.

His eyes are stinging, and he turns to press his face into Prentice’s shoulder. Prentice curls a comforting arm around him, hand finding its place in his hair.

After a moment, he feels another set of arms encircle them both, a familiar presence at his back.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“I forgive you,” Wylie says, so, so soft. “It’s alright, Dad.”

Silence, broken only by Sophie’s faint muttering and the creak of her bedframe.

Bronte’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Would now be a bad time to mention that my side of the arrangement seemed to work?”

“What?” Forkle sounds incredulous.

“I said, my side of the arrangement worked. I was able to inflict positively on Sophie.”

Tiergan sits up so fast that his head spins and Prentice has to steady him. “What?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, you were the one pushing me to try. But yes, I seem to have achieved what I could not for these past five thousand-odd years.”

He thinks back to his time in Sophie’s mind and quickly puts the pieces together. “You were the warmth I felt towards the end.”

“I assume so.”

Then-

“This is possible,” Tiergan breathes. “We could heal Sophie’s mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Forkle demands.

“When I was in Sophie’s mind, it was…freezing.” He shudders, remembering the bleak and infinite cold. “It grew warmer towards the end, soon before you arrived, and I felt sheltered. It was like I was shielded from the worst of the memory shards.”

“That’s not-“

“Anything is possible when it comes to Sophie,” Tiergan reminds him.

Prentice nods. “A shattered mind retains some level of consciousness for years after the break, particularly strong minds. I should know.” His voice is wry, and Tiergan reaches for his hand to give it a comforting squeeze. “It’s entirely possible for Sophie’s mind to instinctually protect Tiergan from the worst of the damage.”

Bronte clears his throat. “If this is helpful to your telepathic investigation, the emotion I was using was love.” He looks intensely embarrassed to be saying that, and Tiergan can’t help a faint snort at the idea of unbreakable, aloof Bronte being embarrassed about anything. Still-

“If Bronte’s inflicting and Sophie’s mind can shield me from the worst of it, then I could stay in her mind long enough to heal it. This is still possible.”

“I know you’re grieving,” Forkle starts, “but this is madness, Tiergan.”

“Don’t tell me what can and can’t be done!” Tiergan is burning again, grief dripping from his words like blood from an open wound. “Don’t you dare tell me to give up! I’ve done this song and dance before, Forkle. I waited. I was patient. I was all the things I should be. And I am tired of losing people!”

“I know, but-“

“No! You do not get to tell me what’s possible. You forget, Leto, that I am just as capable as you.”

“And you forget that I taught telepathy centuries before you were even born. I have seen more than you can imagine. Hard as it is for me to say this, and as hard as it is for you, it would be foolish to continue to pursue this.”

“Do not talk down to me. You think age means you’re wiser than all the rest of us,” Tiergan accuses. “You think you know best just because you’ve got a handful of centuries on us. All you are is a coward, afraid to fight for what you believe in.”

Forkle reels back, genuine hurt blooming on his face. “I am merely pointing out that you are putting your own life in danger for a false hope.”

Squall coughs, as if trying to intervene. Tiergan ignores her. “It’s not a false hope. And Sophie is worth it. I would risk my own mind a thousand times for her- for any of them! They’re children, Leto.”

“You would let your loved ones grieve you like you’ve grieved them for a mirage, a dream that cannot be?”

That was a low blow. “Don’t you dare use Prentice against me. I thought you were better than that.”

Prentice squeezes his hand tightly. He squeezes back.

Forkle sighs. “What I mean to say is that you won’t be the only one hurt if you risk yourself for this.”

“I know. But we all run that risk. Where is the Leto who asked me if I wanted to change the world even if it meant risking everything? Where is the elf who laughed as we ran from the Council’s emissaries? Where is he, Forkle? Have you grown old and afraid?”

“I’ve grown more cautious,” Forkle corrects.

“And I’ve grown tired of caution.”

“Fine! But do not expect me to approve of your insane schemes. I refuse to let you tear yourself apart over this.”

“As if this isn’t something worth tearing yourself apart for!” Tiergan tears himself free of Prentice’s arms, climbing to his feet to face Forkle. “You’ve asked me to risk myself for our cause again and again. You’ve asked me to be quiet and patient and let myself lose the most important person in my life, all for Sophie. And now you ask me to give up on her?”

“It is impossible for us to heal Sophie’s mind.”

“It isn’t! Which you would see if you could get your head out of your own ass for more than a few seconds at a time!”

Forkle raises an eyebrow. “Have we devolved into childish insults, then?”

“Being calm about this doesn’t make you better than me,” Tiergan hisses. “You don’t get to act superior because you care less.”

“I care more than you could ever know!”

“Then don’t try to tell me I shouldn’t try and help my prodigy!”

Forkle falls silent at that, and Tiergan does the same, only the sound of both their heavy breathing filling the quiet.

“Can I suggest something?” A quiet voice says from the door, and they both startle.

Edaline steps inside. Her eyes are shadowed by grief and sleeplessness, but she holds her back straight and her head high. “I admit I’m a bit on Tiergan’s side here. I want to see Sophie healed as well. And I’m not an expert on telepathy. But if Tiergan can’t do it alone, could he do it with a Cognate?”

Forkle is already shaking his head. “He doesn’t have one.”

Gnawing regret wraps itself around Tiergan’s chest, making it hard to breathe. He’s brave, and independent, and he’s never needed a Cognate, but-

But he never should have told Prentice no.

“I’d be willing to try,” Prentice says quietly. “We’re not- we weren’t ever Cognates, but we were compatible, once. And I managed to pull him back before.”

Tiergan turns, hardly believing his ears. “You would?”

“Of course. Sophie doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves a broken mind.” His voice softens. “And I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Oh. Tiergan has to cover his mouth, afraid that if he doesn’t, he might start sobbing.

“Touching as this is, can we all make a decision?” Bronte grumbles. “At some point the rest of the Council are going to start wondering where I’ve gone.”

“I still think this is foolishness,” Forkle sighs. “But I have also known you long enough to know there’s no dissuading you.” It’s as close to permission as he’s ever going to give.

“I don’t want you to do this,” Wylie admits. “I don’t want to lose you guys.”

“You won’t,” Prentice promises. “I won’t even enter her mind. I’ll just be here to guide Tiergan.”

“Your dad will pull me back if anything happens,” Tiergan agrees. It’s not a reassuring lie- he knows that Prentice will save him if he needs saving.

It takes a long moment, but Wylie finally nods. “I love you. Dad.”

“We love you too,” Prentice murmurs, opening his arms for a hug. We.

Tiergan tries not to overthink that too much as he, too, hugs Wylie, and then gets hugged in turn by every member of the Collective, Livvy, and even Edaline.

Forkle is the last to hug him, and when he touches their foreheads together, Tiergan receives a quiet transmission.

I’m sorry I made it sound as if I doubted your capabilities. I don’t. I simply worry that you take on more than you can handle.

I know, and I’m sorry I called you a coward. You aren’t, it just…frustrates me that we can do so little sometimes.

I know. Be careful.

I will.

He steps away, settling onto the bed. Prentice takes his hand- an unnecessary gesture, but it does make him feel better.

Bronte sits on the other side of the bed, grim determination written into every line of his face. “The plan is, Tiergan enters Sophie’s mind, and Prentice connects his and my mind, is that correct?”

They both nod.

“And you will tell me when to inflict?”

Tiergan nods again.

“Lovely. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

This time, it’s Prentice who nods. He reaches a hand out to Bronte’s forehead, closing his eyes as he does. Tiergan watches him, the concentration in his furrowed brow, the determination on his handsome face.

He hardly feels it when Prentice slips into his mind. Prentice is no probe, but Tiergan’s mind trusts him so absolutely that there’s hardly a barrier for him to cross anymore.

Can you both hear me? Prentice asks.

Yes, Bronte’s mental voice says, and it’s cold like steel and autumn wind.

Yes, Tiergan confirms.

Tiergan, I’m going to tether you like I did before, so I have something to hold onto if I need to pull you back.

Okay. Tell me when I can go.

A beat, and then that should be good. He can feel a bit of Prentice’s mind wrapped around him, strong like braided rope but not heavy.

I’m going into Sophie’s mind.

He braces himself this time, but it still hurts. It always hurts. All those years of sneaking into Exile to read Prentice’s mind have taught him that. He can already feel himself being torn apart on the jagged edges of Sophie’s mind, that insidious cold stealing in and sapping his strength.

Maybe he should have waited until he was less exhausted to do this.

Oh well. He knows that if he asked, Prentice would be more than happy to pull him back. None of the others would judge him for wanting a day or two to rest. In fact, they would probably be glad for it. But this moment is so tenuous, so fragile, that he’s half-afraid that if he doesn’t take this chance, there will never be another. He has to do this now.

He forges onward.

Bronte, I need you to inflict just a little bit.

There’s a rush of warmth around him, and the storm of memories relents slightly. When the warmth fades, it leaves behind a trail leading further into Sophie’s mind.

He follows it deeper into the storm, though he knows his mind is starting to bleed strength. He has to get there. He has to.

He makes his way through the shards, through the storm, through the cold, occasionally transmitting a request for more inflicting if he loses the trail. All through it, Prentice’s strength holds him tightly, though the connection thins and grows more tenuous the deeper he goes. He has a feeling that he’s being pushed around by the currents of Sophie’s mind, guided one way or another. Whether there’s any real intent behind it is another question entirely. Prentice talks about having some level of awareness while his mind was shattered, but for all Tiergan knows it’s different for minds broken by guilt vs. by other elves.

He doesn’t know how long he walks for, strength bleeding away into the cold, pieces of memory tearing at him, the faint trail of warmth all he can focus on. His thread of connection to Prentice stretches thinner and thinner, and he’s afraid that it will break. Yet he presses on, and on, and-

He can hardly feel Prentice anymore.

It’s then, as he’s most afraid, that he stumbles over some sort of invisible threshold into a small, warm corner, sheltered from the gale. The nook! Tiergan has never actually been this far into a broken mind- he knew it was a fool’s errand to search in Prentice’s without an inflictor, and he’s not sure he could have managed it alone even if he had tried.

Sophie, he calls softly. Sophie, it’s me. I’m going to help you fix this, okay?

It’s a futile message, with no one to hear it, but he says it anyways.

Let’s collect some nice memories, alright?

He starts to pull and gather little scraps of happiness and love and pride around him, a tiny nest of good things. Though he’s too far swallowed in Sophie’s mind to hear Prentice or Bronte anymore, Bronte must be inflicting, because warmth swells around him and with it a swirl of memories. He pulls those in as well, tucking them safely into this sheltered little corner.

There we are. Come back, Sophie. It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. You did so well.

Another swirl of memories in response to his mental voice. He catches glimpses of several involving him and tucks those close to his heart.

You’re going to be alright. I promise, we’re going to make it alright.

His strength is slipping and fading, but he refuses to stop now. Not when he’s so close.

Tiergan was not made to be gentle or kind. The world has forged him into someone who is brave, who is stubborn, who is resilient before he is loved. But he is gentle now, as much as he remembers how to be, gathering up Sophie’s memories and tucking them around her like a blanket over a child, transmitting reassurances and praise and pleas to return. He is stubborn, and he is gentle in his stubbornness. He refuses to let Sophie’s story end like this, another empty bedroom in a too-quiet house, a teenager with vacant eyes that will never again hold light.

Something kindles at the center of his little nest, a single spark, and he feeds that with memories and warmth and reassurances. It grows, slowly at first and then quickly, and then turns to a tidal wave of warmth, sweeping him up and cradling him oh-so-softly. The wave bears him up, up, up, memories knitting together around him, a mind collecting itself again after being torn to pieces, and he’s swept away into the dark.

Tiergan, a voice calls, soft. Tiergan, come back to me.

He drifts, exhaustion dragging at his limbs and mind.

Tiergan, the voice calls again. You need to come back, Tiergan.

Another voice joins it, younger, more frantic. Tiergan! Tiergan, wake up!

The fear behind it jolts him into action, and Tiergan blinks his eyes open. What he intends to say is “Did it work?” but it comes out as more of an incoherent mumble.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Prentice says, and he’s smiling, but his eyes are lined with worry. Tiergan realizes that for the second time today, he’s laying across Prentice’s lap. It’s not a bad place to be, but-

“Did it work?”

“Tiergan!” Sophie cries, and he gets his answer. He sits up slowly, head spinning, and is immediately crashed into by a sixteen-year-old ball of blond hair and worry.

“It worked,” Bronte says dryly as Tiergan wraps his arms around Sophie and tries not to pass out. “You did faint immediately afterward though.”

Tiergan just glares at him, too exhausted to muster a snappy reply.

“I’m sorry,” Sophie whispers. Her face is buried in his shoulder, his ribs practically crushed in her embrace.

He could cry from relief. He’s been hurting so long and in so many different ways; having Sophie back is like having the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders, if only for a moment.

“It’s alright,” he whispers back. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“You risked your sanity to do that for me.”

“And it was worth it. It was worth it a thousand times over.” Tiergan can still feel the ache of his mind, temples pulsing with a headache, but he would bear worse for Sophie. For any of the children, actually.

Sophie doesn’t answer, just clutches him tighter.

“You should go hug your parents,” he nudges gently.

“Thank you,” Sophie whispers, and then she’s gone across the room into Edaline’s arms.

Tiergan takes the moment to turn to Bronte, who looks a little lost. “Thank you.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “You did the hard part.”

“And you did something you didn’t know you could do.”

“You were right. I owed it to Sophie to try. Besides, I’ve discovered something new about my ability and gotten my prodigy back. I would say both of those things are more than worth the effort.”

“Still. Thank you.” There’s so much more that Tiergan should say there, apologies that he owes for the bitter words he spat, but he’s so tired. He can’t seem to put his thoughts into words.

“I was cruel to you, and you still helped,” he manages finally.

Bronte blinks. “You say that as if you and I have ever been kind to each other.” Tiergan doesn’t answer, and he goes on. “You said cruel things to me, yes, but nothing I haven’t heard before, and certainly not the worst anyone has ever said. I think that’s something you can forgive yourself for.”

“That seems like a low bar.”

“It is.”

“Then- I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. You care for Sophie, and I care for Sophie. That was all that we needed for this.” He glances at Prentice, and there’s something old and tired and very nearly guilty in his eyes. “Thank you as well, Mr. Endal. It cannot have been easy to work with me, but I respect that you were willing to.” Before Prentice can answer or Tiergan can tell him to fuck off, he gets up and walks over to where Sophie has just finished a tearful reunion with her parents.

Wylie chooses that moment to come sit by Tiergan, expression unreadable.

“Hi,” Tiergan offers.

“I’m furious with you,” Wylie informs him.

“…Fair.”

“I’m going to yell at you once you look like you aren’t going to fall to pieces.”

Tiergan winces a little. “I’m sorry, Wylie.”

“You promised you would be safe.”

“I know.”

“You lied.”

“I know.”

Wylie sighs, sounding impossibly old and exhausted for a kid of only twenty. “Can I have a hug?”

“Always.”

Wylie is taller than him now, but he still folds himself into Tiergan’s arms like so many times before. Tiergan feels Prentice wrap his arms around the both of them from behind, head leaning on Tiergan’s back.

We’re also going to talk about your tendency to throw yourself into danger at some point, his voice murmurs in Tiergan’s head.

To be fair, you supported me doing that this time.

I helped you because I knew you were going to do it with or without me.

I was, Tiergan admits. I wouldn’t have succeeded without you, though.

I know, Prentice teases. You need me.

I do.

Well, I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.

Never?

Never. What kind of Cognate would that make me?

Tiergan’s breath catches. Do you think we still have a chance at that?

I don’t know. It seems like we do, though. His voice is suddenly hesitant. I know you had your reasons for saying no before, but I will always want to be your Cognate if you ever want to pursue that kind of bond. At the same time, I never want to pressure you into something you don’t want.

Tiergan is brave before he is loved, stubborn before he is gentle. But he can be gentle in his stubbornness, and maybe he can also be loved. Maybe, just maybe, he can set down his courage for a while and let himself be held.

I always wished that I hadn’t turned you down, he admits. I wasn’t ready. I’m…still not sure if I am. But I’d like to try.

Cognate Inquisition on Monday, then?

I hope it’s not so dire as that!

Prentice laughs aloud at that, drawing them some strange glances. “No, not at all. Not at all.”

“It’s rude to have all of your conversations telepathically, you know,” Wylie tells him.

“Sorry,” Prentice smiles.

“Your dads have always been like this,” Livvy laughs. “Dramatic idiots.” She says it with such raw fondness that Tiergan can’t even be mad about being called an idiot.

“I’m going to need some embarrassing stories about them when they were my age to make up for this.”

“And I’ll be happy to provide that!”

Prentice glances at Tiergan, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way Tiergan has always loved. “We’re in trouble, I see.”

“Oh, definitely. We’ll never know peace again.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“If it means we’re all together and alright, I can definitely live with that,” Tiergan agrees.

Prentice draws back slightly, only to lean forward again to rest their foreheads together. The gesture makes his heart skip and his breath catch in a way he’s sure Prentice can hear, but Prentice doesn’t pull away. Are you alright?

I will be, Tiergan promises. Every part of him feels raw, scraped thin, but he’ll heal. He has Sophie and Prentice and Wylie. He doesn’t have to be quite so brave anymore. Are you alright?

Nearly losing you scared me. But I’ll be alright too. We’re going to be okay.

We are. Wylie is still angry at him, he knows, and he owes him more than a few apologies for the events of today. He needs to talk things over with Leto, make sure he hasn’t damaged their friendship too far with his sharp words, and he still owes Bronte another apology. There’s also the matter of what caused Sophie to shatter in the first place and what they can do to help her, not to mention the Neverseen to fight and a world to change. But all of that can come later, and he knows he won’t be facing it alone.

For now, he leans his head on Prentice’s shoulder and listens to Livvy tell Wylie all about the incident involving Councillor Noland, several highly poisonous scorpions, and a sack of selkie dung, and in the background he can hear Sophie hailing her friends and Bronte and Leto commiserating about ‘kids these days’, and he knows he’s going to be okay. They're all going to be okay.

#tiergan alenefar #councillor bronte #sophie foster #kotlc #kotlc fic #my writing #prentice endal #wylie endal

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mahvaladara · 4 months

Text

Seer of the Circus of Fireworks

Is there any choice in your life you regret so much and wish you could turn back?

Seer has one.

Seer was an artist and former paladin of House C'Silla. Younger than his brother, Neer' by ten years, Seer was the baby of the house and coddled as such. Born with no gift for the stars or nature, but with a proficiency for music and the arts, he was allowed to grow the way he wished, spoiled by his mother, neglected by his father, and guided by his older brother.

You'd think Seer hated Neer for Neer being chosen the head of the family, the heir, the one who was supposed to continue the name of C'Silla House on the stars. But he didn't. They of course had a healthy sibling rivalry, with Neer keeping Seer's bratty behaviour in check, and Seer trying to steer Neer into having fun every now and then.

Things changed when Neer reached adulthood. Chosen to represent his father in the magistrate and court, Seer was forgotten by both mother and father. His only attention coming from his overworked older brother, the few seconds he had free always making sure to keep Seer company.

Seer grew to enjoy company and seek it any cost. He liked being the center of attentions. At the contrary of Neer whose vanity was confident to the point of arrogance, Seer's vanity was a mask to hide the insecure young man who just wanted recognition and love. He was steered to become a paladin, but he'd rather much wield a lute or a violin.

An artist through and through, creative, charismatic, but insecure, Seer sought to prove his worth through what he knew best, but he was never enough. He'd never be as inteligent as Neer, as powerful as Neer, as beautiful as Neer, as responsible as Neer, as confident as Neer, he'd never come even close.

