#but i was living under the assumption that it was like. after encountering him in the dungeon
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kabru going thru the labors of hercules (and dying more than any other named character) specifically because he wanted to listen to laios infodump ab his special interest is making me crazy like what do you MEAN..........
#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#kabru#laios#labru#shut up homo#dungeon meshi spoilers#i knew before i started the series thayt he wanted to be friends#but i was living under the assumption that it was like. after encountering him in the dungeon#and not that he'd do what he hated most to get to know laios#like im not crazy for feeling crazy right#also also also#laios saying shuros about the only person who'd call him a friend#and shuro in reality 'not being able to stand' laios#vs kabru doing All That just to be friends with laios#i am rattling the bars of my cage#me and the bad bitch i pulled by being autistic#or whatever
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*curling like a cat against your ankles* Lasaganie, more Codywan headcanons?? 🥺👉👈 (only if you gave them/want to share of course. thank you, you’re amazing and I love you :3c)
I am late but I come bearing gifts in the shape of the codywan headcanons you asked for!!! And I love you too 🫶
- In a no order 66 setting, Obi-Wan has a caf mug that he considers to be Cody's. This would be normal except Obi-Wan bought it during the war and always meant to find the occasion to give it to him but never got around to it. That's to say he's exceedingly normal about this cup. Especially when Cody starts spending time around his apartment and Obi-Wan serves him caf in it. For the first time. Then all the other times as well. Feeling his heart crack open seeing Cody with His Designated Mug. A mug Obi-Wan's perhaps had too much time to place too much sentimental value onto. He's perfectly normal about it and doesn't act weird at all.
(more headcanons under the cut. it's a bit long)
- Cody is a hopeless romantic but won't ever admit it. He loves romance novels and holofilms. From trashy to highly acclaimed, sweet to stuffed with depravity, he enjoys them all. They're just a spot of escapism for him. A fantastical tale to distract himself from the toll of war when the night cycle is quiet and grief is loud. The stories are all so wildly outlandishly unrealistic to him. He's a clone. There's no future for him outside his role in the war effort.
And then one fateful campaign they're on their feet for a full tenday before they encounter an outcropping with flora and fauna that, finally, aren't actively trying to kill them and they are able to set up a tentative base of operation while planetside.
General Kenobi insists everyone rest while they can. Cody lost his bedroll to some sort of carnivorous plant along the way. General Kenobi acts like it's an affront to his very livelihood when Cody tries to sleep on the ground of their shared tent. Cody is tired. He doesn't have the energy to fight back on something so stupid. Which means they have to share a bedroll. His general's bedroll. Where they're physically incapable of both laying on the little mat unless they're plastered together. Cuddling.
It's the best sleep of his life.
...Exactly like how the romance novels describe it.
He's not dumb. He's been aware that he's in love with his general. He just thought the romance novels were all embellishing to a ridiculous degree and none of it was actually... realistic.
But if the romance novels are right about this, what else is just as magical in reality?
And maybe, just maybe, could there be some hope for a glimmer of a chance for him to pursue something else with Obi-Wan after the war, if they both make it that far?
- I am fully of the belief that, in a Tatooine husbands setting, the husband bit is a complete accident. Ben is stopping by for a quick pantry restock at the Pica Oaisis marketplace when it happens. He's lived at his hut long enough for the vendors here to have a familiarity with him so it's not exactly a surprise when one says to him, "Who's the shadow of a fella that's hangin' with you lately?" They mean well, he knows. And still, it's his business. He thinks his answer is quite crafty.
He says, "He's my partner," and leaves it at that. Partner could mean anything. Alas, either an older man living in an isolated hut with another older man implies a particular thing about their relationship or the vendors have a flair for the romantic because he quickly comes to discover on his next trips to the marketplace that he has a husband. Of all the assumptions one could make, it's certainly the most harmless and... he finds he likes it. Being seen as Cody's husband. It's all awfully embarrassing and he doesn't dare tell Cody any of it.
Cody discovers it for himself a few weeks later on a solo trip to the market to pick up some feed for Rooh.
"Here to do your husband's bidding?" a vendor asks and Cody blinks.
He blinks again. "Come again?" he says.
"Ben your husband; you're running his errand?"
His first instinct is to correct them, tell them he and Ben aren't married. But how would he even begin describe their relationship? After a few seconds deliberating he decides he's better off going with it. What harm could it do? Besides, on the ride home, he finds he kind of likes it.
And that's how they become husbands. Well, the beginning of it, anyhow.
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An analysis of Ivan's life
Part 1
I've thought about doing this since I finished alnst. Reasons? I wanted to try to better understand what was going on in this man's head trying to base myself solely on official things. Also, this is all written under the assumption that events are shown to us chronologically, even tho I know that may not be correct. I'm just trying to see a different point of view. Without much ado:
From the beginning, when Ivan is adopted by an alien, he is taken to places without a collar, offering his absolute submission (because of his apparent apathy towards the situation) in exchange for not being abused. Compared to Till's life, his life was monotonous and not very eventful—after all, how could there be turmoil if the aliens seemed to adore him?
Truly like a tamed pet, he followed his owner wherever the latter wanted. Not only that, but he has a certain kind of affinity with the alien that Mizi and Till previously encountered. In short, even before performing on stage, Ivan already had everything he needed to be one of the most loved by the public, not to mention that his owner was a businessman, as Ivan himself admits in the interview.
However, Ivan was an unexpressive child who did not know how to show emotions, or, perhaps, because he lived in a world so different from how it should be, few things impressed him to the point of showing reactions. A tamed, loved dog that didn't cause any problems: perfect.
Despite the fact that Mizi, Sua and Till were his only colleagues, in the interview he states that he had many "friends", that is, people also liked him. However, the feeling didn't seem to be exactly reciprocal: they all seemed trivial to Ivan. Unlike them, these three friends he had, each one meant a different thing.
Starting with Sua, it has already been made clear to us that he identified with her to the point of thinking that they were the same. There could be several reasons for this, the same background, similar stories, but I will highlight what I think is most likely: apathy. Ivan comments on Sua's eyes as she looks at Mizi with such resentment that I can't help but think that's one of the biggest similarities between them. Dead, empty and hopeless eyes. That world is all they know, all they will ever know. Her succinct, reserved, and quiet personality reminded him of his own. That is, until he sees the way her eyes light up when she sees her goddess, her universe — her clematis. Suddenly, he once again became the only different child in that place and, as if that wasn't enough, Sua's goddess returned all that sparkle in her eyes in a way that the person he chose never did, would never do. Anger, frustration, confusion—envy. Something bitter, ugly and painful.
As for Sua's beloved, Ivan doesn't seem to have bad strong feelings for Mizi. No jealousy, no hate. All we see between them are friendly and kind interactions (in particular, Ivan reminds me of an older brother when it comes to MiziSua). Nothing as expected. He likely understands that it's not her fault that Till doesn't love him back. A curious fact in their relationship is that Mizi's blinding light doesn't seem to affect Ivan. While others cling to her like a beacon amid the darkness and water in the desert, Ivan is not affected.
#alien stage#alnst#ivantill#alnst ivan#ivan#alien stage ivan#alnst mizi#sua alien stage#till alien stage#alnst till#guys this is going to be LONG#he's so........#i need to study him
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On Sight - Part 3 (Jey Uso/OC)
The fact that we hate each other don’t mean we can’t fuck. Just don’t fall in love with me. Part 3 of my 4-part Jey Uso/OC series.
Warnings: The usual smut, toxic behavior, angst
Word count: 6.5k
A/N: I had to split it, so now it’s four parts. I wasn’t comfortable that it was so damn long lol.
ON SIGHT MASTERLIST
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PART 3 - BOTH?
A tired sigh left your lips as you disabled the comments on your Instagram page. Another day, another disrespectful internet troll trying to fuck up your mood.
The past couple of weeks were some of the worst you’d encountered in recent memory. Barely eighteen months since you joined WWE and you had already fallen prey to the vulturous dirt sheets and backstage drama. Your co-workers were now under the false assumption that you were in a love triangle with Jey Uso and Cody Rhodes. After the airport pictures were leaked, you and Jey trended on Twitter for twenty-four hours, as fans had a lot to say about what they believed was a new wrestling romance. You refused interviews, shut off your comments and mentions on all your platforms, and under ‘advisement’ from Hunter and management, you stayed off TV for a couple of weeks until the whole thing blew over. But now that you were home alone and not traveling, your mind was forced to return to what happened that day.
Return to the one person you had no business thinking about.
You did not miss Jey Uso. He did not deserve a second of your attention. Which is why you ignored all his phone calls and text messages, only stopping short of blocking his number. He did not deserve an ounce of your emotions. Even though you cried over him more times than you cared to admit. Even though you couldn’t get all those nights…and mornings…and afternoons…of passion, out of your head. He did not deserve any of your headspace. And yet, all you could think about was those chocolate brown eyes of his that pierced your soul…Eyes that now haunted your dreams…Eyes that were filled with rage just weeks ago. In all the times you got on each other's nerves, you had never seen him like that, and you weren’t sure you wanted any part of it.
The irony was, you had no intention of fraternizing with the talent when you joined the WWE. Workplace dalliances often went up in smoke. But there was something about Jey fucking Uso that you just could not seem to resist. Your mind kept saying no, even resorted to name-calling and bickering to repel him. But once your body gave in, there was no going back. Then, your heart followed. Thinking all would be well, you carried on like a naïve little girl, only to end up getting embarrassed. And it hurt like hell.
Your phone vibrated, and your partner in crime, Kayla Braxton’s happy face flashed at you, reminding you about attending Beyoncé’s show later tonight. How could you forget about the hottest tour in town? You all bought VIP access tickets months ago and there was no way you were going to miss it. Your hair appointment was in an hour and a custom-made outfit would soon be at your doorstep. You planned on looking your very best tonight; after all, you never know who would meet at a place like that…
Long story short, you were moving on. You were becoming the main character again, living your best life and damning all negativity to hell. Because you were that bitch. Simple as.
Fuck Jey Uso.
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If Jey thought you didn’t have that many fans before, he found out the hard way that it was the exact opposite.
Your fanboys were coming for his head. The nicer comments were “It should’ve been me!” and the more caustic ones were not very PG. Only God knows how they would have reacted if they found out how the breakup went down; he’d be fucked six ways to Sunday.
The Tag team champion groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting it instantly - because every time he did, your face was all he saw anymore. His brain seemed to enjoy tormenting him with memories of the mess he made that day. He could still smell the roses he’d bought for you. He could see you in that room, Cody’s lips pressed against yours...
...The tears in your eyes as he screamed at you…the pain in your voice as you screamed back…
He knew he fucked up. He said some terrible things he wished he could take back. But now he couldn’t go through a day without being asked about you and when he started dating you. Hilarious, as you weren’t even speaking to him. He glanced at his phone again to see if you’d finally replied to at least one of his numerous calls and texts. Of course not. You ignored every single one of them. You avoided him and refused to be anywhere near him. As much as he deserved your wrath, it was starting to get to him.
Scrolling through his Instagram, he noticed Liv Morgan’s recent IG story placed her at Beyoncé’s concert. Most of the Smackdown female roster were with her, yourself included. He knew you loved Beyoncé, so undoubtedly you were having a great time. Your hair was beautiful, and you looked hot as hell in that jumpsuit…
Fuck.
He thought this shit only happened in movies; the whole enemies-to-lovers schtick, catching feelings only for something stupid to happen and ruin the connection you were building. Well, it was happening in real life and happening to him, and honestly? It sucked.
His matches also suffered a drop in quality. By all standards they were still okay; he was still executing all his moves right and his mannerisms were adequate. But it wasn’t the same. Because he was missing you. Without you around anymore, he was useless. He'd become so used to being with you that your absence opened up a void that he felt could not be filled.
His boys were starting to notice and were losing patience with him.
“Dude, get your shit together,” Roman admonished him one evening in their locker room as they prepared for their tag match for the Smackdown main event.
“Chill. I’m just in a funk, that’s all,” he explained lamely, acutely aware that his older cousin would see right through his excuse.
“Not our fault that you fumbled Y/N. Don’t mean you should take it out on your performances and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Stop being an asshole, Roman,” Jimmy said as he taped his fingers, then turned his attention to Jey. “I’m still shook over the fact that you were sleeping with her all this time and I had no idea,” he said to Jey. “And why you tell Big Uce before me? Huh bro?”
“He never told me. I found ‘em fucking in our locker room,” Roman clarified.
Jimmy gaped at his brother with wide eyes. “Yooooo, what?! When was this? Damn, you nasty as hell, twin!”
“Fuck off, you and Trin done fucked in worse places,” Jey countered. “It was a long time ago, bruh. Now she won’t even look at me.”
“What d’you expect?” Roman continued. “What did you think would happen after what you did? And on top of those photos getting out? Yeah, you didn’t stand a chance. Own that shit, dude. You fucked up.”
Jey exhaled heavily. “Thanks man, way to make me feel like shit.”
“He is right, uce. That’s a bad bitch you let slip away,” said Jimmy.
Jey gaped at his brother and cousin, lifting his arms in exasperation. “Yo, ain’t you supposed to be on my side?”
“Yeah, but I like her a lot.” Jimmy elaborated. “She’s cool and sassy as hell. Now that I think about it, she was good for you. She kept you on your toes, and you were much happier, Uce. I saw it, and now that I know she was the reason, you need to figure out how to get her back, asap.”
Right. That was not happening anytime soon, not if you had anything to say about it.
The Bloodline’s match was against the team of Cody Rhodes and the Street Profits. Jey did his best to remain professional, but one look at the American Nightmare had his blood boiling. Once they locked up in the ring, his punches got stiffer, his move set became more aggressive. At one point, Jey wrapped his forearm around Cody’s windpipe a little too tightly in an illegal rear naked choke. In retaliation, Cody elbowed him square in the face, causing blood to spurt from his nose. It was all downhill from there, and they barely made it to the end of the match in one piece.
Backstage, a big melee erupted as Jimmy and Solo had to forcibly restrain their brother from attacking the American Nightmare. “You motherfucker! You broke my fuckin’ nose!” he yelled.
“And you beat the shit outta me and almost choked me out, so we’re even, motherfucker!” Cody shot back over Roman’s shoulder. “You got your receipt now. Are you happy? Huh? Are you satisfied?”
“No. Next time keep your hands off my girl!” Jey snarled.
Cody snorted. “Your girl, huh? You say she’s your girl, yet you had no problem disrespecting her and embarrassing her in public.”
“Aye, shut your fucking mouth!” Jey barked, incensed. In his peripheral vision, he could see you standing among the gathering crowd a few feet away, flanked by Kayla and Samantha. The other two women were looking at him like they wanted to beat his ass. In contrast, your expression was blank. Unreadable. He wished he knew what you were thinking.
“Did I lie? We all saw you, insulting her, calling her names over something that wasn’t even her fault!” Cody went on, “So since you wanna air this shit out again, fine. It was me. I put her in a position she didn’t wanna be in, and I regret it and I’ve apologized. But you’re a dumbass for treating her like that.”
The Tag team champ visibly bristled. It was one thing to hear from his family that he fucked up. It was a whole ‘nother thing to hear it from his opp. Both were rather humbling experiences, not that he would admit that shit to anyone.
Cody picked up his ring jacket and threw it over his shoulder, his ire still trained on Jey. “Now that we got all the aggression out of the way, I strongly suggest that you get on your hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness. That’s a beautiful, smart, gem of a woman you’re taking for granted, and she obviously cares about you, which is a whole lot less than your bitch ass deserves.” With that, he walked away, having made his point loud and clear.
Jey twisted out of his brothers’ grasp, his teeth bared in an agitated sneer. When he glanced in your direction again, you were gone.
