My crush has just contracted chickenpox after we spent most of yesterday in a car and then locked in an escape room together along with three other people. LUCKILY, I contacted chicken pox a medically improbable six times before the age of seven, and I am basically immune. Though. My mother seems to disagree

things that rwrb characters have said that i will never forget, a thread:

alex claremont-diaz, giving off dumbass™ energy (he has the most on this thread, for obvious reasons) 

- "put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-" 

-  “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. cornbread knows my sins, Henry. cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”   

- "do it for the 'gram"

- "leading member of korean pop band bts kim nam-june" 

- "whatever, fine. henry is annoyingly attractive. that’s always been a thing, objectively. it’s fine.”

- "see attached bibliography"

- "i said, you look great, baby!”

- "yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe"

- "awesome, fuckin' love doing things out of spite.”

-”Huge Raging Headache Prince Henry of Who Cares”

-”it is amazing you can sit down to write emails with that gigantic royal stick up your ass.” 

- “who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney.”

-” “Do I go on your side of the cubicle and turn off your Dropkick Murphys Spotify station, no matter how much I want to?” Alex demands. “No, Hunter, I don’t.”

- “for fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night.”

- “Bake Off makes Chopped look like the fucking Manson tapes.”

- “THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.”

- “You’re from Boston, Hunter. You really want to talk about all the places bigotry comes from?” (he really hates hunter goddamn) 

-”so, what? you want me to quit politics and go become a princess? that’s not very feminist of you.” 

hrh prince dickhead😎  - "the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

-"“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”

-”i will turn this car around.”

- “yes, the cocaine, alex.” 

-”i am a delight!”

-”have i mentioned lately that you’re a demon?” 

- “are you psychoanalyzing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

- "i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

-“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.”

-"i just mean to say, you know, Philip is the heir and I'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty five and I've got malaria, whither the spare?”

- “they wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama?”

- “You are a delinquent and a plague. Please come?”

- “fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

june:  “- that is a clear quartz crystal for good vibes do not @ me.” 

- “He’s just so frail, it’d only take one good push-”

- “ugh! men! no emotional vocabulary. i can’t believe our ancestors survived centuries of wars and plagues and genocide just to wind up with your sorry ass.” 

nora: 

-”sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again? my bad. hello, would you like to come out to me? im listening. hi.” 

“prince henry is a biscuit. let him sop you up.”  

- “you’ve been, like, Draco Malfoy–level obsessed with Henry for years.”

- “i don’t know, man. I was in my junior year of high school, and I touched a boob. It wasn’t very profound. Nobody’s gonna write an Off-Broadway play about it.”

dahra: 

- “You need to get back to fucking England now, and if anyone sees you leave, I will personally end you. Ask me if I’m afraid of the crown.”

- “both sides need to come out of this looking like your little slap-fight at the wedding was some homoerotic frat bro mishap, okay? So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

-”come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers,”

ellen (should i say PRESIDENT claremont) 

- “Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit"

-  “I had Planned Parenthood send over all these pamphlets, take one! They sent a bike messenger and everything!”

- ”where? Are you hiding a turkey habitat up your ass, son? Where, in our historically protected house, am I going to put a couple of turkeys until I pardon them tomorrow?”

-“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

PEZ !!!

- “frolic naked in the hills, frighten the sheep, return to the house for the usual: tea, biscuits, casting ourselves onto the Thighmaster of love to moan about the Claremont-Diaz siblings, which has become tragically one-sided since Henry took it up with you. It used to be all bottles of cognac and shared malaise and ‘When will they notice us’-” 

-”-and now i just ask henry, ‘what is your secret?’ and he says, ‘i insult alex all the time, and that seems to work.’” 

**extra: nicer quotes from alex and henry 

alex heartthrob diaz  - "never tell me the odds"

-"we were not afforded that liberty."

-“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”

- “On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

- “history, huh? Bet we could make some.”

- “But the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.”

-“Take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.”

- “Someone else’s choice doesn’t change who you are.”

- “I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.”

- “America: He is my choice.”

- “Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart, There's so much of you.”

- the entire list of the things he loves about henry. i would die 

henry: 

-”i’ll be damned but i miss you.” 

- “when you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?”

- “it sounds like you did your best.”

- “I’ve bloody well had it. I’ve sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I’m finished. I don’t care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”

- “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?”

Osblaine week 2021, Day 2: Lyrics

Over the last several weeks, I have carefully curated a playlist for Osblaine. The final total length of the playlist is 2 hours and 53 minutes.

The playlist can be found HERE

Click "Keep Reading" if you're interested in the introduction, commentary, more graphics and the full tracklist.

For full disclosure, I have to give some of the credit to my amazing fellow Osblaine fangirls @dystopiandramaqueen, @splitscreen and everyone who participated in a certain conversation for the original inspiration and even bringing up some of the songs.

You should look at the playlist in five parts: one section for each season that's aired and one section for the future (because I like to end things on a hopeful note).

The playlist contains a lot of the following:

Music from movie and TV soundtracks

Instrumental music

Remixes

Classics and covers of classics

Country music. I blame Florida. My sincerest apologies.

Some of the songs were chosen because they reminded me of a certain Osblaine scene, and some of them aren't specific to particular scenes but chosen for the general Osblaine vibe. And most of the movie/TV music I chose have been used for couples that remind me of Nick and June.

Part I- Season 1, first 12 songs of the playlist:

Forbidden Love- Abel Korzeniowski, Jasper Randall, The Hollywood Studio Symphony (Romeo & Juliet)

Fireflies- Owl City

Echoes in Rain- Enya

My Ghost- Glass Pear (Bones)

Daring to Hope- Anne Dudley (Poldark)

Everytime We Touch- Cascada

1000 Times- Sara Bareilles

Too Good At Goodbyes- Sam Smith

In Case You Don't Live Forever- Ben Platt

To Find You- Cast of Sing Street, Brenock O’Connor

She- Elvis Costello (Notting Hill)

Miracle- Instrumental- Cö Shu Nie

Hanging By A Moment- Lifehouse

Commentary:

The first instrumental song IMO works as an intro for their entire love story.

The next two songs are more about having the right vibe. It's a little ambiguous and dark because that's how their life is in Gilead.

Leave my door open just a crack

Please take me away from here

'Cause I feel like such an insomniac

Please take me away from here

Why do I tire of counting sheep?

Please take me away from here

When I'm far too tired to fall asleep

***

Wait for the sun

Watching the sky

Black as a crow

Night passes by

Taking the stars

So far away

Everything flows

Here comes another new day

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

***

"My Ghost" is June's POV before they sleep together, wondering if she can trust Nick:

Who can you trust, in this place?

And whom can I put my faith?

If you're real, then show me now,

Who you are

The last two songs are for episode 1x10, for both Nick’s reaction to June’s pregnancy and the beginning of her first escape attempt (arranged by Nick).

She may be the face I can't forget The trace of pleasure or regret May be my treasure or the price I have to pay She may be the song that summer sings Maybe the chill that autumn brings Maybe a hundred different things Within the measure of a day

Part II- Season 2, next 10 songs:

Love Will Keep Us Alive- Eagles

So Easy- Phillip Phillips

Incomplete- James Bay

Rewrite the Stars- The Piano Guys (The Greatest Showman)

I’ll Be Your Shelter- Taylor Dayne

Love Never Fails- Brandon Heath

P.S. I Love You- 05:11- John Powell (P.S. I Love You)

It's A Girl- Mychel Danna (The Time Traveler's Wife)

I'll Stand By You- Josh Groban, Helene Fischer

The Miracle of Love- Eurythmics

Commentary:

The first four songs cover June’s escape attempt and the time they share at the Boston Globe.

"Incomplete" is Nick's POV from when she's on the run and he knows she'll be gone from his life soon. He lives in the moment.

I don't wanna look down

I don't want us to break up in the clouds

All I want is to stay us, to stay with you now

"I'll Be Your Shelter" is for when June's mental health is at its lowest point and he goes to Serena to beg for her to get June help.

What you need is a friend to count on

What you got baby you got someone

Who will stay when the rain is fallin'

And won't let it fall on you

P.S. I Love You takes me back to episode 2.09, Nick’s selflessness in the episode and of course the scene where after telling June that Luke loves her, he tells her that he loves her too, despite believing she probably doesn’t feel the same way.

It's A Girl makes me think of the beautiful moment they share during June's false labor when he helps her out of the van and they climb the steps together.

I’ll Stand By You is for 2.10, Nick holding June after she was heartbroken over Hannah and over what the Waterfords did to her and clinging onto him.

Part III- Season 3, next 6 songs:

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close- Alexandre Desplat (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

All I Ask- Adele

Never Enough- Loren Allred (The Greatest Showman)

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever- Taylor Swift, ZAYN (Fifty Shades Darker)

Love is Gone- SLANDER, Dylan Matthew

Constellations- The Oh Hellos

Commentary:

For obvious reasons, it was extremely difficult to pick songs for this season.

The first (instrumental) song is for the beginning of the season with June coming back to the Waterford house and them then saying goodbye to each other on the street.

All I Ask, Never Enough, I Don't Wanna Live Forever and Love Is Gone are for their night together in June’s room at Lawrence’s (the one we didn’t get to see sigh). They know it's possible it's all they'll ever have, and they'll take it, but it'll never be enough.

I will leave my heart at the door I won't say a word They've all been said before, you know So why don't we just play pretend? Like we're not scared of what's coming next Or scared of having nothing left

Look, don't get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow All I ask is

If this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends 'Cause what if I never love again?

***

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

Towers of gold are still too little

These hands could hold the world but it'll

Never be enough

Never be enough

***

I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me

I know that your love is gone

I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy

Don't tell me that your love is gone

That your love is gone

"Constellations" is for their long separation and the doubts that I'm sure plagued them both during it. Would they ever see each other again?

Part IV- S4, next 12 songs:

All of Me- John Legend

(Everything I do) I Do It For You- Bryan Adams

Iris- Natalie Taylor (City of Angels)

She Was Like A Bright Light- Hans Zimmer, Rupert Greyson-Williams (Winter’s Tale)

Noah's Last Letter- Aaron Zigman (The Notebook)

What’s In The Middle- the bird and the bee (Bones)

ivy- Taylor Swift

Footprints in the Sand- Leona Lewis

Remember Me (Lullaby)- Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores (Coco)

On The Nature Of Daylight- Max Richter

My Heart Will Go On- Basil Jose (Titanic)

The Story- Sara Ramirez (Grey's Anatomy)

Commentary:

There were sooo many songs I wanted to include in part IV, but I controlled myself and ended up with this particular dozen.

"She Was Like A Bright Light" and "Noah’s Last Letter" are an instrumental double punch to the gut for Nick’s time in Gilead during episodes 4.07-4.09. The first one is meant for when he finds out June made it to Canada, and the 2nd for is for when he starts to gather info on Hannah to give to June.

"What’s in the Middle" and "ivy" are June’s POV of episodes 4.07-4.09.

"What's In The Middle" has more of an angry and confused vibe, and June was definitely both in episodes 7 and 8.

Losing your head is such a common theme

All your brains are falling out, falling out the open seams

Where is the heart, is the heart of the matter

I will empty out my skull of all this useless chatter

On the other hand, "ivy" has this haunted vibe, but there's also reverence and acceptance, which she begins to achieve in episode 9.

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

The next three songs are of course all for their reunion in 4.09, and I couldn’t resist including the song that was actually played in the scene.

"The Story" draws the season to a close nicely, with June understanding that her current needs are different from what they used to be and that there’s someone who understands her completely (and it’s not Luke).

You see the smile that's on my mouth

It's hiding the words that don't come out

And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed

They don't know my head is a mess

No, they don't know who I really am

And they don't know what I've been through like you do

And I was made for you

Part V- Season 5 and Beyond, the last 6 songs

Secret Love Song- Little Mix, Jason Derulo

Burn With You- Lea Michele

The Bones- Maren Morris

Feels Like Home- Auli'i Carvalho, Keegan DeWitt

Love Will Find A Way- Piano Covers (Lion King II)

Like I'll Never Love You Again- Carrie Underwood

“Secret Love Song” is a more angsty tune about a love that’s still kept a secret like June and Nick’s love (as far as most people are concerned). Now that they’ve already made out in front of the man who raped and abused June and made Nick watch him do that, I want to believe they can let go of the secrecy in S5, at least when it comes to a few people.

I'm living for that day Someday Can I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that we could be like that Why can't we it be like that? Cause I'm yours, I'm yours Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't we be like that? Wish we could be like that

***

“Bones” is about a relationship with a strong foundation, which IMO they do have. It will carry them in the future, too. They’re more into each other now than ever before and especially June is coming to terms with how strong that love is. They’ll weather any storm.

When the bones are good, the rest don't matter

Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter

Let it break 'cause you and I remain the same

When there ain't a crack in the foundation

Baby, I know any storm we're facing

Will blow right over while we stay put

The house don't fall when the bones are good

***

“Feels Like Home” is more hopeful. Their home is with each other and I hope that’s something that will be explored more in the future.

Take me, I'm ready

Go slow but go steady

To a place that we can call our own

I wanna know what feels like home

***

“Like I’ll Never Love You Again” is a good conclusion for the playlist. It’s hopeful and a testament to an epic love.

I wanna love you like the rain on a roof

Stronger than a bottle of a hundred ten proof

I wanna take love to places that love has never been

Yeah, I wanna love you like I'll never love you again

And I'll love you again

Oh, and again

OC interview: Diana Trevelyan

I was tagged by @noire-pandora thank you lovely, for this opportunity to talk a little about Diana.

Being now the inquisitor Diana must also endure the interviews that Josephine organizes for her, it is a duty to which she cannot exempt herself.

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

"Okay, I'm Diana Trevelyan and I'm the leader of the inquisition."

What is your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

"But how curious we are! Sorry (laughs), but I won't tell you anything personal, I'm a private person."

Where and when were you born?

"I was born 30 years ago in Ostwick in the Free Marches and I belong to the Trevelyan family, my father is the Bann of the area."

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

"I am a sword and shield warrior and I took the path of the Champion when I specialized."

And finally, are you happy?

"You ask me if I'm happy? I treasure the little things, but with a war going on, talking about happiness is a bit risky. But there are moments and people that are important to me that often make me happy."

Family and friends

What is your family like? What is your relationship like with them?

"My family if you mean mom and dad are in Ostwick and I haven't seen them since all the chaos of the conclave broke out. I miss them. Mom is a sweet and patient woman, endowed with a grace that I lack. Dad a little sterner, you know he's the Bann and he has a reputation to keep, but he's very affectionate with me. When I look at him as a puppy he can't resist me (ed: he smiles, but his gaze is veiled with melancholy). Then there are my beloved brothers Jaden and Eleonora. Eleonora is the youngest, she is 20 and is a bookworm, she loves to study unlike me and Jaden, who have studied yes, but how could we we escaped and went to train in the barracks. Jaden is my twin, he is very protective of me so much so that he has joined me and being skilled with daggers and the bow now works for Leliana our spymaster".

Have you ever run away from home?

"No, but I've traveled a lot, so I've been away from home for months."

Would you want to get married or have children?

"Maybe someday who knows. Now I don't even dare to think about it."

Do you secretly hate any of your friends?

"Hate. But what a big word. No I don't hate any of my friends. They are my friends and hate is a feeling that does not belong to me. I like to be clear so I never leave anything unfinished with anyone"

What friend knows everything about you?

"My brother, we grew up together."

Asked by fans

Can you read and write? Did you go to school?

"Yes, yes and yes. I am the daughter of the Bann I had no escape"

The scariest prediction you made that later came true?