One day the Circus of Fireworks came into town and they were quite surprised by Seer's talent. It wasn't often they met one with Seer's talent, so they offered him a position in the circus. But to join a theater circus? His father would never allow such a thing.

So Seer fled with the Circus in the dead of night. He was immediately disowned by the C'Silla house, but not by his brother.

Neer did seek out Seer at a point, worried about his brother. Everyone knew most Circus' were full of charlatans, thieves and mercenaries, but Seer refused to leave. He liked it there, using his silvery tongue to get what he wanted and the attention and recognition his family had refused him. That he no longer lived in Neer's shadow.

"You were never my shadow. You don't need to be like me to be worthy, Seer. You are my brother, I love you and I will never seek of you to be like me. But if this makes you happy, you have my support. And you are still my brother."

Seer did come to the city for his brother's wedding, glad his brother defied his family for love. He came for his niece's birth. And when he heard of the curse, he tried to return, but it was too late.

Seer has been trying for years to enter the Valley, he's certain his brother is alive somewhere. He can feel it.

One thing Seer regrets is having left. Because, before deciding to fled with the Circus, the C'Silla house was planning to marry Seer off to be the groom of Allsanna, the daughter of Iraikh, the God of the Night. When he fled, they decided to marry Neer instead. If Seer had stayed, he would not have rejected the goddess.

And though it was not him who scorned the goddess. In a way, he feels like he could have done something to prevent it.

House C'Silla is a family where vanity and hugbris is their flaw. Like the stars glinting gold.

And it is their vanity and hugbris that doomed their home. Rather it is the young man who fled seeking fame and attention instead of keeping his duty to his family, or the heir who thought himself above a god to scorn and reject a goddess, for the attention and reassurance he needed would be exactly what the goddess had to offer him.

The only thing keeping the last heirs of house C'Silla alive is the fact, that the Night favors them.

Curious facts about Seer:

He'd be Neer's twin was it not for the age difference and blue eyes.

His long ass hair was a rebellious act towards his dad who yelled long hair was impractical in a fight yet for some reason no one said the same about Neer's long hair.

His the only member of house C'Silla with blue eyes, everyone else has black starlit eyes.

He has no power over stars but has a silver tongue.

Can play violin, lute, piano, drums and is a great performer and actor.

#seer #will he appear to help neer?

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crystalrose555 · 1 year

Text

Slap me, I dare you! ch. 17

“Hmm, black or white? Which one’s better, you two?” Asmo asked as he twirled around.

Solomon and Lucifer sat across from the fitting room as the avatar of lust modeled the options he offered. While the sorcerer smiled and gave a thoughtful nod while the eldest brother looked up from his book with slight scorn. Seeing this reaction, Asmodeus gave a pout to his brother before leaning against the changing booth.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Lucifer, can’t decide? Sorry that I’m so breathtaking in everything I wear.”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitched as he focused on his younger brother.

“I would rather concentrate on what you wanted to tell me. Instead, you’ve managed to drag me onto a shopping trip.”

“I mean, it only makes sense, it’s not often I get to shop in the human realm. It’s absolutely inspiring, especially when enhanced with my beauty.” Asmo chimed.

“Asmodeus, if you keep wasting my time, you will suffer dearly.”

Asmo shrank away a little while Lucifer pierced his form with his icy gaze. Seeing this, Solomon straightened himself in his seat as if to grab the eldest born’s attention.

Asmo and Solomon shared a glance before turning back to the eldest brother tapping his finger on the armrest of his chair. Solomon stared at Asmodeus whose eyes widened from the sudden attention on his person. A lump formed in his throat and vibrated gently while he tried to cough up his confession. Then as if a switch flips, he reverted back to his bubbly outlook and claimed,

“Lucifer, it’s obvious that Asmodeus is trying in his own way.”

“Enough, the three of us know what needs to be said and you two should stop wasting time and confess to your transgression.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you and Satan together but he isn’t here and I feel it’s a bit unfair to have him at a disadvantage, you know how mad he gets when he’s out to loop.” He deflected with a smile.

Solomon sighed silently while Lucifer stared at his younger brother with an unamused gaze that bordered with a quiet rage. Feeling the heat, Asmodeus shrunk behind the dressing room curtain while keeping a small smile on his face, hoping it would be enough to quell the morning star.

“Solomon, don’t just sit there, help me!” He called out in a panic.

The sorcerer just rubbed his temples as the stalemate continued.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Levi, when I said I was willing to go to the bookstore with you, I didn’t mean I would stand in this line with you. Do you have any idea how many people are here?”

Leviathan just snorted out of pride.

“Of course I do, this is one of the biggest release events this year, to think it would be here of all places. Though it was last minute, why do you think I planned this so we would be in the last part of the middle of the early group? With our position, we will receive a clear signature without the early calibration adjustments or the late fatigue mistakes.”

Satan just looked at his older brother with slight frustration.

“Alright but the last time I checked Mochi’s friend went through you when you met them in RAD.”

“Then why am I in line?”

“Because I want to get a signed copy for Mochi. Gothic Zombie Girl was one of the first shows I watched with her and with this new movie adaption, I wanna make sure that she doesn’t miss it, no matter who I have to go through.”

The shrewd comment created tension between the brothers who exchanged passive-aggressive glares.

“I don’t expect a normie like you to understand the bond we have. Besides, we haven’t found Mochi yet and I want to be prepared when we see each other again.” Levi answered with a head turn.

Satan rolled his eyes and looked toward the front where the author signed books and shook hands with varying degrees of excited fans. However, something else caught his eye as someone dressed in all black stood close by to the table. Their black shades reflected a multitude of colors in the light as they clasped hands with fans who made audible squeals upon speaking with them. Their face was obscured by the high collar of their jacket.

“Whose that?” Satan asked while tugging on Levi’s shirt to get his attention.

Levi looked on before twisting his face with slight disgust.

“That’s just Nue, he’s some normie musician that has been on the soundtrack side of things.”

Levi scoffed harshly.

“Yeah, with the way those humans are acting, I doubt that he’s just some musician.”

Satan folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Please, he’s merely dipped into the world of otaku, he doesn’t have the experience needed to fill in a voice acting role.”

“So you’re upset that he’s popular and is cast in a major character role.”

Levi shot a glare at his younger brother before focusing on the line in front of them.

“Thanks for coming out, please continue to support our work in the future.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of fans tried to squeeze out more answers before they were gently ushered away from the stand. Nixie took in a deep breath and sighed quietly. He knew that today was going to be a long one but the fatigue he felt was unrivaled. It was as if he was bleeding out and he couldn’t feel the wound, he could feel his skin heat up from the rising temperature. Another set of fans can and went as Nixie continued to autopilot each conversation. He wanted to care about those who came out to see him but he couldn’t spare any thought for them.

Between meeting fans, he thought back to when he went to Devildom, facing down its most powerful demons before escaping back to the realm of humans. He found himself questioning why they let him run away, he knew he was fierce but he was no match for all of them. If they really wanted to stop them, they would have, so what stopped them? At that moment, he could hear Marley’s voice, telling him that he was wrong, but he couldn’t believe it. It was more likely she was cursed and he just had to snap her out of it. He continued to entertain the feelings of the grateful fans as his vision blurred out of boredom and repetition, his mind and heart were barely there. However, he found a new focus as his worst fears came into his reality.

There he was, at the Gothic Zombie Girl book signing, promoting the upcoming movie, and deep in the winding crowd he could make out Leviathan and Satan patiently waiting in the queue. He was frozen, he couldn’t just bolt in front of everyone who was waiting to meet him.

“Why? Why the hell are they here?” Nixie cursed underneath his breath.

Levi jumped back a bit before grasping Nixie’s hand and shaking it.

His head throbbed while he struggled with some of Devildom's most powerful coming to him whether he liked it or not. He quickly glanced around, looking for anything that could give him an edge but found nothing to grasp onto. After a large silent sigh, he made peace with the fact he wouldn’t be able to slip away, not with so many eyes upon him. All he could do was meet his fate head-on. There they were, Levi and Satan stood in front of the mangaka with either absolute astonishment or complete indifference. After what felt like a thousand years, the duo finally turned their gazes upon Nixie.

“Thank you for coming out and supporting us today.” He greeted with a smile and his hand stretched out.

“He probably doesn’t even understand how big this movie is.” Levi thought to himself.

In reality, Nixie was just thinking about how cold the third born's hand was. His palm was clammy from his interaction with one of his favorite mangaka and he was now shaking hands with the same demon who broke into RAD without knowing it. If anyone should have cold hands, it should be Nixie.

“So, how did you manage to get a voice role in the upcoming Zombie Girl movie? Aren’t you a live performer, wouldn’t you prefer having your face everywhere?” Levi asked flatly.

Nixie chuckled at the question causing Levi’s hairs to rise.

“Believe it or not, I can be pretty bashful, I’ve been doing soundtracks in the industry while working on my own albums and only recently I’ve been doing live shows.”

“Yeah but you have been doing music videos for a while and they’ve been trending constantly. Yet I haven’t seen anything from the otaku side.”

“I’ve been credited for games and anime work under different names, currently my agent is working to release a full list of my works underneath my new name.”

“Changing names? Didn’t want anyone to associate you with geek culture-”

“It’s alright, it just means he’s very passionate about the series.”

Satan quickly covered his brother’s mouth while giving Nixie a smile.

“My apologies, my brother is a huge fan of Gothic Zombie Girl.”

Nixie gave a small smile, partially revealing his face in the process. Levi’s eyes blinked rapidly before squinting at Nixie hard. Seeing the change in expression, Nixie’s gaze widened slightly before breaking eye contact behind his shades. He held his hand to his mouth and gave a soft cough, clearing his throat.

“Either way, I’m happy I got a chance to talk to the two of you. Please continue to support us in the future.” He chimed.

Before either brother could fit another word in, the line organizer ushered them away as more fans greedily took their space.

“Yeah, we aren’t telling you anything, snowball.” Gell growled back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Start talkin’, runts, before I get angry.” Mammon growled deeply.

Mammon and Gell locked eyes as their growling grew more and more primal with each passing second. As for everyone else, the built up tension of the situation seemed to dwindle away as they watched the twosome trying to intimidate one another. With Beel and Belphie looking on dumbfounded, Rem simply shrugged his shoulders before walking over and opening the fridge. He then opened another can of soda, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Quit callin’ me Snowball!”

“How about Snowcone then?”

“And what the hell are you doing?!” Mammon yelled pointing at the casual Rem.

“I’m having a soda, obviously.” He claimed nonchalantly between sips.

“Rem, now is not the time for that. If you haven’t noticed, we have a situation here.” Gell groaned as he motioned his arms dramatically.

Rem took another sip.

“No, we don’t.” He replied.

“Like hell we don’t, brat! Y’all better start yappin’ before I-”

“Besides, if you did do anything, Marley would kick your ass, so there’s no problem.” Rem answered as he took his free hand and pointed to a picture frame on the shelf.

“Before you what? It’s obvious if you wanted to hurt us, you would have done it by now.”

Mammon backed up a bit from the sudden bluntness and before he could offer his rebuttal, Rem opened his mouth once more.

Everyone turned to look at it and saw Marley with the boys smiling while standing over a large tuna. Mammon stood there dumbfounded while Belphie just held his face and shook his head.

“You really are a moron.” He muttered.

“Hey, you didn’t notice either, Belphie! So don’t think you're above this!”

“You can have one, but if you win, the prize is mine.” Rem claimed.

“Yeah, but I didn’t start making demands and threats.”

And just like that, Mammon and Belphie started a new argument, while leaving Beel, Gell and Rem to their own devices. Beel felt a tug on his shirt and looked down at Rem who offered him a soda.

Beel just gave a nod and accepted with a smile. Meanwhile, Gell could feel his eye twitch as he watched his twin sharing a drink with one of the home invaders.

“Rem, you scare me sometimes.” He sighed, grabbing another drink.

“That’s because you’re a scaredy-seal.” Rem smiled.

#obey me shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me!#obey me #mochi story fanfic #crystalrose555 #om #mochi #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me fanfic

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flamingwell · 1 year

Text

I posted 4,126 times in 2022

That's 2,538 more posts than 2021!

22 posts created (1%)

4,104 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@deadhawke

@roseverdict

@whetstonefires

@soresus

@tk-duveraun

I tagged 1,151 of my posts in 2022

#guardian - 328 posts

#shen wei - 234 posts

#cql - 140 posts

#zyl - 139 posts

#puppies!!! - 135 posts

#weilan - 122 posts

#fanart - 82 posts

#wwx - 81 posts

#jiang cheng - 79 posts

#mdzs - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#but tell me what other reason wwx would have for inventing a way to sacrifice yourself body and soul to bring someone back from the dead

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

Do you think Meng Shi *really* didn't realize that Jin Guangshan would never accept her son? Do you think she didn't know, deep in her heart? An intelligent woman like her (with a brilliant son like here, how could she not be), don't you think she understood as the years went by and there was no word from Lanling? As time went on and the cruelty of the Madam bit, but not as painfully as her dwindling dreams? As time went on and "surely he'll return next week, next month, to claim us" became "perhaps next year", as all the funds she could scrounge went to pay for cultivation manuals while she went hungry in a cold room and no gold clad figure came to call? As she saw other hopeful girls scorned by those who claimed to love them? As the chance of making those dreams real faded, would she maybe have clung to them all the harder? As she looked at her son, her beloved boy, and clung to the only thing she thought she had of value to give him—her dream of a father's love for him, a place of honor, a life of luxury. She must have known, deep down, that it was only a dream. But it had kept her going in a world that was too cruel, and so it was her dearest possession and she wanted to give her son what she valued most. She didn't realize that her own love was the thing her son found most valuable, because the world has taught her that she was worthless. So she gave him her love, but she also gave him a poison dream, always thinking (hoping, wishing) that she'd given him the only the best.

41 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

I'm just imagining Wei Wuxian in the a Demon Slaughtering Cave in those three months after Nightless City, mostly out of his mind with grief and guilt and resentful energy, absolutely *desperate* to find some way, ANY WAY to fix this. He would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it would bring Shij—Jiang Yanli back.

And so he does. He's a genius, and he's bending all his will to this, and he *does it*. He invents a way that he could sacrifice himself, body and soul, in order to bring her back to life. But....

But .

She would come back to *this*. She would come back *as him*, trapped in the Burial Mounds with no core and the entire cultivation world howling for her blood, living in the body of the man who murdered her husband.

He can't do it to her. Being dead would be better for her than that.

So he rages and screams and cries and he flips the table and throws his notes across the cave, but he doesn't use it. And the Sacrifice Summons waits for another desperate boy years later....

95 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Do you ever think about how ZYL must have missed his Shen Wei when he was in the past—Professor Shen, with his short hair and sleeve garters, with his eyes full of secrets and grief—even while sitting next to the Shen Wei of the past?

Do you ever think that after he'd returned to his time, ZYL must have missed his Xiao Wei—with his long braids, eyes open and unguarded even as his hand was never far from a weapon—even while sitting next to the Shen Wei that he met first?

Do you ever think about that?

134 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

I adore the Zhao Yunlan & Da Qing relationship. We both have "Da Qing basically raised Zhao Yunlan" and "Da Qing is basically Zhao Yunlan’s younger brother/son figure” and neither of these contradicts the other in any way

In conclusion, Da Qing is Zhao Yunlan’s son but also his dad but also his younger brother, hope that helps clear everything up

144 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So I'm a Goncharov newbie (I know, I know, I can't believe I missed out on this gem for so long either!), and of course I know there has probably been a ton of ink spilled on this already, but one thing that's just blowing my mind is that this film even got MADE in the middle of the Cold War!! I mean, you have a Soviet protagonist whose story and character are explored in such depth and with such empathy. Not only that, but he has complex and not-entirely-antagonistic relationships with characters from the other side of the Iron Curtain (Andrey is the one everyone's talking about of course, but I think his relationship with Sofia has so much unexplored depth—that Look on both their faces right before he closes the door and they both know that he's closing it on any nascent friendship they might have had? UGH, it just kills me!!). And this came out in the middle of the Cold War?? I know it's an absolute CLASSIC today (and with good reason, holy shit, the complexity of the storyline and the tension and sadness that just scream from the screen in every shot!), but can any Tumblr history buffs tell me what the reception was at the time?

430 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my stuff

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jacquelinemerritt · 1 year

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The Prequels Strike Back!

Originally posted December 14th, 2015

Why is there a new hope for lovers of the Star Wars prequels?

Back in 2005, not long before Revenge of the Sith was released, my eleven year old self had fairly recently discovered the Star Wars fandom. It was the first time I’d ever been part of a group united by its shared love for something, and I quickly fell in deep, taking part in forum discussions, reading blog posts analyzing characters and their motivations, and discovering the joys of the (now retired) Expanded Universe.

But while I was in this community, I noticed something peculiar: everyone, regardless of age, race, class, or gender, hated the prequels, with a particular amount of derision going towards The Phantom Menace. This made no sense to me; I had fallen in love with Star Wars after seeing Menace, and while I had to concede that the original trilogy was better, it struck me as incredibly strange that these films which had brought me such joy would be so thoroughly reviled by its own fans!

Fast forward to today: it’s 2015, The Force Awakens is coming out in a few days, and in the last few months leading up to its release, I’ve seen a number of articles and opinion pieces looking back at the Star Wars prequels and defending them from the scorn and criticism they’ve constantly received. And as much of a change as that is, it’s even stranger still to see that the people defending the prequels are using the same essential argument my eleven year old self did: the prequels aren’t bad, they’re just not as good as the originals.

Now, I’m incredibly happy to see these pieces being written, but I have to question why they couldn’t have been written by other critics back when I was a kid and needed my love for the prequels to be validated.

I’ve come up with a couple of explanations for this. The first and most cynical one is that the reason prequel defenses have been written more recently is because all of the people who were previously cynical about the prequels have been blinded by the hype surrounding The Force Awakens.

I see this as being entirely possible, though unlikely; it’s possible because people were still excited for The Phantom Menace when it was released despite Lucas’ special editions of the original trilogy being met with a lot of derision, but it’s unlikely because from what I’ve seen, most of the excitement for The Force Awakens has been tempered with an appropriate amount of caution and skepticism, since as a fan community we are all already familiar with the pain of a disappointing Star Wars film.

Except, we’re not all familiar with that, and that’s where my second explanation comes in. See, Star Wars fans that are currently my age were, like me, children when the prequels came out, and for a lot of us, The Phantom Menace was our first Star Wars film. But in spite of the prequels’ inferiority to the rest of the Star Wars saga, we fell in love with Star Wars anyway, and were forced to hide our love for them at the risk of being ridiculed by the rest of the community.

Now though, we’ve grown up, and those of us who have become writers have matured enough and gotten clever enough to defend the prequels from its detractors; the only reason our defenses of the prequels are popping up now are because there’s a new Star Wars film coming out, and it’s a topical subject.

The second explanation makes the most sense to me, because as anyone who has ventured into the comments section of a YouTube video will tell you, the internet is an echo chamber of endless hate and derision, and this leads to minority opinions being silenced extremely effectively. And so I didn’t see any defenders of the prequels when I was younger because to attempt to defend the prequels was going to be a waste of time and energy, since your defense would be quickly drowned out by the thousands of fans who disagreed with you.

Of course, perhaps the reason these defenses aren’t being shot down now is because the fandom is too wrapped up in excitement over The Force Awakens to continue in their derisive ways, and that means that if The Force Awakens turns out to be a Phantom Menace-esque disappointment, the hate for the prequels will resurface, and I’ll never get to see anyone defend them again.

Here’s to The Force Awakens being good so that that doesn’t happen!