----------------------
You fixed what you hoped was an attentive look on your face while pretending to listen to Bobby Lashley talk. He was a nice guy, but he just wasn't…interesting. You’d been talking to him for most of the night and you were bored, despite the fun, albeit pounding, music booming through the club. The sooner you got out of here, the better, because the mannerisms and suggestive twinkle in his eyes told you he was expecting sex later tonight. Such a pity…he looked like he was good in bed, but it was painfully obvious that you didn't have much in common. Maybe you should start dating non-wrestlers again.
A chill swept through your spine out of nowhere. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you sensed a new presence among the cluster of people already in the VIP section. Something pushed you to direct your gaze towards the entrance, and you did.
Jey.
Despite yourself, desire flushed through you as you watched him make his way into the room. As though feeling the heat of your stare, he looked in your direction and your eyes locked. Even from a distance, the sparks flew between you, sharp and explosive over the dimmed lights of the large room. You saw his gaze flicker between you and Bobby, a maelstrom of emotions swimming in his narrowed eyes.
Diamond came up behind him, looping her arm around his.
You felt your heart drop, and the pang of jealousy grew inside you like a weed. Of course. Why were you not surprised?
Bobby calling your name finally broke the hypnosis. Tearing your gaze away, you cleared your throat and reached for your drink.
"We can leave if that’ll make you more comfortable,” Bobby offered, his tone sympathetic.
Adamantly, you shook your head. “Why? We’re staying right here.”
“So, he your ex now or somethin’?” Bobby inquired, his eyes on you as he sipped his cocktail.
“He’s nothing to me,” you answered, a bit too harshly. “Let’s talk about something else, please.” You plastered a smile on your face, exponentially more interested in Bobby Lashley than you’d ever been.
The drinks kept flowing, to your delight. When a waiter placed four tequila shots on your table, you snatched one up and knocked it back with ease, followed by a second. Looking over to where Jey was seated, you saw him take a swig of Hennessy straight from the bottle. Diamond was on his lap, grinding all up on him. Releasing a deep breath, you cleared your throat, annoyed. The longer you sat there, the angrier you felt, and the more alcohol you consumed. Glancing back at him one more time, you gulped down the rest of your drink and turned to Bobby.
"Dance with me." You stood up without waiting for his answer. He followed though, and soon you were encased in a moving sea of bodies. Your arms slid around his neck, feeling his hands grab your hips, holding you against him as you moved together with the music. He then turned you around so your back was against his chest, keeping you tight to him. You tilted your head as he nuzzled your exposed neck, his breath hot on your skin.
“You’re lookin’ real sexy tonight, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, his big hand draped dangerously over the top of your thigh.
You weren’t listening. You had caught Jey’s eyes again, and he looked like he wanted to murder somebody. Good. Fueled by alcohol and revenge, you ground your ass against Bobby’s groin, feeling his arousal, imagining it belonged to someone else. Your gaze remained on your ex, and your nipples tightened from the way he stared at you, knowing he was fully aware of his effect on you.
Done with the games, you stepped away abruptly from Bobby, swaying slightly on your heeled feet. "I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna head home," you informed him.
“You’ve had a lot to drink. Let me take you home,” Bobby said. His voice remained calm, but his teeth gritted with obvious sexual frustration. You saw right through it and hastened your exit.
“No need, I’ll just call an Uber. Don’t let me ruin your evening.” You turned and left without letting him answer. You felt bad that you did him like that, but you just had to get the fuck out of there.
The fresh air afforded you some relief as you waited for your Uber. It cleared your head a little bit, but then all the thoughts rushing in were on him. You hated that he still felt like home to you. It still felt like he was yours. Those feelings angered you because it was not true, and you knew you were being stupid, pathetic and weak. You knew if he’d fucked you over once, he’d do it again. You weren’t a child. You knew the games of the assholes of the world, and you couldn’t believe you’d given in to one, that all you had to show for it were the shattered pieces of your heart.
You really wished you could forget about Jey. You did. All you wanted was for the pain in your heart to subside, but he’d made such an imprint on you. It didn’t help that you were in l-
As soon as the thought emerged, you jammed your hands over your ears, as though this could somehow block out the mental reverberations of your emotions. No! Stop it! You’re not! Not with that prick-
“There she is. The queen ho herself.”
You heard her before you saw her. Diamond. With her hands on her hips, in a dress one size too small for her, adopting a smug, triumphant air as though she had finally won the prize she’d been chasing for a long time. “Nice to see you, girl,” she said, a fake ass smile stretching her face. “I see you been real busy sleeping your way to the top. So, not only did you fuck Jey and Cody Rhodes at the same time, you’re fucking Bobby Lashley now.” She scoffed. “Who’s the slut now, huh?"
The last thing you wanted was to entertain this bitch. But the drinks in your system made your mouth faster than your brain. “Run along, little girl. Don’t speak on things you know nothing about.” You made a shooing motion with your hand.
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re the talk of the town, sweetheart. Jey caught you having sex with Cody. You got tired of them two and now you’re with Lashley. Tell me. What’s it like getting passed around like a lit blunt?”
The fucking lies. That was what you could not stand. The dirt sheets, your nosy ass colleagues. And now this bitch. “Is that what Jey told you, or did you read that somewhere and your dumb, gullible little self swallowed it up like a sheep,” you sneered, eyeing her up and down. “Oh, I forgot…swallowing is what you do best.”
A snide laugh left Diamond’s lips. “Jey was right when he said you’re jealous. You're pressed because I got your man now. Stay mad, ho.”
You giggled at the desperation oozing from her. She really tried it. “You ain’t got shit, bitch. You’re not half the woman I am. Every time you’re fucking him, you know damn well that he’s thinking of me. Are you enjoying the taste of my pussy, sweetie? Cuz that’s all you’ll ever taste when you’re kissing him or sucking his dick.”
The self-important demeanor slipped from Diamond’s features. “Bitch, I’ma beat your drunk ass right now. You’re begging for an ass whooping, and I’ll be happy to give it to you!”
“Bring it, bitch. Drunk or not, I’ll still wipe the floor with your dusty ass wig. But my nails cost a hundred dollars and they cute as fuck. Your bitch ass is definitely not worth it. Keep enjoying my sloppy seconds though." With that, you walked away, wondering where the fuck that Uber was.
When Diamond shoved you in the back, making you almost fall over from the impact, it felt like a fever dream. By the time you turned to face her, your vision had reduced to a sea of blinding red. The backhand you hit her with was so hard your entire arm stung. She’d barely hit the ground before you lunged again, clawing at her hair, but a pair of strong hands yanked you backwards before you could inflict another blow, pulling a few tracks out of her head in the process.
“Get off me!" you shouted, flailing wildly and swinging your fists. "Get the fuck off me!"
Jey’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as his warm breath grazed your cheek. "Hey, hey, chill," he whispered firmly into your ear, "Let it go," he added as he glanced over at Diamond being helped to her feet by some of her NXT peers. A small crowd was starting to gather outside, and Jey knew you had to leave, now. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”
“Fuck off me! Let me go, that bitch need to die!” Enraged and out for blood, you continued to struggle against him as he led you away.
“Are you gonna leave me here?!” Diamond shrieked, watching Jey depart with you in disbelief.
Ignoring her, he took you to his truck which thankfully, was nearby. He literally dragged you, kicking and screaming, into the truck, shoving you into the passenger’s side, and drove off as discreetly as possible.
He knew where you lived. He’d been to your place many times, just like you’d been to his. Though it was only a fifteen minute drive from the club, it seemed like hours as the deafening silence amplified the already suffocating tension between you.
“Why you out here fighting, huh? Whatchu doin’?” he asked, not backing down from the murderous look you shot him at his question.
“Fuck off, you ain’t my daddy!” you fired back. “You shoulda let me wash that bitch, I don’t care if she’s your girl.”
Jey sighed. “She’s not my girl.”
“Oh, really? Woulda never guessed from the way she was practically fucking you in the club.”
“I could say the same thing ‘bout you and Lashley. You were all up on him too,” he challenged.
Feeling your temper rise, you started to respond, but stopped short and shook your head instead. “Ya know what? Stop the car. Now. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
"You ain't goin' nowhere in them high ass heels," he pointed out. "Besides, you in no shape to be alone right now. And we almost at your place anyway."
“Well hurry up cuz I’m feeling nauseous. Unless you want me to vomit right here. I’ll be more than happy to.”
The thinly-veiled threat motivated him to increase his speed limit.
When he pulled up at your house, you refused his assistance and tried to get out of the car by yourself. You barely made it a few steps out, teetering on your heels, when you stumbled on the way to your door.
"Need me to carry you?" Jey asked, knowing the answer already.
You looked at him miserably, "My head hurts."
“Where your keys at?” he asked, opening your purse to fish out your key. Unlocking the door, he picked you up bridal style and stepped through, as you wrapped your arms around him.
"You're really strong, babe. I like my men strong,” you slurred and broke into a fit of hysterical giggles.
It was going to be a long night.
In your living room, he laid you on the love seat, took off your shoes and quickly put a trash can next to you, just in case. Sitting in the arm chair across from you, he noticed you staring intently at him. "You okay? Ya need somethin’?"
"You’re sexy as fuck. Have I ever told you that?” you drawled, your smile wider than necessary as you slowly stood up.
Jey couldn’t help but blush at your compliment. "Ain’t nobody as sexy as you, princess," he replied, biting his lip as his eyes scanned your curvy frame appreciatively. Hands down the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He ached for you, but he just couldn’t have you.
Your stance was shaky as you crossed over to him, swinging your leg over his lap to straddle him, and wound your arms around his neck. "Jey...I think I like you."
He blushed again, a little flustered by the complete 180 your behavior had taken between the car ride and now. Yes, he knew you were drunk, but he wasn’t exactly sober himself. This was suddenly a precarious situation. "I thought you hate me," he murmured against your shoulder, his hands finding your hips despite himself.
You pulled back and thought about it for a second, "Yeah, I still do. But I like you too. A lot. Maybe." Framing his bearded face in your small hands, your lips brushed softly over his nose, his cheek, his chin. “Can I kiss you? I really wanna kiss you.”
Tilting your head, you nipped his bottom lip, teasing the plump flesh with your tongue. With each press of your mouth, you added more pressure, and like butter next to heat, he melted, capturing your mouth with his, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. God, he missed kissing you. Missed your touch, missed you pressed up against him like this. But this was wrong. You were both clearly out of it, and he didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you.
Groaning pitifully, he broke the kiss and tried to push you away, acutely cognizant of your big, dilated pupils. "Princess, we shouldn't do this…Not when we both wasted."
You frowned and pouted, "We’re fiiiine. Come on, Daddy, I need you." Your lips latched onto his neck, knowing full well it was his sweet spot, rolling your ass against his crotch and feeling him harden underneath you. Your moans became throatier and sultrier, gradually stripping away the little self-control he had left. His lips crashed back over yours, his tongue moving roughly in your mouth, a fistful of your hair in his hand and your ass in the other, molding and kneading possessively. This was such a stupid idea on both your parts. But right now it was all you both wanted and consequences be damned.
You helped him peel off your short dress, tugging it over your head. His palms quickly roamed your smooth skin, stopping at your ass to squeeze the soft flesh. Then, shoving his hand inside your underwear, he flattened his palm right over the slick juncture between your legs and rubbed the wetness there, and he smiled as you moaned softly, as your skin quivered around his hand. But two could play that game. Your hand slithered down his pants, finding him rock-hard. You massaged his length with your fist, and just like that, you both found yourselves in a standoff; heated stare on heated stare, jerking each other off like it was a competition.
Leaning in to nibble his earlobe, you whispered in his ear, "Fuck me right now, Uso. And make it count."
He didn’t need to be told twice. He shot to his feet, lifting you into his arms with your ass in his clutches. Your body was alluringly warm and soft and he almost wept from how good you felt against him. Cradling you to him, his long legs quickly ate up the distance between the living room and your bedroom. He laid you on the edge of the bed and took off his shirt. His mind and body were highly strung, desperate to find some relief and release all of the pent up tension from tonight.
Although you tried to pretend that this was nothing more than a quick fuck, you couldn't resist sitting up and slowly kissing his lips. He tasted so good, and his naked body felt even better. You let your hands wander over his chest, dragging your nails across his pec tattoos in as you kissed him, before you pulled away abruptly and shoved him onto his back with his legs still set on the floor. Seeing him stretched out over your sheets brought back memories which you quickly tried to dispel. You yanked his pants down to his ankles with force, frowning when a condom fell out of the back pocket. Picking it up, you tossed it onto his chest.
“Put it on,” you told him, denying yourself the enticing visage of him rolling the rubber down his shaft. For all you cared, it was meant for Diamond, but you decided to ignore that and focus on the hard dick that was waiting and ready for your use.
Jey’s eyebrows creased in confusion as he watched you take off your panties, only to turn your back on him. "Whatchu doin’?"
"What’s it look like I’m doin’," you shrugged, nudging his legs wide apart and adjusting yourself in the reverse cowgirl position. You took hold of him and eased yourself down his length, an agonizingly slow slide until your ass pressed down on his pelvis. You both groaned at the feeling, your head hanging down while you reacquainted yourself with his fullness. This was for the best; you wouldn’t have to look at his face or get caught up in his gorgeous eyes.
Placing your hands on his knees, you began riding him, hard, quick, focusing solely on your pleasure. Circling your hips, you moaned out as your pussy immediately clamped around every inch of his cock. He was panting already, his hands on your waist helping you to bounce on him. Jey looked on, completely hypnotized by the sight of your ass slapping against his pelvis, your pussy leaking all over the condom covering his cock. He gripped your ass cheeks before spreading them open so you could take him deeper. As he began to jut his hips upwards into you, you threw your head back with a whimper, losing yourself to the sweet sensation of him filling you, wet smacking sounds echoing around the bedroom as you met him thrust for thrust.
“You feel so good, princess," Jey breathed, caressing wherever he could reach, eventually finding your breasts and tugging your puckered nipples between his thick fingers.
"Mmmm," you purred, trying to ignore his sexy voice. It was impossible to deny how good he felt, stretching you, testing the limits to the depth and tightness of your pussy. Still, you took back control by switching to hard, grinding motions, concentrating on getting off. Luckily you were almost there; he was nestled right against your g-spot as you gyrated your ass on him, edging closer to your orgasm.
Jey knew what you were trying to do, and the Alpha Male in him was not having it. Surging to his feet with you in his arms, he climbed into the bed and dumped you amongst the pillows back-first. Sitting back on his heels, he pried your legs wide apart and tapped his dick against your clit, then shoved it back inside you. The sharp, sudden invasion only fueled your pleasure, and you squealed, your moans coming in short, raspy pants as he pummeled your pussy hard and fast. Clamping a hand around your throat, he slammed his dick into your sweet spot over and over, making your eyes flutter shut in utter pleasure as you came all over him. This was just like old times...straight-up vulgar fucking that laid waste to your g-spot. Jey kept fucking you through your orgasm, looking down at the place where your bodies merged, and smiling arrogantly at what he saw.
"Look at that pussy, nutting all over my cock. So fuckin' good. You missed Daddy's dick, amirite?"
"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, turning your head to the side as he started rotating his hips, slow-grinding inside your pussy, "Aww, shit..."
“Look at me,” he growled, frowning when you ignored him. Again. Grabbing your cheeks between his fingers, he steered your face back to meet his heated gaze. “I said look at me,” he ordered, his voice gruff and menacing.
Moth. Flame. Just as you predicted, the feelings and emotions came flooding back. Just like you feared, you got lost in his eyes; the passion, the desire, the affection you felt for him, reflecting back at you. You groaned softly with him, and he leaned down and nuzzled your throat, his nostrils breathing in your scent, your skin, absorbing you. Your legs hitched higher around his waist, allowing him to hook them over his elbows and deepen his strokes, giving you that Henny dick, and your pussy reacted accordingly.
“Yeah, baby, grip that dick, squeeze me hard. You’re turned on, ain’t cha,” Jey grunted, licking the seam of your lips and doing the same to both your nipples, “I told you, this pussy belongs to me. You’re mine, princess. Don’t ever forget that shit.”