"Before the conclave I had a life, I traveled. Now I travel again, but to close the breaches and honestly I have so much to do that I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, much less make predictions."

What is something you embarrassingly realised too late?

"When I asked Commander Cullen about certain vows of chastity. OMG how embarrassed, but by now I had asked him. But his face was very funny hahaha !! Ehmm let's go back to the interview."

Do you have mental or physical problems?

"No, I'm in perfect health."

What’s your main goal right now?

"End this conflict and return Thedas to a normal life."

Choices

Drink or eat?

"What? Obviously both, without food and water you can't go anywhere."

Cats or dogs?

"Cats, dogs, horses, goats, chickens, donkeys, sheep, nugs, fennecs, etc. etc. I love them all."

Optimist or pessimist?

"Absolutely optimistic."

Sassy or sarcastic?

"Sometimes sarcastic, but only if you annoy me."

HAVE YOU EVER:

Been caught sneaking out?

"More than once. As a girl I ran away from my teachers with Jaden. Now I try to sneak out of the war room, but Leliana always stops me."

Broken a bone?

"Lately often, thank goodness there are healing mages."

Did you get flowers?

"I love flowers and someone often gives them to me, but I won't tell you who it is. I am a private person."

Ghosting someone?

"What?"

You pretended to laugh at a joke you did not get?

"It is difficult for me not to understand a joke, I like to joke and I am very self-deprecating."

I tag @princessvicky01 @gugle1980 @pookydraws @charlatron @aricazorel @kemvee @charmcity-jess @jentrevellan @jonogueira @jellysharkbat @elellan @tessa1972 @a-shakespearean-in-paris and anyone who wants to play. No pressure , just fun!!

game of thrones (S1) rp starters

❝ i’ve never seen a thing like this, not ever in my life. ❞ ❝ do the dead frighten you? ❞ ❝ all these years and i still feel like an outsider when i come here. ❞ ❝ whatever it did to them it can do it to us. they even killed the children. ❞ ❝ relax your bow arm. ❞ ❝ oh, wait. i just realised...i don’t care. ❞ ❝ to stand at a crossroads where turning left means loyalty to a friend, turning right, loyalty to the realm. ❞ ❝ my crimes and sins are beyond counting. ❞ ❝ does loyalty mean nothing to you? ❞ ❝ i fear i may have behaved monstrously these past few weeks. ❞ ❝ some doors close forever... others open in the most unexpected places. ❞ ❝ sometimes i worry you’re too smart for your own good. ❞ ❝ the occassional kindness will spare you all sorts of trouble down the road. ❞ ❝ i don’t know. i don’t remember. everything happened so fast. i didn’t see. ❞ ❝ everything’s better with some wine in the belly. ❞ ❝ i’m not particularly good at violence, but i’m good at convincing others to do violence for me. ❞      ❝ gold wins wars. not soldiers. ❞ ❝ a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. ❞ ❝ there’s a war coming. i don’t know when, i don’t know who we’ll be fighting, but it’s coming. ❞ ❝ you will dishonor yourself forever if you do this. ❞ ❝ you know I had half my guard out searching for you? ❞ ❝ you're just a soldier, aren't you? you take your orders and you carry on. ❞ ❝ oh my sweet summer child, what do you know about fear? ❞ ❝ everyone who isn’t us is an enemy. ❞ ❝ would you be so good as to untie me? ❞ ❝ the next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands. ❞ ❝ come stand by the fire. it’s warmer. ❞ ❝ what do you pray for? ❞ ❝ i’ve made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn’t one of them. ❞ ❝ you can't change him. you can't help him. he'll do what he wants, which is all he's ever done. you'll try your best to pick up the pieces. ❞ ❝ the common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends. they don't care what games the high lords play. ❞ ❝ you’re a warrior like your father. ❞ ❝ i'm used to men who could chew that boy up and pick their teeth with his bones. ❞ ❝ i need you to become the person you were always meant to be. not next year. not tomorrow. now. ❞ ❝ there’s things that sleep at day and hunt at night. ❞ ❝ you’re in pain. ❞ ❝ when you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. ❞ ❝ go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. ❞ ❝ is that what you tell yourself at night? that you’re a servant of justice? ❞ ❝ very handsome armor. not a scratch on it. ❞ ❝ do i frighten you? ❞ ❝ rhe lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep. ❞ ❝ are you going to say something clever? go on, say something clever. ❞ ❝ there is only one thing we say to death - ‘not today’. ❞ ❝ have you lost your mind? what if you missed? ❞ ❝ it’s a gift. i had it made for you. ❞ ❝ distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done. ❞ ❝ how do you feel? you still don’t remember anything? ❞ ❝ you’re a smart person. you don’t believe that nonsense. ❞ ❝ you’re too hard on yourself. always have been. ❞ ❝ have you ever seen a dragon? ❞ ❝ you’re all alone in the deep dark woods. ❞ ❝ my family is rich. we have gold, lots of gold. i’m prepared to give you lots of gold. ❞ ❝ i felt something for you once, you know? ❞ ❝ there is a spell. some would say death is cleaner. ❞ ❝ it's a neat little trick you do, you move your lips and your father's voice comes out. ❞ ❝ i’m glad i could do something to make you happy. ❞ ❝ i could work at fighting all day, every day, and still never be as good as you. ❞ ❝ all i ever hear is how not tough i am. how i squirm at the sight of blood. ❞ ❝ i thought you were a better person. ❞ ❝ do you think it’s honor that’s keeping the peace? it’s fear! fear and blood. ❞ ❝ i pray for home too. ❞ ❝ never forget what you are. the rest of the world will not. wear it like armor. then it can never be used against you. ❞ ❝ when they write the history of my reign, they will say it began today. ❞ ❝ in my dreams, i kill him every night. ❞ ❝ we were meant to rule together. ❞ ❝ why haven’t i seen you? where have you been? ❞ ❝ the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. ❞ ❝ the law is law. ❞ ❝ we never had the chance to be young. ❞ ❝ i’m going to miss you. ❞ ❝ we were at war. none of us knew if we were going back home again. ❞ ❝ your absence has already been noted. ❞ ❝ you need to drink...and eat. ❞ ❝ i hope to repay your kindness someday. ❞ ❝ no one to tell me ‘no’ but you. only you. ❞ ❝ it stinks. it stinks like death. ❞ ❝ if i die, weep for me. ❞ ❝ someone with great ambition and no morals...i wouldn’t bet against you. ❞ ❝ there are no men like me. only me. ❞ ❝ you look lovely tonight. ❞ ❝ all good swords have names, you know. ❞ ❝ it’s not going to get any easier, you know? you’ll have to defend yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. ❞ ❝ it’s hard for them to bow without heads. ❞ ❝ i swear to you that those who harm you will die screaming. ❞ ❝ i bet you’ve never killed anyone. ❞ ❝ death is so final whereas life...life is full of possibilities. ❞ ❝ there are times you make me wonder whose side you’re on. ❞ ❝ i’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time. ❞ ❝ you’re a loyal friend. you hear me? a loyal friend. the last one i’ve got. ❞ ❝ did you have to bury her in a place like this? she should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her. ❞ ❝ don’t leave me alone with these people. ❞ ❝ oh, i do love a violent woman. ❞ ❝ it’s not your screams i want. only your life. ❞ ❝ i’ll kill them all. every one of them. i’ll kill them all. ❞ ❝ don’t talk about my mother or father ever, or i’ll carve your eyes from your head. ❞ ❝ every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better. ❞ ❝ i’m a constant disappointment to my father and i’ve learned to deal with it. ❞ ❝ you have a quick temper and a slow mind. ❞ ❝ you broke my nose, bastard! ❞ ❝ i think you should wear your armor tonight. ❞ ❝ it makes me hurt to see you bleed. ❞ ❝ my tongue lied. my eyes shouted the truth. ❞ ❝ all men are made of water, do you know this? if you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to tell you to stay or go. you must make that choice yourself. ❞ ❝ i grew up with soldiers. i learned how to die a long time ago. ❞ ❝ i don’t know what you want. i’ve given up trying to guess. ❞ ❝ you dare give commands to me? to me? ❞ ❝ who was your first kill, not counting old men? ❞ ❝ i’m looking at you. you’ve got an interesting face. a very distinctive face. ❞ ❝ you do have a choice. and you’ve made it. ❞ ❝ moon of my life, are you hurt? ❞ ❝ if the day ever comes where you’re tempted to sell me out, remember this: whatever their price, i’ll beat it. ❞ ❝ your sweet words have moved me. ❞ ❝ i did warn you not to trust me. ❞ ❝ when you look at me do you see a hero? ❞ ❝ take me to your crypt. i want to pay my respects. ❞      ❝ you always look at your feet before you lie. ❞ ❝ it’s your gods with all the rules. ❞ ❝ could you sing me a song? i’d like to hear a song. ❞ ❝ you worry too much. it’s starting to show. ❞ ❝ i take orders from your father, not you. ❞ ❝ you at a feast - it’s like a bear in a trap. ❞ ❝ if you can get word to my family, tell them i’m no coward. ❞ ❝ you understand why i did it? do you understand why i had to kill him? ❞

On your knees, King! (Part 3)

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing, abuse, physical harm

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you–naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART III

← Part 2           Part 4 →

Things started to get hectic in both the Yuuei and Barbarian kingdoms for only a few weeks were left until the wedding. Seeing the decorations being put up only meant a reminder for both Shoto and (Y/n) that it was real, it was happening-- but it was happening too fast for them to comprehend.

The princess was in a daze during her meal time with the only family she had left, her father. Ever since her mother passed away, things turned into hell.  Before fully agreeing to give their daughter away, the queen stood her ground in protest and resisted the King’s order. 

Blinded by rage, he threatened his wife with a sword but still, her gaze was firm and decision never wavered. The last string of patience the king had snapped and he swung his sword towards the woman, slicing her deep from the chest to her abdomen. 

In his state of shock, he stood there, hands shaking. His lover was no more and all because of the stupid Barbaric king, all because of his useless daughter, he lost more then just his kingdom. He had lost his wife.

 It took a long while for the king to come to terms with the thought of his diseased lover but he channeled all his pain into making another’s life miserable. 

Out of everyone, he had to choose his poor daughter, who he had blamed for everything.

“(Y/n)! I expect you to be on your best behavior and for once not be a failure to this family. Am I clear?” A tired nod was all she could answer. The king quietly stood up from his seat and hastily made it to (Y/n)’s side. A loud smack resounded in the room.

“I am a king here and I expect you to treat me like one, you useless bitch! When I ask you a question, answer me properly!” This was the king nobody from outside knew about. Only the people inside the palace knew about the true nature of this ‘kind’ king.

“Yes, your majesty. I have made a mistake.” The old man just scoffed and retreated to his room, leaving his daughter alone to dine. Because she is the Princess of the commoners, people from the palace were often enraged to see her being treated poorly by the only real family she had.

With no words being said, a cloth with cool water was handed to her by one of her most trusted maids, Ochako. “Milady, it is to avoid swelling.” (Y/n) gratefully took it and dabbed it over the reddening spot on her cheek.

“Now that my father is away and in his quarters, won’t you maids join me for my meal? Let’s leave some for the guards standing in the doorway as well.” This occurrence happened frequently. They knew it was no bribe from the princess, but pure genuine kindness. She was a far better ruler than her damn father.

“But ma’am...” the princess slouched in her seat to get comfortable “Oh come on, we’ve been doing this for quite some time now! I don’t wanna eat alone” she unleashed her puppy eyes and the maids couldn’t refuse any longer.

Her hand maid ushered the rest of the servants in the room to take their seats and they joyfully shared stories over the table. See, (Y/n) was really interested in the commoner life not to compare to her own, but to get to know the ways of her people. 

This is why even if the king treats her badly, the servants in the palace would never turn against her and if they had to take sides, they would all go to princess’ aide. 

“Milady, how are things with your fiancé?” the bold maid named Mina asked. “M-Mina?! You can’t just ask things like that!” The head maid Momo scolded. “No it’s okay Momo, guys you’re my friends just drop the Milady shit and call me (Y/n)”

Mina gave a victory smile to Momo and the the latter just sighed. “I haven’t met him yet in all honesty, but I think we’re going to their castle in a few days, or maybe tomorrow. I didn’t really listen to what that stupid old fart told me” 

They held their laughter at the nickname the king’s daughter had for him. “I hope even if he is one of those Barbaric bastards, he treats you fairly” Ochako had a sad smile on her face. The princess already had enough of her father’s torturing so having a bad husband would only continue her hell.

“In all honesty, I thought you would be wed to Prince Shoto. You were such a good match! I’m sure you would be happy with him” “Yes, Jiro that was the plan but it seems that fate had decided to push us apart. I’m sure I would have been happy but I’m not closing my doors to the thought of the new King as a husband. Maybe he can entertain me.”

“You can hunt together or maybe go on horse rides to lakes to watch the sunset!” (Y/n) knew this was too good to be true. Her soon to be husband was a brute, it would be weird if he was indeed that romantic. “Hah. I doubt he even has a romantic bone in his body. Anyway, I’ll be leaving first, girls. Ochako would you be a dear and please prepare my bath after you’re done eating. Do not worry, you can take your time and rest. Goodnight to all of you.”

“Sure thing princess!” “May you rest well.” “Nighty, (Y/n)”!”

-- 

“Oi hag, what kind of woman is she anyway? If it’s just some pissy girl I’d rather decapitate her family.” The older blonde smacked hiS HEAD. “Watch that stupid mouth of your brat! I’m sure she’s the perfect match for you. When has your mother been wrong?” The former queen smirked.

“She better not be weak. I don’t want my reputation to plummet because of some woman. I’m leaving with Kirishima to go hunt!” “Bring me a fat boar while you’re at it!”

--

Kirishima flew freely in the skies with Bakugou sitting snug on his back. At the same time, (Y/n) went to the woods after eating to let off some steam. Every time she thinks about her stupid father, rage fills her head. Nothing was her fault so why was she treated so badly.

The special spot (Y/n) and the friend who gave her necklace was her safe place. It was also the best spot to hunt boars, pigeons and if you’re lucky, deers.

She brought a bow and a sword with her and began to position herself to be hidden from her preys. Her sharp gaze caught a healthy fat boar in sight and the same time her arrow hit, a blade fell from the sky.

“Who’s the fuck did this to my fucking boar?!” A big gust of wind blew and standing before her was a huge red dragon, scales as red and as shiny as rubies.

“That’s my boar fuckface! Look for your own!” A blonde muscular man hopped off the dragon’s back. The Princess had put her cloak on to seal her identify, the man had a hood on too but his muscles were out for the world to see.

“You deaf, boy?! If you weren’t flying so high, you could have seen that my arrow had already pierced it before your dull blade could. Hands off my catch!” The man pulled the sword out of the boar and pointed it at the princess.

“No way, it’s mine! If you want it, fight for it!” (Y/n) wasted no time as she unsheathed her own weapon from it’s scabbard and went in for an attack. The blonde was surprised at the sudden movement of the woman but blocked her sword nonetheless. 

“You got spunk woman, but can you even handle my strength?” “Hah please, I can take you on any day, dandelion!” Their sparring took quite a while and Kirishima just sat at the back with a slight worried look on his face.

The girl took notice of the dragon’s structure and thought maybe it was hungry, but in fact Kirishima was just getting bored. When she managed to push her opponent back a little, she ran towards the boar and threw it at the dragon.

“Here boy, catch!” the smell of meat made Kirishima quickly respond and at the end of the duel, it was the red dragon who immersed victorious. 