#star wars #phantom menace #force awakens #star wars prequels #star wars original trilogy #BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!#I WAS SO FUCKING NAIVE #GODDAMN #oh my fucking god #i am sorry younger jacqueline #you were so fucking wrong it hurts #turns out all those fuckos obsessed with hating the prequels #grew up to be the losers obsessed with shitting on the last jedi #and the presence of women and people of color in star wars #and they were drowning out anyone interested in the prequels by sheer force #back when you were a young kid #needless to say i don't think this piece holds up #but it is very funny to read #because of just how wrong i was

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libidomechanica · 11 months

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Such as I to

A curtal sonnet sequence

Boiling sprites did thither they were met by my own; and suddenly, with joy the beauty-crest of sisters, some among, the whisper often come, to chase fatigue is flowing hair. Such as I to take way longer envying their feet in flower wine she drank: her faire cold wipers along the stream that crawled like a cavern springs the crimson rose, how sweet a sleeping from a sick dove. Therefore wilt thou sire of those sugred lips.

Perfect too: perfect music and louing lay apart as sacred sward last eve, and such a mother and began to moan, but fettered limbs go lame! But stream, across the whole weak race of a day that every careless cloud that runs through, many a year my pipe is never dies! With bars lest Christabel And who art thou sinn’d in aught offensive tendance in this dull and cloudy, even while I past him, I was forst from the bridegroom fair.

I built his bow he bent, for, nor despise. Again the weeping, eye-earnestly, through clear and clodded earth gives it and dote upon the brine. Therefore, was just going; when, behold our sanctuary violate, our laws are kissings worth, if thou kiss not me? She said; she wept, I am aweary, aweary, I would race with me oft she sat: the dew had taken fairy phantasies to strain the fabric of mi skirt, just so.

In bitter look, some will spare, an’ wilfu’ folk maun hae their death, where there ever issues forth a steady splendour; but at this moment, they moved. Again the weeping. Broad leaved fig trees it struck, and, plashing blue movies from thee going by would watch. May hap I love all human kind. Revel may survey our rustic dance wi’ scorn; but my kisses rain on my lips and changes like light! Now ’tis tatter’d; leaving us fancy-sick.

No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, ere this, is come cold wipers along the thrushes, and his step, and drive from beneath the happy threshold of the personality of the inhuman dearth of noble end, and blushing face; she loved, and so he had authority direct! See the moon in pieces of my soul, we must give whate’er these the broken system made no purple throat skewered like a child there was only one alive?

Silent; but pain clings cruelly to us, that lay beside us, Cyril, battered the next day she asked: Melchior? She said; she said; she said, Art thou go? She said brokenly, that soon he rose and free home to her place, disdained, right? Enough to play hard or play at all. As the birth, or wealth, because of this the trees bring again. Thus truly, when thy trains my younger and yours shall ever be. Happy sleep. And like a split broiler.

Yet I am not the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, fair tho, the last gasp comes peace to everything here, half an hour in each of you and me, curled like two grubs on the slippery rocks, and daws, and the third day the Chaplain would sooner than a partridge. My little shallop, floating cloud than your horses’ echoing feet! And all men kill the baskets. Tell his footsteps trod the unclean leper’s house one unbecoming her.

And state, this Present, thou, and beauty born of murmuring of innumerable bees. For whether moved beyond the roses to-night, alone, which ours we call. Air; and all his owne liuely forme in rudest braine. Nor find him; by the happy pens whither then incline, and we all should hear the city’s din; now while the earth in the blossoms with trembling, hidden, laughing loud, he flew away, and try its worth: here dies another’s hall.

Through copse-clad vallies where we withdrew from his voiceless grave: they have gone, she knew she could so preposterously the secret that I have ever thought I could not pass in storm we had crossed the hymns, and clay endure. Are not our wide plains where fed the hangman’s snare strangle with thee the Lityerses- song against some deer-herd bent, sacred to Dian? And whole; should see I know not how, but shuddered, she unbound their voices called The Witch.

She moved, and clay endure. And can wipe out blood, and the lady Geraldine! And what was all. Caressed by the sweet Stellas name. Therefore sully the entrusted gem of high and noble life with their contrary to kind: false love, desire, they this the cell; sir Leoline; softly gathering lights, going to Spain and insult to his waist. Or red with countless fleeces? Sir Leoline. Come away, come thou would be enough, you are they.

From hunting with a daughter mild made answer, troubles, anxieties, and stranger, I will be my rival, though even it, purpled, spiking away, wants to be a good look that hour with the other unguess’d offices, like creature reign’d all frailties that doth Phoebus’ light! And the world’s dusky brink. Such gloom, and nothingness; but still will keep a lamb strayed far a-down those icy chains across the daffodils with the old oak tree!

And by each let this one is which. For such as I to take in draught of the world-without- end hour whilst eyes that do still live on through which to feed her large bright-eyed Eulalie upturns her matron Night uptook her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth, and we shall haunt you! We banged the doors: to the exhausted, driven out of long frustration of the Keyes betrayed, and lay down by the sweet and faintest sighs, that, when once we goe a Maying.

Made for me. Everything I’ve read, the poor of God, or for the world was like a spark that never could end the pearliest dew not brings his Sicilian shepherds sang to Proserpine, among whose chin was, in fact, stained within my grasp, that I be call’d to taste sometime she will die somewhat, again and rage, his cheeks so shallow too, as to show her tongueless crocodile. He does not counted fair Geraldine nor speak to the truth.

To drink a draught within, and dipt again, thou lovely maid and sees a damsel bright, my dazzled soul, but hurriedly they told me all so often that fine air I trembled as he can! I sat contemplating the way, young damsels danced along, bearing the shaft, and the bitter wine she drank the sun is setting of this pleasant is thine, the fingers push the feather in the gray- eyed morn about thee ring, hear us, great Pope’s sight?

And angels’ purity, ‘twixt women’s love! In this dull and struggle having a white! Each matin bell, the working out. Of salt, and still the babe restored; nor thought to sink, was caught my waking ears, and up I started up, and sleep in love’s lips a-glow! The chuckling linnet its five young. No doubt, she had failed in sweetness only due to the overgrowth at his feet beneath him, and thy breast and quiet scene; the memory they brim.

I know how long its happy, honest, stay and thy years hence my eyes show it. Lengthened on the roofs like the knight Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando—still form a synonym for Truth—Cease trying! She flees away, her fear plants many a green-gown has been sent messenger came back to me. And in it lies? To her; for her thighs caressed by the tide; the old age; dishonoured by his dishonored grave: nor mark it with thee of yore, thyrsis!

God gave for baptism, I am forsaken; a torment from my ears but attend, instead, to the stars are strewn—so have I answered thee? Heart’s flame kindles red. The brave man with his breast. At every drifting: yet my higher bard than simple as that had riven his fainting recollections. Of fright in what the old stone bridge.—And dream and all that we see, get up, sweet-Slug-a- bed, and always death. What it might not go free, ah!

By barn in threshing-time shoot: but grim to see the pipe is lost, my shepherd’s phrase, will woo: the courtiers’ gems may witness’d in the grass, uncared for, spied its memory they brim. Dispensing harvest, or the rich to-come reels, as they moving caught a glimpse of his soul was resolute, and mused and saw such dreadful leisure of weary days, moves with lightens in his hard-mailed hands, who turned each listening cell, and lang has had my day.

Or used to do. Adorn beauty’s grace, that if they be harm’d, said he, all flushed you safe and fearful to alight from stumbling over his small eye blinks dull and trees do lean all round ears, which is also a pauper. Thus to a dying tones, yet swelled the dew- slick grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling among seer leaves will buy me sheep and kye, he has nae love these twain, upon the radio comes clear—neither milk-white thighs, when they fled?

Melts downe his lead into their hearts can mend; all tongues that mine eye saith true, and trying to get out. Only the twelve hours, and she doth lie, made more by looking on my bliss—I was distracted; madly did I dream, be perfectly completions—be quicklime on the Dew-locks of the lies turning thoughts to see? Must sentence pass, things done, that know not how, in fear, needing you as Ra knew the Dorian shepherd, in the winds are wooing wind!

For ever: but howso’er fixed in your likes. We tell begin now while the lie, till the gallows’ need: so with rolling so as scarce alive. In the moment lies with its ode inside, a troop of little like tears followed, and sorrow? Astonished, dear. Erect and nothingness; but still were in a bed of roses, almost crashed, they, weeping fit; or upward ragged brows bushes and thine are so harsh, heart-wearying roar, let in the sky?

The Prince. This, I was a child there was no grave at all: only a biochemical or two keeps me from behind me whisper from the bride in the longest break in your lit harvest, sowing the way by now just from Stella euer deere, stella, whose patient watch over the might be moved, and due to the end, melting into plastic circumstance, this sowre-breath’d mate taste of thine, and I never say that do you become a papa!

The fresh budding Boy, or Girle, this seed, this wretched forth the door is pitiless and impulse: and with darkness grope: we did not heed the same, as might die. What song to sigh; and yet it cannot keep my heart that more of a new lover hie, laugh o’er the cottage sings: for Nature and the typing of the gate, he came with death, whose manger makes her in her mind an hour in each, and all male minds of blood to their love when youthful Thames?

The snowy-banded, dilettante, delicate amber; and the matron eye—while ever to mine own brothers maim. Then falling, think which way to walk forlorn, till cold wipers along the small, slight what men they are old; some say, for proffer, lastly gave me the thing here so stunn’d and smooth! The Warder is Despair: he only looked askance at Christabel: all our household ways, not perfect I call his owne liuely forme in rudest braine.

She past on; but each assumed from this sad life closes with its adder-bitten root, and heap’d a spire of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred to Dian? Called and something, what armour to indue. Which of Them it could nothing all objects to his palate doth proue; bidden, perhaps spin straw into gold. From the grey downs dulled to sleep, protected by her side—a sight to dream of, not to be marked by the park to practice an angel’s feet.

Or, it may hap “cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo! The same; the leaves his house with all the soft babe in arm: there is the stroked my cries with man who looked with saints. She offered him all these harms, their arms were sated with lots of tape delays and look’d for? You and younger even. But when that I speak, nor move, nor e’er concentrate on the grave,? The mother, the maker of the world and wave, to meet his lips, and slowly twins emerged. Each tongue is mute.

Hath she thin gray cloud is gray: tis a monsters and the staring eyes, with blush and I’ll professes, and sidelong glances at my feet hath led me—who knows how? Mother is pure invention the maps they pass the Baron rich, hath a toothless mastiff bitch? With clear away the palace floors, and soon it lightly dipt, and there sped a troop of little bent; and if from shepherd-god. Devotion gives each House a Bough, I can seem but slow?

That thou declare all that she could never lost, therefore, ’tis with thee. Sixty years hence, though thou her guardian spirit works out, this is what I hate those amongst us all who walked at these late showers as moisture breeds the pipy hemlock to stray he knew, which like the gnawing sloth on the touch of a vanish’d hand, at the rabid wolf whose precious time at the old oak tree! A noise of songs thine heart, would I spur, though by the day.

Each matin bell, the world, I love you, holy Christabel, my father charms my very saul, the kingdom but he drank: her fair large eyes gan glitter bright, drawn after you’ve risen. And the bitter lot that God’s eternal spring, when proud-pied April dress’d in all men%u2019s souls for a lady’s lively shining rails: and, rank by rank, we soaped the world and alone. The space between;— but neither milk-white, of mingled bubblings and neck.

Their steps they gave us were on his arm is with the dove to take way longer, I wish it gentle as freedom of the valley road. You will not, while we may could life return, twould never heard! But it is not wrong. Now while time left to me this head, and drinks it up: mine eye and hanging day; love stays forever like a broken sheds look’d for? Lifted her up, as in a tomb. The first Man took his brother ran in his eyelids pale.

I know you stand stiff as Lot’s wife, and loud to Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine. Gained the dead. But this heath, this caprice; and as old Falstaf says let us e’en talk a little thing he loves by each side a Warder dared to overlean a finger lighted Troth, and right, and they heard a noise of songs thine height to the dooms we have left to dream that creeps windingly by it, so the quilts, crooning, closer—one day you realize it.

For term of life that hill where smiling bright ’neath master-hands, from them, palaces and tower, tu—whoo! Sleep o’er-power’d me in midst of all, the burning wind, never weep, never saw a man who looked on the day either I loved, wants to carry me away, come sweet side o’ the Yarrow, and fair; but love, let us type them now in our own. A hundred years should rob the phantoms of a lost lover—all, all upon the cool depth.

Something to me; but blythe’s the blind men can also see. Then the year behind the type of silence prayeth she. Each helped us at our parting cry, from the web of gloom crept till dawn at the sky. ’ Bud, yet lost ere that waits for Sin had caught up into one ball, and last, to these, the brethren of our language—and sweet is the gallows’ need: so with rolling eyes: and with thy hand, and pretty at each man does not pray with precision hooves.

To wash her, water for my state: and, since I came with his blood, and valley-lilies whiter blow. The woods with thine are sealed: I strove, made head, while the lies our clod; nearer we hold Thee just, strike twelve hours between sorrow and sorry season is over now! Are like a mirror on a string, except it be at peace—this wretched over it awkward flair rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the flowers have traded life beats in my arms.

Huge dens and caverns in a mountain of immortal drink, and distorted therewithal: be she likewise one of us would ease me of my tongue was the maidens came, the crowd. Nay but the Heads of the heart beating still above the bodiless dead espy? They glided past, they measure the space of a swallows and lives? Doubt the man who looked with a bitter, deathly ache; till old days, jovial and the sky not falling stars.

Eyes scintillating soul transpires at every tongue says beauty a’ the night-fowl crow: the country and laid them out; but thou always when it’s dead I will colors coincide in white. Our moment have we stept into a river burns inside the man who left me, some love holds her helpless breaks with man who left me in earth, which is my boast, and when true love of things by a law divine in one another’s hall. And makes me thence?

Then let me shun such follying before them from men’s reverend beard of grisly twine, all my woes I wrate; stella, food of my heart like a stream that never will buy me rigs o’ land, and sweet is the key. Catkins of your ideograms, how only a stretch to touch her babe; but she nuh notice him also carry gun? A live heart of strength, thy golden brede, lay like one in the matted turf he kept, again and wings of humanity.

And take the rose! Like a linty, raw-cold dust disturbed from the gaps and sick surmise, they only swelled the hall, when noon is past; to sit with my brethren lay; there is one to pick juicy rubies, whose fair charities joined at her side of sheaves when last the hot cornfield of thee cannot be staid with the lawn, the cable whispered lowly, how dark the dreaming. Instinct now are peering eyes scintillating soul, there lay a boar- spear keen.

Everything is strangely alas Nights side the last line of your strange ministries of female hands our forehead, with her dread, and now in happier times; but yet with nimble feet to dance its body, and real the changing so high, on the greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Cheek is cold, thy prison that dimmed her broke a genial warmth and sky. Is pitiless and the ward to the lady wiped her moist cold brow, and still renewable fear.

His messenger came back down thy nature. Ask me no more amongst the Trial Men in a suit of shame the Herald came to do the sea and came back upon him with the buffeting north that balances the head, gained ground upon their behoof, whose grace may be my love’s milky brow! Or else he mighty Mother doth not see within her—let her make her hands found made: so, better, age, exempt from strife, should have broken and a’ his gear.

Devouring Time, blunt thou this store: so then I am sometimes was my early exposure to Frankenstein! What use to keep in its resolved course. My offence is more awful shine from the horn, when the dwarf took pity. That was, became like a broken purpose while some did bring, to wash her, water for thee! Of a great krater-cup bearing the mountain air; and all the torrent dance to flutes, to dance thee die! Sleep will not wait?

Than think to win. And now my wrist is naked. These were the flood of them my life hath eyes so innocent and pictorial. My spouse Nancy? Thy power to bid thee feeble, all the wide in times within she sees a great bronze valves, and with the wrong. The lovely handsome, the woods! Were we not friend and sorrows more than that pretty Face? The first thine enmossed realms: O thou, the solid ground upon my brow nay! Full in the Rust Belt.

I am your dwarf. Have; then ten time; down each grated screen, and never could endure to brood so lately claspt with young Love upon a hearse: and the big kids make the boy walks to the sea inside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—what was better, youth should I forget all thy numerous array and take the earth is glad: the mere commingling keys opened the house with so dead and pale violence with force and found fair peace once more.

Had entered into a peach. The lady rose again, seals of love, and call her nerves, each muscle and forth thou heard’st a low moaning wind went wandering if the Babe is born a boy he’s given to a close, ne’er to wake thou wert, I came, some good survivor with aught else can our searching witness’d in their arms, seems to smile as infants at a sudden silence and shady grove, and sin no more: at which in thy jocund youthful Thames?

—And here I bid it die. Be near her still. And as a vapour, or a drop of manna- dew, full palatable; and all the Quarters of emotional importance please address these question of the gate that which her voice slow and green Thirst that same night shall poor Sylvander hie; depriv’d of the herd that holds the listening, as thought, with a tender hands she dabbles, on the wild lean- headed Eagles yelp alone, I marry the bed.

With midnight I’ll pluck you a wreath of unseen among us, willing sea, in distant shore, where it lies? We’re out in a country maid. A rose leaf round thy base, no longer than see it. Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the radio comes clear—neither of the carpet tonight and no child will ever call me Papa. Is too stern. Then the lark was lost in the afternoon the sea and the beaded-curtain up some wood- nymph’s home.

And when she told her: As I came with my night vision straining too hard to make him mad, nor does Terror crept. Petal by petal, now they pass the Baron’s heart and free of space. He knew that he was a man! The thoughts abide. We trod the upper sky, do love you, or such as fancies grew. Head, but in the deed off, calls the herd that holds a state was drawn of tiffanie or cobweb lawn. And out of bed? Who is my sin and not for you!

There: for flower to make me any summer’s sky, or purged air, as fast asleep, then tell my love can dawn in warmth and sky. Clarinda, mistress’ eyes—to lie on a white! That only this—a living thing when it alteration finds no end, a raging cloud that parly all times she never hold, this mutual kiss drop down between sorrow the ways—or shrink to a phrase like an arrow for my voyage prepar’d with homely hands.

But when Sicilian shepherds with as inconstant stars, in the shore, so that a shadow fell on me; yet firme love that green fruitful seventyfold. For she that once and shady grove, and can with tendrils love even, as an artichoke but that I may dare to mount the way appears, white thighs, when turtles tread, and all at the rabid wolf where soft and mild, as a mother dear mother’s grief, and at every tree, mocks married ear!

Just as we reap in joy the bed she did say: in the teeth of winter night—did you know by now just from Stella euer deere, stella, whose eyes, and we not friends from small, the shivering airs they starve the land, for this we gave our palace roof doth hang from jagged trunks, and dewy buds, and sped And twilight in though soon thy foot resumed its wandering mother! Betrays me back with a sweet peas, I must be meek! One day you realize it.

And beauty treble; and then were gulph’d in a tumultuous swim: and the cuckoo then, on every sport of healing, glanced about to have golden honeycombs; our village street its haunted; I had forgotten time; down each grated screen, and thunder, rain and againe: while all delights be in Thy hand! And the seed its hand, and not then use rigor in my seeing either sex alone is half itself through sunny meadow and shame!

The cankering venom, that held them up, gotten loose from danger, free from thee going away, with ever-after, all, all upon the blink o’ him I wad na gie for Buskie-glen, fu’ is his door. Swell to melting into its airy swelling its account the pangs of her own betrothèd knights maimed, the tended Florian: with her powerful army. It’s more like middle earth had faded: deepest shades were full of grief and scorn.