“Mmm, unnnhhh, mmmph…” You whined so sexily beneath him. All soft and delicate like a little kitten. You were looking up at him with your pretty eyes, dilated with a mix of pleasure and liquor as you took his big cock like a good girl. He was caught up in your eyes and the feel of your fingers clutching the back of his head, enticing him to kiss you again, adding extra tongue, his head seemingly about to combust from how good he was feeling. Sober or intoxicated, your sex was always incredible; he couldn’t get enough of you if he tried.
He swung your legs up onto his shoulders, your heavy pants dissolving into outright cries when he started jackhammering into you. His hips collided into yours with brute force, smothering you into the bed with his bigger body. It was mind-blowing, his dick at the bottom of your pussy, your toes touching the headboard, the heat between you spreading, scorching, hurtling towards an extinction-level explosion. And when it hit you, tears sprung to your eyes and you were robbed of all speech. Your muscles tensed and your legs shook from its intensity.
Jey’s tortured groan warmed the crook of your neck as he detonated with you, his body shivering from indescribable pleasure. The harsh movement of his hips softened into gentle rolls in his attempt to pour every drop of himself in the condom buried inside you. Afterwards, he hovered weakly over your prone frame, drained and out of breath, before finding enough strength to pull out and crumple down next to you. Your last thought as you curled up against his warm body was how much you missed this. Missed him.
------------------
The horrendous sensation of your stomach climbing up your throat woke you up. Almost falling out of the bed, you half-ran, half-stumbled into the bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet bowl in time, falling on your knees to empty the contents of your stomach. Tears pricked your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You hated throwing up. It hurt like hell and you always felt like you were puking up all your insides.
Just as you thought it was over, another wave of nausea came along, wrenching through your entire body. You suddenly felt a hand on your back, another pulling your hair away from your face. Jey. You tried to ward him off, but he didn’t budge, holding your hair until you were done puking your guts out. He then helped you up, took your robe and put it on you, and it was then you noticed he was in his briefs and nothing else. He waited for you to wash your mouth and brush your teeth, then carried you back to the bed, picking up the bottle of water and aspirin he’d set by the nightstand.
“Here, this will help. Took some earlier this morning before you woke up.” He handed them to you and watched you closely like a dutiful spouse. The taste of water right after brushing your teeth was revolting, but you forced the medicine down. Once you were finished, you put the water away and pointed at the door.
“You can get out now. Let yourself out when you’re done getting dressed."
There was a heavy silence as he digested your flippant dismissal. “You bein' for real right now?” he said through gritted teeth.
“What? We fucked and we got off. Why you still here?”
"Because I care about you," he responded. His voice was tight, strained, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. "Okay? I’m here because I didn’t want you to be alone. I stayed cuz I wanted to see you…Baby, we need to talk."
“I ain’t your baby. And I don’t wanna talk to you.” Getting back out of the bed, you left him alone in the room. You were still tired and the morning light felt as blinding as headlights, but you trudged on, eager to put distance between you and him.
Hurrying into his clothes and shoes, Jey fought off his own hangover symptoms as he followed you into the living room. ��You ignored every single one of my calls and my texts. I been tryna talk to you for weeks. Just hear me out, please, babe.”
With every syllable he uttered, a tsunami was gathering strength inside you, threatening to break and flood the wall you had tried so hard to put back up. Then, that wall gave way, and your lips moved, the raging tsunami powering through the throbbing sensation in your head.
"Fuck you."
Jey flinched, chastened by your vicious rebuff. "Princess," he began, but you kept talking, your emotions spilling like a malfunctioning fountain.
"No, don’t fucking cut me off! Why would I ever want to speak to you again after what you did? You never gave me a chance to explain so why do you deserve to be heard? Huh?” You shoved your hair angrily out of your face. “After Cody kissed me, I came straight to you because I wanted to be honest with you and start off our relationship the right way. And instead you exposed us. I begged you, begged you to hear me out…but you didn't. You called me every name in the book over a misunderstanding! You humiliated me in front of our co-workers! Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"
He did. That was why he was here. To take responsibility for his actions. To start over, if you wanted to. He wanted you to understand that what he did hurt him as much as it hurt you.
But you had no interest in any of it. “That's not all you did, either and this is the one that really pisses me off. You used me. You used Key West to break down my walls and get close to me. You stole my heart, you made me fall for you and then tossed me aside like trash. You treated me like I was nothing, in fact, less than nothing. I always knew you hated me, but I never realized you hated me that much!”
He felt his stomach plummet somewhere in the abyss. “Baby, I don’t hate you-”
The laugh you let out at his response sent a chill through him. It was sarcastic, humorless, borderline manic, and it burned his soul, the fire almost as scalding as the one that blazed in your eyes.
“You don’t just hate me, Jey. You despise me,” you corrected, your tone clipped and ice-cold. “You detest me. You would never have done what you did if you don’t. You hurt me on purpose, and I blame myself because I was stupid to think you actually cared about me. I let my guard down and that’s on me. But mark my words when I say it will never, ever, ever, happen again. I swear on all four of my grandparents’ graves. You fucked with me for the last time.”
Jey forced down the lump that had formed in his throat. The regret in his eyes was palpable, looking like a lost puppy as he tried to plead his case. “Y/N, please-”
"Don’t touch me!" You jerked away when he tried to reach for you, your heart lurching at the hurt in his eyes. “Just fucking leave, alright? Leave me alone! Go back to Diamond. You can fuck her all you want now, cuz as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing between us."
Jey came closer to you, his eyes narrowed and unwavering. "After last night, we both know that’s bullshit,” he stated confidently.
For one agonizing second, you wanted to choke him out. You wanted to rip your heart out of your chest, hold the battered organ up in front of his face, and scream: "See this? This is what you did to me!" You were so upset; your legs were about to buckle and you just wanted him gone. You couldn’t bear to be near him anymore. "Last night was a drunken mistake. Period. We’re done, Jey. I don’t ever want to see you again. Get out!" Walking over to the door, you flung it wide open and glared pointedly at him.
A distraught Jey struggled to process this turn of events. He didn’t want to leave you. Not like this. But the tears in your eyes and the quivering of your lip told him everything he needed to know. He had done an unforgivable thing by breaking your heart. Breathing out a dejected sigh, he slipped past you without another word and walked out through the door, out of your life, just like you asked him to, his chest tightening with every step he took.
Slamming the door shut on the man you loved, your legs gave out at last, and you slid down to the ground in a flood of tears. This agony, this ache inside your chest, was tearing you apart. The betrayal and deep regret and utter worthlessness overwhelmed you. You couldn't breathe, your chest heaved, and you struggled not to cry out from the pain that gripped your broken heart like a vice.
On the other side of the door, Jey’s features crumpled in pain as he listened to the anguish of the woman he loved; your sniffles, your sobs, each one ripping out a different piece of his heart. Pressing his forehead against the door, his fingers splayed out against the wooden surface, as though trying to reach out to you, trying to take away your pain. The pain he caused.
"I'm sorry, Y/N…I'm so sorry…"
END OF PART 3
----------------------
More drama!😖😭
Thoughts? Is it finally over for our lovebirds? What’s going to happen in the season finale?
Please leave comments. I love comments!
Banner made by me. Jey gifs by @jeysuso. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.
#jey uso#jey uso fanfiction#jey uso imagines#jey uso x you#jey uso x black reader#jey uso x black oc#jey uso smut#the bloodline#roman reigns#jimmy uso#the usos fanfic#wwe#the usos#on sight by msbigredmachine
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Premier Amour
Terzo x Fem!Reader
TW: smut, running away, murder, blood, pregnancy
Word Count: 18.4k
Medieval Terzo is finally here!!!! I've been working on this for.... A month now? I've lost track, but I'm stoked to share it with you.
I'm not a historian and also it's just like a fantasy AU so I'm sorry if there's historical inaccuracies, especially around religion, marriage, ceremonies, language, geography, the feudal system, whatevs. I'm no William Shakespeare 😂 just let me have my cliche romance in peace. But if there's anything I can improve, please let me know, I love to learn things ❤️
This is the Terzo I picture for most of the story. And this is one of my Cavaliere Terzo inspo arts!
"What a beautiful pendant," you admire the metal work that the local silver smith has on display in the little bazaar in the middle of town.
"Ah, yes, that's one of my favorites. Beautiful emerald, innit?" the merchant engages with you.
"Sì, it would look bellissima on la signora," a stranger interrupts. You turn to see him, just taller than you, dressed in a black linen cloak, removing the hood from his ear length raven black hair. He looks quite pale to be from Italy, but his accent is too accurate for him not to be. His bare face, clean of facial hair indicates that he might only be a little older than you; his dimples on his cheeks and chin are strong, and he look quite handsome. And his heavy black brows give him a natural scowl over his… mismatched eyes?
Your eyes lock with his, "Yes," you practically whisper, "thank you, sir."
He closes the space between you, his rugged riding boots scraping across the gravel beneath his feet. The mysterious man holds out his hand, and you offer him yours without a second thought. Something about him is so alluring. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to your knuckles, and when they open again, there's something fiery in his gaze. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, bella mia."
And just like that, he's gone, off into the crowd like nothing happened. You exchange a look with the shop owner, both equally shocked by the encounter. After that, you decide maybe it's time to head back home for the day.
You quickly stop by the local baker's tent to grab a few pastries and fruits for the journey back, but as you walk on the outskirts of the bazaar towards the trail you always take, an arm slips itself under yours, hand gripping tightly against your sensitive skin. Whimpering, you try to pull away from whoever is, when you hear that Italian accent ringing in your ear again, "Don't scream. Act normally if you want to live." His other hand slides around your waist and leads you off the trail and into the trees, deep into the thick of the woods.
"What do you want from me?" You finally question him once out of earshot of the marketplace, fire and frustration building in your belly. Jerking your arm away from him only for his grip to return a second later, he turns you, pinning your back against a tree, making you drop your fabric wrapped goods. "Hey!" you yell at him.
"𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘩!" he commands of you.
"Why should I?!" You attempt to garner anyone's attention.
You hear the unmistakable sound of metal being unsheathed before feeling the cold blade against your throat. It got you to shut up, eyes wide with horror. "You're not who you pretend to be, dolce mia."
"W-what do you mean?" you mutter, his face only inches from yours.
"You traipse around like some common little girl from town, but I see the way you hold yourself: proud, but taught to be like a delicate flower. Exactly the way they want you to be to find a suitor."
"On what grounds do you make these assumptions?" His remark had hit you right where it hurt, as if he could read you like a book, and you were angry again.
"The silk petticoat peaking from under your skirt… Commoners can't afford silk."
You couldn't believe he would talk about your undergarments with such a smug look on his face. "It was a gift! My family saved up for quite some time for it!"
He lowers his eyes to your chest, lewdly raising his eyebrows as his finger traces down the center of your cleavage, hooking on the outer layer of your dress and pulling outward just an inch or two. "Did they save up for the matching corset, too, bella mia?"
You stare at him in shock, wanting to strike him down, but also feeling an unfamiliar kind of heat coiling up inside you. Attempting to push him away with your free hand, he snatches your wrist, hiking it above your head and pinning it to the tree, the knife still pressed against your neck.
"If you're going to try to dress like a commoner, I would suggest making certain your disguise is more… thorough," he says pointedly. "So, who are you then? The daughter of… Hmm, a lord? High up land owner?" He inquisitively watches your body language, knowing you won't admit to anything. "Is daddy a lawyer? No? An ambassador? Politician?"
Nothing from you, only persed lips and furrowed brows.
"Ahhh, dare I say it? I must have some lady of the high court under my steel blade." His joke isn't funny to you, so you just keep staring him down, "Perhaps a handmaiden? No… She wouldn't want to escape. But who would? Someone who's never known anything different than the silver spoon…" It's like he's playing with his dinner before devouring it. "You must be la principessa."
You cut your eyes away from him, and he knows he's got you.
"There she is, la principessa, just wanting a taste of the world around her," he teases you.
"What do you want from me?" You cut your eyes back at him.
"Just one thing," he moves impossibly closer to you. "A kiss… da quella tua dolce bocca." (A kiss… From that sweet mouth of yours.)
His eyes glance down at his prize, and you know there's no stopping him. At first contact, his plump lips are surprisingly soft against yours. He moves slowly, giving you several pecks, not unlike the ones you'd experienced while being chaperoned around with your suitors.
That's when he presses his chin to yours, and your mouths drop open together. You feel his hot breath on your face before his mouth closes around yours possessively, tongue demanding entrance. You let out a soft whimper and your tongue dances with his much more skilled one. The knife drops to the ground and is quickly replaced by his fingers massaging over the skin roughly. His other hand leaves yours to scandalously claw at your waist, urging your body closer to his, and your hand falls from the tree to tangle in the base of his hair. Your other hand explores his firm chest, desperately pushing past his cloak to feel him through less layers.
In a matter of seconds, he's turned you into some sort of harlot, abandoning all of your knowledge from finishing school, making your legs weak as he sucks on your bottom lip. Suddenly, his fingers squeeze around your windpipe, but not in a way that would hurt you, rather it draws a lengthy moan from you.
Feeling intoxicated by his presence and the lack of air, you pull away from him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and leaning against his chest, trying to catch your breath. Both of your hands relax on his warm torso, his arms now wrapped around you protectively. You dare to glance up at him, and you're met with his soft gaze staring down at you, still getting used to that strange white eye.
"Who are you?" you whisper to him.
He chuckles deeply, "Your salvation… But for now, you can call me Terzo."
You aren't sure what that answer meant, but you decide to try out his name on your tongue.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a silver chain dangling on one of his fingers: the emerald pendant from earlier. You stand up straight, putting a bit of space between your bodies.
"Think of me when you wear it, sì?" He commands more than asks, as he latches the clasp around your neck. Your fingers feel the precious stone on your chest, while Terzo bends down to gather your pastries and his knife.
He hands the tied up package to you and makes a move to walk away.
"Wait-" you stop him. You lean up on your toes and give one one last sweet and lingering kiss. "Will I see you again?"
"Sì, do not worry, tesoro," he places his lips to your forehead then disappears into the woods.
• •
You wake that night after seeing flashes of him in your dreams, and you're warmer than normal. The heat between your legs pools stronger than you've ever felt before. The pulsing of your blood so strong, it almost feels like someone is touching you there.
Squeezing your thighs together, you try to sit up and ignore it, opening your window to let in the cool night air.
"…touch…" It's like a whisper in the wind. Your hand rests at your pelvis, balling your night gown up, fighting the sensation between your legs, like a slow, languid stroke back and forth, just enough to make you want more. But you shouldn't. It's debaucherous to even speak of these things in the little bubble that is the castle you live in, let alone to partake.
Another whisper, "please yourself for me, bella mia…" You must be losing your mind. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?
You look around, seeing everything in your room is as usual, but the aching in your core grows stronger. You feel your blood rapidly filling the area. Ever-so-gently, you grind against the sheet beneath you, and feel immediate relief at the sensation. "Ah…"
You crave more, need it even. Grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your weight; you rock your hips back and forth, toes curling as your fingers come to rest on the emerald pendant once again. You notice it glowing and nearly vibrating with energy.
"Yesss, cara, just like that," you hear him again, intoxicating you.
You rip off your night gown, leaving you bare under the moonlight as you soak the plush fabric that scrapes against your folds.
From his campsite deep in the woods, Terzo sits on his knees in a position similar to yours as his hand works over his hardened member, teasing at his own tip to drag him closer to that precipice he enjoys so much. "Touch yourself, dolce mia, please," he begs into the open air.
Back in your room, you follow his command, fingers diving between folds you'd never explored before. Upon finding a little bundle of nerves that's quite pleasing, you cry out in pleasure. Flicking over the spot again and again has the most euphoric feeling building in your pelvis.