(Y/n) laughed at the face the man made when their loot was snagged by the dragon. “Oi Kirishima! Why’d you eat it?!” The dragon just huffed in response. The girl went close to the dragon to try to pet it and because of the treat given by her, Kirishima bent his head to get the pats he loved. 

She then directed her attention to the male with a huge scowl on his face. Digging through her pouch, she handed him a loaf of bread and cheese. “Here, take it. I enjoyed our spar. I would have loved to ask for your name and to spar another time, but I think it’s impossible now.” she smiled sadly.

The blonde on the other hand only got curious “Why?” “I’m getting married soon. I can’t just hang around guys freely.” The sun was starting to set and people may have started to look for her in the palace.

“It’s time for me to go. If we see each other again, let’s exchange names, dandelion. I hope you can take me to the skies some time Kirishima! Have a safe journey home”

She didn’t wait for their response as she fled the scene quickly. 

Taglist: @the-sander-fander @cathwritestragediesnotsins @emilymikado @itsmysticalmystery

Taglist is open!

Wait

Part three of my collaboration with the wonderful @hnt-escape.  You can read her awesome poem here:  https://hnt-escape.tumblr.com/post/653521140262764544/next-part-of-the-collaboration-with

The graphics are also hers, and I am so grateful that she is making them...you are so talented!

Summary:  Waiting patiently is not our Alejandro’s forte.

Warnings:  None, really.  The “you” is female.

I think we will have only one or two more chapters to go.  Thank you all for being so wonderful.  Tagging @sharkbait77​ <3

This is what he does.  He waits.  He rinses out his suit and silk shirt the best he can in the black fake marble sink of his motel room, and lets it dry in the tub.

He watches TV until it becomes nothing but white noise.

He puts on his yellow turtleneck and a nice suit, and goes to the local university.  Rule one.  Always look like you belong.  He wanders the stacks, breathing in the smell, letting his hand graze the spines.  He never finished university, but it had been one of the best parts of his life.

At the computers, he slips in a usb drive to let a piece of programming load, and then, he starts to search for you.  He didn’t dare do it at the hotel – the business room had a computer that was probably older than your daughter.  And a wise man never leaves a trail.  The university was busy enough, the traffic, the searches he was doing, would be muffled by the busy students around him.

Not completely safe, but.  He used his program to hack into the DMV.

Nothing under your real name.

He uses combinations of people you both knew.

Then, feeling stupid, he typed in Rose.  Rose Lopez.

“Oh.”  He said out loud.

You took my name.

He used that to unravel what he could.  Jotting down your information on old card catalogue card backs.

When he drove his rental out to your address, he found nothing but an old hotel, the roof half collapsed into the bone dry cracked shell of the pool.  “Good girl,” he thought.  Your mother had kept you away from the black sheep of the family as best as she could, once she caught on, but you still picked up some tricks.

Back at the Knight’s Inn, he stops for some change for the soda machine.  The usual attendant is there.

“Do you ever get time off?”  he asks her.  “I feel like you’re always here.”

“It’s a job,”  she says, and hands him the change.  He wants to ask her if she’s alright, but shelves it. It’s not his business, and she has better things to do, than be hassled by one of her guests.  

Back in his room he waits.  Looks at the phone, looks at the card in his hand.  Flips it over, to see if the old typed words are a sign.  A History of Britain from the Reformation.  Not a sign.  If it had said something about the growth and propagation of roses, or something about a love story, or something about regrets…it would have been a sign.   Sign to call the number he pulled from the database.

He does it anyway.

It rings for awhile, and he hangs up.

A knock on the door gets his hopes up.  A curvy, pretty girl with too much makeup smiles at him.  “I’m Sherry.  You called for me?”

He gives her a warm smile.  “No.  I’m sorry.”

She looks him up and down.  “So am I, honey.  You sure you don’t want to change your mind.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” he says.

He paces, after she goes.  Goes for another walk…this time he finds the wrought iron fence and a good view of the main road.  The records say you have a red Ford Escape, and he peers intently at every red car for awhile, stares at every car that turns into the hotel.  It shares its driveway with a Sonic, so he stares a lot.

When he climbs the stairs, again, two at a time, he feels tired.  Did he miss you, when he was out?  Were you there and gone?  You would have left a sign.

He picks up the phone.  It rings five times, and he’s about to drop the receiver back when he hears a click.  Someone picking it up.

“Who’s this?”

“Um.  Hello.  I’m looking for Rose.  Have you seen her?”

“Buddy, this is a payphone.”

“Where?”

Begrudgingly, an address is revealed.

If he doesn’t see you by this time tomorrow, that is where he is going.  

Daenerys - a culinary journey to dragonhood

Charred bones and whips. 

Dragons produce flame, but they also need it to grow. Fire begets fire.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

When she had her handmaids char the horsemeat black, the dragons ripped at it eagerly, their heads striking like snakes. So long as the meat was seared, they gulped down several times their own weight every day, and at last began to grow larger and stronger. 

(ACOK, Daenerys I)

In the House of the Undying...

Upon a towering barbed throne sat an old man in rich robes, an old man with dark eyes and long silver-grey hair. "Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat," he said to a man below him. "Let him be the king of ashes." Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on. 

(ACOK, Daenerys IV)

But it takes a while for Dany to develop the taste...

"What if I decide you're only worthy to be my fool?" Dany asked scornfully. "Or perhaps my cook?"

"I would be honored, Your Grace," Selmy said with quiet dignity. "I can bake apples and boil beef as well as any man, and I've roasted many a duck over a campfire. I hope you like them greasy, with charred skin and bloody bones."

That made her smile. "I'd have to be mad to eat such fare. Ben Plumm, come give Ser Barristan your longsword." 

(ASOS, Daenerys VI)

She accepts a dragony whip...

Dany handed the slaver the end of Drogon's chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman's head, with pointed ivory teeth. "The harpy's fingers," Kraznys named the scourge.

Dany turned the whip in her hand. Such a light thing, to bear such weight. "Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?" 

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

… and drops it...

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" 

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

She is growing her own dragony whip:

Drogon looped his neck around to nip at her hand. His teeth were very sharp, but he never broke her skin when they played like this. Dany laughed, and rolled him back and forth until he roared, his tail lashing like a whip. It is longer than it was, she saw, and tomorrow it will be longer still. They grow quickly now, and when they are grown I shall have my wings. Mounted on a dragon, she could lead her own men into battle, as she had in Astapor, but as yet they were still too small to bear her weight.  

(ASOS, Daenerys IV)

It’s not until she and Drogon become one, that whip and charred meat return to her:

Drogon roared. The sound filled the pit. A furnace wind engulfed her. The dragon's long scaled neck stretched toward her. When his mouth opened, she could see bits of broken bone and charred flesh between his black teeth. His eyes were molten. I am looking into hell, but I dare not look away. She had never been so certain of anything. If I run from him, he will burn me and devour me. In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment? Drogon roared full in her face, his breath hot enough to blister skin. Off to her right Dany heard Barristan Selmy shouting, "Me! Try me. Over here. Me!"

In the smoldering red pits of Drogon's eyes, Dany saw her own reflection. How small she looked, how weak and frail and scared. I cannot let him see my fear. She scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the pitmaster's corpse, and her fingers brushed against the handle of his whip. Touching it made her feel braver. 

(ADWD, Daenerys IX) 

Will it be riding horses in the grassland or the harpies seizing your soul, Dany? 

She certainly has her wings now, flying away. 

The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY! 

(ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Dany spending her not-quite-forty days not-quite-fasting in the desert, Temptation of Christ-style, deciding her fate. Hungry, but turning away from the charred meat….

She was hungry too. One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. She needed more, she knew. One day she kicked at a cracked sheep's skull with the side of a bare foot and sent it bouncing over the edge of the hill. And as she watched it tumble down the steep slope toward the sea of grass, she realized she must follow. 

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

Wanting the charred meat but turning away...

She turned back the way she'd come, to where Dragonstone rose above the grasslands like a clenched fist. It looks so close. I've been walking for hours, yet it still looks as if I could reach out and touch it. It was not too late to go back. There were fish in the spring-fed pool by Drogon's cave. She had caught one her first day there, she might catch more. And there would be scraps, charred bones with bits of flesh still on them, the remnants of Drogon's kills.

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to. 

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

And at last, hunting down and burning horses, embracing the charred horse meat in the burning grass lands. Harpies seizing her soul, it is. 

To the right and left, Dany glimpsed places where the grass was burned and ashen. Drogon has come this way before, she realized. Like a chain of grey islands, the marks of his hunting dotted the green grass sea. A vast herd of horses appeared below them. There were riders too, a score or more, but they turned and fled at the first sight of the dragon. The horses broke and ran when the shadow fell upon them, racing through the grass until their sides were white with foam, tearing the ground with their hooves … but as swift as they were, they could not fly. Soon one horse began to lag behind the others. The dragon descended on him, roaring, and all at once the poor beast was aflame, yet somehow he kept on running, screaming with every step, until Drogon landed on him and broke his back. Dany clutched the dragon’s neck with all her strength to keep from sliding off.

The carcass was too heavy for him to bear back to his lair, so Drogon consumed his kill there, tearing at the charred flesh as the grasses burned around them, the air thick with drifting smoke and the smell of burnt horsehair. Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario …

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon.

That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

In conclusion:

She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo."  

(AGOT, Daenerys IX)

El-ahrairah and the Black Rabbit of Inle: A Poem

Word traveled around, as these things oft do, and King Darzin found he had been made a fool

“I declare war on El-ahrairah and all he all he loves and his people. Whatever is left will be mine to rule

However they are too clever for me to trick them out of their homes, and so I will wait outside

They will come to eat but I will starve them, he cried

They will come for sunlight and I will chase them back into darkness

They will try but I will rip them of their fur and feast off the carcass!”

El-ahrairah tried every trick in his body, pushed his cunning and wit and charm

But no matter what he tried, or plan devised, it only raised that forsaken brass alarm

There was no solution to be found for King Darzin and finally, he realized

There was only one other now with the power to bring his enemies demise  

Now, The Black Rabbit of Inle is fur and everlasting darkness

When the snare is set, they know where the peg is driven, the grain of the wood, and the hardness

When the weasel dances, the Rabbit watches, induces foolishness and madness and sickness too

Some say they hate rabbits, but they serve Lord Frith and no more than their appointed task do they pursue

To bring about what must be and only by his will, they go by Frith’s promise

Though starless and cold, unyielding and grievous, a rabbit’s life, one way or another, is their providence

And they will protect and avenge any rabbit who may chance to be destroyed without the consent of himself

Though their name invokes fear, they are not of the Thousand, and they may be the last one who can help

All through the night, El-ahrairah thought and thought, and when morning came, to Rabscuttle he confessed

“No rabbit has tried, and my mind may be addled by hunger and fear, but it may have a chance of success

I will seek out the Black Rabbit and offer my own life in return for the safety of my people

If they won’t take it, I will find something else, whichever it may be, no matter how evil

You must bring it back, Rabscuttle, with or without me, to the save this warren.”

And so, they devised a plan; Later than even the last of twilight, the rabbits charged out roaring

The soldiers distracted, El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle flew into the grave-dark ditch and ran

They limped through a bad dream to that terrible place they bound for, where life is all but banned

Where they travel, the sun and moon mean nothing, and winter and summer less

The scrambled over splinters of slate among gray rocks bigger than sheep, upward over a crest

No sound but the trickling of water and sometimes a cry of some great evil bird

The mist got so thick that they couldn’t see and yet had no option but to endure

Above them, the cliffs hung like a dark roof, below a gaping grave that must be what they seek

Waiting still as lichen and cold as stone was the Black Rabbit of Inle, and El-ahrairah for the first time, felt meek

Carved from the mountain with their giant claws, the Black Rabbit’s burrow reflects its monarch

They speak with a voice of water that falls in echoing places in the dark

Their eyes were red with a light that had no light he had ever known

Like shadow, like mist, like stone, they smelled as clean as last year’s bones

“El-ahrairah why have you come? You are a stranger here.” They spoke, soft but regal

“My Sovereign,” he whispered, “I have come to give you my life. My life for my people.”

“Bargains, bargains,” The Black Rabbit drawled, “There is no day or night that I do not listen

To some honest Captain of Owsla for his chief rabbit or a doe offers her life for her kittens

Sometimes it is taken, sometimes it is not. But there is no bargain, for what is is what must be.”

El-ahrairah refused to leave, for if he could trick them into it, he knew the Black Rabbit would remain true

“You are my guest,” The Black Rabbit insisted, “if you refuse all else, at least let me entertain you.

My home is free and I will make you as comfortable as I can. Come let us play Bob Stones.”

“If I win, perhaps you will be as good as to accept my life in return for my people’s safety and home.”

The Black Rabbit paused but nodded. “I will. But If I win, I will have your tail and whiskers.”

So they sat in the cold and silence, and El-ahrairah tried not to flinch as the shadows hesitated and flickered

Under the eyes of the Owsla, even with Rabscuttle trying to ground him, his wits failed, then his spirit

But the Black Rabbit played without sound or change, like falling snow burying the sharp thicket

“You may pay your stakes to the Owsla and they will lead you to a burrow to rest, but remember this

If you are here tomorrow, I will see you, but you are free to leave whenever you wish”

In a hollow stone burrow with an opening to the mountain outside, Rabscuttle urged him to leave,

But El-ahrairah was convinced he could get the promise that he desired, that his people need

Rabscuttle returned and from clematis and ragwort fashioned whiskers and a tail

El-ahrairah returned and sat across from the Black Rabbit, weak in body but resolved to not fail

The Black rabbit sighed through their broad nose, though he could not tell if they were disappointed or scowling

“You must understand. I have no wish to make you suffer. I am not one of the Thousand”

“You may stay or leave as you please” they spoke, shaking their great coat, “But perhaps you might care to share a story.”

“If I tell as good a story as yours, perhaps you will accept my life and grant my people their safety and territory”

The Black Rabbit huffed with a bittersweet smile, “I will, but if not, you will forfeit your ears.”

They told a tale of fear and darkness that froze them where they crouched on the rock

And not even the warmth of Rabscuttle could stop the icy clouds in which his senses were locked

His wits turned, this body tharn, and the blood fled from his cheeks

When at least the Black Rabbit finished his dark and true tale, El-ahrairah was not able to speak

Dashed about like a mouse, twisted like a snare, the cords, the muscles of his neck taut

He awoke to see Rabscuttle weeping over him, shoulders shaking and far past distraught

“What good is this suffering? For the sake of Frith and Green Grass, let me take you home!”

“Nonsense,” he whispered just above his breath, “Two big dock leaves. They will do very well for ears of my own”

“They will wither” implored Rabscuttle, “As I am withered now, like a worm in the nut”

“For what I have to do, I cannot find the way, but I only need them to last long enough”

He kissed Rabscuttle’s tears away before he left through the maw of the cave

El-ahrairah racked his brain for a trick, any way to secure a weapon or the Black Rabbit’s aid

The Black Rabbit of Inle would not accept his life, and there is no wager he can win

Then why inflict these sufferings if they truly feel no ill will? What do they intend?

Why break him? Why not just send him away? Why not make a wager to force him away?

It hit him quite suddenly, for it was as obvious as can be: that was how. That was the way

They would not help him, perhaps could not, would break him if they must

But if he were to find a weapon, could they stop him? The thought was so simple, so blunt

His own consent. Nothing had happened, nothing taken, nothing bartered, without his own consent.  

Except with his own consent, they could not hurt him or sent him away. But could they prevent it?