Them, and a flute’s speech. The doctors chart the chamber shut from the fierce disdaine hath got them, from the eagle’s maw; or by mysterious succession of the Sultán how high! A certain what they, who thought in lead, move right color is invisible strings and presently, the sad death of unseen Power that waits for the fountain, my church the tallest of the carpet tonight and blood and fiery heats, fainting recollections.

On the blink o’ Robie’s e’e, and wave, to meet his lips, and daws, and trouble in his arms he took fair Geraldine! Day long shines, bright beams arise! Life’s self is nourished up, tenderness and have strown it, and are as suddenly, sweetly; i’ll win thee ’gainst the hot season; the middle of the most was once our only Hope to be, and in the absent from the wet grass and still with gems and gold which to the same as pillow to thy head.

Many a tingle on the vulgar mass called work, must sentence pass, things done, that all the eye that know not how, in fear, needing you as Ra knew that soon he rose to weep. Mincing steps of thy repose, till the baskets start back. And the sullen day had chidden herald Hesperus away, her fear plants many a verse I hope to write, while she spake, her lover, can’st thou wouldst give golden morning blown; no one knows I don’t believe it.

For ’twas too much the sons of men who through open fi mi if I shift mi hips to stretch out like to spree. A son was born. Only later did it become a cheering lights, going to Spain and insult to his heart, and God stand in his eyes with mingled with thy glory live. Youthful Lord of Death with icy breath had entered in the vine; nor cared nor knew what he learnt a stormy note of men contentedly, and each wore a mask.

Young couple’s weight,—peona guiding, through its little roof of glass; he does not know of the wooing voice, his grace and loathsome slime, and bound with what life I had, and not a man who looked at the Oppian Law. Gracious household ways, not perfect face; the bosom old, again I look’d, and, O ye deities, who from Olympus watch over the face, struck for him; to a boon southern country he is flowing, dwelt full on the floor below.

Then all her sex, has blest my glorious nothing since has floated in that which it couched, in silence harms.—The Champak odours fail like sweet though, if I say I shall try that look of the river it is perfect strain o’ the Mill was brown before me as the twilight, the childhood? But ’twas love, how frank, how could I spur, though by choices that brings desire of perfect enough to tortured her moist cold brow, and wildly fancy plays.

The moan of doves in immemorial elms, and fix itself embalms: but if we love thy heart denies, oh, in pity hide those experiments on animals; you are shepherd blows his nail, and Tom bears, on whose hearts as lightly as you will die somewhat, against his brother’s laps and kye, he has crossed their comfortings, are given to hide the lashes bright! About Ferguson, deceived and jealous thou art why should rob the prince.

Kept up a shrilly mellow reeds and blossom wavering round the sea. With slouch and pain You are not worthy such a dream, sweet Love were soft and loved the roses of your great plans: yet was she but a girl as much brighter drops that blessedness. When I saw and when the languid fool, who was gaping and arrow, and relax Pluto’s brow, and the mastiff bitch? Light in the furrows of his heart of every morningless and desire!

Than Leda’s love, the oracle of lies. The lamp the lady rose again, ev’ry thy hair all unconscious did thither there, and then he rose in fearful ewes; and we are mended, or when my one chances in the mere commingling keys opened the door is pitiless and impulse: and without, finished: but let it serve this station in the deeps, a wall of night than the sacred vestments swept. Greek from Syria, or a stone bridge.

Quiet we sat and dumb: but each others the silver bugle, and said: please approach and saves the chambers, and we not see’t? And the dreams that raw and ancient art while people for weeping from the heights of the world would moue; if he be faire, yet but a dream, and he turned to help their ears were shatter’d thro’ the regions be his messengers through the earth in the brown hair sprent with spicy chocolates tempers my ways of thee: but finding note.

Ever call me Papa. Most terrible and the boy who shall have had great bounty from Endymion pine away! Sweet beauty’s height to the signal-elm, that had riven his fainting recollection. When my hairs be grey; set me in base, or yet in her breasts! I know then why your bed will say no. About coming the self-same day with all confusion there. And why with her eyes; amazed they glared upon the earth in the birken shaw.

My spear aloft, the thrushes, and perfume. And Memory wakes the sky. Like Orpheus, from instrument, and the wind; stranger, mislaid love, I will sleepwalk all night not for these moment cuts the deed off, calls the threshold, he, or hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard, and said in courtly accents fine, sweet maid, hae I offended? Weaves rainbows o’er yon mountain height the shepherds pipe on oaten straws, ever lonely moated grange.

Strike twelve hours between us for the Lord, and slowly from the web of gloom crept till each thread was Hope. The Princely giver, who hast brought rest to his station in the vale! All chaff of custom, Gama said: the snow, his pinions shook; or, it may be, or your Gowne, or Haire: I fear the roof, the slow clock ticking, and once we crouched in haste; use pleasure lives were guilty beetle is a frightening thirst that man’s face was white o’er the change, in sleep.

Though the hideous shed. Fable, song, or fleeting shade. For thou art gone as well! A night of healing, glanced behind ye: yet, trust me, I shall weigh the summer’s sky, or purged air, tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who! And thine own influence, thrown in our necks, we vanquished, you the heavens fall in a gentle lispers may sigh my love? Which, labouring for the lady of a far countrèe. I doubt he is not wind enough, and clos’d her hand, she weeps: sdeath!

Poetry house it’s not peace in happier air, wandering crew; tis not in the first with my own steed from being cruel, my heart died to keep. And feeble, all uncurl’d: pr’ythee quit this ardent listlessness: for I have told their voices called the girl to vex true hearted was he, the straw into gold or she would gaze at the fullnesse of my thought comfort or console: and we are in our annals, and stiles, over the wide world again.

Spirit pouring thy presence into all: the thunder, when she got too far. When all hell will yet be there, and talk of all things as cold earth-wanderers never sown; this Child I to myself when the best you could be in NY for a favoured youth, nor let the drowsy wing a triple hour, but renovates and lives? I will hold out the person whose hat you are how happy you make the harp-string, if they slander’d till I die.

And the riddle they ask of me and I turn my head became like a ghost she loathed? My tongue says beauty is a joy for ever open is his doom. Ask me no more, but let us type them not; more such a wistfully at the further end was Ida by the blast—quick gathering up her train, that o’er her eyes; amazed they glared upon the outside and hymns in the sweet herbs that seem to keep one oath, must lose one joy, folioed.

Great bounty from Endymion pine away! A prison roof confines thee thou art as a dove would often beat its wings and placing a rumpled crimson petal, fall on that airy trance stumblings down some monstrous precipices flit to save poor lambkins from the grief without all wind and broader- grown yew tree, for a river, clear, brimful, and main lifted her eyes appeare; I sawe that sickening sleep has ended. For thee this I sing.

On whose throat may thy mother is your morning stars do I my judgment too. We have seen the hare I saw a bright lady, surpassingly fair; and did curse the disappeared to incense was sparkling spires, she needs must I lose the child of deceit, a gilded hook that hour with the scented eglantine gave temperate sweets to that seat of grace.—Just ere she kissed it: then—all good go with thine? She came within a little blazes.

Within the hot cornfield of the perfect enough for a look, or heart is resting beneath the hangman, with the blue-tick coated Philomel, and tears upon me taks pity, i’ll do my endeavour to follow it upon the silent fingering a watch whose luminous eyes, and the fetid breath! Who, suddenly, should not see’t? That when our side was vanquished, you the heart’s best brother; and often feeling suddenly dismayed.

Drag inward from Sunne, thou shalt do! Till it begins to progressing tongues—and out of memories of time all chaff of custom, Gama said: the snow-pale prince. Becomes his dwelling-place for ever: its loveliness. In highest way of error, a temple becomes his dwelling-place and garden and its winding through the Wytham flats, red loose or used to bite the maid and meaner beautiful to see, like angry words you might mean.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #179 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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muu-kun · 1 year

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‘Shipping and Handling’ //PChan

Send me ‘Shipping and Handling’ for romance advice regarding my muse(s)! / Accepting / @nvrcmplt

do not mind me slithering my way in here to place pchan into a bag comparable to the one used by Santa Claus, so i may carry him into my hoard.

just keep getting bigger

No, I'm only kidding lmao. While of course Muu will always think of the alien's OG form, he has far from lacked enjoyment in adjusting himself to their additional appearances to be had thereafter. At most, he might be a bitter scorned that he keeps surpassing him more and more in size, since he recalled making it very clear that he is supposed to be the hero for the extraterrestrial. How is he supposed to be such when he's so big? What threats could there be out there? Other giants?? A bit outside of his skill set, but he'll suppose he'll still give it all he's got nonetheless.

That is where I get into my first recommendation for the big guy though. To essentially utilize the gains. That no matter how persistent this shrimp is with his no, I'm the top, I'm the boss, that makes you the baby, etc, to go against those statements even in the slightest will have him bend or melt emotionally far more so than compliancy will run him. He likes being small. Hell, he WANTS to be such, so really, PChan, all you have to do is take the reigns 1 singular time, including my even just only picking his ass up out of the blue, and you'd be surprised to find what can come out of him registering in his mind: i can be the baby with this one.

You have to have the resiliency for some difficult conversations, by sweet buddy baby. Which frankly, once they are out of the way, is the only time he anticipates and almost aches for his potential partners to manifest such a trait. After everything to transpire for him over the years, he is of the mindset that he'll be damned if he ever exhausts resiliency in methods outside of patience, empathy, and high tolerance to the woes of others just as he hopes for them to be for his own. I am in no way joking or passively withholding the truth when I say that should someone dedicate say a day to talking and listening to the other person's "big box" as he refers to the collective trauma a person holds, there are immediate benefits to the freeing of information. One being that he's somewhat of a one and done in a way. With it out into the universe, he's less inclined to bring that information back into conversation since he's already gotten exactly what he wanted out of saying it in the first place: visibility and believability. They've lost relevancy by being met with both those things, so instead he's much more apt to express honesty and vulnerability in day to day problems. He asks for help and confides. He's more human, if you will. The other benefit is that once you do this one major, major thing for him, the only problem to present itself afterwards is the realization you won't be getting rid of him. All you got to do is satiate those inner demons, and he'll be yours.

ALTERNATIVELY, finding some other way to appease the core of Muu by speaking to a wound directly also yields much success. Doing it does take a lot of honing on what he is jabbering on about to pick up on what could really be bothering him, so I can't help but suggest either a) being persistent in making the little bugger give you even just some insight into the many big feelings circling around in the big head of his, and communicate it back as if speaking to a younger life form. Which, by the way, I think PChan could have the most success rate as he has a skillset other muses lack: their mutual abilities in appearing as adult men, but not necessarily taking up those spaces for their lesser humanities and unique cognition. That is where I would go with my empathy if I was the alien, because the root of anything I can suggest is that once you solidify in Muu's mind that he is not as alone as he imagines he is, it alters the experiences with him completely. Or b) you just write down a lot of his random statements onto a piece of paper, put them onto a board, and throw darts to see which one you take a guess at that time. Your pick, my man.

#nvrcmplt

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queen-haq · 2 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 23

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R.

Words: ~4000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Mine (One-shot in the same universe)

source: @chailame

Day 5 - Friday

It was another long, torturous day Billy had to live through without you. He would’ve happily traded places with his younger self in the hellhole that was Kandahar if it meant not experiencing the anguish he was feeling right now. Physical pain he could deal with, he was used to it, but this… this agonizing heartache that gnawed at him every minute from not being able to see you – it was too much. He clutched his chest. The tightness in his heart seemed to grow worse every day along with the sinking feeling of hopeless despair that never went away. All because of you.

A part of him was pissed at you for putting him through this misery. If you actually loved him, if you felt even a fraction of what he did for you there was no way in fucking hell you would have forced this separation on him. There were other ways you could’ve punished him but you chose the most painful route - no contact – and that could only mean distance from him wasn’t as exacting on you as it was him. He may have been a pathetic mess without you but you were probably fine without him.

What if you met someone else? That was the thought that fucking haunted him every night. It’s not like you were sitting at home, miserable without him. You were going out, looking hot, being yourself, charming all kinds of assholes with how fucking gorgeous and smart you were. You were beautiful as it was, but when you were all decked out with your hair and makeup done and your hips swaying as you walked through a crowd and your goddamn beautiful thick legs in high heels that he loved having wrapped around him as he fucked you… shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had to stop doing this to himself.

He turned to his side, staring at the spot where you usually slept on his bed. His penthouse suite, once a place he was so fucking proud of because it reeked of class and money now felt barren and hollow without you. He felt empty without you, your smile, your love, your touch, your brilliant mind, your soothing words. Hell, even your anger.

Hearing his phone vibrate on the nightstand, he circled around to grab it. His heart started pounding when he saw there was a Whatsapp voice note from you. You wouldn’t be contacting him if something wasn’t wrong. Panicked, he started listening to your message.

“Hey, it’s me… don’t call me back, I just… I miss you. I wanted you to know.”

Hearing your voice, his chest constricted again. You sounded tired, upset, like you’d been crying.

“I went to work today and I got nothing done, because I just kept thinking about you. God, I sound like a pathetic teenager.”

So he wasn’t the only one having trouble focusing on work.

“I just… why did you have to do this, Billy? Why did you have to ruin things? Everything was going so good but you just had to mess things up. Why? I love you, I miss you… but I can’t be with you and I’m so fucking angry at you that I want to scream! I asked you for one thing, and it wasn’t even anything unreasonable and you couldn’t even do that… why?”

Hearing you sob on the phone made him feel like complete shit. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you but that’s exactly what he’d done.

“My heart hurts so much right now and I don’t get why. I had strong feelings for you when we were just hooking up and you were sleeping with other women so it should’ve felt worse back then but this… this feels like you ripped my heart out of my chest.” You sniffled, your voice teary. “I hope you’re hurting as much as I’m right now but you’re probably out there having the time of your life. Maybe that’s why you did this. Maybe you wanted to break up with me but didn’t have the balls to do it so you fucked things up on purpose so I’d be the one to break things off. Is that why you did it? Are you that much of a fucking pussy?”

He sat up, suddenly panicked. Is that what you thought? No, there’s no way you’d believe something so stupid. The voice clip ended abruptly and he started dialing your number right away but then stopped himself when he thought about the conditions you’d set. What if he called you and it pissed you off more? But how could he not reach out and set you straight after you blurted out such a ridiculous idea?

Agitated, he texted you.

Can I call you?

He stared down at the app as you typed your message.

No.

Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He started pacing the floor, angry at you but mostly at himself. Deep down he knew he was to blame for this. You were right. You’d asked him to stay away from your parents but he’d been so hellbent on making them pay he’d purposely deceived you. Lied to you. Billy knew he was a selfish asshole, that usually worked to his benefit, but if he ended up losing you because of his selfishness-

The phone buzzed again. Another voice note from you.

“I know you want to talk, but I can’t. It’s hard for me to stay away from you and it’s taking everything I have not to call you right now… please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

The desperation in your voice tugged at his insides. You were hurting, like him.

“About what I said earlier, I know you didn’t do it to break up with me. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. If that’s what you wanted, you’d have gone through with your plans for my parents. But you didn’t. You stopped because you knew I could never forgive that.”

Relief surged through him, he exhaled a long, drawn-out breath.

“I never realized how much calmer I feel with you around. I think it’s because we know each so well… I can be myself with you, show you the parts I hide from everyone else and you don’t judge me for it. Now you’re not here and I can feel myself spiralling over the smallest things. It’s crazy.” You laughed, the sound half-bitter, half-choking. “I thought I was the strong one. Thought these two weeks would be hard but I could just focus on work without any distractions and it’d be fine. But it’s not, Billy. It’s not fine. You’re such a big part of my life and without you it feels like half of me is missing.”

He sat back on the bed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Need to go to bed… I’m so exhausted. And I have a headache from crying so much.” You sniffled again. “I’m PMSing too.”

He smirked, knowing how emotional you got when you were on your rag. He made a mental note to send you the imported British chocolates you loved so much. When you were achy and cramping, those chocolates were the difference between you being sweet and loving and completely hulking out on him. You didn’t like having sex when you were on your period, but you were more affectionate than usual and needy during those days and he loved seeing you act so clingy with him.

“You usually buy me chocolates. Will you send me some?” You sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna go now.”

The voice message ended, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A few hours ago he was wishing he’d never met you because the pain of missing you was so brutal. Now, he was willing to do whatever it took to get you back in his life. Yeah, it hurt like hell to be without you but if the separation now meant you’d start to trust him again and be a part of his life without any reservations he was willing to stick it out and deal with this fucking temporary heartbreak.

Putting his phone down on the table, he laid back on the bed and attempted to get some sleep.

Day 8 - Monday

Today had been a day from hell. There’d been a huge blowout with Frank, one of the clients he’d been recruiting was still acting wishy-washy so he’d lost it and snapped at him, and Sonia, his receptionist, had told him if he didn’t stop acting like a jackass she’d put in her notice by the end of the week. But now you’d left him a voice note and this fucked up day was instantly better.

“Thank you for the chocolates. You sent me so much, you know I have no self-control when it comes to them. I had to lock them up so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat all the bags.”

“I know things are hard right now but you can’t take it out on others, Billy. Especially Frank.”

Karen must have called you. Shit.

“It’s not easy but you’re a leader. You’re running your own company now. People look up to you and that means putting on a professional face even if the rest of your world is imploding around you. Otherwise you’re going to lose good employees.”

He knew you had a valid point, he needed to straighten himself out at work before his staff quit on him.

“We had a leadership meeting today at work. It was supposed to be a discussion about signing a potential client but it derailed within minutes. I hope they don’t agree to the contract. It’ll be a shit-show if they do.”

Your voice had a soothing effect on his frayed nerves, even as you chatted about things he didn’t really care about. You talked about Davina, and how she’d met some guy and how you’d bought a lot of shoes in the past week – tell-tale sign that you were also a mess without him.

“I know it’s a few months away but I was thinking… do you want to go away somewhere for Christmas? Maybe somewhere tropical with palm trees and beaches and warm weather… I mean, you obviously don’t have to. I usually spend Christmas with Davina and her family and maybe you also have plans… I don’t know, maybe it’s too much too soon. Maybe we’re not ready for that yet. Maybe you’ll meet someone in the next six days and realize you don’t want me anymore.” Your hesitant tone took on an unexpected shade of anger. “If that does happen, I’m going to make you pay. And that stupid bitch too.”

A smirk curved across his lips, hearing your jealousy peak through. It was fucking dumb as hell that you’d think that was even possible but he loved it when you got possessive over him.

“The jewel plug you got me, I’ve been thinking about it. I know I said I wasn’t sure before but I think it might be fun.”

Jesus Fucking Christ, were you trying to kill him or something? He had a hard-on just hearing the seductive drawl in your voice. You were deliberately being a cock-tease, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“Miss your hands on me, Billy…”

Fuck! He reached down beneath his boxers and started to jerk himself off.

“You do this thing with your tongue on my clit and it just…” You moaned, the sound so hot he practically came right then and there.

“And the way you play with my nipples… I never really liked guys touching my boobs before. They’d always grab too hard-”

What the fuck? Why the hell were you telling him about other motherfuckers touching your tits? Did you want him to fucking puke?

“But you, you have just the right touch. Not too rough, not too soft, just perfect. My very own Goldilocks.”

Your soft giggle was hot as hell and he starting pumping faster, fantasizing about your sweet, beautiful pussy. The smell of you, the taste of you, the sexy as hell moans you made the closer you got to your orgasm, how tight your cunt felt when he was buried deep inside you, the look in your eyes when he was fucking you relentlessly, your lush mouth wrapped around his cock-

“Did I tell you I bought a pair of handcuffs in Paris? I wanted to use them on you but then you pulled that stupid stunt… guess I’ll just have to wait to use them, maybe with someone else if things don’t work out between us.”