Terzo holds both hands out in front of him, balled up onto fist for his cock to push in and out of, wishing it were you. His jaw hangs slack at the thought. "Will you come for me, tesoro?"
For the first time you address him, unsure if he's able to hear you, unsure if this is even real, "I- I think I am…" Your fingers work faster chasing that feeling higher and higher when crash! You feel the shockwave over take you, your fingers flying from beneath you to brace yourself on the windowsill. "Terzo!!!!" you scream his name out the window as your climax rips through your body for the first time.
Hands pumping fast, Terzo spills his seed all over the ground before him, cock twitching and sending long white streams through the air. He chuckles to himself, as he's pretty sure he heard your scream echo through the woods.
• •
Days passed and he was the only thought on your mind. You were careful to only wear his pendant in the night so no one would question where it came from, but also so whatever 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 was wouldn't happen again in the broad daylight. You weren't completely sure the pendant had anything to do with it, but best to be safe.
Your father, the king, had you meeting with more suitors. You were past the age that you should be married; you should probably even have a couple babes by now, but perhaps you were progressive minded in thinking that you weren't just some livestock to be sold off for breeding.
The more time passed, and the more kisses that you had to share with these boys--Terzo kissed you like a man should, like a lover would--well, they all paled in comparison to it, and frankly you were starting to miss him. Although, no doubt, you feel insane for missing a man that held you at knife point just to give you a kiss… The best kiss of your life.
As you wait in the garden for the next suitor to come along, you figured you'd spend an hour with him, then onto the next--𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
You stare at the man before you like you'd just seen a ghost.
"Ma'am, this is Marquis Lucien Sauveterre," the chaperone announces.
Terzo takes your hand and kisses your knuckles just as he had in the bazaar that day. "C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, ma belle." (Pleasure to make your acquaintance, beautiful.)
Your head is spinning.
"Merci," he hands the chaperone some gold coins, and waves them off.
"What are doing here!!?" you whisper shout at Terzo once the chaperone returns back inside. "𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦…" you mock the fake name you'd been given, rolling your eyes.
That devious smirk pulls at his lips. He was dressed much nicer today, as were you; clearly he was hiding some sort of noble background as well.
"How have you been, mia principessa? Did you enjoy yourself a few nights ago?"
Your eyes dart up to his, and he looks you over as if he knows what you look like naked. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵.
"Anyway, I won't be bothering you long. I came to deliver a message: there's a big tree with a nice canopy in the middle of a wheat farmer's field not far from here, do you know the one?"
You nod your head; you go there to read sometimes.
"Meet me there tomorrow, sì? I'll be waiting for you." His hand cups your cheek and he kisses you quickly, a tease compared to what you know those lips can do. "I think about you every day, too, cara mia. I can't get you off my mind, but you knew that would happen when you kissed me the way you did," he guilts you with a grin.
"I believe you were the one who kissed me, sir. Held me up with a knife for it," you sass him.
You hear a low groan near your ear followed by, "Let me taste you once more, principessa."
With that, your lips crash into his with a fire to rival your previous encounter.
"Brava ragazza," he compliments you, breathless, "So responsive for me."
You blush at his praises.
"Now, when I leave here, you're to act like you despised me. You want nothing to do with me or my people ever again, sì? And then I'll see you when the sun rises again." He gives you a wink and another kiss on the forehead before leaving you to face more of your stupid suitors.
• •
The next day, you dress in your common clothes again, you hadn't yet acquired a cotton petticoat or linen corset.
You slip out of one of the back gates, letting your handmaiden know you were going to the bazaar again. And heaven knows you don't know what possessed you, but you didn't wear anything except your thigh high stockings under your petticoat.
"How did things go with your papà?" Terzo asks, languidly laid out on his side under your reading tree.
"Well…" you sit next to him crossing your arms and propping them on your knees, feeling the cool breeze rush up your skirt. "No more French suitors," you coyly reply.
He bursts out a short laugh, leaning up to sit closer to you, "Mia principessa was convincing then. Eccellente." Terzo kisses your temple.
"Terzo," you address him directly.
"Hm?"
"Who are you? I know your name, but I don't know anything else. The thought of you drives me wild, don't you think I deserve to know you at least a little bit? You clearly know a lot about me."
"Sì, sì, you are right," he holds your face in his hands, admiring all the little details as if committing them to memory. "I cannot tell you who I am or what I do. You must believe me when I say this is for your own safety."
You think on it for a moment, chewing your lip. "At least tell me something about yourself. Something not many others know."
"Let's see… I like meeting with beautiful women in secret," he giggles and kisses you.
"Terzo…" You search his two toned eyes.
"Okie dokie, tesoro. I like to partake in the company of beautiful people; I don't enjoy waking up alone. I'm sure it's obvious that I'm far away from home, and that's because I'm in search of something to take back with me. And I write music; sometimes you might catch me at the pubs singing for others."
Yes, it was cryptic, but you felt like he was as honest as he could be.
"Hmmm… What's your favorite flower?" you question him.
"White roses."
"And what do you think of before you go to sleep?"
"Home."
"What is home like?"
"Old, but it's full of life," a genuine smile comes to his face at the thought.
"Thank you…" you whisper to him.
"For what, bella mia?"
"Honesty. Your honesty," you lean forward, giving him a chaste kiss.
His fingers weave into your hair, urging you to lean your head back, where he then starts peppering kisses across the soft skin of your jaw and neck. You think kissing him has to be your favorite thing in the world.
Your arms find a cozy spot on his waist so you can let him work on you. Traveling towards your shoulder, Terzo's fingertips slip your sleeve from your shoulder, exposing more skin to him. He leaves a playful nip at the end of your collarbone, earning a squeak from you.
Hands find his shoulder blades, scratching at his black tunic as he lays you back on the grass, hand cradling your head. His legs tangle with yours while his mouth worships the cleavage spilling from your dress.
With your fingers threaded in his raven colored hair, you pull his attention back to you, wanting his mouth on yours. As he situates himself above you, his hand hooks your knee on his hip. When that same hand starts to creep up your thigh under your petticoat, you feel something hard start to press against your pelvis.
Fighting every want in your body, you put a hand on his, stopping him. "We shouldn't…" Embarrassment washes over you. "I just, it's- I'm supposed to be pure for when I get married."
"Cara, you do not owe me an explanation. If you don't want to, then we don't, sì?" He sits you both up, looking you right in the eyes to let you know he means it.
You lean into his chest for a hug, and he pulls you into his lap, leaning back against the large shady tree. "I hate it… The future of my father's kingdom depends on me remaining untouched. All of it for a man I won't want to marry."
"Don't say that, dolcezza, you may meet someone and really love them." He tries to encourage you. "Besides, your virginity shouldn't matter to anyone, especially not some man. It doesn't matter to me."
"It doesn't?"
"No, of course not. It's just some foolish ideal of the Christian church to keep women controlled." You were a little taken aback, surprised at his progressive thinking and at his blatant dismissal of the church that your father was a conduit for.
"Well, I still don't think I'll find any suitor that I love," you look down at his chest, trying to find the words, "not when you're the one who occupies my heart."
"Don't say that, principessa…" he says as if the wind has just been knocked out if his chest. "You deserve someone much nicer than I."
"Nicer? I don't want nice. All of those stupid suitors are nothing but nice! I want passion, the fire that I feel with you, I- I want 𝘺𝘰𝘶. And you make me feel CRAZY for it! I hardly know you, yet you're all I think about. When I wake up in the morning I long for you to be there; when I try to sleep at night, I want you in my arms."
In that moment, he knew he'd found what he'd been searching for, the thing to take home with him: you.
Looking down at the emerald worn proudly on your chest for him, he admits his feelings, "Ti amo, principessa." No one had ever wormed their way into his heart as fast as you had. He still had much to reveal to you, and he couldn't wait to be open with you, but he knew he had to get you somewhere safe before that could happen.
You give him a few short kisses before standing up in front of him. After kicking off your shoes, you work the laces on your dress with expert fingers, loosening them and letting the linen fabric as well as your silk petticoat fall to ground around you.
Terzo stares up at you, drinking in the sight of your soft thighs hugged by the plush white stockings, your bare sex, and the curve of your waist that your corset forced onto you.
"Make love to me," you ask of him, biting your lip.
He stands up on his knees, approaching you to wrap his hands around the back of your thighs, and sucking a lovebite to your hipbone. "I would love nothing more, bella mia."
While looking up at you, he delicately kisses your inner thigh, right next to your core, making sure you're still okay with everything before placing a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your folds.
It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. It's wet and it's hot and it feels like heaven. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥… Without realizing, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling harshly and drawing a moan from the man beneath you.
"Oh goodness, I'm sorry if I hurt you…" You let go of him.
He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes, "You're not going to hurt me." He takes your hand and puts it back on his head before going back to work, flicking his tongue happily over your clit.
Within seconds, your legs are shaking from him having total control over the bundle of nerves. "T-Terz-zo…" you stutter out.
He stops what he's doing and takes your hand in his, "Do you need to lie down, amore?"
You nod at him, and he helps you onto your back, but not before spreading his cloak out on the grass for you. Terzo picks your thighs up, squeezing tightly so your feet rest on his back, before getting right back to work. And with his next move, he has you seeing stars. His lips surround your clit and suck on it harshly, making you mewl for him to keep going.
He drops one of your thighs to tease your entrance with a finger, pressing in lightly to test the waters.
"Mmm! More!" you command.
With that, he slides a little deeper, slowly curling his finger over and over again, his mouth still sucking on you in just the right way.
"I- ah, Terzo, I'm-" your face is scrunched with pleasure as your orgasm reaches you.
Terzo can help but think about how fun this will be with you so sensitive as he helps you through it. After a few minutes, he sits up, still keeping that finger in you, working you slowly.
"Ready for another one, tesoro?" he asks.
"Another what?" you inquire innocently. He holds up his free hand and wiggles his digits. "Oh! Um, yes, please."
He slides out, slicking up his second finger and gingerly going back in. "You cum very easily," he states like it's the most casual thing in the world.
Feeling the stretch of his two fingers, you reply, "I do?" Being filled like this is completely foreign to you; it may take some getting used to.
He nods his head with a half smile, "It's cute."
"Oh," you feel heat come to your cheeks, and it's not from lust.
"Don't be ashamed, cara mia. I enjoy making you cum, and I'll make you do it again, and again, and again." He thrusts his fingers in time with his words to make his point.
You whimper at his motions, and he lays down next to you to make out with you yet again. Legs lifting in the air showing how needy you are for his fingers inside you, the feeling of his digits curling has that fire in your belly burn smoldering.
Hungrily, you start to toy with his tunic, needing to see more of him. "Terzo…"
His eyes find yours, the sun peeking through the canopy of the tree catching his pale face so beautifully. His hair is all messed up, falling over his eyes, irises blown wide with lust even in the bright daylight.
You reach out, fumbling with his hardness through his pants. "I need you," you pant out. In your mind, you knew there was no going back after this, but there was no stopping you either. Your desire for him was stronger than anything you'd ever felt.
He pulls his fingers from you, popping them right into his mouth; he wouldn't want to waste it after all. Next, his tunic flies off, pulled over his head hastily, exposing his chest, belly, and shoulders to you. Curious fingertips take in the expanse of skin, only serving to make you want more. He works at the ties on his trousers, fidgeting with the knot.
"Here, let me," you sit up, nimble fingers making quick work of it, just like your dress.
Seeing him lain bare is like a work of art; one that belongs in a museum for centuries to come. The long legs, the curve of his hip as he lays on his side, the hungry look in his eyes…
"Your turn," he whispers before pouncing on you, undoing the snaps on your corset before discarding it. Flipped on your back yet again with your lover atop you, his mouth explores your newly uncovered breasts. "Bellissima…" he grumbles against your chest.
With your legs wrapped around his hips, you pull him down so he's flush against you.
"Impatient, principessa," he kisses a trail up your neck to your jaw, "Always getting what she wants." He kisses you once on the lips, leaving you wanting more, "It will be no different with me; I'll give you everything your heart desires." And with that his lips meet with your again, soft at first before shifting back into the passionate rhythm you normally share.
Fingernails claw at his hips, still in desperate need to feel him inside you. As if reading your mind, his hand guides his hot girth through your slick folds, collecting every drop. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his lip, "Are you ready, tesoro?"
Already keening at the feeling, half from lust and half from anticipation, you nod your head fervently, "Yes! Yes, Terzo."
Not wanting to make you wait another second, he rocks his hips forward in a small motion, just pushing in a tiny bit. Terzo watches your face intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop. Slowly, he pulls back and slides right back in, a little deeper this time, "Bene?" he whispers to you.
"Mm-hmm," you confirm, getting used to the way he fills you.
He kisses your cheek with a hand on your hip to keep you still. As he starts going deeper, your face scrunches up, and he stops instantly, searching your face for what to do next.
"Just stay still for a moment," you caress his cheek, "It feels so good, I just need a moment." You feel his cock twitch inside you, making you realize how much he must be restraining himself to make you comfortable. You nod your head again, "Move," you demand.
Terzo doesn't hesitate, languidly pushing and pulling his hips, not even concerned with trying to go further for fear of hurting you. He lets out a soft groan at the pleasure washing over him.
"Deeper, I want to feel all of you," your hand snakes up between his shoulder blades lightly scratching.
He lifts his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure, and you nod once again. With that, he adjusts his body to get back on his hands above you and makes sure your legs are properly wrapped around his hips; you even hook your ankles together so you don't go anywhere.
The change in angle alone feels wonderful, but when he thrusts into you solidly one time, you feel him sheath his himself into you fully. You gasp out at feeling his full length, the burn of it quickly melting away as he moves excitedly against you.
He stays on his hands for just a few more pulses of his hips before falling to his elbows so he can caress your form. "How is that, piccolina?"
"S-so good," you stammer.
"Sei così bella," (You look beautiful,) he pants hotly into your ear as his hand glides down the side of your body to grip your ass. His head nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder as he moans out his satisfaction.
Peaking over his shoulder, you watch his body move on top of yours: knees spread and toes digging into the ground to keep close to you, hips bouncing showing off the delicious curve of his ass and hip bone. It was a sight you could easily get used to.
Suddenly you feel another wave of pleasure creeping up on you, "Ohhh, Terzo…" you drag out his name.
"Sì, vieni per me, amore," (Yes, cum for me, love,) he grunts. You're not entirely sure what he's saying, but all it takes is a few strokes of his fingers on your center to have your tight wet heat clenching around his cock. "Sì, sì, bellissima, così bella…" (Yes, yes, very beautiful, so beautiful…)
You whine for him, hardly feeling like you're on planet earth anymore as you come undone at his hands. Things slow down for a brief period, as your lover lets you cool down from your high; he presses soft kisses to your collarbone as you stare up at the leaves in the tree.
Next, you certainly don't know what came over you, but you were pushing him up and to the side, and Terzo reacts quickly, holding your hips tight to him as he's rolled into his back. He looks genuinely impressed with that move as you instinctively begin to ride him, hands clutching his chest as you lift your hips and drop them.
The man beneath you helps guide you with a strong hand, and his other finds your throat again, squeezing lightly at your windpipe. You let out a small moan of anticipation at his actions. "Not quite yet, tesoro," he winks at you.
"Ughh," you groan only half frustrated. Legs more tired than you'd anticipated, you start sliding yourself back and forth rather than up and down, and it's pays off more than you would've expected as his length continuously grazes over that spot his fingers found earlier. It has that now familiar feeling building back up again, and you furrow your brow and bite your lips trying to stave it off.
"Don't fight it, cara mia, trova il tuo piacere con me…" (Find your pleasure with me…) And of course, as he promised, his hand returns to your neck, squeezing just the right way to make your head feel lighter than air. It only serves to heighten the sensations you feel and sends you toppling over in your release, literally.