With two weak dock ears dragging on the floor, he turned towards the narrow runs of the warren

The Owsla watched him crawl but he was past being afraid and finally one did gently caution

“Turn back, El-ahrairah; you have no business in this pit. You are alive and have suffered much already.”

“Not as much as my own people,” He proclaimed. His head felt light but his thoughts were heavy

“Oh, El-ahrairah,” The Owlsa breathed “There is enough suffering here for a thousand warrens

In these holes lie all plagues and diseases –fever, mange, sickness of the bowels, twisting of the organs

Look, They pointed, nearest to you is the White Blindness. Not even the Thousand will touch that body

This is our task, to see all ready for the use of Inle-Rah. For what is is what must be.”

El-ahrairah gave himself no time to think but plunged into the pit faster than a raindrop to the ground

The shadows flickered and gibbered, for except by fear for they had no power to move him from this ground

He did not know how long he lay, only that surely the infection had already began

He would have to be fast, he crawled out, To get to Rabscuttle and begin to plan

How to save his people, how to get home, how to infect the King’s army and his soldiers

He blundered into stone, cool against his burning skin, and it gently his shivering shoulders

“El-ahrairah,” a quiet voice whispered, reaching beyond senses, “where are you going?”

“You said I might go when I wished, my sovereign” He breathed, “so home I am going”

“You have some purpose, El-ahrairah. What is it?”

“I have infected myself with White Blindness, there, in that terrible pit

I knew the price would be my life, one way or another but I must go before I am too wearied”

“El-ahrairah, do you know how the White Blindness is carried?”

Silence

“By the fleas in rabbit’s ears.” The Black Rabbit confessed. “You can neither catch nor carry the White Blindness.”

El-ahrairah broke against their chest, the last of his senses bubbling with tears as a broken sob filled the silence

The Black Rabbit said nothing, held him, their claws gentle against his thin fur despite their appearance

“This is a cold warren. A hard place for the living and no place at all for warm hearts and brave spirits

You are a nuisance here. Go home. I myself will save your people.

Do not have the impertinence to ask me when, for time’s power here is, at best, feeble

“They are already saved, El-ahrairah. They are already saved.”

The moment came when King Darzin and his soldiers were jeering down into the land they razed

The falling darkness crept upon them like twilight, choked them with confusion and terror

From the darkness, red eyes stalked them from the thistles, an idea of a rabbit, but a shape of horror

Too tall and too short, hunched inward and protruding, prey with a predator’s gait

But the sound, the sound, it made a sound no rabbit should be able to make

King Darzin and his soldiers fled. The rabbits, whatever creatures they were, were never seen again

When at least El-ahrairah was able to rise, the Black Rabbit was gone, and Rabscuttle was calling his name

Together they went out those icy mountains, down the stone-rattling gully in the mist, back where they came

Away from the Black Rabbit, away from Inle-Rah’s silent Owsla, away from cold and stone

But El-ahrairah was sick with shock, even Rabscuttle’s muscle and fur were thin where it had once shown

They dug a scrap and laid down for several days, the green grass and dirt ‘neath them a renewed treasure

Later, they lost their way a few times, though they had many adventures,

Of course, El-ahrairah, even with wits and tricks, was still without whisker, tail, or ears, and so Rabscuttle became his all

Together, finally, they made it home, greater and greener than they ever recalled

The warren was bigger, with more holes, more families, and rabbits they could not recognize

When asked, they realized that many years had passed, the war a story told to kittens to terrorize  

They were only legends, him and Rabscuttle. All those they fought for were old or had died.

El-ahrairah sat down under a nut bush, looking out across the red fields in the dying light

“Are you angry, El-ahrairah?” Frith asked softly beside him, knowing they both saw the same bloody sight

“No my lord, I am not angry. I have learned that with creatures one loves,

Suffering is not the only thing for which one may pity them, or rather they have stopped or still run

A rabbit who does not know when a gift has made him safe is poorer than a slug, though he may think himself otherwise”

Frith sighed, knowing what he spoke of, how glamorized and dramatic it all became when truly, one had to only decide

“Wisdom is found on the desolate hillside when none comes to feed

And the stony bank where the rabbit scratches in vain before he will concede.”

But speaking of gifts, I have brought a few trifles for you.” He smiled softly,

“Here is a tail and a set of whiskers too. The ears you will find a bit strange

A bit of starlight in them, though it is quite faint, really a small change

Not near enough to give away a clever thief like you

Is Rabscuttle coming? Could you bring him? I have a gift for him too.

Heya, it's been a while, but I was wondering if you could turn your wonderful writing skills to another prompt for me? Could you do "I...I need to sit down" for Merthur please? Thanks ever so much 🥰 x

OF COURSE!! I love getting asks🥺id literally write anything you want me to💞thank you for this, hopefully i'm up to par—it's been a minute since i wrote (like a week lmfao i've been reading a lot)

Merlin looked at Arthur on the throne. He was still amazed how good he looked up there, how much he looked like he belonged. Arthur was glowing in the waning sunlight, giving him an ethereal glow. His hair was ablaze, blending with the crown on his head.

He was breathtaking. 

Merlin stopped listening to the proceedings in favor of staring at Arthur’s profile for as long as possible. Many commoners came for an audience today, and Merlin was too exhausted to show interest. He has been working since dawn, for both Arthur and Gaius, and the boy was dead on his feet. 

Arthur did not feel much better.  He could feel Merlin’s eyes on him, but instead of getting angry with Merlin, Arthur actually felt content to let him stare—it was making him warm and fuzzy on the inside, but he didn’t know why, so he let him be. Knowing he had Merlin’s attention, the king straightened his back and tried to listen back to the farmers’ dispute at hand. He was apparently thinking about Merlin’s eyes on him for longer than he thought since the farmers were staring at him, waiting for his reasoning. Arthur blinked slowly, unsure, but Merlin quickly came to his ear and whispered, “Sire, the one on the left killed the right one’s sheep because it was on his farm unattended and was causing a ruckus.” Arthur nodded his thanks, looking more grateful at Merlin than he had all day, and Merlin blushed at the sudden attention from Arthur and bowed back to his spot behind the king. 

Arthur started talking, but Merlin couldn’t focus on what he was saying—both tired and now feeling a little hot. Maybe I need to ask Gaius if I’m getting sick, Merlin wondered, getting slightly dizzy now. 

“Is there anyone else?” Arthur looked at Lancelot and Leon. “One more, my lord,” Leon answered, as Lancelot was occupied with talking to Gwaine and looking at Arthur’s side together. Arthur frowned, why do they look so concerned? Arthur was about to look over to see what they were looking at, but the next citizen came in.

The minute the man came in, Merlin fell to his knees. Gwaine and Lance were by his side in an instant. Arthur looked over to where Merlin fell, jumping up from the throne, wanting to go over and check him himself. His knights were trying to help Merlin stand, so Arthur decided he could get this last audience done fast and go to Merlin after. 

While stabilizing him, Merlin looked up at the newcomer. He felt nausea rush over him just from looking. “Gwaine, Lance,” Merlin groaned out quietly, trying to get them to go to Arthur instead, and once he got their attention he continued, “that man, something is wrong with that man.” Gwaine and Lance looked perplexed but believed him, so they leaned Merlin against the wall to see what was going on. 

Arthur just started addressing him, “what may I help you with today?” The man bowed lowly, and in a deep voice said, “My lord, I actually wanted to bring something to you.” Arthur, surprised for a moment, masked his face quickly, “and what would that be?” The man stood up and pulled a small wooden box out of his robes, and he addressed Arthur once more. “My liege, this is a weapon of great power, but I am the only one able to wield its strength.” 

“What kind of power?”

“The power to drown the magic out of people. Out of them where the filth cannot corrupt them for any longer,” he stated, indicating to the small box.

Arthur heard a gasp to his right and quickly looked. Lancelot looked horrified, while Gwaine looked absolutely livid. Merlin, on the other hand, looked like he was withering away on the wall behind them, staring with blank eyes towards the box--almost like he was drawn to it. 

Arthur was not stupid, or blind. He knew Merlin kept secrets, deadly ones if he kept them from Arthur, so this realization did not quite have the same reaction the old Arthur would have had.

Merlin has magic. 

Arthur was quiet for a moment longer, thoughtful. Every adventure, every single quest, every day, Merlin was at his side. Whether it was killing a monster, or cleaning his boots, or making his bed, Merlin never laid a hand on him.

Merlin believed in him and that was enough at the end of the day, wasn’t it? Arthur already had an inkling about magic not being the all evil power his father lectured him about. He wanted to find Morgana and make amends, so this was the path he needed to take to get her home. Magic couldn’t be evil if both Merlin and Morgana had it--they did not choose it either, especially since they both lived under Uther. No one would be foolish enough to use magic willingly with him around. Magic is a gift in the right hands, and a horrible tool in the wrong ones--just like any other tool in this world.

Arthur was about to make history--he could feel it deep within his bones. He could almost hear Destiny singing.

“I am sorry, but I have no need for a weapon like that in my kingdom.”

The man stumbled back, shock written all over his features at the power behind Arthur’s words, “are you not a Pendragon? You would rather magic roam freely in this world than end it once and for all?”

Arthur schooled his face into strength, ignoring his rising temper at the questioning man, “I may be a Pendragon, but I am not my father. I said no. Thank you for coming all this way, you may now take your leave.”

The man bristled at the dismissal, and just as Arthur was turning to Merlin, he drew a throwing knife out and spoke softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “if you are not with us against the powers of evil, then I must end this reign for the greater good.” He threw the knife before anyone could react.

It stopped inches from Arthur’s heart, and Arthur looked at it trying to figure out what just happened. The man gasped when the knife turned back towards him and landed in his leg. “Magic!” The man cried out, horrified that such use of blatant power was used on him. 

Merlin stumbled over to the man, who was now on one knee, and spoke very clearly: “if you ever try to threaten the king again, I will not aim for the leg. Is that understood?” Merlin’s eyes shone like liquid gold. Lancelot and Gwaine, quickly behind Merlin, yelled at the guards to put the man in jail with the box he brought with him. 

The guards listened, albeit hesitantly, looking towards Arthur for his approval. Arthur simply nodded, still staring at Merlin. It’s one thing to make the connection, but to see it so clearly use for him, in defense for him? It was astonishing. It felt oddly right if Arthur was being honest. Merlin was one of the bravest men he knew, and his power only amplified this feeling for Arthur. To live your life in constant fear, to feel so alone and scared of who you are, it is a wonder why Merlin stayed by his side for so long.

The second the man walked out, Lancelot and Gwaine went in front of Merlin protectively. Arthur ignored them and walked directly to Merlin, who whispered that he could handle this to his friends who looked reluctant to walk away (so they just moved to either side of Merlin, slightly behind him, just in case).

Arthur came close to Merlin, “how long?”

“My whole life,” Merlin responded quietly. 

Arthur blanched, realizing how long Merlin lived in fear for his own life and from Arthur himself.

“Why?”

Such a simple question that could allude to many things, but each would have the same reply from Merlin.

“Because I love you.”

That was it. Arthur took a step back, heart beating fast, seeing how much Merlin meant it. He loved Arthur. 

Merlin didn’t understand why Arthur wasn’t killing him, or saying anything, or why Arthur just kept staring at him.

But Merlin couldn’t wait for a response, “Arthur?”

Arthur was confused at the tone change, so he just said, “yes, Merlin?”

Merlin was delirious at this point, “if you don’t plan on putting me on the pyre, I think I might...that I....I need to sit down.”

Merlin passed out.

Lancelot and Gwaine caught him easily, looking at Arthur to see his reaction. Arthur was in motion already, picking Merlin up bridal style, and walking directly past them. With a small smile at his knights he asked, “are you guys coming? Or am I to tell Gaius myself what happened?” Arthur was masking his terror for Merlin by easing his knights’ concern for how he felt about Merlin, making it clear what side Arthur was on. Lancelot and Gwaine sighed in relief, accompanying Arthur.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

Tomorrow, Arthur was going to say I love you back.

Two little letters

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Bi!Reader, past Abusive!Ex x Reader

Summary: With Dean’s help you manage to escape an abusive and unhealthy relationship. You live a happy life until your past catches up with you. Unlike your ex, demons are just cute bunnies. A chain of unfortunate coincidences leads to a heartbroken Dean. Will you be able to save your relationship or will you give it the deathblow?

Word Count: 3,232

Warnings: Unhealthy relationship (not Dean), brainwashing, smut, anger, hurt, slight non-con/dub

Author’s Note: So this is a little problematic, because it is somehow non-con/dub content, because the reader doesn’t really want it and consents to it, but somehow it isn’t. It was based on a request of someone who wants to remain anonymous. I hope this is what you wanted. Remember, guys, likes are silver, comments are gold. 

There were many things you were good at. A lot of things. You were a good huntress because you could exorcise demons without blinking an eye. Behead vampires without hesitation. Burn bones and shoot a silver bullet into the heart of a werewolf without feeling the slightest pity. But there was one thing you couldn't do. Say no to your ex, Cassidy.

You met her shortly after your first encounter with the supernatural. You had been confused and scared to death when she saw you wandering on a country road in the middle of nowhere and picked you up. You were both still young when you met, at the beginning of adulthood. Of course, during that time, you got to know each other better. It was easy to develop such a thing when you shared a run-down motel room, killed demons together or drove along deserted country roads. Soon enough, a relationship developed between you. It was your first one, and you hadn't had much experience with it. Yet you believed you were happy.

Bit by bit she introduced you to the world of demons and creatures. She trained you to be a good hunter. It was not difficult, because in the beginning you were just frightened. Since Cassidy already had experience with the supernatural, she taught you everything she knew. But there was one rule. You were not allowed to say no to her or to disobey her instructions under any circumstances. She reasoned that she knew best what was good for you. It happened so slowly that you only noticed that she had trained you like a dog when it was too late. She had already had her power over you and as much as you wanted it, there was nothing you could do but nod and follow her orders. She threatened you with punishment if you didn't do it. Even though she never explained exactly what her punishments were, you didn't want to find out. In time, you went from being her girlfriend to her will-less slave. It was no longer a healthy relationship. But no matter how many times you tried to confront her with the truth, Cassidy would just brush you off and finally tell you to stop or she would get really angry. Every one of her orders was well obeyed by you. You were her marionette, ready to dance as soon as she asked you to.

You had no chance of getting away from Cassidy. Not even your thoughts were yours after the way she affected them. You realized you had to act quickly before you gave up the last shred of self-will. You were rescued by a green-eyed hunter you met in a bar with Cassidy after the hunt. He was alone and sat just a few meters away from you with a bottle of beer in his hand.Cassidy sat with his back to him and therefore did not see the salacious looks he kept giving you over the edge of your bottle. The hunter clearly wanted something from you. As soon as Cassidy left for the toilet, you knew that your moment had come. It was now or never.

With a provocative swing of your hips you approached the blond man, who grinned at you mischievously. "Hey Sweetie." he greeted you and took a sip of the alcohol from the brown bottle in front of him, never taking his eyes off you. "Hey Handsome," you replied with a seductive smile, while your eyes blinked lazily from under your eyelashes. You cast a nervous glance towards the toilets. She hadn't expressly forbidden you to go away with men. She probably never expected you to have the guts to do it. That was your advantage, and now you had to take it. "Want some company tonight?" you asked him. "Hell, yes." he replied after he had looked at you closely. In one quick movement he threw a few bills on the bar and dropped the beer. Then he wrapped a strong arm around your waist so that you were pressed against his defined chest. His rolled up sleeves and perfectly fitting trousers left little space for imagination. In order to prevent Cassidy from getting her hands on you after all, you put your cell phone on the table. "Don't you need your cellphone, baby girl?" he asked in surprise. You smiled at him sweetly. "Don't worry. It's my friend's." While he was still nodding, you pulled him out of the stuffy bar into the clear night. As soon as he opened the door to his car and started the engine, you knew you were free. You had done it. After your one-night stand, you would decide what to do tomorrow.