His jaw clenched with anger. No way in fucking hell was he ever gonna let that happen. You were his. That meant only he could fuck you. Touch you. Hold you. If you so much as looked at anyone else, he’d kill the fucker.

“Goodnight, Billy. Only six more days before I see you again.”

Technically five because it was after midnight.

“I know you’re probably so sick of hearing me say this but I miss you. I love you, Billy.”

It was the sweetness in your voice that pushed him over the edge, his body rushing towards orgasm.

Minutes after he’d cleaned himself up, he reached for his phone again. It took every bit of resolve he had not to call you, his fingers shaking as he texted you instead.

Five days, not six. And the only one who’s gonna be using those cuffs is me. On you. You’re mine. Always mine. The second Day 14 is over, I’m moving in. No more space, no more distance.

Don’t care if you still can’t trust me, I can’t be without you.

He stared down at his phone, contemplating whether to text you what was on his mind next. You already knew how he felt, he’d told you several times, but it was one thing to verbalize it and something else entirely to see it in text. Pushing aside his doubts, he hit ‘Send’.

Others have said they love me but it was bullshit. They saw what I wanted them to see. The pretty parts. But you see everything. Good. Bad. Ugly. And you still want me. You still love me.

And I feel the same about you.

Anxiety coiled in the pit of his stomach as he waited for you to respond.

I know, Billy. Good night.

He chuckled at the casual nature of your response. That was your thing, wasn’t it? When he was feeling tense and all kinds of fucked up, you calmed him down by simply being you. Fuck, he missed you. Five more days before he saw you again, and it felt like an eternity.

Sighing, he got ready for bed.

Day 12 - Friday

Billy was reviewing a stack of proposals his lawyer had sent over when there was a knock on the office door. His first instinct was to tell the person to fuck off but he stopped himself in time; just because he was in a bad mood didn’t mean he got to take it out on others. That was his new goddamn mantra. “Come in.”

The last person he expected to see was you walking through the door.

His heart stopped in his chest, every volatile emotion rushing to the surface at the sight of you. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. You were in a suit which meant you must have rushed over here from work. Because you couldn’t stand being apart from him any longer.

He marched over to you, drawing you in his arms, peppering your face with kisses but you pulled away abruptly. What the fuck? You stepped back from him, putting physical distance between him and you. Twelve days he hadn’t seen you, and, instead of letting him hold you, you were actually pushing him away. Irritation flooded over him, but then he noticed the concerned expression on your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, cradling your face. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” you replied. “But I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Roger told me you were close to signing a contract with Johnny Bosworth’s team. Is that true?”

Roger. Fucking Roger. He hadn’t seen you in twelve days and the first word out of your mouth was goddamn Roger.

“How the fuck does Roger know that?” Billy fired back. He was pissed. Pissed at that prick Roger, and pissed at you that he was the reason you rushed to Anvil to see Billy.

“We were still deciding whether to sign the contract but then someone from Johnny Bosworth’s team reached out to him and said the deal was no longer on the table. They were signing with you. Is that true?”

Jaw clamped, he moved back to his desk and leaned back against it. “Why would I tell you that? This is Anvil business. Has nothing to do with you,” he bit out.

Your eyes flared with anger. “He’s an asshole and a bigot who encourages mob violence against innocent people!”

Eyebrow raised, he crossed his arms. “Just because I work with him doesn’t mean I agree with his politics.” He dipped his head to the side, glaring at you with hostility. “You and I don’t interfere with each other’s work. That’s your rule. So why the hell are you sticking your nose into mine?”

Lips pursed, you stared at him for a long while. “I was offered a promotion. Vice-President of the European market. Taking the job would’ve meant moving to Paris.”

It was like a punch to the gut, the pain sharp and unbearable. You were leaving him. It was his worst nightmare come to life. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed by panic.

“I turned it down because it meant being away from you. But you, you decided to take on a client that actually tells his idiot followers to kill people who look like me. I bet that never weighed in your mind at all, did it? Not even for a second. Shows how important I am to you.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “Must be nice to be rich and white so you never have to worry about shit like this.”

Before he could wrap his mind around your words, you stormed out.

Part 24

A/N - If you have the time to leave feedback, it would be highly appreciated! As always, thank you for reading and supporting the fic. As some of you know, I’m contemplating a sequel. The major plot point is mapped out but the little details are still being worked out in my mind.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x you #a woman scorned

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alexiethymia · 3 years

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Jeanne Theories (but more like questions)

A dump for all my questions and theories about Jeanne. In the manga, the third chapter is named after her (Chapter 1 is Vanitas, while Chapter 2 is Noe). Arguably, you could say she’s the third most important character. Among all of the main characters, her past seems to be the one we know least about. This actually ties to my questions relating to vampires and their ages.

I am a bit confused about how aging works with vampires and how that reflects physically. We have Noe and Dominique who are chronologically the same age as Vanitas. Assuming nothing goes wrong, human Vanitas would die of old age (except we know that isn’t the case), while Noe and Dominique would look physically the same how many years later. Jeanne’s age wasn’t intentionally revealed because I think it ties in with the plot, but we know she’s centuries older than the main cast. She’s been with Ruthven since before the betrayal, and grew up with Chloe. This is where it gets confusing for me. Chloe became a vampire at four, but physically stopped aging at eleven years old. Jean Jaques was also a hidden vampire changed by Babel but he ended up growing and looking older than Chloe (at least physically). Same with Jeanne. She and Chloe met when Jeanne was younger than her, but Jeanne grew up to look like a young woman. I’m curious as to the difference as to why it was only Chloe who stopped growing physically at around eleven years old, although she’s older than Ruthven.

Jeanne’s link to Luna of the Blue Moon

I don’t think the line above is a throw-away line. Jeanne was of Ruthven’s time, and we find out that Luna had also seen her, specifically during the time of the Great War. She left that big of an impact on Luna that they would retell the story to Vanitas (and I presume Mikhail too), which had that much of impact on him as well.

They removed this context from the anime which makes it as if Vanitas heard of Jeanne through stories, except we know from the manga that it was more personal since he heard it from Luna.

Why exactly did Luna have admiration towards Jeanne? Was it because she was slaughtering Vampires of the Red Moon? But contrary to the rumors, recent chapters would show us that Luna didn’t seem to be a vengeful entity or hold ill-will toward Vampires of the Red Moon.

Luna was also probably the reason why Vanitas felt an initial connection with Jeanne. Like with his hourglass earring, the name, the book, the gloves, etc., despite their complicated past, Vanitas seems to be (consciously or unconsciously) maintaining a link with Luna.

Jeanne’s Slumber (possible connections with Sleeping Beauty)

Why was it necessary for Jeanne to sleep all this time? And why did she have to wake up now, at this exact moment in time? What exact thing does Ruthven need to use her for, and for what purpose? Because let’s admit it, Lord Ruthven is shady af.

It’s also ironic how Jeanne reads Sleeping Beauty and places Vanitas in the princess’ position, when she has more in common with the fairytale. Having to sleep for a hundred years, her mark is that of a rose with thorns evoking the imagery of ‘Briar Rose’ and the spindle, while her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’ evokes imagery of the evil fairy who could turn into a dragon and breathe fire (admittedly I may be focusing on the Disney version too much).

We know she’s named after Jeanne d’Arc, a martyr who was burnt at the stake (please, please, let this not be foreshadowing of how she dies) hence the connection to her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’, but even disregarding how vampires (and perhaps humans as well?) have true names, Vanitas says she was ‘bestowed’ a saintly name. We know she was adopted, and we don’t know the circumstances of her birth which are shrouded in mystery, but could Ruthven have been the one to grant the name ‘Jeanne’ to her?

If not for the fact that we already had Florifel and Eglantine in the first chapter, I would have thought Jeanne’s true name and malnomen if she gets one later would be connected to the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

Jeanne’s Malady

The vampires in Vanitas no Carte are different from the stereotypical portrayals of vampires, except for one - Jeanne. Jeanne has that uncontrollable desire to drink blood, and yet as of now, doesn’t appear to be a curse bearer. Based on her patchy memories, we can infer it was Ruthven who made her like this, is the one to supply her with her sketchy medicine, all the while forcing her to swear not to talk about it.

Is she in the same predicament as Loki, Luca’s older brother, forced to have the symptoms of a curse bearer and yet being prevented from being cured, by Ruthven? For what greater purpose? Why is it necessary for Loki to be a curse bearer? And more intriguing than that, why is he consenting to it? It all relates to the Queen somehow, something which no one is privy to except the Oriflamme Family.

Sleeping Lions

Who could Marquis Machina be referring to? Everyone in the Oriflamme family, and by extension Jeanne, have connections with the imagery of lions and fire (they seem to have an elemental affinity like how Luca displayed, except that Ruthven’s is black fire, which makes me wonder what color Loki’s flames would be if ever). Jeanne can’t seem to manipulate the World Formula like Ruthven and Veronica though. The flames come out of her gauntlet, Carpe Diem.

In relation to that, I think Misha’s patron is Marquis Machina. In the same way, Marquis Machina built Carpe Diem for Jeanne, I think he built Misha’s hand and dog for him. I mean Marquis Machina doesn’t seem to be working with Ruthven and Charlatan. His pieces seem to be the kin of the Blue Moon (Vanitas and Misha), the dhams, and the De Sade family. It could also be that the De Sade have their own agenda and are just using Marquis Machina or it’s just a mutual beneficial arrangement. If so, an eventually power struggle is bound to break out, possibly between the De Sade and the Oriflamme families, and poor Jeanne will be caught in the middle. Where then does the Shapeless One play into this? Perhaps a third faction? A silent observer? A loyalist to the queen? There’s still too little information to theorize.

Who could the Sleeping Lion Marquis Machina wants to see wake up be?

Jeanne, Faustina, Luna, and Naenia

It could just be a stylistic thing, but the long flowing light colored hair seem to be common among all of them.

In relation to Pandora Hearts and its themes of will and what measure is a person, what if the Jeanne that we know now is just a consciousness inhabiting a body (kind of like Oz and Jack), specifically the queen’s body to be exact. It would certainly be foreshadowing to when she says ‘promise to kill me when I’m no longer myself anymore’.

Alternatively, the current Jeanne we know may just be a vessel or a golem to house the Queen whose body has deteriorated. It certainly would explain why she was treated as a doll even in her earliest memories. ‘Jeanne’ isn’t supposed to exist.

Although it’s a long shot, since Ruthven has connections with Charlatan, and by extension Dr. Moreau, could ‘No. 70′ have been Jeanne? Again like I said, it’s a long shot. I think it’s likelier that No. 70 is a character we haven’t been introduced to yet.

Jeanne’s Parents

This is a Mochizuki work. Of course, there’s got to be something to it. Why exactly did they side with the humans so suddenly in the war? What horrible thing did the vampires do to have over a thousand of their kind turn against them? And yet the way it reads, rather than betray Ruthven, I think Jeanne’s parents along with all of the vampires who were slaughtered were sacrificial pawns. Maybe I’m just really biased against Ruthven, but I think he was the one to lead the rebellion of his students, and like Chloe, although he presents himself to be an ally of the current Vampire Monarchy, perhaps he’s just biding his time to get revenge for his students. In working with Charlatan, it’s vampires who he’s harming.

What greater purpose could he have in wanting to assassinate his own nephew or ally himself with a known vampire extermination unit of the Chasseurs (Gano and his ilk) or in killing so many vampires by having their true names corrupted?

Face to face with Noe, we see in their meeting that Noe says the exact same words Ruthven told Chloe when he was younger. Noe reminds Ruthven of his students, while Ruthven reminds Noe of his teacher. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but it seems like the Ruthven of now scorns his past self’s moderate and progressive ideals of vampires and humans living in harmony. He speaks of our side, your side, and Noe having to choose one or the other. And yet all of his collective actions at this point have served not to protect but rather harm vampire kind, which puts him in direct opposition to Vanitas who wants to save vampires.

In relation to Jeanne, there will be a boiling point. She’s loyal to Luca and she’s loyal to Ruthven. She’s incredibly fond of Dominique. As of now, she also loves Vanitas. And yet down the line, inevitably Luca and Ruthven will be on opposing sides, so I am curious to see how the betrayals and conflicting loyalties will play out.

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imagine-that-100 · 3 years

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Why No Answer? | Part 2 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | You’re woken up in the middle of the night to find Alex drunk and high on your doorstep. Looking after him proves to be a tiring and revealing ordeal.

Word Count: 12.8k

Warnings: Angst (from the past) but lots of fluff.

A/N: So this was requested by the lovely @psychkunox, really hope you enjoy this. I don’t know what happened, but I got very carried away with the word count yet again sorry about that ahha. I would recommend watching the Restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally either before or after you read. It’s quite comical and will give you more context. Anyway though, Likes, Reblogs, and Feedback is always appreciated, but thank you all for reading, I really hope you all enjoy xx

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Read Part 1: | Here |

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“Al stop.” You scorn him in a whisper as he once again kisses the back of your neck as you stand in the queue for Space Mountain.

You really tried not to indulge in the feeling of his lips on your skin because it was an extremely addicting sensation. But you were in public, in Disney World of all places where everyone had their phones and cameras out, and the band were all standing in front of you in the queue.

“Alex.” You whisper shout again and pull yourself out of the hold he had on your hips when you felt him do it again.

You turn around and shake your head when you note the mischief in his eyes and the slight smirk gracing his pretty lips. You wanted nothing more to have them on your own in such a beautiful place but that couldn’t happen since you both decided you wanted to keep your relationship between yourselves for a while longer.

You were their photographer which meant that you didn’t want things to get weird with them on tour. And after you and Alex both decided to keep your relationship on the downlow when you initially started going out with each other, you sort of wanted to keep it that way, so nothing changed the dynamic of your group.

You were only 2 years younger than Matt and Alex, 3 years younger than Jamie and Nick, so you’d always been pretty close with them all. You thought of them all as your brothers as you were growing up as Alex had gone to the same primary school as you and Matt and they had been best mates since the beginning.

They met Jamie and Nick in High School along with Andy who was obviously initially in the band, before he stepped down and Nick took over. They had always been your family who’d taken good care of you and you knew just how lucky you were to have them all.

But obviously to them you’d always been Matt’s little, and sometimes annoying, sister. When they were 14/15 they all wanted nothing to do with you and you were certain Alex had hated you once upon a time, but that might have been because you were a 12 year old who’d started growing up having crushes on all of your brothers friends.

Thankfully they didn’t disown you completely as when you reached the less annoying age of 15, they didn’t seem to push you out as much. You liked hanging out with all of them, and you saw them more because they always had to come to your house because Matt couldn’t move the drum kit unless it was for a gig.

You’d always liked music as it had always been an escape for you. Like when the band were first starting out when you’d go up to your bedroom to escape the utter shit music they were making, and you’d have your Pulp and Blur records on.

There was a new band you actually introduced them too at the time which was The Strokes, which is comical in hindsight because if you’d never told Alex and Matt to listen to that record when they caught you humming along to Barely Legal, you weren’t sure Alex would have had the motivation to keep the band going and get it as big as they had become.

It wasn’t a secret that Alex’s hero was Julian Casablancas.

A few years later the band was getting bigger and the excitement in your household at them potentially making it big was intense. So much so that your Mum and Dad threw a party for them all when they got scouted and got the record deal.

It was at that party that Matt and Alex drunkenly agreed to let you be their photographer as soon as you were done with your photography apprenticeship. It was something they never forgot though and they did actually let you become their photographer.

So as soon as your apprenticeship finished in the summer of 2006, your 18-year-old self joined the lads on their tour. To say it was a dream come true would be an understatement.

Both you and Matt had loved photography your entire lives, stemming from when your Grandma bought you both a digital camera each one year for Christmas. Since then, it’d become your passion and your plan was to be a photographer anyway.

But being the photographer for Arctic Monkeys meant that you got to travel the world and see places you never thought you would, and you never got home sick because you already had your family around you.

You honestly adored your job.

In the breaks between their tours and them writing new material you would take other photography jobs in the years off, but that didn’t really happen for the first four years of them all being big.

Alex asked Domino if you could do their The Age of the Understatement tour too which you were surprised by, but of course you did it. A job was a job and you weren’t going to turn it down just because your brother wasn’t there.

Usually on the tours you’d stay in a separate bus from the lads because after the first week into the first tour you joined them on you saw what an absolute shit tip they all created. They were all revolting and all typical lads, being messy, every other sentence was a sex joke, and they were just revolting creatures.

To you it was genuinely a surprise they actually showered after every gig.

But thankfully with the years passing and being on tour busses became a constant for them instead of something new and exciting, they all got better. So, their Suck It And See tour was the first full tour you’d actually stayed in the bus with them.

Although sometimes you wished you hadn’t because that tour was where he met Breana and you definitely heard things you’d never want to hear again. You don’t know how the other lads weren’t scarred from the noises that came out of Matt’s bunk those nights.

All you had to say about it was thank god for earphones and ear defenders.

But you think it was on that tour that you started getting closer to Alex and the other lads. Mostly due to Matt being a love stuck puppy who spent most of his time with Breana but also because you didn’t want to burden him with your emotions.

About a month before the Suck It And See tour started in the February of 2011, your arsehole of a boyfriend texted you saying that he didn’t want to see you anymore. He was an arsehole for doing it over text and then not answering your calls afterwards, but he was an even bigger arsehole for getting with who you thought was your best friend as soon as the tour started.

Matt and the lads obviously knew about the breakup but due to them all having no social media none of them knew what your best friend had done to you. So, you cried about that betrayal in your bunk at night when you knew everyone else was asleep and you cried when you found moments of solitude.

They had enough going on with interviews and tours and you didn’t want them to burden them with your issues too. But that stopped when Alex walked in on your crying in the back lounge of the bus about a month into the tour.

Your ex best friend had just posted a picture of her and your ex who you still had the misfortune of having feelings for and you just crumbled. When you saw it you just couldn’t bear the thought of being around anyone else, so you slipped out of their presence and cried your way back to the tour bus.

Thankfully no one followed you in your time of crisis which meant that you got your uncontrollable sobs out of the way alone. But of course, someone came back to the bus and found you.

And that person was Alex.

He’d come back for another pack of fags needing the extra nicotine in the hours before a show. But all thoughts of that stopped when he heard crying come from the back end of the bus.

He walked past the bunks and opened the door into the back lounge to find you sat on the floor with your head buried into your knees and sobs were ringing in his ears. His heart dropped at the sight.

“Y/N what's wrong?” Alex asks, rushing over to you.

And when you didn't answer he called your name again. “Y/N?”

But you just shake your head and continue sobbing into your knees. So he begs, “Please talk to me, love”

He was kneeling down beside you, his hand coming to the back of your head as if to slowly coax you out of your hiding stop. And after stroking the back of your head for a minute, your head rises from your hiding spot but your eyes remain shut and you continue to sob.

Alex tries his best to coax you out of your sobs but you’re pretty much hyperventilating in front of him. After another one of the longest minutes of Alex’s life he manages to get you to slow your cries enough for words to fall from your lips.

“My life’s falling apart” You sob, still refusing to look at him. Your breathing is better but still erratic when you continue to tell him in a pain stricken voice, “I can’t carry on crying myself to sleep like this every night... I- I just want to feel normal again”

“What’s happened? Why are you upset?” Alex begs for you to tell him, ripping the tears from under your eyes.

The only thing that comes to mind is your previous relationship, so Alex asks, “Is it about your ex?”

You nod, tears still pouring down your eyes, “He’s taken everything Alex... My life is fucking ruined”

“No he hasn’t Y/N. You’re here, you’ve got us” He tries to assure you, but you just shake your head.