Terzo holds you close as you crash down on top of him, cunt encircling his hard lust so deliciously. He cries out as his release explodes inside you, your name the only word on his lips, which is pretty impressive for a guy who knows at least two languages and never shuts up.
You can feel the warm liquid filling you; it makes you squirm on top of him. Returning the many kisses from earlier, you take your turn to adorn his pale skin with your love, as you both hold each other tightly.
Rolling off of him with shaky thighs, you bundle up in his large cloak as best you can, feeling more exposed now than before; it would certainly need to be cleaned later. He drags you right back over to him, cuddling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. "Dolce mia, you could bring the Devil to his knees," he remarks, still catching his breath.
You look at him like he'd just said the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, perhaps it was the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, and he laughs heartily from his chest. A small giggle escapes you, and you offer him some of the cloak cuddle under with you. "You're gonna have to teach me all those Italian phrases, although maybe I don't wanna know what they mean," you blush at him, making him laugh again.
His lips find yours in a loving kiss, "There will be plenty of time for that, amore mio."
• •
The next time you see him, you have a ring on your finger and tears in your eyes.
"Stellina, you must dry your eyes. I can't stand to see you like this," he pulls you into a hug, his cloak wrapping around you once again; it always smells so much like him.
You had made a regular routine of meeting near the bazaar or under the reading tree every few days, whenever you weren't seeing suitors. Much to your dismay, the courting was over since your father selected a fiancé for you.
"Come, sit with me," Terzo whispers to you. He sits with his back against the tree and you in his lap, another habit you'd fallen into together in the short time you'd known one another. "Tell me what happened, cara mia."
"He was tired of waiting…" you sob, and Terzo knew you were referring to the king. "He said I was making the kingdom wait too long, and since relations between his and Lord Vogel's lands haven't been ideal lately, he's betrothed me to the man's son! I'm nothing more than a chess pawn to him!" You lean against your lover's chest, letting the tears flow.
"Amore, you are so much more than a simple pawn," he kisses your head, running his fingers through your hair repeatedly.
You sit up, looking in Terzo's eyes and cupping his cheek. "I don't want to marry him. For me, there is only you. I would give it all away if it meant I could have my life with you."
"Tesoro… Don't say that. You love your father, you're committed to your kingdom." How he wished he could whisk you away, but deep down he would feel so guilty for taking you away from everything you'd ever known.
"I do love my family, but I haven't been happy, not since I was first made to start seeing suitors. I know everyone thinks I'm just some stupid girl, but nothing has shown me the corruption of royalty and the blasphemous use of religion to play their little games better than being courted. They play games with people's lives, even the ones in their own homes!" You pound your fist against his chest and he clasps it in his, "Is that why you left your home? It makes me want to leave mine."
"No, cara mia. My home isn't like this. Everyone is accepted for who they wish to be, and everyone has the freedom to leave if they'd like. Even those in the royal blood line," Terzo explains.
"So you're from a kingdom too?" you ask.
"Eh, of sorts, but we don't call it that."
"I've never heard of a place like that. Sounds wonderful," you look down, wringing your hands together, fidgeting with your new ring. "Say, have you found the thing you're supposed to return home with yet?" you ask, referring to the first bit of information he ever told you about himself.
"Sì, I have, Stellina," he pets your hair lightly, playing with the ends.
"Well, then why haven't you gone back?" You look up at his mismatched eyes, the ones you never get tired of looking into.
"Because, ah… I found something here that feels like home, amore," he puts his hand over your heart, indicating that he's talking about you.
You put your hand over his, "Do you think… Could I be accepted where you're from?"
"Sì, we accept all, tesoro, no matter their background."
"Would you take me there?" you whisper.
Your lover diverts his eyes and remains silent.
"Terzo?"
Turning his eyes back to you, he has a painted expression on his face, like he's completely torn about what to do. "I fear you would feel like not more than a caged bird there, as well."
"Would I not be allowed to be with you?" you worry out loud.
"No, tesoro, we'll be together. I would never let anything take you from me," he takes your hand in his.
"If we stay here, my father will take me from you. I'll be sent off to another land and made to have someone else's babes," you remind him.
He leans his head back on the reading tree, sighing a deep breath, "I'd like to give you the choice, cara, but you have to know what you'll be involved with."
"Okay."
"I'll have to forgo some details, because it won't be safe for you should you decide not to return with me, but know that I will tell you everything when I can," he warns.
"I trust you, Terzo."
He takes in another breath, nervous that what he has to say will scare you away. "I'm to be the figurehead of a covert organization," the language sounded very practiced, not like how he usually speaks, "We seek out those who desire acceptance, freedom from the systems around them, an escape from corruption. When I return, I'll be expected to take a partner, just as you face, Stellina. Which is why I set out in search of love," he starts to sound more like himself again. "Cara, should you return with me, I'd like you to be mine. I know it would feel like you're trading one arranged marriage for another…"
His words make you realize just how similar you are, how he faced the same issue you did, and how despite it, you still found one another. "Amore," you try the new language on your tongue, "you're not only offering me a choice, you're offering me liberation… What was it you said so confidently in the woods that day? That you would be my salvation? Well, then… Free me."
That fire in your eyes had come back to him, the thing he loves most about you; you may be a princess, but you had some real fight in you. "Anything for you, principessa."
You chatted for the rest of the afternoon; what looked like casual talk between lovers was really planning and plotting for how he would get you out of the city, away from civilization, and slip quietly across the country side back to Italy.
"When do we leave?" you ask him with a warm smile. You straddle his lap now, fiddling with the edges of his cloak.
"Not for a few days, cara. You'll need a horse. I'll have to trade for one." He twirls your hair on his finger.
"We have horses at the castle, I could just take one," you offer.
"No, if they come looking for you, which they will, they would recognize one of their own horses, sì?"
"They would," you look down, feeling dumb for the suggestion.
He scoops your chin in his hand and kisses your nose. "It pains me to say it, tesoro, but you will have to cut your hair. Anyone could recognize your beauty."
"It will grow back," you bite your lip playfully and lean your forehead on his. "Hmm, what's this?" you ask, slipping a piece of paper from the lining of the cloak.
For a moment, he stiffens up like he wants to take it away from you, but he decides to let you read it… Except it's all in Italian.
"What does it say?" You look at him with innocence.
He takes the paper from you and clears his throat:
"Alessandro,
The halls of the abbey haven't been the same without your spirited presence. We wish you home soon, but no one understands more than I how you need this time away. The world is much bigger than we may know, especially in our little fortress here at home. Some may never find the love that you so desperately desire, but I will pray every day that I see you not return to these grounds until you have it. It will pain me not to see you each and every day, not to hold you close to me even though it makes you squirm for freedom, but this is a journey you must make for yourself and for your future love.
Your mother, Felìcita"
He's not sure why he felt compelled to share it with you, but he felt there was no need to hide anymore.
"And this letter is yours? I thought your name was Terzo?"
"Sì," he huffs a small laugh at you, "it is. Terzo is one of my names, but Alessandro is my birth name. No one calls me that except mia madre." He smiles foldly thinking of her.
"Oh," you pause for a moment, taking in all the little details you'd just learned about him and where he comes from. You can't help but imagine his mother as a loving and caring woman, something you hadn't known since losing yours. "Alessandro," You lock eyes with one another at the use of his name. "Ti amo… Is that how you say it?"
He smiles broadly, giving you a quick kiss, "Sì, I love you too, principessa."
• •
The task at hand is simple: sneak out of the castle just like you do all the time, even a few times at night, but now it was for forever. There would be no returning.
You scan your suite one final time, silently thanking the walls for harboring you and all the feelings you'd cried, screamed, punched into them over the years. Of all the places in the castle, this was your favorite; however, it was also the place that kept you hidden away from the rest of the world.
Sliding your engagement ring off of your finger, you leave it on the bedside table. It would be obvious that you ran away, no signs of struggle, just a bird free from the cage. You clasp the pendant Terzo had given you around your neck, immediately feeling his energy wash over you. Whatever he had done to that necklace, you couldn't explain.
Finally, slipping into your darkest cloak, a deep maroon, and picking up the bag of things you'd need: warm layers, extra riding shoes, and your mom's bracelet that she'd worn on her wedding day to your father. Quickly taking a peek out of your high up window, you see a few guards on rotation, some look asleep, others just wandering around. You had rested up as much as you could the last few days, knowing you had a long night ahead of you.
Taking a few pebbles from a small plant you had in your room and shoving them in your pocket, you close the window and leave the room, not only locking the door behind you, but breaking the key off in the keyhole. The longer it took for them to see you were gone, the better.
Sneaking down staircases and through back corridors seemingly lost to time, you made it to your usual back door. Cracking it open slowly, you scan to see where the guards are: none in sight, and your exit gate is just a few paces away. Stepping out into the cool night, you hear two guards chatting around the corner. Hiding behind a stack of barrels, you launch a couple of pebbles in their direction, and they ping off of a watering trough nearby.
As expected, it grabs their attention and they saunter over, completely unaware of your presence. Taking your opportunity, you quietly run over to the gate, flipping the latch as silently as possible and squeezing out, opening it only a little. Once on the other side, you try to even out your nervous breathing and quietly click the latch closed.
You take one last look up at the castle before turning to walk away; you had to walk while still in earshot of the palace, but once you are far away, your feet start to fly, carrying you fast and hard toward your lover. Holding the pendant against your chest, you feel his pride swelter in your chest.
Breathing hard as you run past the farmer's wheat field, you nod a final goodbye to the reading tree, warm memories of the spot flashing in your mind. You make your way towards town, near the bazaar was a tavern where Terzo would be waiting for you.
Perfect timing too, as the raven haired man exits the bar, you approach, stopping near the brothel by the stables. A few ladies of the night wait around to draw in what would be their pay for the evening, and one of them compliments how pretty you are.
"Alrighty, fellas, it's time for me to call it a night," he says to the two guys on either side of him, all hanging onto one another drunk. He spots you and gives you a wink.
"Planning to sneak off and bed one of the harlots over there?" one of the guys jabs at his side.
"Sì, sì, I think I've got my eyes on one," Terzo chuckles.
"Aye, hopefully she's good," the other guy says as your lover separates himself from them, making his way over to you.
"Oh, she is," he mumbles to himself.
As he approaches you, swiping a hand through your hair and tickling your chin, one of the bar guys calls out, "Aye!!! That don't look like no common whore." 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. They were onto you; perhaps your disguises weren't as good as you thought.
Hesitating for a second and looking at Terzo with wide eyes, you jump right to action, bending over and lifting your skirt, gathering the fabric to show off your leg. You unhook a couple of garter clips, sliding one of your stockings down exposing the flesh of your thigh and giving the man before you the most sultry bedroom eyes you could muster.
Terzo responds with a low whistle and a shit eating grin, waving the other guys off before leading you back behind the brothel. You try to hide the giggle that works its way out of you, "I'm not sure what came over me, I just thought it was the best way to get them off our trail," you excitedly explain as Terzo presses you up against the wall, lips crashing into yours.
His body pressed tight against yours, giving anyone that might still see you the impression that he wanted to give off. "Brava ragazza, bella mia, I think you fooled them all," he praises you hotly in your ear.
Your fingers tangle in his black locks, and you attack his lips again. "Tutto per te, amore mio," (All for you, my love,) you tell him, you'd stolen a book from the kingdom's library to practice your Italian, but don't worry, you made sure to put it back before you left, not leaving any trace as to where you would be going.
Terzo growls against your lips, frustrated he can't take you right here and now. Once he's sure those guys went back inside the pub, he drags you by the hand over to his horse--a gorgeous midnight black. Lifting you by the hips, he sits you up on the horse's back, who lets out a huff. "Oh hush, bella ragazza, it's only for a little while," he scolds the horse playfully, giving her nose a scratch.
As Terzo hoists himself up on the animal, you catch the eye of the lady that complimented you earlier. She holds a questioning look on her face, so you throw a finger over your lips, silently asking her to keep your secret. She nods slowly at you, waving her ornate fan a few times in front of her face, a signal telling you to go while you can.
You nudge your lover's side, telling him it's time, and you cling to him tightly, riding side saddle in front of him, as he whips the reins, and you disappear into the woods.
• •
The first few days of travel would be the hardest. A few miles into the woods, Terzo would meet up with the horse he'd found for you, a beautiful dappled stallion, and from there you would ride separately. You would ride through the whole first night; it's important to make as much distance as possible as early into the trip as you can, because it will mean more distance between you and the knights that search for you.
You will catch naps and food as often as you can, but you will move almost constantly through small towns, fields, woods for about two to three days. When you get your first real break, setting up camp deep in some forest, Terzo will cut your hair and bury it, leaving no trace of your locks; he will also rub some dirt in your hair in an effort to change the color and texture even if only a little. And then you will move some more.
Everything went exactly as your lover told you it would. You were tired, exhausted really, from lack of sleep, having to take shifts to listen for danger, when all you really wanted was to hold him close and drift off. The smell wasn't great; you certainly weren't used to spending extended time like this outdoors with no bath. But you are happy.
Happy to be free from a marriage you didn't want. Happy to be by Alessandro's side; you'd really grown to understand one another well, especially when you are having to survive the elements and possible danger lurking at every corner.
"Alessandro, look! A stream!" you chirp happily, riding horse back, sun spilling through the trees
The use of his name made his lips quirk upward; he liked that you'd made a habit of it. "Sì, we should refill our cannisters," he points out.
"It looks so nice, amore, deep enough to step in. Do you think we could stop just for a quick bath?" Your eyes beg him.
As much as he didn't want to waste a moment in your escape, he knew it would make you feel better. He nods his head and leads the horses over to the running water.
Within seconds, you're dismounted and shedding layers of fabric. It was a nice warm day, and you planned on soaking it in, at least for the little while that you could before heading out again.
Terzo chuckles at you as you stand in your undergarments before him.
"Coming in, lover boy?" you tease, unsnapping the top few buttons on your corset, squeezing your cleavage together nicely.
"I shouldn't," he looks you up and down, biting his lip to hide his mirth.
"Oh, but you should. You smell just as much as I. Together we're probably worse than that horse's ass," you throw over your shoulder as you disrobe the last of your clothes, and stepping into the stream.
Terzo watches you candidly, as he refills your drinking water supply. Watching as your wet, naked body glistens and sparkles in the sun.
You dip your head in the water, fingers struggling to get used to the shorter length of your hair as you loosen the clay that tangles your locks. Terzo will insist on reapplying it, but for now, it's nice to let your hair down, so to speak.
Speaking of the sneaky bastard, he'd already slipped out of his clothes and was joining you for a quick dip. "Mmm, hello, cara mia," he greets you, wrapping his arms around your frame, bringing you close to him.
"I thought you weren't coming in," you whisper jokingly.
"You know I can't resist you like this, principessa," he kisses your cheek and ear a few times.
"I hardly feel like a princess like this," you cringe.
"You will always be my princess, all mine." Slowly you kiss one another. You hadn't had much time for romance since running away, so it felt incredibly intimate being able to kiss him so languidly. He holds your jaw so delicately, as your hands rinse the cool water over his strong chest.
As his thumb teases at your throat, you let out a small moan. He feels your breath on his face and he gently pries your mouth open to allow his tongue access. Gently, hands roam and caress one another, reveling in feeling one another's bodies as you hadn't been able to in days.
"Cara," Terzo sighs, pressing his hardening length against your hip. It was pretty incredible how you went from such a timid little thing to confidently handling your lover's desire as your palm strokes him, making him rut up into your cupped hand. Fingers dip between your folds, indicating his need to satiate you as well.
Touch starved, it wouldn't take long for either of you; the last time you'd made love was days before your escape from the castle.
The raven haired man lifts one of your thighs up to his hip and then removes his hand from your core to start lining his throbbing member up with your entrance.
"Oh, please, Ale… You always feel so good," you praise him and a soft blush comes to his cheeks. "Did you like that, huh?" You ask as you feel him press into you, "Like when I compliment you, pretty boy?"