The decision was taken from you, because one night turned into two and two into three which turned into many many more. Pretty soon, you met Sam and Dean and you became an incredible team. Dean was a wonderful person who always cared about your well-being and would kill for you if necessary. He had done it several times before. Dean and you had been a solid couple for six months and the three of you were moving around America saving people, hunting things. The family business. You were happier than you'd ever been. With Dean at your side you could do anything because in him you had found a loyal friend, honest colleague and loving partner. Although you would die for Dean, you never dared to reveal your biggest secret to him. What monster he had truly saved you from that day many months ago. A monster much worse than anything they were hunting. Even though you knew your concern was completely irrational, you feared Dean would find you weak. Manipulable. A joke he could laugh at because you were really stupid enough to get involved with that woman. Eventually, you started to forget. Soon the memory of Cassidy was just a dark shadow in the back of your mind.

Cassidy became much more real, when one day suddenly your new cell phone started to ring. The two brothers were just out, so you were alone in the bunker. There were only two people who had the number of that phone. The first was your boyfriend, the second his brother. Curious, you answered the call.

"Hey there, Y/N. Did you miss me?" It was her! It was her fucking voice on the other end of the line. A voice that sent shivers down your spine, hoping you'd never have to hear it again. Immediately you tensed up and your voice trembled slightly. "C-Cassidy." You muttered in disbelief. "Damn right, baby." she replied laughing, but it was a cold laugh. Before you could say anything back, she went on. "Can you imagine how long it took me to find your number, sweetheart?" she asked you and you could imagine the evil sparkle in her eyes. "N-no." you meant insecure. "Well, I can tell you. It took quite a long time. You just left me sitting in the bar that day, sweetie," she said sweetly. She was the wolf in sheep's clothing. You wanted to hang up, but your fingers just wouldn't obey you. Like in shock, your fingers clasped the phone. You couldn't take your ear off the phone. Where was Dean when you needed him?

"What do you want?" you asked, and your voice sounded more confident than you felt. "I'd like to come visit you, sweetheart. You have to understand, I need a place to stay, the last one was destroyed beyond recognition by a demon. Including roommates. We could have a cup of coffee and catch up on old times. What do you say?" No! Everything inside you screamed no, but no matter how hard you tried, that little word, those two letters just wouldn't leave your lips. It was like a witch put a curse on you. You stuttered with exertion. "N-n, yes." It was out before you even thought it. She was laughing on the other side of the phone. "Very nice. I knew I could rely on little Y/N." Then the line went dead. With shaking fingers, you ended the call and dropped the phone on your bed, like you had been burned. Before you could even think straight, the door to your bedroom opened. "Hey, baby. I'm back. Did you miss me?" Dean asked as he entered your shared bedroom. A warm grin lay on his lips, but as his green eyes searched for yours, it slipped a little. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked. The grin disappeared completely and he looked at you seriously. You were much too overwhelmed to be able to deal with Dean now. So you forced yourself to smile. "It's all right, babe," you said, wringing a smile from yourself. It felt fake on your face. Dean looked at you doubtfully, but when you stepped up and gave him a kiss on the lips, he gave in. "How'd it go with Sammy? Did you two get anything out of the witness?" you asked, trying to change the subject. He smiled. "We brought burgers. I'll tell you all about it over dinner." He wrapped an arm around your waist like when you first met, and together you went into the kitchen where Sam was already waiting. "I have news too." you announce. They both looked at you attentively. The next words felt like icy claws clinging to your stomach. "A befriended hunteress is coming to stay with us for a few days."

Your eyes kept wandering nervously to the clock as you sat next to Dean, who occasionally sipped from a beer bottle, pulled you to his chest and watched the action on the TV. Normally, this would be the perfect evening for you, but tonight was different. In a few minutes, Cassidy would arrive. The more time passed, the worse your nervousness got. But you couldn't let it show, or Dean would get suspicious again. So you would sit by his side in silence, even though you wanted to run screaming and miles away.

When she arrived, you literally jumped up from your seat. Dean laughed at you because he thought you would be so happy about her arrival. If only he knew how wrong he was. After you opened the door, Dean was already behind you. His chest pressed against your back and you felt the warmth emanating from him. Cassidy hadn't changed a bit in six months. The welcome wasn't very warm, but Cassidy had always been good at pretending, so both Dean and Sam, who had just joined you, noticed nothing of the tension between you. You cleared your throat awkwardly. "Cassidy... This is Dean. Dean, this is my old friend Cassidy I was telling you about." Your words got quieter towards the end. Dean had one arm wrapped around your waist from behind and his chin rested on your shoulder as he kissed you on the cheek before offering his free hand to Cassidy through your arm. "Hi, Cassidy. Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me a lot about you. This is my brother Sam," he said with a smile. "Oh, did she?" Cassidy asked and gave me a meaningful look. One look into her brown, almost black eyes told you that she knew exactly how you and Dean felt about each other. Immediately she put on her brightest smile and took Dean's hand. He did not see the devious sparkle in her eyes. 
"Dean. It's so nice to meet you." She innocently batted her eyes and stretched the vowel unnecessarily. It was just the calm before the storm.   "Y/N. Will you please help me get these wretched shoes off?" She pointed to her shoes and moaned in agony. "Yes," you said. While you were taking off her shoes, she was having a very casual conversation with Dean. "I thought maybe you could paint my nails after this."

"Yes." You answered again. Dean looked confused. You hated painting nails. The smell always made you sick. Still, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe it was a girl thingy. Over time, he realized that you couldn't turn down a wish from her, no matter how stupid it was. Cassidy wanted a pink straw? You switched it. Cassidy suddenly wanted a different burger? You drove all the way out there to get another one. You even drove a third time. He thought it was weird because he didn't know that side of you. You were an independent girl. Why were you so different with Cassidy?

It happened two days later. As much as you tried to avoid it, Dean and Sam were out and left you alone with Cassidy. All along she had been playing her nasty little games with you in front of Dean and Sam. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't refuse her any wish and you obeyed her every request. You were alone in your bedroom when Cassidy came in. You backed off immediately. "I thought they'd never leave. Let's see how long they take the bait before they realize that there is no Wendigo at all," she said with a wicked grin. Before you could react, she had crossed the room with two steps and pressed you against the wall. "You want it too," she said. Then she pressed her lips hard against yours. You wanted to scream no, but you couldn't. Your brain had lost the ability to form that word.  You tried to push her away but she buried her hands in your hair and pulled you closer. "N-no. Cassidy" you begged. She smiled gloatingly at you. "Oh, sweetie, you can't say no to me." She knew that as well as you did and took full advantage of it. Helplessly, you kissed her back as she gradually removed each piece of clothing from your body.

"Y/N?" Dean's voice suddenly resounded outside the closed door. "Y/N! I'm back. There was no Wendigo. False alarm." You couldn't make a sound and Cassidy put a finger on your lips as she deftly started to unhook your bra. "We don't want loverboy to catch us, do we?" she asked, then closed your lips with hers again. At that moment the door opened and Dean stood there in shock. You saw how within seconds all sorts of different emotions flashed across his pretty face and each one broke your heart. Fear, pain, disappointment, grief and finally anger.

Tears ran down your cheeks as Cassidy smiled at Dean. "Hey, Dean. Didn't expect you to be back so soon," she calmly said. "You," he growled. "Dean." Sobs shook you. "I can explain all this." But he paid no attention to you! "You! Get out of here! Now! Before I make you!" His voice was a dangerous growl that grew into an intimidating roar. Cassidy disappeared in a flash, leaving you all alone. For him, that explained everything. You wanted her! That's why you granted her every wish! How long had this been going on? "Dean, I-" He interrupted you harshly and you heard the pain in his voice. Dean was not a trusting person, and you had just betrayed all his trust. "I don't wanna hear it! Go! Get out of my sight. You are not sleeping in my bed tonight!" His voice was dangerously low and you saw the pain in his eyes. The fact that you were the cause of it took your breath away. "I'm - I'm so sorry, Dean! I didn't mean for any of this to happen! I love you!" you begged him, but his face remained hard. "Go!"

It was the first night you'd spent alone in a long time. You couldn't sleep at all, and you blamed yourself. You couldn't help it, but your guilty conscience gnawed at you. You didn't sleep at all. You were sick with fear and worry. You had hurt Dean. Your Dean. Your best friend. Your colleague. Your saviour. Your hero. The love of your life. And all because you couldn't say no! You were so stupid! So, so stupid. You had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to you!

You cried until you couldn't anymore and your eyes were burning. Your body felt numb and your cheeks were sticky with tears. The bed you were in felt strange and cold.

It was shortly after three in the night when the door to the guest room opened quietly. In the light from the hallway that came through the door stood Dean. He looked as devastated as you. Surprised, you sat up and looked at him. Would he now tell you to disappear from his life forever? He closed the door behind him and crawled on the bed next to you, but he lay as far away from you as possible. The distance between you hurt you a lot.

"I think about it all the time and no matter how I twist and turn it, I just don't understand it, Y/N, I don't understand it. Why? Why did you do this?" he asked in a broken voice. His green eyes sparkled sadly in the moonlight and your throat became tight. "I - Dean - I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," You murmured. "Explain it to me," he asked. "You owe me this." He was right. And so you began. From the very first time you met Cassidy, until the moment you met him. He listened to you attentively and didn't interrupt you once. When you told him about the brainwashing, he nodded slowly. His hand found yours sometime in the dark and clasped it tightly. He remained silent for a long time after you finished your stories. He had to process what you had told him. "I can understand if you don't want to see me anymore, Dean," you said after a moment of silence. "Or if you need time or you don't believe me." You laughed sadly. "I can't even believe it myself." Your heart pounded wildly and you trembled and sucked in your breath as you waited anxiously for his decision. "It's a curse, Y/N." Those were his first words. You thought you misheard. "What?" Your voice was just a breath. He looked right at you. "It's a curse. She casted it on you! Sam had it once." Tears ran down your cheeks in relief when he looked at you. He wiped them away. "God, Y/N. I love you. And I could never live without you! Knowing you couldn't prevent any of that changes everything. I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And did I mention that I love you?' he asked and you started to laugh and cry. He loved you. Dean Winchester hadn't given up on you.

His eyes found yours, and he paused for a moment. He looked at your lips and finally closed the gap between you. His lips were warm on yours and a hand went through your hair and brushed a strand behind your ear. Then he leaned his forehead breathlessly against yours. "We will find a way to break the curse." And you believed him.

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Queenstrial - Chapter 1

Masterlist

warnings: language, drinking, sex

Semi-modern AU

Summary: Mare Barrow’s only wish is for true freedom. But all that’s taken away from her when a gods damned letter shows up on her doorstep. Gone is the hope for a life of happiness. Instead, she’s been chosen to enter the 50th Queenstrial competition to win Prince Tiberias the VII’s hand in marriage. But not only is the Prince she’s expected to win, not a stranger at all, but rather her previous one night stand, but now she’s competing against 20 other cutthroat women for his love and affections she’s not even sure she wants.

...