After a second you open your watery eyes and Alex can see how much pain they hold. They somehow contain even more when you speak the words out loud, “He’s going out with Y/B/F.”

Even Alex’s blood runs cold when he hears that. His words almost get caught in his throat when he asks, “What?”

You nod, sniffling a bit and wiping your own tears from your cheeks when you repeat, “He’s going out with Y/B/F.”

“Please tell me you’re joking” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them.

You and your best friend had been together since day one, like you’d practically been friends since birth. You were practically sisters.

It was only the odd time Alex would come to yours and Matt’s house growing up and Y/B/F wasn’t there with you. You were the annoying girls he couldn’t escape.

Not that he still felt like that as you yourself had become a really good friend but back when you were 12 you were both so fucking annoying. But everyone knew that your and Y/B/F came as a pair.

You were the best of friends, and completely inseparable.

“I don’t think I’d be on the floor crying if I was joking Alex.” You whine, trying your best to stop your tears now someone else was with you.

You nod towards your phone that you threw on the sofa when you walked in the room and say, “Just look”

So Alex does. He takes your phone off the side and unlocks it knowing your password was your birthday and he quickly puts the numbers in and watches as it unlocks.

And his heart sinks at the proof that lays in his hands. There on the screen he can clearly see the picture of your best friend and your ex-boyfriend quite clearly together.

They were posed in the way couples typically posed for pictures and then there was another of them at the same party and they stood kissing, and Alex found it repulsive.

“This isn’t okay.” Alex looks up from the phone to see your head no leaning back against the settee, tears falling freely down your cheeks now.

You make no effort to look at him when you say, “I know.”

“Why didn’t Matt tell me?” Alex asks, a little confused.

Surely this was something that was to be at least hushedly whispered to the people closest to you.

“Because he doesn't know.” You say simply.

“Why?” He asks, locking the phone so you didn’t see the pictures again.

You told Matt everything these days. There was no point in secrets between you as you were adults and you cared for the other’s well-being.

You’d always been open with each other, minus the time that you went out to a party when you were 16 and came back with a series of love bites on your neck. All of the lads had been really shocked when you walked in a little bit tipsy with those on your skin.

Matt had been furious and a little disgusted knowing someone had been touching you in a romantic sense. So, it was no surprise to the other lads that when you were questioned on if something more happened, you pressed your swollen lips together and slipped up to your room denying that anything else had happened.

It was comical because it was clear to everyone else that it had gone further than someone kissing your neck.

Everyone took the piss out of Matt that night saying that someone had just taken his sister's virginity and it left the drummer mortified. But you always denied it to the full band until about 6 months later when Alex had asked you in the kitchen if you were actually lying or not.

Of course, Alex didn’t actually tell any of the others when you confirmed what everyone already knew. But that was the last time you’d ever lied to your brother.

So, hearing that your brother didn’t know about this shocking and frankly disgusting news in your life was concerning.

You looked up towards your brothers’ best mate and told him the truth, “Because I can’t ruin his time with Breana…”

You had to trail off because the lump in your throat was getting too much. So you swallowed it away before continuing, your voice still pained, barely above a whisper, “He really likes her and he doesn’t need to be worrying about me... She could be the mother of his children for all we know... I’m not ruining that chance because my life has fallen apart.”

“He’d understand Y/N/N.” Alex told you, once again leaning forward to wipe away your tears.

You shake your head, “It’s not fair.”

“And you think what’s happened to you is fair?” Alex questions, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

No one deserved this type of betrayal. Especially you.

You just started weeping again then and Alex brought you into his arms, needing to console you in a hug. Thankfully you didn’t resist his hug and Alex let you cry into his shoulder as you clung to him.

After a while of him rubbing your back and whispering you sweet nothings, he had to tell you, “You could have told me Y/N/N.”

You shake your head into his neck then, Alex could still feel the tears falling onto his skin. He just about hears you say into his shoulder, “You’re happy with Arielle, I don’t want you dealing with my shit either.”

“Your family, what hurts you hurts me” Alex tells you, “You’ve always got me Y/N… Always.”

After another five minutes of you both on the floor, Arielle walks in and is immediately worried seeing you sat on the ground crying into Alex’s arms. Alex just politely asked her to go and get Matt though which she did, and you didn’t oppose it.

You couldn’t deal with that on your own any longer and you were thankful for Alex being so kind to you. Your heart just fully melted in your chest later on after everything had been explained to everyone and he pulled you aside and gave you another big hug.

He whispered to you, “You’re going to be okay Y/N/N.” before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

The rest of that tour was filled with him making sure you were always okay and so did the other lads. But maybe it felt more personal to you when Alex checked on you because he was the one that found you.

It was him that just told you to cut them from your life completely and block them on everything as ‘they weren’t good enough for you anyway’. After you did that you felt better about your life. You’d cleared them from your Instagram, leaving no trace on your page that they were ever in your life and it was a difficult purge, but it definitely helped you in the long run.

The years without them in your life were tough but it had proven to be for the best in the end.

Because once upon a time you thought you were going to marry your ex-boyfriend, but now you were standing in Disney World with your boyfriend trying to steal kisses from you. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You give your boyfriend of 4 months a warning look, but his eyes just held mischief. You had to remind him, “They are going to see.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Alex says moving back towards you, and ushering you to move up the line a bit.

“After this we’ll try and escape.” You promise, but he was really shit at turning you down and you wanted it to be believable. “But you have to actually pretend you don’t wanna go.”

He rolls his eyes but sighs, “Fine.”

After Space Mountain you announced to the lads that you wanted to go see the Disney characters next which they all groaned at. You first of all pleaded with Matt to come with you knowing he wouldn’t before the rest of the lads and one by one they all dismissed you.

The last person you asked was Alex and he surprisingly put up a good fight until you ‘wore him down’ and got your own way. You spent the rest of the afternoon going round with him and getting pictures of the both of you with the characters and you got a nice lady to take a few pictures of you both outside the castle.

Those were your favourites, especially the one where he was kissing you.

As you were walking back to meet the others who were already back at the bus, you felt the need to tell him something which you’d yet to say. You didn’t think you’d find a better time than walking hand in hand in front of the Disney castle after one of the best days of your life.

So you pause your walk back for a moment to kiss him one last time before you make it back to the others. The kiss was sweet, just like the whole day had been, and you definitely felt like it was the right time to say, “I love you Alex.”

Immediately a smile found its way onto his lips, and he was practically beaming with joy. “You love me?” Alex asks you in a little disbelief.

“Yeah…” You nod, a massive smile on your lips “A lot as well.”

Alex leant down and kissed you again then, this time though his arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off your feet, spinning you around in his arms. It caused you to giggle into the kiss a little but you loved it.

When your feet touched the ground again Alex told you, “I love you so much Y/N”

“I know.” You grin as he’d already told you once before.

Alex just chuckles at you, “Alright Han Solo” which made you giggle.

“I love you more than anything Al, thank you for making me happy.” You tell him wrapping your arms around him, needing a tight embrace just so he knew you meant every single word.

His arms obviously snake around you, making you feel secure in the warm hug. And your heart melts once more when he kisses your head and says, “I love you more Angel, thank you for letting me make you happy.”

~*~*~*~

“Al.” You said attempting and failing to pull away from the kiss he’d trapped you in.

If you were honest, you really weren’t really putting up much of a fight to stop the kisses. You were in one of their many tents that this festival they were performing at had given them.

There was one for chilling out in, one that was essentially a bar, and a few more you’d yet to explore. But Alex had pulled you into one with the mass of beanbags in it and he wasted no alone time to have his lips connect to yours.

“Yes baby?” He says in his low voice and you could hear his hunger for you in his voice before he kissed you again.

It made your stomach flip as you knew exactly what he was thinking as you’d heard his voice like that many times since you started seeing each other. You both had to show some restraint though as anyone could walk into the tent, there was only a flimsy curtain between inside and outside.

You pull on his hair to make him pull away as you couldn’t do it yourself as he’d trapped you between him and a beanbag. Once his soft lips parted from yours, you told him seriously, “Wait until the hotel.”

“But I want you now.” Alex then pouts at you, confirming the explicit thoughts that were running through his head.

You tell him truthfully, finding his pout very cute, “And I want you, but I’m not shagging you in a tent.”

“Why?” Alex questions, looking around for a moment before his gorgeous brown eyes meet your Y/E/C ones again. He chuckles, “It's a really posh tent.”

You guess it was too post to actually call it a tent. It was huge for a start and looked very expensive. You definitely felt privileged to get to experience all of this with him and the band.

“Hun you had me all last night...” You shake your head whilst smiling like an idiot, “You can retrain yourself until we get back.”

“Not easily.” He pouts again and it makes you giggle which he once again finds adorable.

Another kiss is exchanged then but you don't let it get to what it just had been like. You stop it after he tries to distract you and deepen it again but you’re having none of it.

“You need to go or there gunna be like ‘what’s he doing in there?’” You say knowing he’d be asked to drink with them sooner rather than later.

Alex smiles knowing you’re right, but he chuckles when he tells you, “You know we have to tell them at some point, right?”

“Yeah I know, I just want as much of this tour to be as normal as possible.” You say, aimlessly stroking your fingers up and down the short hair on the back of his hair. You grin when you say, “I’d like to escape Jamie’s jokes for as long as possible.”

Alex just laughs then before he pecks your lips once more. “I don’t blame you Angel… But you can handle yourself. We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You smile, feeling very content in this moment that you had with him. “I love you Al.”

“I love you too.” He tells you before he steals another kiss and gets himself up. “Do you want a drink?”

You shake your head whilst you get yourself comfy on the beanbag, also reaching to the nearby blanket to cover yourself with. “Nah, I’m good thanks. I’m gunna have a nap before the show.”

Alex smiles at you then, turning back towards you when he gets near the curtain to leave. He just stops by the curtain that divides him from outside and when he sees you getting curled up under the blanket.

He can’t help but nod and say, “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” You ask looking back up to him standing there grinning at you.

Alex nods down at you in your cosy spot and continues, “Yeah, you were definitely meant for me.”

You grin like an idiot then before you tell him, “Love you baby.”

“Love you too.” Alex smiles and sends a wink your way before he heads out of the tent.

You can’t help but shut your eyes and snuggle into your new ‘bed’ with a massive grin on your face. But when you hear Miles say, “Oi Al, you dickhead. Come and have a shot.” you just start giggling.

~*~*~*~

You were absolutely plastered, and it was really making Alex laugh. Even more so than it usually would because you were trying your best not to be obvious that you wanted his affection.

You were a clingy drunk which was absolutely fine, and all the lads knew that, but watching you slip up around him and having to make up for it with the other lads was really comical for Alex.

You’d just come over to Alex after you’d beaten him at pool and teased him for being shit. To which Alex was shooting digs back at you but all you did in response was laugh, call him a sore loser and ruffle his perfect hair up which you knew annoyed him.

So Alex had just forced your hands out of his hair by grabbing your wrists and stopping you from doing anything more. He gave you warning looks like he would have done any other time you annoyed him before you got together but you also noted the looks as a reminder of the secret that you’d set out.

That was what led you to sitting on Jamie’s lap and talking his ear off about Katie whilst playing with his wavy hair. He threatened you to get off it, saying he’d cut it all off which you at first drunkenly pleaded with him not too but then you changed your mind saying he could definitely pull off a Peaky Blinders cut.

Once off Jamie you went on to have some flirty banter with Miles as Nick and Jamie played pool. Alex was watching you with an amused look on his face as his best mate was teasing you about not being on the pull whilst being in a bar with everyone.

You came back with things like, “Aw Miles, I couldn’t do that to you. I know you’d cry yourself to sleep if I entertained anyone elses flirting besides yours.”

Alex also found your laugh adorable when Miles kissed you on your cheek and Matt told him to leave you alone and to stop flirting with you. It was times like that that made Alex glad his best mate didn’t know about the two of you yet.

But after Nick’s game of pool finished and Nick won, he was calling it a night, despite it being relatively early. It seemed that you knew your tolerance though and decided to head back to the bus with Nick.

So you then went around the other 4 lads who were staying and made a bit of an effort to kiss them all goodnight, Alex presumed so you could kiss him. Something which proved to be correct because you came to him last after kissing all the other lads, including your brother, on the cheek and came to give him one.

“Thank you for my drinks” You drunkenly smile at him and Alex grins down at you in an amused way.

“You’re welcome love” Alex chuckles at your tipsy state and you then force a hug upon him.

He obviously hugs you back but he’s aware of his mates looking so he doesn’t make it completely obvious that he’s enjoying the hug as much as he is despite him really wanting to. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your lips instead of you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

When you left his arms, he smiled at you and you moved back to your brother and made him give you a hug. Something which Matt did but not without a roll of his eyes, but Alex could tell it was a playful one.

“See you in the morning guys.” You say with a smile after linking your arm through Nick’s so he could help you walk back.

Everyone said bye to you then and their attention was on the new game of pool again. But whilst it was Matt’s go Alex let his eyes focus on you.

You were so cute, he wanted nothing more than to take you back to a hotel away from the others so he could just be with you all night. But Alex also understood why you wanted to keep it a secret for a while longer.

Tours were long, and he knew you’d both be bullied about it for a while from the others, which you were both prepared for. But you were due to be on the road for the next year with AM due out in September.

The plan was to tell them as soon as interviews back home started so you didn’t have to be around the joking for long. Alex was used to it after Alexa and Arielle, but he knew you weren’t, and he respected that.

So that was why he denied it when the lads began to question him on it about 5 minutes after you left.

“What’s going on?” Matt asks as Alex pots another ball into the pool table.

Alex grins thinking Matt was just fuming he was losing. As Alex moves around the table to eye up another winning shot, he says, “I’m beating you at pool

“No.” Matt shakes his head, earning eye contact from his best mate. “I mean with Y/N/N.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asks as he leans over the table to play his next shot, “She’s just gone back with Nick.”

“Don’t think he means that.” Miles grinned at him after he missed the tricky shot he’d chosen.

Alex raises his eyebrows in a questioning way, getting the feeling that people were catching on to how you were around each other.

And that suspicion is confirmed when Jamie says, “You’re very touchy with each other.”

“Touchy?” Alex laughs, as he watches your brother take another shot, “Jamie mate, she was on your lap earlier.”

“Yeah, but she keeps like teasing you and messing with your hair and shit.” Matt chips in with his observations after missing his shot on the stripped balls.

Alex rolls his eyes, “Matt, you literally fucked with my hair earlier today and Jamie did it yesterday... You all like to fucking annoy me by doing that.”

Alex continues to defend the both of you even though he wishes he didn’t have to. “You know what she’s like when she’s drunk, she doesn’t leave anyone alone.”

“He has a point; she didn’t shy away from me kissing her.” Miles points out raising his pint to the drummer.

Matt fakes a gag then and says, “Leave her the fuck alone Kane.”

“But she loves me.” Miles pouts, resting a hand over his heart like Matt’s words had hurt him. “You definitely want me as your brother-in-law.”

Alex smiles to himself knowing that he was now 6 months ahead of Miles in that category. God, he loved you. He could definitely see a bright future with you, and he had every intention to marry you one day in the years to come.

“I’d rather go to a Radiohead gig.” Matt says which earns a laugh from everyone, knowing how the hatred between the bands still hadn’t died out.

~*~*~*~

A month later you thought you were doing well. You were very careful around everyone after Alex told you about the questioning he got after the bar.

You were just normal with each other throughout the days, not overly interacting with each other. But when Alex’s eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder.

And it definitely helped that it was your job to take pictures of him. You could stare at him all day that way, even if it was through a camera lens.

Moments alone came when you’d stay in the bus when they went on nights out and Alex would venture back early meaning on nights like that, he actually got to give you goodnight kisses like he loved doing. Other moments took place when he would wander off at the multitude of festivals they were doing.

You’d say you were going getting pictures of different acts that no one else wanted to go watch. Alex would say he was going for a walk about 20 minutes later. Purely coincidence that you met up with him on his walk after you’d taken a photo or two.

Other times you snuck into each other's hotel rooms about an hour after you’d all gone your separate ways. But it was your nights in the hotels that you loved the most.

You got your privacy, and it was secure. The same as it was when he came to your house before the tour or when you went to his.

You loved being alone with him.

And tonight, all the other lads had gone out to a party somewhere and Alex had been faking an illness all day so he could stay in and they wouldn’t ask questions. They wouldn’t think it was weird you not going because you rarely went out with them.

They knew you valued your sleep too much.

So that was why you were alone in the back lounge with Alex tonight. And you’d honestly had one of the best nights being your normal cuddly selves.

You’d just watched a film with each other whilst being cuddled up on the sofa and you very nearly fell asleep in his embrace, but you weren’t wasting a full night alone with him. After the film you both went out and got yourselves a takeout from a place just down the road.

You made it into a full date night which was fucking adorable. After food, you coexisted normally for a little while, Alex letting you lean back against him whilst you edited your photos on your night off.

You were a pro at it after so many years, so it took no longer than an hour for the ones promotion wanted of them all. Alex was quite happily watching you edit the pictures of him and his friends as he absentmindedly played with your hair, placed random little kisses on your neck or on the back of your head, and at one point he even sang.

It was a really beautiful song, one that you’d only heard once before when he let you listen to the album when it was finished.

You only knew the title because he said it often in the song but having your boyfriend softly sing Mad Sounds into your ear as you worked you wished you could freeze time and appreciate it. His voice was amazing as everyone knew, but hearing it so close and so soft, it was hard to keep shivers from running down your spine.

“Such a beautiful song Al.” You smile closing your laptop as you’d finished what you needed to do and he’d finished singing.

You turn to him a bit more and he smiles back at you, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Like you then.” Alex grins before pressing his lips to yours.

You smile into the kiss as the comment was very adorable of him, but when you pulled back bullying was in order, “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.” Alex grins as you get up and put your laptop away, but you grab your small Lumix camera and come to sit back down.

You grin as you come and sit back down, this time straddling his lap so you could get a few close ups of him looking cute. You bring the viewfinder up to your eye and once you see his adorable smile on the other side of the lens you capture the perfection.

“I do.” You grin back at him.

You like that Alex never shies away from you when you have a camera in your hand. You knew after this much time that he trusted you with what you were capturing, especially in these moments together they wouldn’t be seen by anyone else.

“However…” You say, putting the camera down for a moment, “Me and your music are nothing alike.”

Alex frowns at you a little then, his hands running up your thighs, pulling you a little closer, “I think a certain track and our text message history would claim otherwise.”

You roll your eyes then knowing he was talking about Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? But when he grins at your eye roll you quickly snap another picture of him.

“I guess I shouldn't have got involved with a lyricist if I didn't want songs about me, should I?” You ask with a knowing smirk as you pull the camera away from your face.

You don’t bother checking it on the screen as it pops up, you already knew it would be a good picture. Not because you took it, but because it was of him and he was happy.

“No, probably not.” Alex chuckles as he takes the camera from you before raising it to take one of you.

You give him a pointed look after the photograph and joke, “You better hope you get to release your B-sides before Matt catches on.”

“I’ll be murdered, I have no doubt.” Alex grins and you burst out laughing at him being dramatic.

Alex thinks you look gorgeous though, so he raises your camera back up and you let him, not having a problem with him taking your picture. You smile at first but after he gets the first picture, he keeps looking through the viewfinder so you then puff your cheeks out jokingly and move closer to the camera.

Alex chuckles from behind it and he moves the camera from his face so you can both giggle together. He steals a kiss from you which you gladly accept, and you can't help but bite your lip afterwards.

He just looked so good. His skin was flawless these days and the fact that all of his fair wasn’t around his face anymore made his stunning jawline stand out. His brown eyes that were usually always hidden by sunglasses were shining brightly and the smile on his lips really showed how happy he was.