His duotoned eyes flash up to yours, lips curling into a smile despite his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls flush around his burning lust for you. He nods his head, wanting to hear more. He holds you tightly to him as his hips buck up into your heat, needy for your body and your affections.
"You're so sweet, my Alessandro, oh- ahhh! Your cock feels perfect inside me," you continue.
He grunts softly, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck as he rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger.
With a hand under his chin, you lift his face, "Look at me, handsome."
He bites his lips before pressing them to yours in a heated make out. Your fingers tangle in his unruly locks, and he angles you back slightly, looking to thrust deeper into your delicate walls.
Finding just the right spot, you know you'll be done in seconds. "Touch me Ale, make me feel like a goddess the way you always do," you choke out, fingers pulling at his hair and scratching vicious red lines across the pale skin of his back.
He quickly obliges, making sure to pay special attention to your clit, sending you right into your climax. "Ah!" you cry out, cunt clinching around his swollen desire. A few more pumps and he's filling you with ropes of his seed.
You hold him tightly as you ride out your orgasm, panting out, "See what you do to me, amore? That should be the biggest compliment of all."
He gives you a coy look, "Sì, I do enjoy making you come undone," his confident self returning.
"And you're so good at it," you kiss the tip of his nose, as he slips out of you, shivering at the loss of your warmth, especially in the cool stream flowing around you.
You both take time to dote over one another, washing every inch and savoring the moment before you'll have to be on the move again.
"I could never have done this without you, Terzo," you ponder as you rub his shoulder blades.
"Hm?" he spins around in the water to face you.
"All of it. Running away, traveling south through the woods, living outdoors. I never would've had the courage to do that without you."
His face flushes at your praises again, though this time for a different reason. "I wouldn't be taking this journey without you either, principessa. I'm so glad I found you." Cupping your face, he kisses you a few more times before it's time to get out and dry off.
• •
Back on the horse, feeling much fresher than before, a change of undergarments and all, you and Terzo took the horses quickly through the trees at a nice trot to make up for your little stop a couple miles back.
Suddenly, you hear another set of hooves moving quickly at a distance, as you turn to see who or what it is-
"DUCK!" Terzo screams at you, and you do, the knight speeding by you barely missing you as his arm whips through the air above your crouched body.
You immediately pull your horse to a halt, as does your lover, knife already in hand. Your hand finds the hilt of the knife he'd given you, gripping it tightly under your cloak as you watch the knight circle back towards you: one of your father's. Your stomach drops, and you have to focus to not throw up.
"Aye! There you are little princess!" he hollers out, his pewter helmet glimmering in the sun. "Taking on a different look, huh?" he refers to your hair. "Make this easy on all of us, and come with me. Then maybe your father will be merciful on your boyfriend here, yeah?"
"No." It was all you could manage. You hadn't worked so hard and come all this way to lose it all now.
He urges his horse forward in between yours and Terzo's, making a move to grab at you. Not wanting the knight to get you onto his horse, Terzo swiftly dismounts and yanks the man by his leg, pulling him from his own saddle. He did manage a hand on your wrist which involuntarily dismounts you as well.
Hitting the ground with some force, you gasp for air as the two men entangle in a fight with one another. Your lover isn't the largest man, but he was explosive like dynamite taking on one of your father's largest soldiers in all his armor.
Terzo works to rip parts of the other man's armor from his body, flinging an arm piece across the forest floor like a vicious animal. He expertly evades the larger man's punches, slowed a bit by the heavy metal on his person.
As you sit up, trying to right yourself again, you hear, "Get her! Grab her and take her back to the base camp," from the man fighting Terzo. You look up to see another knight riding up and dismounting, smaller than the other guy, thank heavens.
He chuckles a cocky laugh, heading right for you, "Come on, little princess." The second knight grabs your arm, forcing you up off of the ground. As you look into his eyes, you sober right up from being knocked off your horse, instincts taking over. You push and kick as hard as you can, fighting against him.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the first knight with his hands around your lover's throat, hoisting him up against a tree. Your eyes widen in horror as you see Alessandro red in the face and sputtering for air, arms outstretched trying to tip the man's helmet off his head.
The knight fighting you made the mistake of underestimating you, as he was dragging you back to his horse only holding onto you with one arm. Like a trained mercenary, you knew what to do. Fast as you could muster, you unsheathed your knife, whistling at him to get him to look at you, and before he could even form a word, your blade was sunk into the soft spot between his chest plate and his helmet.
Harshly dragging the blade from his neck, he drops to the ground as life leaves him. Looking deliriously as the fight between your lover and the knight turns bad, you rush over, dipping to grab a fallen branch in your path.
Terzo looks at you over the knights shoulder, eyes bloodshot as he takes in your beauty seemingly for the last time. Just as his struggling fingers finally tip the dense metal from the knight's head, a loud crack sounds through the forest as your branch meets with your assailant's dome.
Slumping to the side on his knees before falling over, the knight releases your lover, who draws in a raspy breath, coughing painfully. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Terzo reaches for his own knife that had fallen to the ground and kneels above the knight that tried to kill him.
You move toward them, holding back one of the knights arms as your lover kneels on the other, swiftly cutting his throat, blood spilling out everywhere.
Stepping around his body, you hold Alessandro to your chest, a million thoughts rushing through your mind, "Oh my god, Terzo… we killed them," you cry into his chest as you both try fill your lungs with air, breathing unevenly and seemingly fighting the atmosphere around you.
"Amore, we must go. You heard them; there are more," Terzo helps you stand, getting you right back on your horse and sending them running at a full gallop with a harsh smack. Seconds later, he's following right behind you.
You ran the horses as fast as you could for as long as they could take it, tears streaming down your face over the danger afoot, the near loss of your lover, the sin you'd just committed against those knights. Love had changed you, for better or for worse.
• •
The days were long, full of worry that your father's knights would catch up to you once again. At night, you held each other closer than before, often unable to sleep over the anxiety and guilt that riddled your mind.
Finally a small relief came: you were getting close to Italy, and Terzo said he knows the tavern keeper in the next town. You'd ventured into towns to buy food and try to get a reading on how far the search party for you had fanned out, but you'd never stayed the night. Your lover was confident you'd be safe, a feeling you both needed.
As Terzo and the tavern keeper share a whispered greeting, you find a place to rest your feet, your back, your hips. Everything was sore. Between that and the mud and dirt crusted on your face and hair in an attempt to conceal your identity, you can only imagine how terrible you look right now. You could hardly bring yourself to care, only concerned with your safety and right now… relaxing.
Your lover reappears next to you, a glass of mead in each hand. Surely your eyebrows gave away that you were hesitant about drinking whatever was in that glass.
"C'mon, don't be such a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 about it," he teases you, setting a glass in front of you. As you look left and right to make sure no one took his joke seriously, Terzo kicks back in the chair opposite you and takes a large swig of the amber liquid. "È buono, try some." He throws a wink at you.
He enjoys watching you squirm as you attempt the drink in front of you. Although it wasn't the wine you were used to having at the dinner table, it wasn't bad. In fact, after a few more sips, you could see why people liked it enough to get drunk on it.
Terzo cups your chin in his fingers, swiping across your bottom lip with his thumb. He throws a smug grin at you before throwing the rest of his glass back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and standing up again, chair scraping across the floor.
"What-"
"Do not worry, bella mia. I will return," he winks at you, striding across the tavern, weaving between tables to the guy in the corner with a lute. You watch as he mumbles something to the bard, hands him a coin in trade for the lute.
Pulling up a stool in the center of the tavern, he sits and starts to tune the instrument, tweaking the pegs until it sounds just right. You didn't know he had an ear like that, although you think he mentioned something about tavern singing at some point.
He quickly clears his throat, strumming a gentle melody on the acoustic instrument, and starts with the lyrics,
"In an ice-capped fire
Of burning wood
In our world of wire
Ignite our dreams
Of starry skies
And you and me
As realised
Our bigger themes"
Of course, he glanced up at you often. His cheeks flushed as he sang to you; it was obvious he was used to serenading perhaps whoever he was trying to lure in for the evening, but for you it was different. You meant more than that. Much more.
"Oh, take me internally
Forever yours
Nocturnal me,
Take me internally
Forever yours
Nocturnal me…"
Even the ladies of the night are blushing at the innuendo in those lyrics were. Alessandro's lusty eyes find yours, as he continues filling the room with his beautiful melody.
You feel an overwhelming sensation of adoration and love as the emerald pendant on your chest starts glowing lightly, buzzing once again. You could tell that the feelings you were feeling were not only yours, but his as well.
Accompanied by that, a familiar warmth settles between your legs, growing to an uncontrollable burn by the end of the tune. You can't begin to understand the way that the pendant connects your feelings to his, but right now the solution is having your way with your lover.
After Terzo's song concludes, he receives a fair amount of applause as he returns the bard's lute and heads back your way, eyes piercing you.
Your breath hitches in your throat at his gaze before he takes you by the hand, pulling you up out of your seat and kissing your knuckles. It feels like all eyes in the room are on you two, and your survival instincts fight with your desire for him.
Without a word, he sweeps you across the tavern, heading toward the stairs by the bar to take you up to a room.
"Aye! We don't allow that kind of business in this establishment!" the tavern keeper flags Terzo down.
Your lover looks shocked, but notices the silver coin in the man's hand straight away.
The owner taps the coin on the counter, displaying a knight's helmet on it, leaning in closer to you both to and speaking in a more hushed tone, "Ladies of the night aren't welcome to run their operations here; it would be best if you seek refuge in the brothel across the way." He tilts his head towards the exit.
The message is covert but clear: there are knights upstairs, and you need to get out of here fast.
𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?
"Ah! Mi dispiace, amico. We will not disturb you any further," your lover exuberantly replies, leading you towards the door.
You are warmly invited into the brothel with your lover, a few of the women pining over him, playing with whisps of his hair or swiping their fingers across his shoulder. It was enough reason to suspect he'd been here before too…
When he brushes them off, asking politely for a room for the two of you, the insecurities you'd been feeling melt away; it's clear he only has eyes for you.
A point that only becomes more evident when Alessandro whisks you into your room for the night, immediately pinning you to the door with his mouth latched to your neck. "Terz…"
He caresses you, pressing his body right up against yours. "I know, amore mio, I want you so badly. Sei così bella…"
You feel anything but beautiful right now. "No, Ale, I-"
Your lover's actions come to a screeching halt as he hears the tone in your voice: one of fear and worry. Two things you should never have to feel, in his humble opinion.
"I don't think I can do this… What if those guards find us? Terzo, I'm so scared," you cling to his cloak with frustrated fists, leaning your forehead against his chest.
"Do not fret, cara mia. I know it feels as if we are in the lion's den, but you are safe here. I know many people in this little village, and they will not give us away." He smoothes back your tangled hair, trying to ease your mind.
"But they can't stop those knights from seeing us! They can't stop them from recognizing me," you have real urgency present in your voice and in the way you look at him.
"Well…" He pauses to think for a moment. "What if I set up an alert system? I can have le signore here on lookout for us tonight, and we'll leave before sunrise, sì?" He rubs your arms, leading you over to the bed to at least sit down.
Your nerves are so on edge, you feel like you could ride off into the forest right now, into some secret tunnel that would take you to your destination… But you knew that wouldn't be good for you: number one because of exhaustion, and number two because you're clearly delirious if you're hoping for some imaginary path through these mountains. Relaxing into the plush mat on the bed, it wasn't much, but it was certainly so much nicer than the hard ground you'd unfortunately had to get used to.
"Principessa," Alessandro whispers to you, "You are tired. Get some rest, tesoro. I will make sure we are safe," he coos, helping you lie back in bed.
Sleepiness has hit you like a wall, especially being in a bed for the first time in what felt like months. "Amore… I trust you," you squeak out before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and allowing yourself to truly relax. Within minutes, you're out, softly making little noises in your sleep.
Terzo smiles down at you, carefully pressing his lips to your temple before slipping from the room. He's got work to do.
• •
Waking in Alessandro's warm embrace was something you'd happily gotten used to, often holding onto each other out of necessity on cold nights, but to wake in a bed, bundled up and fairly well-rested… Now this is something you'd like to experience more often.
Turning over to see Terzo's bare chest, you wish you had more time to show it your affection, but the sun will be showing itself soon.
Grumbly and not wanting to separate himself from you, it's a challenge waking the sleepy man.
"Now who's being a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢, huh?" you quietly jab at him. "C'mon, bed bug, we've got to get moving before those knights do."
He groans, finally cracking his eyes open, "I told you, amore, we have nothing to worry about with that." He smooches your forehead before you climb out of bed.
"Yeah, we won't have anything to worry about if we leave!" you chuckle, trying to be as lighthearted as you can by chucking his cloak at his lying form.
"Eh!" He swats his hand playfully before finally getting up.
After lacing up your corset, you lean down to retrieve Terzo's shirt noticing something on the sleeve. "What is this?" you ponder quietly before turning to him. "Why is there blood on your cuff here?"
He saunters over, giving you that devilishly handsome smile and taking the shirt from your hands, "Perhaps I nicked myself on something." His tone is nonchalant as he goes back to getting ready.
It has you suspicious, but you decide to shrug it off.
Outside in the stables finally, Terzo helps you up on your steed before mounting his own. He looks you over as if sizing up a meal, admiring the way you'd really risen to the challenge of fleeing your home.
"What's that look for?" you giggle at him.
"Just observing what I didn't get to have a taste of last night," he smirks.
The objectification makes you blush and wish you hadn't gotten so in your own head after leaving the tavern. But before you can snap a quick remark, a few men, including the tavern owner, return from the treeline, shovels in hand. You notice Terzo nod a knowing look at them.
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
Thinking on it for a few seconds, you piece the clues together, but decide now isn't the time to ask. Instead, you whip your horse's reins, running away from your problems once again.
• •
Settled in by the hearth after a delicious dinner with some friends of Terzo's, you lean into the man's chest as the mother of the household reads to everyone. It's a lovely story that the family had been working through together, but you only understand bits and pieces of the Italian lilting though the room. Instead you opt to mostly enjoy the comfortable silence between you and your lover, contentedly listening to his heartbeat.
This well-to-do family had a room to offer you for the night, refuge from the winding paths in the mountains, and secrecy from those who might come looking for you. Luckily, you hadn't encountered any more of your father's knights since the last town a few days ago, and you hoped you wouldn't… for their sake, especially if Terzo did what you think he did.
"Tesoro?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts as you undress for bed.
"Hm?" you turn to him.
Dramatically, he steps across the room, shirt hanging open, as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, fingertips tracing your earlobe and jawline. "Are you alright, cara mia? You've been unlike yourself the past few days, not talking as much. Have I done something to upset you?"
His last question was right on the mark, if your suspicions were correct. "Did… Did you kill those knights in the last town?" your lip quivers and you start to tear up, confronting the guilt you'd been trying to ignore since then.
"Sì, amore, I did," he starts, and as you begin to interject, he continues, "but I did it for you."
"Do not use me as an excuse, Alessandro! Why would you do it?!" Anger starts to replace your tears.
"Amore… I would do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 for you. I did it to keep us safe! You were right when you said that those knights could catch us. I had given myself a false sense of security being in a familiar place with familiar faces." He steps back, allowing you the space to process his words.
His explanation was plainly honest, simple, didn't beat around the bush. Yet, it still vexes you that you know hardly a thing about his position, where you're going, why he has to be so secretive. And now he's killed your father's knights twice to keep you out of their grasp. You can't help but question his intentions since your stay in the last town…
"You would do anything for me?" you repeat, voice small.
"Sì. Anything. Everything, principessa! I want to marry you, amore, give you as many piccoli bambini as you want! I would do anything to have you and to love you for eternity… even killing those knights to know they won't take you from my arms." As he verbalizes his dedication to you, his emotions swell, causing the pendant on your neck to glow once again, letting you feel just how much he means it.