It’s rare for us to get mail in the stilts. Even rarer for it to be embellished with the royal insignia. And yet, that is exactly what I find waiting for me when I walk up the front steps of our home. With my meager stolen goods weighing down my jacket pockets, it’s hard not to scoff.   Queenstrial happens to be the one golden ticket out of a life of poverty in the stilts. The only guarantee you have other than an apprenticeship. Yet, I don’t want it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life at some royal ass’s feet pretending to be something I’m not. Even if you don’t win the competition, most girls almost always end up becoming ladies in waiting for different ranking members of high houses. The only thing I’ve ever valued over my own life is freedom. The freedom to choose, and the freedom to simply be. And Queenstrial takes all of that away.   But maybe it’s exactly for that reason that my mother made me enter in the first place. The only thing she’s ever wanted from me was the promise of a future. She doesn’t realize it but I catch all of the looks of disdain and grimaces she tries to hide when she sees me walk through the front door and empty my pockets of the few bronze pieces I managed to snatch up. I was never talented enough for an apprenticeship like my sister, Gisa. I was the odd one out; the black sheep in the family. My brothers were sent off to war before I turned 13, with only one half of an earring set to keep me company. The only person who’s ever had my back is Kilorn, my best friend. But he still has hope and promise awaiting him through his own apprenticeship with a fisherman. All I have is a sure death sentence in a few months when I turn 18. At 18 with no future, all that’s left is being drafted to the military; and most never make it back.   Maybe it’s because I can’t stand what the expression is going to be on my mother or father’s face when I die in the trenches with only a fucking letter with the king’s signature slapped on to it, that I decide to pick up the letter and walk through our almost falling apart front door. Walking the few steps it takes to get to the kitchen, I’m almost hit with a wave of sadness. This is what I’m sacrificing. A home for the military because there is no way I’m getting into Queenstrial; not someone like me.   The letter sits on the dining room table lit dimly by a single light fixture on the ceiling. I know it’s only a matter of minutes before my mother comes rushing into the room with excitement on her face.    And of course, that’s what happens when she walks in and gives me a small smile, sitting down at the table with her hands folded neatly in front of her.   “What are we waiting for?” I ask trying not to convey my own feelings of annoyance. Her elation over the possibility of me going to the castle to win a prince’s hand in marriage pales compared to my own.   “We’re going to wait until everyone gets here.” She tells me, tersely. Basically saying ‘no room for discussion’.   Great. And by everyone she means my dad and Gisa. Now I have to see their own downcast expressions on their faces when they realize I haven’t been chosen.   All 17-year old’s are eligible to enter Queenstrial. That is only if you’re a newblood or silver. That’s the discrimination still present in our society. Red’s in the dirt as always. If you’re a newblood, you get a few more perks, but still not much better. I’ve somehow been blessed to have been born with the ability to wield and create lightning. Although, it’s nothing that I’ve been experimenting with because it’s banned in my village. 10 years ago, a boy no older than myself blew up the black-market trading center and it’s never been allowed since. And it’s because of that, that I limit myself to a small taste of my own ability. All I have is the tempting pull of the energy within the walls of my own house.   5 minutes later as I walk around the small kitchen pretending to clean to avoid doing nothing, the heavy silence is interrupted by a squeal and a bang as the front door is thrown open. Gisa, then. And then I hear the squeaking of rusty wheels following her. That would be Dad.   “Is it here yet?” Gisa practically yells as she finally emerges into the kitchen, breathless. Dad follows her in his wheelchair, although a more subdued smile sits on his face.   “Yes”, is all I have to say as they both more towards the table, eager to see the envelope lifelessly sitting there.   Mom still hasn’t moved an inch until Gisa tries to snatch it. All she does is smack her hand and tell her to wait for another moment.   I can’t help but feel some deep part of me almost feel bad for her, knowing that she’ll eventually read that letter of rejection and don her face of disappointment whilst telling me that everything’s going to be alright.   When I finally take my own seat at the table, Mom finally makes a move to open the envelope. Every moment that it takes her to carefully unseal the damn thing, is like waiting for a bomb to drop.   And then her face loses all of its natural red flush and goes bone white. And she screams. Actually. Fucking. Screams.   It only takes a moment longer for Gisa to jump out of her chair and run behind Mom before she yells out, “Mare you made it! You’re going to the capital!”   Then both of them get up and attempt to show dad before they all start cheering. Their sounds of excitement become subdued as my ears dull down to a sharp ringing noise.   And I still sit in my chair. Unmoving, and silent. The only thing I can think of is What. The. Fuck.   There is no gods damned way that the people sitting on their asses in Archeon would choose me. Me out of what has to be every other 17 year old in Norta.   And that letter. I snatch it up from where it still sits opened on the table.   Mare Molly Barrow,   We are delighted to offer you a place in the 50th Queenstrial for Tiberias the VII, Prince of Norta. You are one of the 20 lucky young women selected to compete for his coveted hand in marriage.   There is no need to bring any of your belongings other than a few of your sentimental items. Clothes and other necessities will be provided.   A palace guard will arrive at your home tomorrow to pick you up and will travel with you to the castle. You will receive further instructions upon your arrival.   We look forward to meeting you, The Royal Family of Norta   Tomorrow. That letter means that by tomorrow I’ll be in a car on my way to the capital. Away from my family, from Kilorn, from everything I’ve ever known. I think I might actually throw up.   “Mare?” my father asks, breaking me out of my self-induced shock.   “Mare! Aren’t you excited!” Gisa smiles, shaking my shoulders in an attempt to wake me up.   The only response I can muster is “Yeah.. sure Gis.”   Mom looks at me still with another disappointed expression before she tells me, “This is a good thing, Mare. This is your chance”.   Chance for what? I almost want to ask. Chance to leave everything I’ve ever known in the hopes that some prince will like me enough to keep me around? That I’m going to spend the next however many months of my life parading in pretty gowns pretending to be someone i’m definitely not?   It’s this realization that hits me and at the same time the air seems to be trapped in my throat. ‘I can’t breathe’ is the only thing I can think about. All I can do is speed towards my room and slam the door shut. Granted, it’s not just my room. It’s shared with Gisa.   Collapsing on my bed, I let the tears start streaming down my face. Frustrating fucking emotions. There’s no use in wallowing in something you can’t change, is what I try to tell myself.   And then it occurs to me. If tonight’s going to be the last night of my freedom, why not make the most of it.   Forcing myself to stop my pitiful crying, and wiping away what’s left of my tears, I let my lips turn up into an almost smile. Moving towards my closet I rummage around towards the back end and pull out a deeply revealing almost too scandalous deep purple velvet dress.   It was meant to be somewhat of a joke that Kilorn got me when I tuned 17 this year. He claimed that it was a birthday gift and that I should wear it out to get all the men drooling. I only might have threatened to cut off a too-sensitive part of his if he said that again.   But now.. Now this could come in handy.   20 minutes later I was finished. Stealing a glance in the mirror, I had to admit. I looked pretty damn good. I had styled my hair in voluminous curls and my lips were painted a bright ruby red. And that dress… That was undoubtedly the statement piece of tonight’s look. The v-cut of the spaghetti strapped dress showed off my cleavage, and the soft material hugged what little curves I had, magically making it look like I had some to begin with.   Satisfied, I pulled my only pair of shockingly tall black stiletto heels before creeping towards the back door, carefully avoiding my family still celebrating over my impending doom. Quietly I shut the door before yelling, “I need to run for a bit, don’t wait up” and walking out.   I should be rushing to Kilorn’s shabby room in his master’s apartment, but I won’t. I won’t because he’ll find out soon enough, and I already know what he’s going to say when he sees me dressed like this. I don’t want his fucking pity.   So, I keep on moving, catching a ride with what seems to be a local fabric trader by giving him 2 coins. And then we’re off, leaving me to my thoughts as the only sound remaining becomes the thumping of the truck’s wheels on the unpaved dirt road.   It’s so utterly stupid how one letter can change my entire existence. I can’t walk away from the Stilts. Even if it’s a complete and utter shit hole, it’s my home and the only place I’ve ever known.   The trader continues driving until we reach the center of the stilts. The area where the night life is just about starting. Where bars are beginning to become crowded, with people spending their earned coins on women and cheap alcohol.   Getting out of the car and thanking my driver, I stand there like an idiot for another 2 minutes in the center of the area. This is all I’ve known for my meager 17 years of existence. Why not enjoy it one last time?   Finding my usual bar that I usually conduct my excursions in, I casually muster the best smile I can whilst attempting to make my breasts pop out even more to the bouncer waiting at the front. He only gives a slight nod and lets me walk in. No need for I.D here. They’ll let in anyone underage if you know how to get around it.   Once I walk inside the club the smell of watered-down beer immediately hits my nose and I unconsciously crinkle my nose. Through the swarm of sweaty bodies, my eyes catch on what appears to be the only stool left at the bar.   I make a beeline towards it before it gets snatched up and try my best to haul myself up the chair. Being short never helps. The barmaid rushes towards me with a flushed face, clearly stressing over the mass amounts of people here at the hour.   “What can I get you sweetie”, she smiles sweetly.   “Just a vodka cranberry”, I say. Not the most expensive option but for my last night of freedom, I’m willing to sacrifice an extra copper.   No later than 30 seconds, my drink arrives before me before she’s off to take someone else’s order. And I’m left alone to ponder over my thoughts and drown myself in alcohol.   Sometimes it’s better to be alone.; to never have to care what other people think. To not have to deal with the pressure of disappointing everyone you care about. Although I’m sure I’ve done that too many times to count. Part of me wants to show up at the castle tomorrow and make myself so unapproachable and vulgar, I’m sure to be kicked out before anything’s even started. But the other part of me knows that I’ll only be more of a disappointment. To myself, to my parents, to Kilorn…   Looking over, I see someone new climb into the seat next to me. A man around my age, with a strong and muscular build. You don’t see many people like that around here. Most of the residents here are thin and frail. All from the fact that they can’t afford food. But for him, he must be paid well and have a fairly easy life in the Stilts if he looks like that. The heavy coin pouch looped onto his belt confirms my suspicion.   I avert my gaze towards him for a moment longer and see him ordering his own drink. And maybe it’s my desperate need to not be a failure, or the impending doom that awaits me tomorrow, that my hand slyly moves towards that pouch like I have so many times before. One coin or two can’t hurt him if he has more than plenty.   But just as my fingers loop around the opening, my hand stops, not out of my own accord. I look down at my hand and see another pair of fingers wrapped around my wrist.   I can’t believe it. I- I’ve been caught. I turn my gaze toward the man’s face and he stares right back. Those dazzling amber eyes pouring into my own. There’s a fire in those eyes. Something that’s unexplainable, but there. And he still looks at me like he can see me for exactly what I am. He probably knows that I’m just another lowly thief with no fucking future.   “Thief” he finally says, clearly shocked.   And it’s the alcohol that answers for me when I roll my eyes and reply, “Obviously”.   He only continues staring, his eyes grazing down my entire body. And in those few golden moments I know I should try and take the chance to escape his burning grasp and run before he calls for security, but something in the way his gaze blazes into mine, makes me stop.   I’m left staring at him dumbfoundedly like an idiot until my jaw drops even more as he releases my wrist and grabs a coin out of his pouch. And not just any coin, a whole fucking silver tetrarch; worth more than any of the pitiful coins I’ve stolen.   “Here” he says, his mouth in a grim line. “That should be more than enough for you”   “I- thank you” is all I can manage to say before I slip it in my own pouch. What other option is left but swallowing my pride.   But I can’t just accept it with no answers. Curiosity always gets the better of me. “Why?” I ask him.   His eyes open in shock with my question. But he just shakes his head and his lip crooks up ever so slightly. “You need it more”.   That makes me want to punch his face. The only thing I can’t stand besides disappointment is pity.   “So, what’s your name?”, he asks me turning back towards his drink but legs still angled towards me.   I’m tempted to tell him the truth for some reason, but the part of me that’s still sane knows to lie. “Mareena.” Close enough.   “Mareena” he repeats, testing my name on his lips. He actually smiles this time still sipping on his drink which upon closer examination I determine to be whiskey.   “And what’s yours?”   “Cal” he tells me. And as I keep on staring at his face, I start to notice how undeniably handsome he is. His sharper than glass jawline and those eyes still glued on me create this pull that I thought could never exist.   And it’s at this moment that I throw all caution out the window. By tomorrow my life will be forfeit. Might as well make the most of tonight. And nothing better than a hot complete stranger to accompany me.   Discarding my empty drink on the table, I turn myself completely towards him.   Holding a hand out I ask him, “Dance with me?”   He downs his own glass before setting it down and his eyes flare in a way that makes me want to blow up before he puts his hand in my own. “Thought you would never ask”.   I lead him to the back of the club where there’s currently a mass of sweaty bodies swarmed together on the small dance floor. The crowd parts as we enter in the midst of it all, just as the DJ turns on a heavy EDM soundtrack.   His nose grazes my neck and just that simple moment of contact makes me want to cry out in pleasure. But I want more   With my back towards him, his hands grip my hips possessively as mine wrap around his neck. We sway to the blaring music as I ever so slightly grind against him. He stiffens and explores my body with his hands, slightly cupping my thighs when he teases me by riding his fingers upwards until he grazes the lace of my underwear. I can’t help but let out a little moan at that touch. It’s been so long since I felt like this.   Then he leans his head down to mine before whispering to me, “You look beautiful”.   That makes me smile. It’s been a long time since someone told me that, too. And then I unlink my hands and turn to face him. He pulls me closer to him until I’m flush against his chest. Moving my hands across his well-tailored white shirt, expensive from the feel of it, I feel the muscles beneath them. That only makes the aching between my thighs become even more unbearable.   Leaning up, having to still rise on the balls of my feet even with these heels because gods he is tall, I capture my mouth to his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t only taste like whiskey, but he has a scent of ashes and smoke that I’m embarrassed to say I breathe in deeply. His hands move to my ass as my own grasp onto his shoulders. I know he’s probably only here looking for release, but so am I.

I break our kiss and say in his ear, in what I hope is my best sultry voice I can muster, “What do you say we get out of here”. He looks right into my eyes and I can see the lust right there. Cal doesn’t even bother to reply before taking my hand and bringing me to the front desk at the very back of the club for getting a room-for-rent above the bar. Slamming another coin down on the counter he practically grabs the key from the lady who winks at me as if she knows exactly what’s going to go down. She would be right about that.

After finding the room down the hall, Cal unlocks it by throwing the door open, while I drag him in before he can barely shut the door.   Once the door closes, I immediately shove him against it, running my hands into that silky black hair of his which is just as soft as I thought it was. I push my mouth against his, into a heated sloppy kiss which he takes, opening his mouth to allow my tongue access to sweep in.   He breaks our kiss before moving his lips towards the place where my collarbone and neck meet. That’s going to leave a mark tomorrow. But I don’t have enough common sense left in me before he finds a particularly sensitive part of my skin and I actually let out a moan this time.   Cal pauses and pure desire shine up as his eyes meet mine and he shows off a crooked smile. That only makes me want him more. Greedily I unbutton his shirt before sliding it off his shoulders and onto the floor. I take this as an opportunity to mark his skin with my own brand before he captures my mouth into another wet kiss. Gods damn him, he’s actually a fucking good kisser.   His hands move from the sides of my face towards my legs, lifting them up. Instinctively I wrap them around his hips and immediately feeling something hard between where our hips meet giving me a sense of what’s yet to come.   Lifting me towards the bed in the center of the room, he releases me for a moment before moving on top of me and continuing to kiss my body. His eyes glance to me for permission as his fingers latch around the straps of my dress. I can only nod. How could I say no to him when he’s making me feel like I’m going to explode out of my own skin.   Removing my dress off of me, I’m pretty damn happy with myself that I decided to wear my best pair of underwear as I watch him wet his lips as he sees the black lace underneath. Until he removes those too. His mouth starts another hot path from my chest downwards, past my navel. When he finally reaches where I so desperately need him, he teases me by running one of his fingers down the center. Now I feel like burning.   “Fuck stop teasing already”, I gasp out while grabbing his hair.   He lets out a dark laugh as he inserts one of his fingers, the calloused pad of it scraping against my skin. His mouth joins it, licking and sucking making me feel things I never thought I could feel. When his tongue reaches that one damn spot I let out an uncontrolled spark.   Cal looks up at me then, a wild grin on his face. “Nice Sparks”   That only turns me on more.   Then I flip us around so that he’s pinned under me and I’m straddling him before I start attack his belt and try to unhook it.   Removing it off him, I pull them down along with his own undergarments. Grinning, I take his length into my own hand, pumping up and down.   “Fuck Mareena”, Cal lets out, laying back on his elbows.   My heart almost pauses as I suddenly wish he would say my real name out loud like that. But then again, I’m only here for one night.   “Condom?” I ask him, breathless. I need him. Now.   He shakes his head, but I know better than to think that this is the end. I know well enough that these rooms have condoms in the bedside drawers.   Reaching over I open a drawer and dig around until I grab one of them. Tearing it open with my teeth, I put it on him. Letting me take control, he watches as I line myself and slide down onto him, deep.   We both let out moans of pleasure as his hands dig into my hips. Adjusting to the feel of him, I start to move against him, as my eyes roll into the back of head. I swear to god I’ve never felt this good before.   Cal rolls us both back over until he’s on top again, and groans as he pushes slowly out before thrusting back in. I think I’m seeing stars at this point.   He continues to set a harder, rougher pace before kissing down from my neck to my chest and sucking on one of my nipples. That movement brings me over the edge as he rolls his hips in time, letting me live out every ounce of pleasure.   Fuck. I never want to leave this moment. It’s too bad I’ll be gone tomorrow and I’ll never see him again.   That becomes the thought that brings me back from my high as I start trailing sloppy kisses across his muscled chest and then bring them back to his mouth.   Our lips come together just as he tips over his own edge and his groans of pleasure become captured by our kiss.   We stay like that for another minute, foreheads pressed together,both panting and out of breath. I feel the urge to swipe the messy locks of his hair that have fallen out of place, to see his face, with his cheeks and lips covered in messy lipstick marks.   “Again”, I let out, with the only thing I have left in me to say.   His eyes flare up yet again, and he smiles with that somewhat goofy crooked grin of his as he obliges.   ... a/n: Well, well here we go: The start of a new fic! I’ve been meaning to write this ever since the idea hit me in a hotel room on my vacation in Europe and now I’m finally making it a reality. This is the first chapter of what I hope to be many. But other than that, let me know your thoughts on this and I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!

Jersey on my mind (part 12)

Daryl buffs the pillows before falling back against them, for the third time since he laid down, with a sigh. He has twisted and turned for probably an hour on the sofa in the dark living room. Not because it’s uncomfortable. On the contrary. Better than most beds he’s slept in. A bit narrow, but still he can’t manage to fall asleep. His thoughts spin around in his head like a carousel. He’s tried everything to make it stop. Counting stupid sheep. He came to fifty before giving up. He has looked around the dark, quiet living room in chase for something to focus on, tried to make sense of a painting with a modern, terrible motif, which he in the end came to the conclusion, didn’t represent anything at all. Just seventy shades of beige on a canvas.   

He should be tired by now. The dinner party was anything but relaxing. A regular dinner, but still, nerve-wracking. He ended up sitting opposite Mila at the table, flanked by Abraham and Rick, who kept her entertained all evening. Abraham had the same look in his eyes as a gold digger when he’d collected a big gold nugget, when he looked at Mila. She wore the same clothes as before, but the long hair was braided over her shoulder, looking very- 

And then there was Rick, who offered her new bottles of beers when the old ones were empty and discussed the quarry mission with her. Of course, Daryl thought at the other side of the table, feeling his cheeks flush at the sight of the two of them sitting close together, to be able to hear each other talk. Of course she found Rick interesting, attractive even. The handsome, charming cop. The natural born leader. The father. 