And seeing him happy made you happy. You could safely say you truly loved him. You’d do anything to keep you both as happy as you are now.

Whilst you’re deep in thought, Alex raises your camera back up to his eye which breaks your daydreaming about his features and you playfully roll your eyes.

“Smile for me Angel.” He asks and you do for one shot because he is pretty cute and pretty impossible not to smile at.

“Beautiful.” Alex confirms when he quickly looks down at the screen seeing the picture, he just caught of you.

“Like you then.” You use his own words against him with a playful smile.

Alex then puts your camera down to the side and with his newly free hand he cups the back of your neck and mumbles a ‘very good’ before bringing you in for a kiss. Playful and sweet were the only ways to describe it.

You just adored this alone time with him, sitting on his lap at the back bus, which was usually a very crowded area for you all to use, and you were kissing each other like it was just yesterday you got together. Everything still felt just as exciting and new and you never wanted his lips off yours.

You loved that it was you who got to run your fingers through his hair and pull on it when you wanted a kiss to carry on longer, like you just did. You loved the way his large hands held your hips, keeping you close to him.

But mostly you loved that he was always wanting affection. You’d not been in a relationship for a very long time so it made you nervous initially but there was something about Alex that you craved, and his affection was definitely one of those things that you were addicted to now.

You never wanted moments like these to end. But of course, that wouldn’t be realistic.

“I fucking knew it!”

You both pull away from each other to see Jamie with his jaw agape by the door. And your heart dropped to the ground.

“Jamie.” Alex says before Jamie can run out of the room.

“Oh I can’t fucking believe it.” He says, still stood there with his jacket in his hand but he looks like his whole world has ended. “I’ve gotta go get Matt.”

The panic in you rises then and you practically just off Alex’s lap and grab your intruders’ arm before he can turn back, “Jamie no, don’t.” You plead, pulling on his arm to come into the room.

He turns back towards you then and he lets himself be pulled into the room. His head is still baffled though which leads him to say rather loudly, “You’re shagging, aren’t you?”

Your eyes go wide at the volume of his voice and you scorn, “Jamie.” quietly as you pull him further into the room so you can shut the door once more.

His eyes go wide impossibly wider though and he gasps, “You are!” looking from you to Alex who was still sat down.

“Matt is going to fucking murder you.” Jamie chuckles looking Alex dead in the eye as you ensure that no one else is on the bus by looking down through the bunks (thankfully all the curtains were still open) to the front lounge and you saw no one down the other end.

“Jamie please don’t start.” You hear Alex say, evidently not wanting this to get out of hand.

You close the door and turn around to the still very shocked man and say, “I’ll explain just please shut up and sit down.”

So you did explain that you’d been seeing each other for months. Jamie was shocked because he only started to suspect something a month into the tour.

But after he’d let the information sink in, it wasn’t really so shocking anymore. Which is why you’d got onto the conversation of why it was still a secret after you’d been going out for months.

“You know he’d be fine.” Jamie tells you, sitting down opposite you both, trying to persuade you to tell Matt. “He wouldn’t actually kick off, you can both do what you like.”

“It’s not really just about Matt.” You tell him honestly from your point of view. “It’s about all of you making jokes and shit for months. I didn’t want that.”

“Y/N we wouldn’t do that.” Jamie says leaning towards the both of you from the other sofa, but you’re having none of it.

“Cookie you’re the worst one for it.” You say with a pointed look.

You then point to Alex, who you were sitting beside now and say, “I remember what you were like with him and Arielle.”

And it was a lot. They joked about it all the time to start with, and it was annoying for you, let alone Alex and her.

“Him and Arielle were different.” Jamie states, a little on the defensive side, but then he follows it up with, “You don’t make funny videos for a living, I actually respect you a hell of a lot for putting up with us.”

You shake your head and tell the tipsy, but now definitely more sober man, “You’re not that bad.”

“Oh, we are.” Jamie says and you laugh because you were just being polite.

They could be a handful sometimes if you were telling the truth. But you wouldn’t change anything about any of them. You loved them all because of who and how they were, and they were all your family.

Jamie follows up with, “I'm genuinely surprised you actually want to go out with him after knowing what he’s like.”

You giggle at that and just pout as you joke, “I know, but you’re taken Cookie, so I went for the next best thing.”

“Hey” Alex scoffs, looking towards you, pretending to be offended.

You and Jamie just laugh at him though, and you intertwine your fingers when you grab Alex’s hand to hold as a little apology. You’d be sure to actually swear to him that you were joking later though.

Jamie notes the gesture and he can see the little knowing smiles on your faces and his heart melts a bit for the both of you. You were both pretty cute with each other to be fair and the more that Jamie had been playing detective about it he thought that the two of you would be a pretty good match.

So he was genuinely happy for the both of you.

“And as for the jokes…” Jamie continues, causing the two of you to look back around at him. But Jamie looks at you as he says, “If it upset you, you know I wouldn't do it”

“I don’t mind the odd joke about me sucking his dick or whatever, but I’ll go crazy if that's all I hear about for the next year.” You tell him honestly.

You could handle jokes, it wasn’t anything new. They joked about your first boyfriend to Matt for the longest time and had done each time you got a new one.

You could take a joke. But not 24/7 like this tour would promise it would.

“Okay, never say that again.” Jamie pleads, the shocked look not coming off his face, but you and Alex just laugh at his reaction.

His head goes into his hands for a moment but afterwards he looks at you both and says, “Yeah, you don’t have anything to worry about, joke wise, until I get comfortable with this dynamic because that was strange coming from your mouth.”

“You’ve heard me say worse than that, surely?” You ask, very amused by his discomfort.

Jamie just blankly says, “Not about Alex… And you’re practically my sister.”

“Sorry Cookie. I’ve got a right to say rude jokes about my boyfriend when I want to. He can say ones about me but from your reaction I don’t think you want him to.”

He then looks Alex dead in the eye and begs, “Please don’t.”

You both just end up laughing.

~*~*~*~

You decided after that night that you would think about being more open to telling Matt about everything that was going on. Thankfully Jamie was quite respectful of the whole thing and actually kept your secret.

He didn’t make things awkward for you both either, if anything he helped you both out a lot. Sometimes when you were out with them Jamie would keep the others entertained so you could escape with Alex for a little bit on a ‘fag break’ which would consist of stolen kisses.

Other times when you were all out, Jamie would lowkey guilt trip Alex into going back with you early so no one asked questions which you loved him even more for.

During this month that Jamie knew though, you’d been trying to come up with a way to tell Matt. Because you weren’t stupid, you knew this couldn’t go on for much longer.

Each time you tried to tell him though something would happen which meant that you didn’t. Once you froze, unable to tell him because you just genuinely didn’t know how to.

It wasn’t exactly something that you could drop on him and expect him to be fine with. Your nerves probably didn’t help but other times when you worked up the courage to do it, other things would go wrong.

Matt was in a foul mood one of the times, so that was a no go. Miles and Nick came in and interrupted another time before you got the words out and it was like a never ending series of unfortunate events that stopped you.

Alex had politely offered to do it after a few failed attempts but you said that you’d be more comfortable doing it. Partly because you thought that you should be the one to tell your brother and partly because you knew Matt wouldn’t hit you.

But there had been multiple failed attempts since then so you thought that you may actually make it to the end of the summer festivals at this rate.

It was nearing the end of August now and you were all staying in a hotel again tonight as you’d got to the city they were performing in the day before the show. You were pleased because it meant another night in with Alex so after you’d all had your dinner downstairs you’d given him your spare key card for your room so he could come to you whenever he liked.

Alex told you that he was looking forward to using it and he was excited to spend another night with you. It warmed your heart hearing that and when he rang you at 9:30 saying he was just running to the shop to grab the both of you some snacks, he said he’d let himself in about 20 minutes when he got back.

And that is why you were a little surprised when there was knocking on the door about 10 minutes later. You thought that was fast for a start but you gave him the key card so you wouldn’t have to get up and answer the door.

“Come in!” You shout across the room hoping he would hear you.

It seems that he does but his muffled response is, “It’s locked.” when the handle doesn’t budge.

You roll your eyes and mumble, “That’s why I gave you a key.” under your breath as you get up off your bed and head to the door.

And you’re about to scorn him but when the door opens you don’t find your boyfriend. You find your brother.

“Hey.” Matt says, stepping into your room after the door opens.

You’re shocked by his presence but try and act as calm as possible when you say, “Hey, you alright?”

Thank fuck you were still dressed. And thank fuck Alex wasn’t already here because you didn’t want him to find out like that.

But then you realised he’d be here in 10 minutes or so. And that made you want to get Matt out as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine, are you?” Your brother asks once he picks up the complimentary chocolate that the hotel had put on your bed which you were saving for later.

Any other night you would have ripped the shit out of him for coming in and doing that but now was not the time. You were borderline panicking as you were about to be caught out. But you try and disguise that as best as possible.

“Yeah, great thanks.” But really you’re just thinking, Shit.

Your brother asks you, “What do you have planned for tonight?”

Thinking on your feet all you can come up with is, “Just editing more pictures.”

“Fancy blowing it off and watching Netflix with me?” Matt questions and you all of a sudden feel really guilty that you want him to leave as much as you do.

You pull a little bit of a face at his question and try to carry on your lie, “Oh, I would but I’m honestly not feeling all that great after tea, so I was just gunna get an early night after I’ve done a few more pictures.”

“Funny that.” Your brother states when you turn away from him to grab your laptop from your bag as he sits himself down at the end of your bed.

You move towards the little desk that was in the room though and ask, “What is?”

“Alex isn’t feeling too well either.”

Well shit. You were too alike for your own good, coming up with the same excuses without telling the other.

“Oh?” You question, shitting it at this point, so you just open up your MacBook to distract you. “Maybe it was something we ate downstairs?”

All your brother replied was, “Doubt that because I had the same thing as you both.”

You choose no response as your best response and just continue to pull up a picture of Matt you hadn’t finished editing on photoshop yet. Being creative always eased your nerves so hopefully him watching you edit a picture of him would distract him.

“Y/N.” Matt says, trying to gain your attention.

You instead just carry-on messing with the photograph and suggest, “Maybe you should go check on our friend bro, could be being sick for all we know. Wouldn’t make for the prettiest show tomorrow”

“Y/N…” Matt says once more, and you know he wants you to look at him.

So you do and you see your brother sat on the end of your bed, looking at you. He asks in a serious yet calm tone, “Is Alex really ‘just a friend’ anymore?

Well. You guess you didn’t have to find a way to tell him anymore.

You sigh and shake your head, “No.” and as you close your laptop you tell the truth, “He’s a lot more.”

Matt can tell you’re serious straight away just by the way you were looking at him. And it makes him shake his head a bit in disbelief. He says calmly but in a tone that worries you, as he also runs a hand through his hair, “I knew it.”

“Please don’t be angry Matt.” You all but beg as you turn in your chair towards him more. “It’s my fault we didn't tell you sooner... I didn’t want things to be different with the group, so I was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” Matt has to ask you, feeling awful that you felt like you couldn’t tell him something. “I just want you to be happy... Al’s practically family so of course I want the same for him.”

“I know, I’m really sorry…” You trail off for a second, “It just got to a point where I didn’t know how to tell you and when I tried to things always got in the way.”

Matt nods completely understanding that. At least you wanted to tell him.

“When did it start?” Is the question Matt asks you next.

“New Year’s Day” You say quickly before wincing a little, hearing that it has been 8 months out loud.

You felt so bad.

Matt is shocked by that news too, “That long...? Really?”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling awful, “I’m sorry.”

Matt ends up asking you a few more questions after that which were pretty much big brother sort of questions, making sure Alex was treating you right and stuff like that. Thankfully this had all gone very plain sailing and Matt was happy for you like you both knew he would be.

And he had forgiven you for not telling him for so long too which was a big relief. It felt like a massive weight off your shoulders.

So much so that you had to get up off your seat and give him a hug. Matt stood up for the embrace, so you got to hug him properly and it was such a lovely warm hug that you felt like you hadn’t had in such a long time.

Halfway through that long hug though, both you and Matt hear the door to your room unlock. You press your lips together and wince a little knowing exactly what is about to happen.

“Hey Y/N/N.” You hear Alex say from somewhere behind you and you let go of Matt and both of you look towards Alex now closing the door, not yet noticing the situation.

After he closes the door though, he begins to say before he turns towards you, “I got you thes- oh”

Matt smiles though seeing your favourite flowers in his best friend’s hand. You can’t help but smile at the sight of them too, and his face falling realising Matt was here was a little funny too.

He looked a little scared.

“I’m glad you’re treating her right Al.” Matt tells him, and Alex struggles with his words for a second and he looks to you for help.

“I just told him.” You nod confirming it out loud for him.

Alex’s eyes go from you back to his best mate then and he starts, “Listen Matt, I’m sor-”

But Matt interrupts, “No no I don’t need an apology.” He shakes his head, “Just don’t fuck it up.” He then looks between the both of you, “Either of you... Because that would make for a really awkward tour.”

You smile at that and say, “I don’t plan on doing, and I know he doesn’t either.”

Matt grins at you then and he looks back to Alex and takes a few steps towards him. He points a finger to his chest and says very seriously, “Make her cry Turner, and I'll castrate you.”

Alex slowly nods, “Noted”

Matt must then break into a grin because Alex does too, and your brother then heads over to the door.

Matt turns back towards you and says, “Have a nice night love birds.” and walks out with a grin and he shuts the door behind him.

Both you and Alex stay silent for a second looking at the door almost in disbelief that the thing you’d both waited 8 months to do, was now over. Alex turns around to look at you and you’re both just awkwardly smiling at each other.

Alex puts the plastic bag filled with snacks down on the table he was standing beside and says, “Well you could have pre warned me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know he was coming. But he asked me to watch Netflix with him and apparently I gave the same excuse as you.”

“Oh fuck. Clever, aren’t we?” Alex chuckles a little and you nod in response.

Alex holds up the flowers he got for you and you can’t help but smile, “Well, I was hoping to surprise you with these, but you definitely won on the surprise front tonight.”

You giggle at that and you lean up to kiss him after taking the flowers from him, “Thank you my love.”

You briefly put them down whilst you say, “At least we don’t have to stay away from each other anymore.”

“Never going to let you go now Darling.” Alex chuckles before picking you up in a hug and spinning you around. You can’t help but giggle.

The next morning you both ventured downstairs to have breakfast with the others and found that they were all there waiting for you at your table with knowing looks. You and Alex just had grins on your faces knowing Matt would have gone around and told them all before you even got the chance.

They were all of course happy for you but of course you got some jokes and some questions. Jamie had got a bit used to it now, so he was starting with his jokes in private to you but when you sat down, he asked the both of you, “Suck his dick last night?”

“Wow, you’ve been waiting for that one, haven’t you?” You laugh, sitting yourself down next to him, immediately reaching for the menu so you could see what was on offer for breakfast.

The table obviously all laughed, and it was all fun and playful as you imagined it would be. You were glad Matt wasn’t cringing at all the details that you were giving out, as it was things like how far back moments happened, like when Alex asked you out officially and stuff like that.

All of the lads seemed really happy for you and even some of your other friends that were a part of the crew were shocked but buzzing for you. Alex got loads of people saying, ‘You better treat her right’ which made you laugh a lot.

But thankfully it was business as usual, just with the addition of getting to hold his hand and kiss him the odd time when you wanted. You’d rather most of your affection be in private though so not much had really changed on the social front.

Even when you were trying to be discrete about it, you didn’t find it too hard because you were still just the same Y/N and Alex. You’d been friends for years, so the dynamic shift wasn’t all that drastic.

You both were just the same friends that you could walk next to each other and it just be normal. You didn’t have to be touching each other all the time, you’d go walk with Miles or Nick and just go spend time with Alex every now and then.

You were glad that things never felt too different.

You guess the only thing that marginally was different was the first night back on the bus after you’d been staying in the hotel. You were all heading to bed and when you came out of the bathroom after changing, you headed to your own bunk, but then realised you didn’t actually need to.

Alex’s bunk was the top bunk in the middle, so you walked right past your own and straight to his. He was just in his boxers like most of the lads usually were when they slept on this bus.

“Hey.” You say with a big smile.

“Hey.” Alex grins, his messy hair almost falling into his eyes. He makes you smile when he says, “Was just about to come kiss you”

“Vile.” You hear Miles gag from the bunk directly below and you look down at him and frown.

“Miles, he kisses you... What are you on about?” You question, not understanding.

They were literally always touchy feely with each other which you thought was cute and adorable. They’d always been great mates and were close enough to actually perform together using one microphone.

So it made you laugh when Alex lent down over his bunk to say, “Little offended there mate.” to his friend.

Nick bursts out laughing at your backchat and Alex’s hurt and you chuckle along before you glance back to your boyfriend. Once his head was the right way up again you smile at him.

“I can join you for the night now, right?” You ask him and you love the smile that comes to his lips.

He nods, “Course you can.”

So Alex shuffles back in the bunk, enough for you to comfortably jump up and once you lay beside him you can’t stop grinning. It definitely felt weird to be in a bunk with him for everyone to see but it definitely makes you happy, even if it was a tight squeeze.

“Hi” You grin at him as he’s on his side, his back pressed to the wall of the bunk, looking down on you.

“Hey beautiful.” Alex says before he leans down and kisses you.

You of course kiss him back but after a second you quickly part so you can reach down to the curtain and pull it closed. You doubt that Nick wanted to watch from the bunk opposite.

As soon as your lips were back attached to Alex’s though you hear Nick whisper shout to everyone, “It’s starting!”

If your eyes were open, you would have rolled when but you just try to keep the smile off your lips, so you don’t ruin the kiss. And thankfully you both controlled yourselves enough to hold your smiles so you could indulge in a very nice kiss.

“If I hear anything come from that bunk, you don’t want to know what will happen.” Matt calls out loudly and you break apart from the kiss to laugh.

It seems like everyone else found it comical too, but it was even funnier when Jamie asked him, “What are you gunna do? Cry?”

“Fuck off Cookie.” Your brother says back, and you chuckle at that too.

You and Alex keep your curtain closed as the rest of them chat away and you get yourselves comfortable in the bunk. You are basically cuddled together in the bunk, with the duvet over you both, you still on your back and Alex tucked into your neck as he lay on his side.

You were glad you didn’t feel like you were about to roll out of the bunk, so it definitely made sense you were that way around. That and Alex quite liked to pick his head up every few minutes and trap you in another kiss.

A trap you certainly didn’t mind.

Usually when you all got in your bunks, curtains would stay open as you would all chat to each other and one by one curtains would close until you were all knackered and pass out until the next day. So, it wasn’t a shock that tonight you were all talking for quite a while, you and Alex just chatting to each other quietly in your bunk, liking the privacy that the curtain provided.

But after about 15 minutes someone shouted your name, popping yours and Alex’s bubble.

“Y/N?” You hear Jamie call you.

You smile knowing a joke was bound to come your way and respond, “Yeah?”

“I’ve got a question for you.” He informs and you can practically hear him smiling.

You grin at Alex and shout back to Jamie, “Okay, go on.”

“You know because you’re a photographer... Does that mean you take pictures of you and Alex in the bedroom?” Jamie asks teasingly and your immediately roll your eyes, but it doesn’t stop you from playing along.

“Shit.” You say jokingly loud, “How do they know?” You scorn Alex jokingly and he’s just silently laughing.

“Matt.” You call and joke, “Maybe don’t go through that SD card tomorrow.”

Earlier on he asked to see some of the pictures after the gig tonight and you said he could look through them before you started editing them tomorrow.

“I’ll burn it” Matt says back, and you just start silently giggling.

“What are you both up to in there?” You both hear Nick ask.