Perhaps you'd gotten in your own head once again.
Your fingers trace across the emerald as they often did. "Marry me?" is all you can utter.
"Certo che," (Of course,) he whispers, lashes wet as he moves to hold you close to him again. "Ti amo così tanto, bella mia." (I love you so much, beautiful.)
"I love you, too," you mumble into his chest, but then look up at him, "I think I've wanted to marry you since the moment you held that knife to my throat."
You both share small chuckle, noses nuzzled together, Terzo's fingers dancing in your hair as the moonlight spills in through the little window. Softly, he presses a kiss to your lips, relieved that you aren't angry with him anymore. He had feared he would lose you over his own actions rather than anything taking you from him.
"But," you start, and his eyes quickly flick to meet yours, "it's time you tell me the truth."
"Cara mia, we are only two days away-"
"Exactly, Alé. Don't you think I should know what I'm getting into? Who I'll be around? What you're involved in? I've been very patient, and I've put all my trust in you, amore. Nothing you have to say could change my feelings about us," you press him, but also reassure him.
Deep down, he knows you're right yet again. While it would be the safest option to wait until you have arrived at the Abbey, he can't expect you to walk into this blindly. "Okie dokie, principessa, where would you like to start?"
You pause, the realization dawning on you that you finally get to ask the millions of questions you've had. Naturally, your mind goes blank, only coming up with one simple but open ended question. "Who are you?"
The man before you chuckles as he guides you to sit on the plush bed with him. "Tesoro, you know who I am… Truthfully, you know me better than most."
"Terz- Alessandro," you start, unsure what you should call him in your mild irritation at that answer, "Who are you? What's your title? Are you important in… wherever we're going? Where are we going? Is it a kingdom? Who's the ruler there? What's it like?" The dam broke and all the questions leave you in a rush.
"Principessa," he stops the flood. "My name is Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. As for the rest of your questions, perhaps I should start where you ended." He takes your hands in his, clearing his throat. "My home is bellissima. It's not like any place you've ever seen. It's an Abbey, secluded away from the world around it. Peaceful. It's peaceful and protected there."
"What are you protecting?" you quietly interject.
He chuckles before continuing. "Our way of life, cara mia. We are a people of liberation, free will, acceptance. In structure, it is not a kingdom; however, it is not unlike the Catholicism you grew up knowing, but without all the rules. We have loyal followers, we have ministry workers, a clergy."
You sit in silence, his explanation only leading you to a million 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 questions.
"But you see, bella, we are not like Christianity in our spirituality. It's not something most are born into, it is something that is found. We have many of the tenets you are familiar with from your father's religion without all that silly worry about sin…"
You can tell he is hesitant to come out and say it. This is the thing that isn't safe to know. You wonder if it isn't safe because of how you'll feel about it or if it really could bring you danger for knowing about it.
Both is the answer.
"Cara mia, I am a part of the Church of Satan."
Again, silence falls over the room as you collect your thoughts. "Well… It's alright if you practice a different religion. I haven't felt particularly close to my own lately. So you live in this ministry? Do all of the followers live there?"
He gives you a half smile at your naivety. "No, bella, typically our followers do not all live there. Some come seeking refuge, but they do not have to stay, though many who do become Siblings of Sin."
"Siblings of Sin?" you repeat, "Are those like nuns?"
He chuckles again, nodding at you.
"So are you a… Brother of Sin?"
Another smile. And another thing he loves about you: your curiosity far outweighs your need to judge anyone.
"No, again. I am in the clergy. I am one of the few that is raised in the religion, although we are welcome to leave should we choose. My whole life I've been molded to be its leader, and the time is coming soon, which is why I set out to find you, amore."
"Me? The leader? What does that have to do with me?" you are genuinely concerned.
"Perhaps my wording was cryptic, mi dispiace. I just mean to say that once I am in charge, I won't have much time to be away from my duties, so I set out to find love before that time comes." Your lover cups your cheek, basking in how gorgeous you look in the pale moonlight.
"Oh," you smile, relieved. "So… You will be- the Pope? If it's like Catholicism."
"Sì. Papa. Papa Emeritus the Third, preceded by mio fratello, Papa Emeritus the Second, or Secondo when he's being a stronzo," he rolls his eyes at the thought, and you can't help but picture the sibling rivalry.
Somehow you've just found out he's the Antipope, opposite your religion, and all you find yourself thinking about is that he has a brother, maybe even two if there is a Papa Emeritus the First. Then you remember the letter from his mom… His whole family is waiting for him back home, and you can't wait to meet them!
Suddenly, you let out a sob, biting your lip and looking up at him through watery eyes. Hugging him tightly and crying into his chest, you hear him tell you, "I understand if it is all too much. I understand if you do not wish to be bound to me, mia dea. I do still hope you'll come along with me; you'll be safe there, no matter your beliefs. We can just be lovers, even if you never want more, amore, I'll understand."
Sniffling as you wipe your tears away, you search for your favorite mismatched eyes, "What do you mean, Alé? I'm happy. I'm finally happy, don't you see?" You hold his face in your hands, nuzzling noses once again. "It isn't lost on me the irony that I left the king of one religion just to please another, but at least I did it of my own accord. You gave me the choice, and that is what makes me love you, Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. You may have set me free… But my only wish is to be bound to you, eternally." Another pause, "Forever yours, nocturnal me. Just like your song, right?"
Sincerity is written across his face at your words; with an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you to straddle his lap, "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 song," he tells you before his lips crash into yours.
• •
Sun now spills in the room as your eyes squint open. Slumped down into the cushiony bed, your body thoroughly relaxed from the way he worked every tension from your aching body last night, you find it hard to even move. But turning to find an empty spot next to you, motivation to once again be close to your lover encourages your feet to carry you through getting dressed and finding him at the dining table with the family hosting you.
Peeking through the doorway, you watch as he throws his head back in laughter, joking with one of the little boys, making him squeal and giggle. You wonder what he'll be like as a father to his own one day.
"What are you smiling at, tesoro? Come, sit," Terzo stands, pulling out a chair for you.
"Thank you," you tell him, sitting at the table with everyone.
Breakfast is delicious, and you're so grateful for the warm meals and hot bath and soft bed this family has offered you. Between table chatter, a small broach on the mother's dress catches your eye.
"Is everything alright, dear?" she asks, clearly catching you staring at it.
"Oh! Apologies, my apologies. I just spotted your pin… What does it mean?" you cringe at your own bad manners.
"Oh!" she also exclaims, "My Grucifix?" The mother runs her fingers over it almost affectionately. "Terzo… You've done a poor job informing the girl where you're taking her!" She jokes lightheartedly.
"We discussed everything late last night," he gently squeezes your hand. "I just haven't had a chance to… Show her everything: the symbolism, scriptures-"
"Your paints?" The mother asks excitedly.
You offer a confused look. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯?
"No, I-" Terzo starts but is interrupted again.
"Honey," the father of the family smiles at his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let them move at their own pace."
You and Terzo both silently sigh your relief. He wants to tell you more, but not now.
"So, you all are followers of Terzo's Church then?" you ask, not really sure how to word it.
"My husband and I are, the children will be allowed to decide for themselves if that's what they would like to believe," the mother answers softly. "This is the symbol of Papa's church specifically, to answer your earlier question, dear."
You spend the rest of breakfast happily chatting away before having to return to the journey at hand.
"Mm, can't we stay, Alé?" you groan into his shoulder after he affixes your horse's saddle.
Hugging you lazily, he kisses your forehead, "I would dare say we could… If I weren't so concerned about delivering us home, amore mio."
"Do you think they'll like me there?" you ponder out loud.
"Like you? Tesoro, they'll adore you. Some will even wish they could be you." He looks you over amorously.
"I'll be that important, huh?" You offer him a smile.
"Oh, sì, sì. As my Prime Mover, everyone will look to you as a beacon of warmth and understanding."
His answer makes you a little nervous. You hadn't really thought about his followers also looking up to you; women don't really have a position in Catholicism, other than nuns. Now his words from last night about not wanting to be bound to him make sense.
"Prime Mover…" You won't let the challenge scare you away. "I hope I can do the position, and you, the justice it deserves," you nod your head reassuringly, kissing him softly several times.
Hesitantly, he pulls away from you. "Mm, tesoro, while I could kiss you all day, we must go," he reminds you, before helping you on your horse for the millionth time in the past few weeks.
• •
Sun was setting, leaving long dramatic shadows cast across the first floor by the tall trees. Terzo is so excited, he can hardly contain it. You're close to your final destination and it hardly feels real. Traveling with him is all you'd known thus far.
"THERE!" He points suddenly, and you're not even sure what he pointed at before he sharply commands his horse to a gallop, spooking yours into doing the same!
You may have let out a scream struggling to hold onto your horse, "Terzo?! What are you doing??!"
"Look, cara mia! Casa!" Home. It's finally within his grasp.
You come up on the beautiful brick abbey at full speed; with it's towering spires and winding vines, it casts some interesting shadows at sunset. Stunning, nonetheless.
Some tall stocky men in silver masks run out of a side door at full sprint. Upon the terrace, Terzo abruptly stops his horse and flies from the saddle, directly towards the largest man. "Omega!" he chirps as they practically slam their bodies against one another in a fierce hug.
Slowing your horse to a halt, unlike your lover, you patiently wait for the men to greet one another. They were clearly all very close. The one called Omega almost acted like an obedient dog thrilled to see his owner after so long and needing a good scratch behind the ears. Observing the devilish look of their masks and the mysterious way they move, a whole new list of questions comes to mind.
"Mamma!" Terzo running towards an older woman with long black wavy hair catches your attention. She has beautiful with warm green eyes; must be where he gets his from.
"Alessandro, how I've missed you!" she exclaims, covering his face in kisses and holding him tightly. He giggles at her, and in that moment, he looks like a happy and well-loved child. "Is this her, Alessandro? The one you've been looking for?" It shifts all the attention toward you, still perched on your dappled horse.
"Sì, Mamma, this is my love," Terzo turns, making his way over to assist you to the ground. He holds your hands, looking into your eyes to make sure you're not overwhelmed. All he finds there is happiness. He brings you over and introduces you by name and title, "Amore, this is mia mamma, Felìcita."
"Buonasera, è un piacere incontrarti," (Good evening, it's a pleasure to meet you,) you greet her just like you'd practiced, wanting to make a good impression.
"Ah, ragazza dolce, mio figlio taught you well, didn't he?" she replies with a laugh and a kiss on each cheek. "Did he give you this haircut, too?" She holds a couple of uneven strands between her fingers. You just laugh and nod. "Ah, don't worry, cara, we'll get you all cleaned up here." Her smile is so inviting and her conversation so charming, you see the influence she's has on Alé.
"Bella mia?" Terzo pulls you from your thoughts, "I'd like you to meet my ghouls."
"Ghouls?" you repeat.
"Sì, Alpha," he gestures to the one on his left. "And Omega," he pats the shoulder of the one on his right.
You're not sure how you'll ever tell them apart. "Nice to meet you both," you hold out a hand for either one to shake. Alpha takes you up on the offer, immediately pulling you close, taking you by surprise. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and a strong appendage wraps tightly around you: a tail. Trying to keep your face as unreadable as possible while you take in his inhuman features, you start to hear a soft purring next to your ear.
"Alpha, scendi! You'll scare her," Terzo commands.
"Alé, it's okay," you tell him, wrapping your arms around the large man's waist, which only increases the noises coming from him.
"Alé?" Omega chucks, elbowing your lover.
"Stai zitto, demone!" (Shut up, demon!) he hisses in return. Their dynamic is pretty funny.
Alpha pulls away from your hug cheery eyed as he quietly tells you, "Il bambino è al caldo e al sicuro." (The baby is warm and safe.)
"Bambino?!" Terzo nearly shouts.
"Si, signore, she carries your child," Alpha tells him.
"Tesoro?" your lover's eyebrows immediately turn upward at the realization, "Did you suspect this?"
"I just- I thought I was only tired from being on horseback so much… I had no idea," you explain, feeling like you need to sit down.
As if reading your mind, Alessandro is there to support you. "Amore…" He gently places his hand on your stomach, "You will make una bella mamma!" Nuzzling your nose, as had become a consistent thing from him, tears prick at his eyes.
"Mi scusi, but if this is the case," Felìcita addresses you, "we should get you inside for a warm meal, sì? I won't have mio nipote go hungry!"
• •
You'd pretty much spent the last 36 hours sleeping… and eating, of course. Italian hospitality dictates that you will not go hungry. Cracking your eyes open just long enough to wiggle under your lover's arm and lay your head on his chest, you nestle right back in to go to sleep.
Terzo groans dramatically and grumbles, "Amore, we can't sleep forever, as good as it feels…"
You had been fortunate enough to be mostly left alone since you'd arrived at the Abbey, and you'd both used the time to rest after such a hard expedition into Italy, especially you and the baby.
"How did Alpha know?" you ask, eyes still closed as you listen to the man's heartbeat.
"The ghouls, they… they feel things. Almost like they're connected to those around them." His fingers trace shapes across your scalp, only serving to push you further back into your slumber.
But curiosity gets the best of you again, as you sit up, leaning over your lover. "Like the emerald you gave me? How it makes me feel what you feel?"
He smiles, "Sì, but the ghouls are much more… sensitive. Hence why I couldn't tell you are pregnant, despite the pendant."
"So you 𝘥𝘪𝘥 do something to it!" you accuse him, proud for finally cracking it.
He chuckles at your little game, "Sì, how else was I suppose to lure you in?" His hand in your hair pulls you down for a kiss.
"Perhaps with the endless thoughts I had of you every day after you kissed me," you drag a finger down his bare chest. "Although that was something entirely out of your control," you wink at him.
"Sì, well, I do like to keep you under my control, cara mia," his morning voice growls in your ear.
"Oh, are you going to put me under another spell, lover?" you giggle, playing with his chest hair.
"Mmm, one where the only word to fall off your lips is my name…" Terzo sits up, flipping you onto your back and pinning your hands above your head.
"Which one?" you playfully rebut.
"I'll allow you to decide this," it's his turn to wink as his lips find your jaw, working on all the sweet spots he knows so well.
"Mmm… Terzo," you sigh into his touch.
His hands snake under your nightgown, leaving your hands resting above your head. "Is that the one you choose, cara?" Resting his fingers on your panties, he starts to rub against your bundle of nerves.
You feign thinking about it as you writhe against his hand. "Oh no… I might pick another," you tease.
He leaves a sizable love bite at your collarbone, sucking his mark into your skin while his fingers dip beneath the fabric impeding them. His hard cock, unfortunately concealed by his sleeping pants, presses against your thigh, so you gently move your leg back and forth to offer him some relief. Before long, evidence of his lust seeps though the thin fabric.
"Dolcezza…" he whispers right in your ear before nibbling on it as well, eliciting a moan from you. One of his fingers moves further down to hint at your entrance.
You inhale sharply, "Please, Alé," you whine.
"Alé? Or will it be Alessandro?" he flirts, allowing that digit to slip into you, making quick work of curling it to find your other sweet spot.
"Mmm…" you knit your eyebrows together, "mm- I- please."
"Please what, mia dea?" He adds another finger. "You must decide on a name for me, since you insist I have too many…"
"Please," you struggle against his ministrations, especially when his free hand comes to tease at you nipple. "Please… Papa."
His eyebrows perk up at that one, and his hands pause for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Tesoro, I am not Papa yet," he scoffs.
"You will be one day, no?" Now it's your turn to give him the devious look he normally has in his eye. "Plus… You'll be Papa to this little one very soon," you gesture by rubbing your belly just above where his hands work on you.
With that, all his restraint is lost, obvious in the way he pounces back on top of you, attacking your mouth with his and ripping your undergarments from your flesh. "Allow me to remind you how I put il mio piccolo inside you, then," he growls, pushing his own pants down to his knees before hiking your legs up around his waist.