What annoyed Daryl the most though was that Rick could talk to Mila as if she was anyone, while every time Daryl made a go for it, his mouth dried up and he lost his entire vocabulary. That he happened to bridle out loud when she mentioned being a vegetarian, didn’t make things better either. He must work on his impulse control. 

Daryl fixes his gaze on a spot in the ceiling. He heard her, Mila, sayin’ she was 25 when talking to Abraham, who smoothly asked about her age after he’d asked Juri the same question, on which the boy proudly showed him three and a half fingers. She mentioned she was in university when she got pregnant.

Daryl desperately tries to remember what he did when he was around 22. Drank himself helplessly drunk, probably. Fought at bars. Hung with Merle and his buddies, doing nothing useful. Had he had a child back then... well, poor kid. Daryl didn’t exactly have a good experience with parents. His own folks were perfect examples of how parents should not behave.  He closes his eyes, doesn’t want to think about ‘em. Fucking trash. He returns to his own head, to the memory of the dinner. 

Despite barely uttering a word to Mila throughout the entire dinner, even though he sat right in front of her, it was he, Mila, Juri, Rick, Maggie, Michonne, Glenn and Carol who remained at the table as the others said goodnight. Juri fell asleep in Mila's arms by the time Maggie and Glenn left for bed. He was completely knocked out after the big feast and two turns on the dessert, to Carol’s delight (“I’ll be sure to make pies more often then” she exclaimed happily when she cleared the table). Daryl listened while Mila talked with Rick and Carol. Strengthened by a couple of beers, he let his eyes linger a few extra seconds at her; the slender neck, the bone structure, the mouth and the nose.   

One beer later, Mila yawned and:

”I think I need to put us to bed.” Mila kissed Juri on the blonde hair. ”Dinner parties are tiring.” 

Strengthened by yet another beer, Daryl rose from his chair and made his way around the table.

”I’ll do it.” he said and gently lifted the limp boy from Milas lap (it still baffles him that he had the guts to do that). ”Ya’ can hardly walk by yourself.” he replied to Mila’s moderately surprised reaction. ”Let’s go.”

He wasn’t completely wrong. Mila moved stiffly up the stairs, low-key swearing at every step, grasping the handrail, like a grumpy old man. The only thing missing was a cane.   

”Had it been possible to amputate one’s entire midsection…” she whined. ”How long should I have to walk around like this?”

”It’s been like, what, three days?” Daryl asked while opening the bedroom door.

”Three days too much.” Mila replied as she sat on the bed as Daryl put the sleeping boy down next to her. ”My patience is non-existent.”

”That’s why ya’ stapled yourself?” he asked. “Ain’t workin’ like that, Jersey.”

Mila let out a faint, tired laugh and pulled a strand of hair from her face. 

“Yeah, as I said. I’m not a doctor.” she nodded towards Juri. ”Thanks, really.”

”Sure.” Daryl stepped out of the room and laid his hand on the doorknob. ”Night’ Jersey.”

And now he’s here, on the couch in the living room and can’t fall asleep for anything in the world. Daryl’s gaze wanders from the depressing beige canvas painting to the clock on the wall. Three o’clock. Already? 

In a couple of hours they will be on their way to the quarry, to prepare to herd a thousand rotting bastards from A to B the following day. Everything is basically ready for the big project; temporary barricades, escape plans, flare guns and color-coded rendezvous. Mila was moderately dissatisfied with Rick’s decision about her not being allowed to attend tomorrow or the finale, the day after. Wise decision, Daryl thinks and adjusts on the couch. He kicks off his boots and rests his feet on the armrest. In a healthier state Mila would have been invited to come along, but not now. The short walk to the gas station from where they parked the car earlier in the day was enough to cause her to be out of breath. And no matter how grumpy she is about having to stay behind tomorrow, Daryl is happy that she is on her feet and recovers. Considering how bad it was- He closes his eyes, tries to breathe calmly. 

Not until the horizon is starting to turn from black to blue and purple, he manages to fall asleep.

Twins Prompt 8: Wolf in sheep’s clothing

Note - I am SUSTAINED by comments. If you like any of these prompts, or want to see more of a specific one, hit up the replies. That’s my motivational juice right there

You could feel Tyreen Calypso in the air before you saw or heard her, storming down the corridor towards the COV media department at 3AM, vile mood warping the atmosphere around her as she marched.

She rolled her eyes at the few acolytes up at this time as they scurried out of her way and down dimly lit side aisles as soon as they caught sight of her, wide eyed and terrified of finding out why exactly she was so pissed.

Another terrible night’s sleep, another handful of wasted hours sitting in the decadence of her personal ship, massive solid gold bed surrounded on all sides by statues and stained glass of her own image. Alone. Completely alone. Like always.

Tyreen could deal with it, she’d dealt with it her entire life so far, it was the norm, and it’s not like she needed the affection anyway right? She had literally billions of people in love with her. There was no one else in the universe as wanted as God Queen Calypso, she reminded herself, tired eyes squinting past the makeup that was smeared under them as her focus stayed unmoving on the door she rapidly approached.

The red “EDITING” sign above it flashed on, off, on off, confirming her target was inside.

There wasn’t a huge amount Tyreen found worked when this mood hit. She could sit and brood on her own, face the reality of her crippling loneliness and deal with some extremely uncomfortable truths, OR she could go find her twin. Troy always helped, one way or another.

Crying her eyes out in his tight hug? That helped.

Taking out her frustration and anger on the only other person in the galaxy who mattered? That.. helped too.

She stopped at the door and quickly ran her hands through her messy bed-hair, straightening up her mantle and hastily dressed belts. Deep breath in, deep breath out, then she rolled her shoulders, stood tall and regal, opened the door with a press of the wall mounted button, and stepped confidently into the dark room.

…. to find Troy asleep instead of working.

He was out cold, quietly snoring into the crook of his flesh arm as he hunched over the massive desk he usually edited from, his array of flickering screens laid out above and around him lighting his shape in the dark.

The small editing team who worked directly with the God King paused in silence at their desks as she entered, eyes flicking nervously from each other, to their sleeping lord, to the clearly enraged Queen standing in the doorway.

He was asleep. He was meant to be editing that last stream for release in the morning. She felt her jaw tighten as she stomped towards him, seething. He was asleep while she was having such a shitty night and needed his help, the lazy, good for nothing asshole.

She raised a leg and stomped violently at the side of his chair with a studded boot, jolting him awake with a shock as he lurched to the side and fumbled with the headphones that had slipped across an eye, tripping a little over the chair legs as he clambered to his full height and towered over his furious twin.

“Ty- Tyreen.. what are you doing here?” he muttered, side eyeing his team who were doing their best to not make eye contact, typing furiously now in an attempt to not be paying attention to what was about to be a total scene.

She felt her anger begin to bubble over. He looked embarrassed, he looked like he didn’t want this to happen in front of his team, and somehow that made it all the better to do it, made it feel so much better to let her mouth start running.

“Ohhh just checking up on you, Holy Father. How’s the editing coming along? Very important release due tomorrow morning riiight?” She mocked, picking at her nails like this was the most mundane thing in the world, as her twin fidgeted awkwardly in front of her.

“Interesting to see you take your duties this seriously, while I work my ass off creating the content for you to butcher. Or not even bother to work on at all it seems?” she singsonged loudly at him, patronising grin widening as she caught the concerned glance from one of his editors from the corner of her eye.

His expression darkened, blush fading to pale skin, and she knew this was a bad idea now. She knew she should stop… but it felt too good to see him squirm like this, be berated and vulnerable in front of the others. She had had a terrible night and he’d been laying here enjoying himself, he deserved to be embarrassed by her like this. He deserved it.

“..Ty, can we not do this here. I’m sorry, I was exhausted, I couldn’t keep awa-”

“HAH!”

She barked, interrupting his quiet, calm tone.

“Allllways sorry Troy. Not good enough, get this shit done.” She hissed, pointing a finger into the solid line of his sternum, ignoring the ice in his eyes as she squinted up into them, ignoring the tight line of his mouth. His slow, controlled breathing.

“This was meant to be uploaded and queued an hour ago and you’ve fucked it up as usual haven’t you. Do I have to do everything little brother??” She shrieked up into his face, slamming her hand down on his desk and causing his crew to jump in their seats.

“Fucking pathetic, you have one job Troy. One, and you can’t even do it. You’re a joke.” She finished with a scowl. Spinning on her heel with a self satisfied smirk, Tyreen turned and began to strut out of the room, completely aware of the other God’s cold blue eyes burning into her back, knowing that she had gone too far, that she had pushed that way past where she should have in front of staff, but it had helped. It had helped her so much, and her Twin’s embarrassment felt more than worth it.

Troy stood in silence, still staring at the door she had left through, eyes narrowed in controlled rage. His editing team continued to work, refusing to acknowledge that their God had just been shamed in front of them, brought low and mocked by his sister.

They’d seen this happen before, saw what had happened after. A newer member of the team, some cocky Promethean kid, had laughed under his breath when Tyreen was done and had left Troy glaring at his monitors in silence.

Troy had turned, locked eyes with the kid, beckoned him over with a curl of a long finger, and crushed every bone in both of the little shit’s hands in the grip of his prosthetic fist. They’d never seen that idiot again, but they knew for all his snapping fury, God King Troy was not cruel like his sister. He’d not take his rage out on them as long as they didn’t prompt him to, and a shaking sigh of relief echoed through the room as he stalked towards the doorway like a predatory animal and left to track after his sister.

As Tyreen reached her private Sanctum and waited for the scanner to grant her entry, the burning anger and sadness in her stomach slowly faded, only to be replaced with gnawing worry as she entered.

It.. wasn’t the first time this had happened. He’d warned her before, he’d warned her very seriously to not make a scene in front of followers again, that it damaged the reputation he carefully cultivated for them..

And sure enough, she heard the door open behind her, and the heavy footfalls of his boots as he entered.

“Hey, Tyreen.”

She turned to face him, clearing her expression of guilt and facing her twin with an air of relaxation, only to second guess how this was about to go down as she took him in.

He stood calmly, massive frame held loose, flesh palm held gently in the cup of his mechanical fist, looking down his nose at his much smaller sister.

“..Troy.” She greeted. Voice betraying her in a nervous crack.

“.. Look I’m so-”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” he whispered, cutting her off with only the barest of effort, controlled tone emphasising each word.

Completely in control of what was about to happen, exactly like she knew he would be. He was so much better at this than she was.

She dropped her eyes to his boots and waited for him to continue. God she shouldn’t have gone as far as she had.

“Tell me Ty-die, what’s your business strat for this upcoming financial quarter?”

She winced. Here we go. He was always better with words, ever since they were kids. Never needed to raise a hand to you to flay you to the bone.

Could do that effortlessly with a silver tongue and gold capped fangs.

“Who’ve you got in line for the next group of sponsorship deals? Give me the rundown of the numbers. What profit margins are you expecting, what losses, sis?” He piqued, leaning his weight to one hip, tilting his head to glare down at her.

“Troy.. look, point made, I’m sorry I shouldn’t ha-”

“Excuse me, did I say I was FINISHED?“ He bellowed, causing her to jump as he took another step towards her, slowly leaning down to lower that vicious mouth closer to her ear.

“Hows that legal dispute over the DeLeon copyright claim goin? That one I’ve been spearheading for 7 years now under your nose, you know, that one? Oh..you don’t? Hmmm…”

Slowly beginning to circle her, still hissing questions she could barely even understand the terminology of at her.

“Hows our growth targeting going, God Queen? What you got for the shareholders this month end? What you got planned for that? How’s the SnV-merger going, Tyreen?“

She shook her head and raised a hand to her temple, rubbing it delicately as she sighed. “I don’t.. know, Troy, I’m sorry! I get it, I get it, I shouldn’t have done that in front of your team.”

He stopped at her left, sneering down at her in disgust.

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you love acting big around me don’t you Ty, love making it seem like you’re in charge when you’re feeling down and want to shit on me for a while, huh.”

He was right. It had made her feel so much better for a short while, but she should have just come to him privately. She should have put her arms around his waist and cried, and he would have been there for her, but she had lashed out instead, and he was right to be pissed now.

“Maybe I’ll do your job for a while and take a break from mine, hmm? Maybe I’ll go on camera and squeeze my lil tits together and drone braindead bullshit at morons while you run the entire fucking cult, huh? Would you like that Ty?”

“… Would you like everyone to see how fucking stupid the God Queen is when you don’t have me playing you like a puppet and getting none of the credit?”

She just stayed silent now, waiting for him to be done, no real way to defend herself against his knife blade truths, watching him turn and begin to stalk slowly towards her doorway before pausing at it, resting his monstrous arm on the frame and looking over his shoulder to consider his defeated sister.

“You’d do well to remember who made you Tyreen. Who runs this entire shit-show so you can play at being a God. I don’t get anything out of this bullshit.. lie.. bar easy access to a warm hole when I want a good fuck. Sorry you don’t have that option.. I really am…”

She felt her stomach cramp as he turned to open the door and step through it.

“.. Just remember who I’m exhausting myself for next time you find me asleep.”

The door shut behind him.

Two brains are better than one | Morgan & Alain

Morgan insisted on going to the butcher herself sometimes. The stores of brains at home were plentiful enough, Morgan couldn’t remember a time when there hadn’t been a few specimens in the shed out back. But since accidentally having a taste of what, as Deirdre gently reminded her, she was meant to feast on, she found herself speeding up the time between meals, hoping that if she stuffed herself with enough squirrels and deer and racoons she might forget that people taste like a three course dinner meal at midnight. That angst didn’t even take into account that she was trying to space out her feedings a little more so she wouldn’t be caught with puny, mortal strength with a hunter again. The whole situation was a mess. But, as a reasonable, grown-ass zombie girl who was definitely not resenting the blandness of squirrel brain, she could go to the butcher and top herself off easy. She rocked on her feet in line, her number pinched between her fingers as she waited.

Sometimes she liked to wonder how many of the customers were like her. A woman had just left with a hefty tub of pig’s blood. And the man at the counter now was asking for brains too. Morgan watched him take his number and mosey to where she waited, comfortable as anything, if not a little tired in his bones. Had he been dead for long? Was it a new death weight, or something much older? Morgan smiled at him. “Don’t see  a lot of people asking for brains around these parts,” she said. “You cook like that a lot?”

Alain did not use to have a thing for cooking offals, but as years passed and he became more sensitized to the consequences of the meat industry, but could not bring himself to give up on eating meat, he had decided that he would start using parts who were usually doomed to end up to the trash, and to turn them into savoury dishes. Veal liver was one of his favorites, but sheep brain was a close second, and exactly why he had pushed the butcher’s door today. Fidgeting idly with his fingers, he waited for his turn, not paying too much attention to his surroundings but rather thinking of who had died instead of him. He had managed to convince himself that it was just an elder who was passing by the shop as Regan screamed, but not knowing for sure was far from pleasant.

He picked up the number given to him and moved to the side to wait. He eyed at the woman smiling at him and refrained a frown. Instead he raised an eyebrow, and scoffed in surprise as she started to talk about his order. Well, it was nice to see that he was not the only one who had taken in interest for pieces that most people would have deemed disgusting. “Oh. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. Well if this did not make it obvious that he was not  good at small talk, what would ? “I do, actually, what about you? I’m planning to make Pad thai with it,” he explained, uncrossing his arms and relaxing a bit in his stance. Talking about cooking was a nice way to start a conversation with him for sure.