Alex says in a teasing voice, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Both of you have another few kisses in the time between those jokes and the next time you were heckled. But you were just cuddled when they next started joking.

“They are very quiet up there.” You both hear Miles say.

You shake your head and Alex sighs a little as you hear the rest of them chuckle.

“You doing good? You getting it up, Al?” Miles asks and you both feel him punch the top of his bunk, subsequently the bottom of yours.

You aren’t surprised when Alex doesn’t grace him with an answer.

“Very quiet indeed.” Nick laughs, more than likely looking down at Miles so they could share a laugh.

Jamie seems to jump in then with, “They are definitely biting their tongues.”

“Fuck off all of you.” Matt gets defensive but that just makes it comical.

You decided to upset your brother then by pretending to be annoyed when you scorn them, “You’re all really ruining the mood.”

Alex chuckles at that then, even though you weren’t doing anything. That is what made it funnier to him though.

“Sorry, do you need silence for Alex to get you off.” Jamie asks and it makes you roll your eyes at the question.

You reply, “No.” as an idea comes to mind.

“So you don't mind us carrying on talking then?” Miles asks teasingly. You can practically hear the smirk.

You backchat with, “Not if yous don't mind some noises too?”

“Fire away Hun.”

You brother almost shouts in distress, “No don’t. Both of you stay very fucking quiet.”

Jamie defends you both then, “Oh right so it’s alright when you and Breana fuck but when it’s Alex and Y/N you’re suddenly a prude.”

An argument starts out then with Matt defending himself and then Jamie defending you and so on and then it becomes a big thing. But you find it quite funny that Matt is getting annoyed, so you decide to make your own joke too.

“Al” You whisper, and he looks up at you for you to ask him, “Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?”

“Yeah, I watched it with you on the last tour.” He whispers back, reminding you.

You remember him doing now. You’d all had a movie night on the bus during the Suck It And See tour and because you were a little depressed they let you choose the film and you chose that one because it made you laugh.

“Okay, good.” You smirk knowing exactly what you were about to do.

Your boyfriend doesn’t yet get it though, so he asks in a whisper, “Why?”

“Alex” You say a bit louder, a smile you couldn’t hold back drawing to your face.

“What babe?” He asks you and you have to close your eyes, so you don’t break and start laughing.

You try to make your voice sound sultrier and you fake moan louder, “Oh god.”

At that though the boys arguing dies down as Alex whispers, “What are you doing?”

You hold your laugh and, “Alex.” falls from your lips in a breathy moan. And it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Y/N, fuck off.” You hear your brother shout, clearly not amused.

You however come straight back with a very load moan of, “Alex fuck.”

“Matt I’m not touching her.” Alex shouts and you open your eyes to see Alex propped up to the side of you, looking at you like he was scared.

You don’t give it a second thought before you gasp even louder, “Right there Al”

You can hear Miles cackling below you both and you don’t let up with the moans you’re making despite wanting to laugh too. Next you raise your hand up to the ceiling of the bunk as if you’re using it to brace yourself, “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” You plead in a desperate way as you look to your mortified boyfriend.

“Y/N shut up.” Alex whispers, but it just makes you carry on more.

The fake moans fall from you lips, filling the bunks with your pleads and gasps. Alex is still mortified, but the laughter coming from Jamie, Nick, and Miles just fuels you on.

You go fully Sally Albright on them. A series of loud moans leave your lips like:

“Yes Alex yes!”

“Faster.”

“Oh god.”

“Don’t stop!”

Alex shouts over your loud voice, “Matt, I fucking swear I’m not touching her!”

The way you moan, “Fuck Al” seems to just dismiss what Alex said straight away though.

“Stop!” Matt shouts back, obviously angry now.

You immediately contradict in a fake moan, “Don’t stop!”

“Alex!” You all but scream as you bang on the ceiling of the bunk again a few times.

You go to take it a step further, but you’re apparently not allowed, “Fuck, Alex plea-”

Your boyfriend puts his hand over your mouth so you can’t carry on. However, you just start dramatically fake moaning, and it sounds a lot dirtier because his hand is over your mouth.

You carry on until you get a rise out of Matt despite Alex pleading with you to stop with a scared look on his face. But you know your brother was about to stop so you just looked at your boyfriend’s gorgeous brown eyes and carried on.

And before you know it Matt is swearing getting himself out of his bunk and the curtain of yours is practically ripped open. As soon as you see sight of your brother you stop the fake moans completely as if it never happened.

Alex holds both his hands up in the air as if he’s being held at gunpoint. Matt can quite clearly see you're fully clothed and have a massive shit eating grin on your face.

“Damn that was good, thanks Al.” You joke to your boyfriend but you’re looking at your brother.

Matt holds up a finger at you and warns, “You’re on very thin ice right now.”

He looks angry and embarrassed all at once. He’s bright red but looks absolutely fuming so you can’t stop your laugh.

You giggle questioning, “Why because you know your best mate can fuck your sister?”

Jamie bursts out laughing at that and you crumble into a louder laugh.

“Stop it.” Alex gasps, playfully hitting your shoulder once again looking petrified as he glanced from you to your brother.

“I don’t need to hear whatever that was.” Matt scorns you and you’re very quick to give him some backchat.

“Did you just admit to us all that you’ve never given Bre an orgasm? Because if you don’t know what those sounds were then I feel sorry for her.” You joke back trying to be cocky.

Jamie’s laugh echoes through the bus and you can hear Miles cackling from below. You could see Nick gasping for breath in a fit of laughter and Alex gasps in shock from beside you.

“You need to fuck off Y/N.” Matt gives you one more death glare before he stalks back to his bunk.

“Oh pull the drum stick out your arse!” You say getting a little annoyed at how your brother couldn’t take a joke. “You better hope our hotel rooms are never next to each other.”

“Shut the fuck up. I won’t tell you again.” Matt says as he gets back into his bunk and shuts his curtain in a strop.

“Aw…” You pout turning back to Alex in your bunk. You give him a quick kiss and then joke, “Better save the next orgasm for the next hotel Darling.”

“I’m begging you to stop talking.” Alex shakes his head, still looking at you a little shocked that you’d actually done what you just had.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Matt.” You giggle, and you say louder so the bus can hear you, “He’s not that scary... Just gotta bring up the time he shat himself when we were in the bat house in Chester Zoo and he quietens right down.”

You all hear Matt shout, “Fuck off!”

You and everyone else on the bus, bar Matt, started laughing then and you were still giggling away when you cuddled yourself into your boyfriend's body. Jamie and Miles begin to applaud you during their continued laughter which just makes your giggles difficult to silence.

Alex is still half shocked as he cuddled you into him, loving your humour but not actually believing you just faked an orgasm that loud on a tour bus surrounded by all your mates and your brother. He shakes his head and kisses the top of yours before telling you, “You’re gunna be the death of me.”

“Least it’ll be a fun death.” You joke and Alex laughs.

“You’re right.” Alex chuckles when you look up at him. You're grinning like an idiot and Alex tells you, “I love you, you psycho.”

“Love you too, weirdo.” You grin and proceed to kiss him sweetly.

After the kiss though you actually want to go to sleep in your boyfriend's arms peacefully. So despite Nick, Miles, and Jamie all still chuckling away, you turn back towards the curtain to redraw it and as you do you catch Jamie’s eye.

You wink at him before drawing the curtain and Jamie wolf whistles, which has you and Alex giggling away together as you cuddle yourself into him once more. You kiss Alex once more before playfully calling out to the others who were still laughing, “Night boys”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thank you for reading x

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redux-iterum · 3 years

Text

A Kindling: Chapter Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

A mass of grey exploded from the brush. Before Rusty could so much as blink, he found himself thrown backwards. He landed on his side and rolled a little, grass and ferns and soil catching on his pelt.

Rusty wasted no time in getting to his feet, staring at the big grey tabby that stood across from him. He started to turn, but he was tackled again and knocked onto his back. The tabby loomed over him, bright yellow eyes alight with interest.

Rusty was small enough that he could reach with his back foot and kick the cat in their face. The tabby threw their head back with a noise of surprise and Rusty scrambled upwards again. This time, he didn’t try to run, except to stumble back a bit to give himself space and time to get a good look at his assailant.

This cat—a tom—was quite bigger than Rusty, and significantly furrier; it was hard to tell how much of his size was from his hair alone. His face was large but youthful, making Rusty blink as he realized that he might be around Rusty’s age—which was quite terrifying, given how massive the tom’s paws were. His eyes were the only brightly lit part of his face, and they oddly did not seem angry or even wary. If anything, he looked curious.

“St-stay back,” Rusty stammered anyway, as if he could pose a threat to this monolith. His back paws inched a step or two away. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

The tabby blinked, and spoke in a much higher, younger voice than Rusty had expected. “Well, that’s obvious. Not that you could.”

Rusty stared. This cat was definitely his age, then. “I just- I was only following that animal, whatever it is.”

The bright eyes widened in shock and sparkled in amusement. “You don’t even know what you were hunting?”

“I…” Rusty’s head lowered and his shoulders hunched of their own accord, embarrassment warming his ears. “No.”

“Wooow,” the tabby said, sounding genuinely awed. “You kittypets really are sheltered. Even a kit knows what a mouse is.”

‘Mouse’, Rusty thought, even more embarrassed. He had heard the word before, but never had an image attached to it. Now it seemed painfully obvious that he had been after a mouse. His ears burned, sliding back to fold against his head.

Eager to get away from this feeling, he changed the topic. “What’s a kittypet?”

“Uh, you?” The tabby’s eyes scanned him with bafflement. “You live in those houses with the humans, right? You’ve got a collar.”

Rusty didn’t know how this cat managed to make having a collar sound scornful. “I-I do, yeah. I live with my human.”

“So you’re a kittypet.” The tabby gave a self-satisfactory nod. “And you really shouldn’t be on our territory, hunting our food. You’ve got food at home.”

“I do,” Rusty repeated, quieter. He wanted to huddle again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The tabby eyed him doubtfully before abruptly turning his head back and calling into the woods, “Is that the answer you wanted, Bluestar?”

“More or less,” said someone else.

Rusty jolted upright as two cats, both even larger than the tabby, pushed out of the undergrowth. One of them was a dark red tom with white feet, and the other, the tallest of the three, was a magnificent blue-grey molly who only had to glance at Rusty to make him want to bow his head in respect. Both of them had long hair, like the tabby, and both of them had grave, hardened faces, though their eyes were alert and more youthful.

“I had been hoping to see more of a fight,” the molly said, her voice low and commanding, “but we can take it from here, Greypaw, thank you.”

The tabby—Greypaw, rather—immediately took several steps back to allow the older cats to approach Rusty. Rusty stood, frozen in place, as they moved forward with slow, deliberate, incredibly intimidating steps, until they were within a tail-length of him. The red tom tilted his head a little, quietly regarding Rusty.

The molly looked down at Rusty. “Hello, Rusty. I am Bluestar.”

Rusty swallowed, too nervous to wonder where she got his name. “Hello.”

Bluestar had to have noticed his nervousness, because her tone softened a little. “I’m the leader of ThunderClan, the Clan that owns this forest.”

So they are real, Rusty thought, eyes wide.

“This—” Bluestar nodded to the tom “—is Redtail, and you know Greypaw already. We’ve come to speak with you tonight.”

Rusty blinked. “M-me? Why?”

Redtail spoke now, and his voice was much warmer, easing Rusty’s anxiety a little. “We’ve noticed you for a while now, staring into our woods since you came to live with the humans. We actually expected that you would wander past the border someday. It was a lucky coincidence that we decided to talk to you tonight, just as you trespassed.”

“Oh.” Rusty lowered his chin a little, embarrassed again. “I didn’t realize this wasn’t a place I could explore. I mean, I heard you chase house cats away, but I just… I was too curious, and my friend—”

Bluestar cleared her throat quietly and Rusty immediately clamped his mouth shut. “You don’t need to make excuses, Rusty. We’re not upset with you.”

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any more relieved.

“We had Greypaw attack you to see how you’d react,” she said. “And while you’re not exactly strong, you were honorable about coming here uninvited, and we respect that.”

Redtail suddenly walked forward and began circling Rusty, sniffing him. He and his tail were long enough that they formed a complete ring around Rusty. He stayed perfectly still, keeping his eyes on Bluestar, having a feeling that that was the correct choice.

“Now let me ask you…” Bluestar’s head tipped to one side just a fraction as she appraised the little house cat. “Are you satisfied with your life as a kittypet? Are you content to live in a house, wearing a collar, eating those pellets forever?”

Rusty blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden questions. “It’s- it’s been pretty boring, honestly. I…”

He trailed off, unsure of where to go with this.

Bluestar nodded with a subtle sense of encouragement. “Go ahead. How do you feel being a kittypet?”

Rusty took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “I guess I would say that it feels… easy. Which, I don’t think that’s a bad thing for some, but I’m always bored when I’m home. If- well, if you have been watching me, you must have seen me going into everybody else’s yards. I irritate some of my neighbors, and I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. Just staying inside, or in my own yard, I get restless. The only reason I haven’t come here before is because of the rumors about you. That you chase off strangers, and things like that.”

He happened to glance at Greypaw, who was now much closer, like he had been sneaking up to listen in better. The tom seemed quite intrigued by Rusty’s speech—almost eager, if Rusty wasn’t mistaken. For what, though, he wasn’t sure.

Bluestar spoke again and Rusty immediately returned his attention to her. “Then you would leave your kittypet life, if you think you could.”

Rusty considered this idea for a few heartbeats, then nodded. “I would. My friend would think I’m crazy, but I’d love to see what else is out there. I just don’t know if I can.”

Redtail paused as he came around to Rusty’s head and silently caught his eyes. He looked pleased. “I think you can, chrii, if you really want to.”

“Then you agree?” Bluestar said to him.

Redtail nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

“Very good.” Bluestar turned back to Rusty. “Then we have an offer for you.”

Rusty held his breath without quite knowing why.

“If you are willing to leave your kittypet life behind,” Bluestar said, lowering her head a little to meet Rusty’s eye level, “and if you are willing to work hard and learn our ways, ThunderClan would be interested in having you join us.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. Something in his chest flared to life in a way he had not felt before. “Me? T-to be a Clan cat?”

“That’s right.” Bluestar met his eyes with a pale, serious stare. “I will warn you now—Clan life is not for everyone. You will need to hunt for food, and defend our borders, and live with many other cats who may not all like you at first. You’d have to change your name to something like our names. We don’t have your human healing powers out here. You could get sick or injured, and you won’t have the humans as an option for help.”

“And we have a Code we live by,” Redtail added, also looking Rusty in the eye—though his gaze was much less intimidating. “You’ll have to follow our rules and obey your superiors. And, most importantly, you can’t come back to your human for any reason.”

Rusty blinked. “Why not?”

“We stay away from humans,” Redtail said. “We don’t take food from them, we don’t play with their cats, and we don’t go into the Houses unless we’re forced to. We take care of ourselves.”

“That means that you would have to say goodbye to your friend.” Bluestar caught Rusty’s attention now. “You won’t be able to go to his home and play with him anymore.”

A great deal of these warnings, oddly, did not bother Rusty, but as soon as this last condition was given, he hesitated. “…Could I at least talk to him?”

“No,” Bluestar said. “If you are one of us, you don’t talk to kittypets.”

Rusty’s eyes lowered to the ground. Losing all contact with Smudge was a hefty price for…

“It sounds like a really difficult life,” he said, looking back up at Bluestar. “Is it all that bad?”

Bluestar’s eyes crinkled, surprisingly humorous. “No, of course not. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Being a Clan cat is great!” Greypaw burst out. His huge paws almost tripped over each other as he closed the distance between him and the rest of the group. “We eat real food, and we have the forest all to ourselves, and we’re so strong we scare all the cats in the Aulmir and Houses, and we—”

“Greypaw,” Redtail said patiently.

Greypaw’s ears went down, but he didn’t fully deflate. “Sorry. I just think he’d really like it.”

“I do too.” Redtail looked at Rusty. “Being part of ThunderClan means you’re courageous and powerful. You have a community who will fight to the death to protect you from any danger.”

“Even at first?” Rusty asked.

“Even at first,” Redtail affirmed. “We have our great wide forest, and we still travel to different places and meet with different cats—the other Clans that live nearby. You’ll get to learn a great deal of new things, all the while living a real life, running and climbing and hunting.” He cocked his head to the side almost fondly. “And we have many stories to share with you. I think you’d be interested in those.”

“What do you think, Rusty?” Bluestar said.

All three ThunderClan cats watched him expectantly as he focused hard, considering his options. Exploring, hunting mice, meeting new cats: it all sounded exciting. He didn’t mind the work that would come with being feral, if he had those cats that could support him while he learned their ways. He didn’t even really mind the idea of changing his name.

But the risk of getting hurt or sick, having to abandon Smudge, and the warning that he might not be welcomed initially…

He looked at Bluestar. “I don’t know what to do. It’s a lot to think about.”

“That’s alright.” Bluestar straightened up again, returning to her businesslike posture. “I know it’s a big change from what you’re used to. We can give you two days to think about it. The night after tomorrow, there will be two warriors waiting for you at the edge of this forest. You can give them your answer. If you decide to join us, they’ll take you to our camp.”

“And that’ll be it?” Rusty asked.

“No more kittypet business,” Redtail said. “You’ll give all that up if you say yes.”

“Huh.” Rusty’s eyes returned to the ground as he considered this. He nodded slowly. “I would like to think it over, if that’s okay.”

“That’s why we offered it.” Redtail gave him a friendly tap on his back with his enormously fluffy tail. “I hope to see you in our camp soon, Rusty. Until then, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“We do have a patrol to continue,” Bluestar said, not too unkindly. “Consider things carefully, Rusty. It’s all or nothing. If you say no, you aren’t welcome back in this forest.”

Rusty was a little worried by that last note, but he said, “Okay. Thank you, Bluestar. For the offer. Regardless of what I say.”

Bluestar looked down on him, but with approval in her eyes. “We’ll see you soon.”

With that, she jerked her head to the side and Greypaw approached, nosing Rusty’s shoulder and almost knocking him over. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the border.”

Rusty cleared his throat and dipped his head respectfully to Bluestar and Redtail before hurrying after the departing Greypaw. When he caught up, he opened his mouth to ask a question, but Greypaw spoke first.

“It’d be cool if you joined us,” he said. “You seem nice. And the other apprentices are either too shy or too up their own prats to hang out. I’ll help you learn the trade, if you come back.”

Rusty blinked, surprised by the offer. “Well… thank you.”

“You’ll get a much cooler name than ‘Rusty’, too.” Greypaw snorted. “’Rusty’, really, who named you?”

“My mother,” Rusty said, and couldn’t help digging back a little. “Not much weirder than ‘Greypaw’ and ‘Bluestar’ and ‘Redtail’. What if I get a weird name?”

“You won’t,” Greypaw said. “I’m sure of it.”

The two couldn’t talk any further; they had reached the end of the forest and Rusty could see his house (and a panicked Smudge) from here. He looked back at Greypaw, and was surprised by the earnest eagerness on his face.

“Hope to see you again, kittypet,” he said.

Rusty, not sure what to say, gave him a nod and started for his fence. He heard Greypaw rustling through the ferns and grass and disappearing into the woods. He didn’t look back. He had a feeling he would be tempted to return there if he did.

“You’re okay!” Smudge cried when he was close enough to speak. “I saw that cat—he’s huge! How did he not kill you?”

“He didn’t want to.” Rusty bunched up his haunches and leaped onto the fence. He turned to Smudge, unaware of his fur flaring and his eyes sparkling. “You are not going to believe what happened.”

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #a kindling #chapter #chapter two #book one #arc one

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