Morgan was warmed by the man’s awkwardness more than anything else. Maybe if they had a secret sense, like the fae did, it might all be easier. Here there was no instant safety and, heck, for all she knew, there were hunters trolling the parking lot or working in the shop. It was only paranoia if she was wrong, right? She let out a breath, remembering that this was not the time to let her body return to its natural resting state of death, and smiled again. “Pad Thai?” She asked. “That sounds way more appetizing than the casserole I have planned. I’m uh, still kinda new to cooking this way. But you—“ she couldn’t get a sense of him beyond that he mostly wanted to go home, and who could blame him? “You sound almost like a pro at this, yeah?”

“Southern Asian cooking is really interesting,” Alain replied as she mentioned that she had planned to make a casserole with her purchase. It was not a bad idea, but she would get tired of it, eventually. “I’ve done quite a few casserole with those,” you could tell from his tone that he was not exactly thrilled about these anymore. “I would not say I’m a pro, although I did place second in the pie contest,” he scratched at his cheek and shrugged. He had not expected a win, considering his pie was possibly the most simple in the contest but he’d been glad to see that taste mattered more than aspect to the judges. “Anyway, I feel like cooking is about being able to turn something no one likes, into something great that people will want to eat no matter the ingredients.” Calf sweetbread was another one of his favourites, and it made him wonder if brains could be nice in a vol-au-vent. “I think you should try making Vol-au-vent with those. That might work  well,” he assured her, a bit too enthusiastic perhaps, than one should be about brains.

So brain casserole wasn’t a thrilling time for other zombies too, not just her. Morgan smirked at his knowing tone. It was kind of a shame. Nothing was more of a staple from her childhood suburbias like a baked casserole. She should have made more when she was alive. Now that brains were the only worthwhile food, all she could see them as were wasted tubs of mush. “Wait, you won the pie contest?” She asked, a little heartened that at least it was someone who had a hard time tasting. “With what? Don’t tell me a brain pie. Did you at least get a fun prize?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his philosophy. She liked working with things she knew people would like, especially when she could taste so little of it herself. If she managed to taste anything that wasn’t brains or ‘why yes, my tastebuds can still catch fire,’ it was the kind of ghostly whiff of flavor she was used to getting at the bottom of a seltzer can, which was, more or less, nothing. “Okay, prize winner guy,” she said. “Tell me what a--” she hesitated, certain she was going to butcher the syllables, they were already turning fuzzy in her head. “Vole-a-vent? Is? And I’ll give it a try. Soon, even, with this order.”

“I’m pretty sure a brain pie would have earned me a place in the flop 3,” his shoulders jolted up as he held back his laughter. If Alain could avoid having the whole butcher shop look at him, he would avoid it. “I made a tatin pie. Apples, sugar and butter. I used to have that all the time when I was a kid,” he scratched at the stubble on his cheek and shook his head at her next question. Nope, a karkinoid was not really the kind of prize he wanted to win in a contest, but the certificate was nice. “A goddamn lobster. Not a big fan of seafood, unfortunately,” he gave her a shrug and let his eyes wander toward someone who was picking up bones for his dogs. Heh, now he remembered what he had forgotten to ask the butcher for. “Mmh?” He held up his finger and repeated slowly “Vole o vent. It means flies in the wind, in French. It sounds fancier than it is. It’s puffed pastry and a creamy sauce with sweetbread. I think you can replace this with brains and perhaps, to really enhance the taste of brains, you could mix some directly into the sauce,” his brows furrowed. This should work. It probably would make one hell of a recipe for people like them who enjoyed those parts the rest of people sulked at.

Morgan took out her phone and started taking notes on her phone. It sounded decadent. The texture of the pastry would at least shake things up, and a sauce--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything for herself that came with a sauce. As she took it all down, she felt an odd twist of guilt, it was a lot of trouble for something she had to eat by herself. Maybe she could share it with Remmy if they would ever talk to her again, but that was a fat chance. She smiled kindly at the French zombie all the same. “It sounds like you’ve really got your stuff together,” she said. “Um, can I---” She hesitated and searched the shop. No one around screamed hunter, at least. “I just kinda wonder, don’t you ever find it hard? Getting up every day with your real life behind you, trying to figure out how to put all the days in front of you into some kind of sense. Even if it’s longer than what you had before it’s not the same. And you can’t really explain it to most people, because they’ll never understand what it’s like to be like you in the first place. Uuh...it’s okay, if this is too forward. We don’t actually know each other and---” She checked the order counter. One second, three seconds, five-- “Yep! That’s my number, so, we can be good, really.”

“Wow, this got quite existencial really fast,” scoffing to himself, he brushed his laughter hand with a motion of the hand, making it clear that he was not making fun of her at all, but rather surprised by this turn of event. “But to answer to your question, I make do. Besides, you never know what tomorrow might be made of,” he shrugged. Part of what she said made him raise his eyebrows. Could it be possible… that she heard about the banshee scream? It was true that he had more time left than a week ago… technically. “How did you…” he shook his head. Nevermind how she knew. “You’ll send me pictures of your vol-au-vent ? If you need tips, I can send you a copy of my recipe notebook,” he offered. She went to pick up her order and he nodded politely at her. Alain, who had never been one for small talk, had started chatting more easily with others recently. Maybe being happier had helped him open up to people. Either way, it was nice and he couldn’t recall the last time he felt as if things were nice. “It was lovely talking to you.”

“Sorry, just been thinking too much to myself probably,” Morgan said lightly. She hadn’t realized that he didn’t put together the connection between them and it was far too awkward, too public to say, oh, I’m a month and change on the other side of death, how about you? But she gave him a warm look and hefted her brain supply for good measure before tucking it into her woven grocery bag. “Oh, you know, lucky guess,“ she said. “I can be too forward sometimes, I know. But we can chit chat on main, like normal people, if you want. Even without the existential angst! I’m Morgan. And you are—?”

“Who doesn’t,” Alain brushed it off, and glanced away from her, looking up at the order counter. It would not be long for him either, now. The piece of paper with the number on was now all crumpled from him fidgeting with it. He took his eyes back to her and watched her pack her purchases. “No harm done. I tend to be the exact opposite of that, so that’s a nice balance,” he almost smiled. Still there was kindness in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. “Let’s. Be normal people with the right amount of existential angst only,” his lips pursed before he replied. “I’m Alain.”

Evil Author Day WIP # 1

Someone asked me to do a female version of “Why Sasuke Uchiha Will Never Drink Again” and so I actually started working on that. And then got caught up thinking of all the ridiculous truths and dares that could be done and didn’t finish.

This isn’t even half of what I had planned to write, but it’s all the parts I cackled at WHILE writing, so do enjoy! (And spot the Suits reference :D :D :D

[...]

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[...]

“And, it’s official!” Sakura declares, pouring the last bit of sake into her cup before raising it in front of her. “The Fourth Annual Sexy Wives of Konoha Summit is now in session. Kanpai!”

The rest of the women in the back booth of the izakaya raise their own glasses and chorus, “Kanpai!” before tipping back the alcohol.  

“Can I just say I think our summit is a lot more fun than the Kage summit?” Tenten asks.

“Definitely,” Karui agrees. “More alcohol, which I’m in favour of. And we probably have more interesting stuff to talk about.”

“Does anyone actually know what they’re talking about?” Ino asks.

“Something about tariffs,” Hinata says. “Or…sheep, I think. Or maybe both.”

“Or aliens,” Sakura suggests.

“Or aliens.”

“You know what they should be talking about?” Ino asks. “Better footwear for shinobi. I mean seriously, the athletic sandals we used to wear as genin? Do you know how much blood and muck I used to get between my toes? It’s a nationwide crisis, is what it is.”

“Yeah, screw aliens,” Manako agrees.  

“Or preferably don’t

The other women murmur their agreements, clink their cups, and then drink.

[...]

[...]

[...]

“Okay, okay, I got one, I got one—imagine you get Sasuke to agree to have a threesome with you and another guy—”

“Tch! Sure, in a parallel universe,” Sakura snorts, and then pauses, blinking. “On second thought, having met the Sasuke from a parallel universe, I think he might actually be into that sort of thing.”

“Wow,” Temari says with a blink. “I don’t know whether that’s hot or disturbing.”

“Hot,” Tenten decides.

“Disturbing,” Karui says at the same time.

“Both?” Hinata suggests tentatively.

“Both,” Manako says with a definitive note in her voice.  

“All of you shut up, I haven’t finished my question!” Ino snaps, and the other women glance back at her. She renews her grin at Sakura. “So—say you get Sasuke to agree to a threesome with another guy, but it has to be a guy from your genin squad—”  

“Ino!”

“—who would it be?”

“That’s not fair!” Sakura protests. “Both of them are married! To people sitting in this room!”

“Well, fine, if you’re going to whine about it—for the purposes of this truth we can include members of your chūnin squad, too.”

“That’s no different!”

“If you don’t tell the truth, you have to do the dare,” Ino sing-songs.

Cheeks burning and expression mutinous, she spends a few seconds considering the lesser of two evils, and then sighs. “Fine. Kakashi.”

There’s a burst of uproarious laughter and squealing.

“No way!” Ino protests. “He’s so old!”

“He’s not old, he’s experienced,” Manako corrects with would-be-haughtiness. “And a girl could do worse.”

“It has nothing to do with that!” Sakura cries and goes, if possible, even more red. “It’s the choice that makes the most sense! If it were Naruto, he and Sasuke would forget all about me and start some ridiculous competition—probably measuring their dicks or something—”

Everyone laughs, and even red-faced and perpetually embarrassed Hinata cocks her head to one side as if to say, ‘fair point’.

“—and that would end in a fist-fight. Then there’s Sai, who would have a comment for everything, and Sasuke would take it as criticism, and that would end in a fistfight,” she goes on, ticking options off her fingers while Temari snorts and takes another sip of sake.  

“—and Yamato-taichou would be so unbelievable uncomfortable he would pass out—”

“Also, didn’t Sasuke stab him once?” Temari wants to know.

“—yeah, exactly! I doubt he’d want to get it on with the guy who stabbed him.”

“I don’t know if that would make a difference. Sasuke’s stabbed Naruto half a dozen times, and Naruto would probably still be down to fu—”

“Manako, if you finish that sentence, I will slip cocoa into your food and watch you asphyxiate to death in front of me,” Sakura vows, glancing over Hinata with the urge to press her hands over the other woman’s ears.  

“Doesn’t setting off a severe enough allergic reaction that is causes anaphylactic shock violate the Medic-Nin’s Oath?” Manako challenges, and then makes a face. “Huh. Say that ten times fast.”

“There are loopholes,” Sakura replies primly.

“Sure there are…”

“Why are we focusing on Sakura becoming a murderer, and not on the fact that she wants to bone her former jōnin instructor?” Karui wants to know.

“I never said I wanted to bone him! It was Truth or Dare question!”

“Hmph. I personally would have gone with the Dare…”

“I don’t know,” Ino muses slowly. “I guess it could be interesting. I mean, he does read those books all the time.” She shoots Manako a questioning look. “Or does that not carry over?”

The older woman grins wolfishly. “Oh, it does. It really, really does.”

“La-la-la, I can’t hear you,” Sakura sings. Forget putting her hands over Hinata’s ears, she’s clapped them so hard to her head that she feels a bit of suction between palm and ear.  

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“Okay, let me ask you the most important emotional question I can think of,” Manako says, adopting a serious expression.  

The former Sunanin raises an eyebrow, but her face remains as stolid as ever. “Fine.”

But Manako doesn’t speak. Instead, she holds the tips of her index fingers together and then slowly starts to pull them apart.

For a moment no one knows what she is doing, but as the distance grows between the fingers—three inches, four inches—comprehension dawns on everyone.  

“Oh my god!” Sakura sputters, before pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter.

Temari doesn’t answer or change her expression as Manako continues to move her fingers apart—five inches, six inches—and Hinata squeaks, cheeks filled with so much blood she appears about to faint. Seven inches, eight—

“Okay, now I’m actually getting worried for you,” the older woman says.

“You have no idea,” Temari replies, leaning back with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face.  

“I can’t hear this!” Ino wails. “He’s like…ugh, he’s like my brother and you just…that image! I will never get that image out of my head.”

“Shit,” Karui says. “How are you still walking upright, woman?”

Even Tenten looks impressed.  

“Okay, we have to get this out of the way right now, so no one else decides to draw it out over a bunch of Truths,” Ino says. “Over and done with. On a scale of one to ten—”

“On a scale of one to Shikamaru,” Manako sniggers.  

Ino shoots her a dirty look. “On a scale of one to ten—”

Sakura interrupts. “The average length is about five inches. It’s beyond the norm to have a penis larger than—”  

Hinata yelps in protest, and Karui gives her an unimpressed look. “You’ve had two children and copious amounts of sex, and the word ‘penis’ bothers you?”

“It’s…it’s not a very nice word,” the Hokage’s wife mutters, embarrassed.  

“It’s not a very nice-looking body part, but it gets the job done.”

“Especially if you’re Temari, apparently,” Tenten chuckles.  

“She’s got a point, though. Sometimes I wish I was only into women, so I didn’t have to look at a penis,” Manako says. “It’s one thing to know it’s there—and hey, I benefit greatly from having a partner that has one—but given the choice…” She seesaws her right hand up and down. “Honestly, I could do without.”

“You’d still be with Kakashi even if he didn’t have a dick?” Karui asks, surprised.  

“Of course! You don’t know what that mouth is capable of—”

“Does he even have a mouth?” Sakura wonders.

“—and even if that wasn’t the case? Dildos exist for a reason. Whether you have a dick or not,” Manako decides. The raises an eyebrow at Karui. “Are you saying if Chōji was in an accident tomorrow and lost his balls, you’d stop being with him?”

“What? No! And besides, what accident would that be? He barely even goes out on missions anymore.”

“Actually, there are several ways a man can lose—” Sakura begins.

“I wasn’t actually asking,” Karui rolls her eyes.

“I think we’re all getting wildly off-topic here,” Ino interjects. “Now! On a scale of one to—”

“—Shikamaru,” Manako and Temari say at the same time, one a little more wryly than the other.  

“—where do our guys fall?”

“I think that’s an inaccurate rating system,” Sakura protests. “Size can’t be the only factor.”

“Yeah, what about girth?” Manako wants to know. “It’s all well and good if I guy’s eight inches long, but if his dick’s as thin as a pencil, it’s pretty much useless.”  

“And what about stamina? It’s not like it moves on its own,” Karui adds.

“Oh! And proper aim! Or, you know, additional use of fingers. Nothing worse than sex with someone who thinks penetration is the only way to get a woman off,” Tenten adds,  

“Gods, this is turning into some kind of quadratic equation,” Ino complains.  

“It’s not that hard,” Sakura protests. There are several laughs at that, and she rolls her eyes. “Pun not intended. But anyway, let’s say we have four categories—length, girth, stamina and miscellaneous—”

“What about…” Hinata begins, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she adds, “What about the feelings you have for your partner? That…I’m sure that makes a difference.”

The other women consider, and the nod in agreement.

“Alright, so we have five criteria, so if we put those out of ten, average them out and then assign them a value on the spectrum of one to—”  

—Shikamaru,” Karui, Manako and Temari chorus.

“Stop that!” Ino snaps.  

“—then it would be more accurate,” Sakura finishes.  

“If you’re still able to do math, you’re not drunk enough,” Tenten informs Sakura.  

“You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m drunk,” Sakura retorts. “And besides—I don’t get drunk.”

“Oh, so that wasn’t you Sasuke was carting home from dinner last weekend, slung over his shoulder and staring at his ass?” Ino challenges. “Hm, must have been some other pink haired lush with a mutant forehead.”  

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