Your hands finally move to claw at his back with him now on top of you. Feeling his length being slicked up in your folds, he gives no warning before pushing in right to the hilt. The scream it drags from you could probably wake the dead!
"Say it again," your lover commands darkly before snapping his hips into you again.
"P-uhh…" is all you manage.
Sitting up, his fingers harshly grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Say it. Again." This time through gritted teeth.
"Papa! Please, fuck me Papa!" you beg.
"Brava ragazza," he praises you. "Now, legs up here," he taps his collarbones, giving you little time before he's hoisting them up himself, hooking your knees on his shoulders. Falling back on top of you, you feel absolutely folded in half as his cock presses deep against your walls.
"Oh, Papa!" you whimper, feeling his tip drag against that sweet spot.
He places his weight on his elbows, fingers tangling in your hair, and he aligns his knees on either side of your hips. Carefully at first, he lifts his hips before dropping back down into you. When it earns a gasp from you, he does it again, and again, falling into a dangerous rhythm.
You whine and moan for him over and over again, having to fight back your climax already as he attacks your most sensitive spot. Fingernails scratch at his sides as he pounds into you, and you try to keep your knees from knocking against your head.
"Bellissima, cara mia, you take il mio cazzo so well…" he grunts out, already getting close as well. "Sei bellissima sotto di me." (You look beautiful underneath me.) The soft kiss he presses to your lips is a sharp juxtaposition to his ministrations.
Your urge your heels into his back, opening your mouth for more, and he doesn't disappoint as his tongue does its familiar dance with yours. "P-Papa…" you break the kiss, "I'm, I'm-"
"Vieni per me, principessa, vieni sul mio cazzo," he allows you your release; gently his hand squeezes at your airway as his hips roughly snap into your tight wet heat.
The lack of air only serves to heighten your pleasure as your orgasm rolls through you, causing your legs to shake thunderously beneath his weight. "PAPA!" you scream his soon-to-be title endlessly, the spell he joked about earlier coming true.
Holding off just long enough to work you through your climax, he thrusts into you one last time and you feel Terzo's cock kick, spilling his seed inside you. "Satanas, amore… Ti amo… Amo la tua figa," (Satanas, love… I love you… I love your pussy.) he huffs out, still pressing into you as you both come down from your high.
You share a laugh at his lewd comment, and he bumps his nose against yours before sitting up and slipping out of you before carefully helping to unfold your legs. Climbing over you once again, his thumbs massage your hips, wanting to help release any tension there. "How's that, cara?"
"Mm, feels good, Papa, thank you," you relax under his touch, eyes fluttering closed.
"Bene," he giggles, "you don't have to call me Papa anymore, tesoro."
"What if I like it?" you smirk.
"Then you may call me what you like," he says, magic fingers still working your tense muscles. "But maybe not in front of miei fratelli… It could make them feel jealous." He gives you a little wink.
• •
What would've under most circumstances been a stressful day, was actually pretty easy going. Being with your lover had a way of keeping you calm and content, even as you met the rest of his family and the upper clergy members.
It was lunch with his brothers, Primo and Secondo, and father, Nihil. You felt it odd that his mother was left out, but that would be a conversation for later. The rest of the afternoon was filled with meetings, some being introductions and others were to discuss preparing you for your Prime Mover ritual. There would be a lot to learn, but you feel confident with Alessandro by your side.
"Amore," he catches your attention with a kiss to the cheek. You're back in his chambers getting ready for Mass tonight; Secondo would be leading it, and it's your first one, so you're nervous but excited. "I regret to have to leave you alone while I go dress for Mass tonight, will you be alright without me? Of course, you'll have Sister Beth here to help with anything you could need."
"I'll be fine, my love. Besides, I'm not really alone, am I?" You place his hand on your belly and nod towards the Sister diligently waiting to assist you. "I'll see you in the chapel," you give his hand a squeeze and his nose a kiss.
After your lover dismisses himself, Beth is very patient in helping you get ready and answering any questions that come mind about tonight's mass. She's not unlike your handmaiden back home.
𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.
You hadn't really allowed yourself to think about the place you grew up in. It wasn't exactly home anymore…
"Are you alright, Miss?" Beth rips you from your reminiscing.
Quickly peeking in the looking glass and wiping away tears, you respond, "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, Beth. Thank you for asking." You hope the panic isn't obvious on your face.
"Of course, Miss." She nods knowingly and goes back to styling your hair, twisting and smoothing the strands expertly.
"Beth…" It escapes you before you can stop it.
"Yes, Miss?" She glances at your reflection, continuing her work.
"Do you enjoy it here? You weren't raised here, were you? I mean- My apologies, Beth. I've overstepped." You internally cringe at how your curiousity leaps all boundaries.
"It's quite alright, milady," she softly reassures you, "Must be nerve-wracking coming to a new place, and being plopped in a high up position at that. I was nervous too when I arrived on the front stoop. This is the only place I've felt fully accepted as I am, imperfections and all." She has a sense of pride on her face. "Be honest and true to yourself and everyone here will have no choice but to accept you. Surely, since you were charming enough to catch the eye of Cavaliere Terzo."
"Cavaliere?" you question.
"Oh yes, he's so sought after here at the Abbey. I should prepare you by saying that nearly all the Siblings get a little weak in the knees in his presence."
The idea of everyone having their little flirtations with your lover doesn't bother you… But 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… 𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?
"I'm sorry, Miss, if I've upset you. I just thought it better that you know how everyone will act around him," Beth softly apologizes.
"No, no, it's not you. Or the wandering eyes. What does Cavaliere mean?"
"Oh! Just that he's a knight. One of our finest, actually. Great on horseback, and you should see him with a sword, Miss! He's very skilled at taking down his opponents during practices and tournaments."
"Oh my… He's never mentioned it to me," you ponder, baffled at this news.
"Well, of course! How else would he have survived so long traveling through the mountains and Satan knows where else?" She sounds so chipper; she must have a small crush on him too.
"And how long was he gone? I've only been traveling with him for just over a fortnight," maybe now you're prying.
"Nearly a year, Miss." Beth smiles, placing an ornate clip in your hair. "Finished! How do you like it?"
"It's bellissima, Beth. Thank you," you nod at her, appreciating her hard work.
"Already getting comfortable with Italian? The family will like that," she reassures you with a pat on the shoulder, before exiting to the bedroom to prepare your gown for this evening.
Staring into the looking glass, head reeling from all the new information, you think about Alessandro's letter from his mother.
𝘈 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳? 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦?
The realization makes you feel almost insignificant, like there is a much bigger power at work here, but simultaneously makes you feel very special. Thinking on the way he didn't want you to feel trapped coming here, his mother not wanting him to come back until he found love, the sins he committed to get you here safely… It puts things in a different perspective, like all the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. You know you've made the right choice with him and that you weren't just swept up in your feelings.
𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴… 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
• •
The grand halls surrounding the the chapel are absolutely packed as everyone greets one another, waiting for sunset. Beth stays right by your side, not wanting you to get lost in the sea of people; you had no idea this many people could even fit in this place.
"Ah, Sorella, buonasera," you hear a soft voice over your shoulder: Primo.
Secondo follows with, "How are you and il piccolo, doing?" Despite his gruff nature, you're quickly learning he's really a big softie, especially towards beautiful women and babies. You aren't even that far along, but everyone in the family seems so excited about the prospect of another little one.
"We're doing well, thank you both," you greet them offering them both a kiss on the cheek, careful not to mess up their papal paints. It's an unconventional look for certain, but their full formal regalia indeed commands the respect they deserve.
The two dismiss themselves into the chapel, leaving everyone else outside to wait for the doors to open.
"Where do you think Terzo is?" you nudge Beth lightly.
"Oh, he's over there, Miss," she points to a particularly dense crowd of people.
𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.
The girl seems to nervously fidget with her habit, eagerly watching the scene before her intently.
"Do you want to go see him, too?" you smile at her, and she replies with a shy nod. "It's alright, go ahead," you smile your approval.
As your handmaiden slips into the gathering, you giggle to yourself, thinking about how he must really get slowed down trying to go anywhere. From your spot by the chapel doors, you see that familiar mop of hair, but notice that he stands a little taller, chest puffed out a bit more. Seeing the ornate black and gold pauldron on his shoulder gives you a hint of his knightly attire.
Silently observing as people shake his hand, offer him hugs and even hand them their babies, it's not unlike watching a soldier who's come home from war to be greeted by those that care for him. However, when he notices Beth standing near him, his head turns, looking around for you. His face is covered in a stark black and white skeleton designs, similar to his brothers. If it weren't for the way his eyes wandered your body upon spotting you, you almost wouldn't have recognized him.
In an effort to politely slip away from his devoted flock, he kisses a few ladies' knuckles, and bids them farewell for now, turning all his attention towards you leaning against the wall, patiently waiting.
Drinking in his finely crafted artisan armor as he ambles over, you give him a wink, appreciating this new look on him. The black of his armor ties in well with his face paint and dark locks, while the gold only serves to make him stand out amongst everyone else.
"Mm, amore," he grunts, taking your hand. "You look assolutamente divino in this gown. Violet is a favorite of mine, especially seeing it on you, dolcezza." He lifts your chin with his fingers, gracing his thumb over your lower lip.
"You never told me you are a knight, 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰…" you feign irritation at him.
"Aye, some things must remain a surprise, sì?" Clearly being back home and returning to his high position has given him a whole new air of confidence.
"I worry to see what other 'surprises' you have in mind, caro," you giggle.
He wraps an arm around the small of your back, the hard metal firmly pressing against your skin, and pulls you in for a what feels like an inappropriate kiss to share in front of the whole congregation.
Luckily, the doors to the chapel open, saving you from any further public displays with your partner; you were already receiving some looks from a few of the Sisters just for kissing him.
"Ready for your first Black Mass, principessa?" Alessandro offers you his elbow, guiding you to the front pew to sit alongside him and his mother, who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.
After this, you know there will be no turning back. Your old life is nothing but a memory now.
#papa emeritus iii#papa terzo#papa 3#papa emeritus 3#ghost band#the band ghost#fanfic#imagine#oneshot#long fic#medieval#fem reader#x reader#reader insert#knight#cavaleire#terzo#papa iii#shitghosting
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forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 2)
Summary: You thought the events of the day couldn't get worse than one robbery and a cryptic conversation with a mysterious stranger. You thought wrong. This, you realize, is how it all starts.
Words: 3.3K
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Many hours later, guilt is eating its way through a considerable portion of your conscience, as it usually does following the clash of hot temper and arrogance— both of them yours. You're no longer insistent on pinning your shortcomings on the mysterious stranger with molten brown eyes, though you're still grumpy about his bold assumptions and oddly skewering way of getting a point across.
Just let it go. Don't do what I know you want to do.
You split the four hundred dollars he left between your two employees, but for some reason, the crumpled up singles still rest in your jacket pocket. The money takes up a lot more space inside your head as you drive home, radio turned up above its usual volume. It doesn't provide much of a distraction, because the faintly illuminated road ahead is the perfect canvas for a busy mind to fill.
Traces of the past hide inside misshapen trees and uneven asphalt, and if your grip were a little tighter, it would leave the same dent in the steering wheel that it did the night you drove back from that slate quarry in your hometown. Nineteen years is a long time to still remember the smell of overheated excavation equipment. It's far away, yet surfaces so abruptly that your nose almost floods with it. Your lips press together in displeasure.
Well, at least you're breathing. You suppose Mark couldn't from beneath all that gravel you buried him under. Did he suffocate or was he crushed? Maybe a question you'll always have in the back of your mind. You know the answer wouldn't give you peace, were it to arrive from an omniscient being. What does it matter how he died? Yours is the will that killed him. Turning an event around and over and upside down two decades after it took place is just another way of engaging your guilt and letting it gnaw on more mental acuity. You need your wits about you, so you don't forget what all this is even for. You're alive. You have a life that needs living. Sometimes, there will be people who won't let you live it, and you can't just throw everything away to settle the score.
Scoffing at the bullshit mantra you’ve tried feeding yourself all day, you take the last right turn before you're finally on the road that leads home, hand reaching out to lower the volume on the stereo. Whatever. You made it through today, and you'll try your hardest not to think about the little shit who stole from you and his neon green jacket. You’ll also do your best not to think about your encounter with the strange man and his gruff voice, lest he become the thing you lose sleep over tonight.
It'll be hard to avoid it, because you kept his message. Maybe as a symbol, or maybe as an excuse. There is some part of you that wants to believe he was meant to be there today, if only so you didn't truly screw up this time and become a criminal. Shooting someone while they're robbing you and hunting them down to do it afterwards are actions that the law tends to distinguish between unfavorably. Just like it might distinguish between killing someone inside an old quarry and killing them after they'd already taken you there for murder.
The self-defense angle always felt shoddy in your mind. Maybe what you did to Mark would've looked like self-defense to a jury, but you sure know you didn't bury him under seven tons of jagged rock because you wanted to protect yourself. You didn't burn down his house because you were feeling reasonably threatened. You just wanted him to get what was coming his way. Karma, your hands.
You might have a problem, but you're alive. You survived that and you're going to survive more, just as soon as you take a cold bath and chase away the heat settling in your bones. That's what mid-August spent in an ancient car with no working air conditioner will get you. Replacing the shitty truck will have to wait, because news of the robbery will spread and you don't want to be telegraphing the fact that the bakery isn't your main source of income.
This may be a nice town, but today was a good example of a gap in people's decency— yours included, because you were so fucking rude to that mysterious stranger, and what did it accomplish? He replenished your losses and left without another word. The longer you look back, the more guilt advances on your psyche. It stills momentarily, however, when a suitable distraction finally appears as you find yourself a couple hundred feet down the road from your house. It’s true that you wanted something else to focus on, but this is so unwelcomed that it sends a wave of nausea through your body.
The scene is flooded with the red and blue lights of two police cruisers and one ambulance, all parked along the narrow cul-de-sac housing only two buildings: yours and Hazel's. Your mind kicks into high gear before you even lay eyes upon the crowd that has gathered on your front lawn. The sky turned dark not long ago, the hands of the clock approaching a kind of twilight zone of your neighborhood: nobody is typically out at this time of night, and yet, at least twelve people found enough interest in the unfolding scene to leave the comfort of their homes.
The commotion is centered around your property, but the ambulance suggests someone requiring medical attention. You live alone. Hazel is in her late 80s, and you've known her to need a doctor now and then. However, the police being here is the part of the equation that you really don't like. You try to slow down a mind that by nature has already zeroed in on potential scenarios, making a decision to pull over right outside the cul-de-sac instead of crowding it with another vehicle. In a neighborhood this small, your arrival is noticed.
You don't linger, unsticking yourself from the clammy leather seats and stepping out of the truck. The air outside is marginally better than inside the car, though heat still scalds with the gentler hand of a dry climate. At least you're not pouring sweat and disheveled, because it appears that bath will have to wait. And, after only a few moments of approaching the scene, you realize just how long that wait is going to be. There is black tarp on your porch.
The closer you get, the more your spine tingles. Pairs of wide eyes settle on you as you pass them, and it isn't long before Sheriff Randy O'Hare nails you with his own bulbous gaze. He looks like an idiot, and not even one that's in charge. You glance at the porch again.
Tiny surface area. Not much room between the ground and the black material taking up space. Small, lithe. Your house.
The sheriff is having some sort of internal conflict you wish you weren't here to witness. He shuffles from one foot to the other and clears his throat as you stop in front of him, several feet away from the stairs leading up to your front door. It's spattered with blood, visible even against the dark brown oak. Fresh.
Randy says nothing for several more seconds. You have many things to say, none which are appropriate. You've never been good at playing the emotionally fragile. There's a body on your front porch and you need this fucking idiot to speak or—
"I'm so sorry. We're… We're all still in shock. I've known her—" He stops, wiping his mouth and looking away as if something startled him. "—my whole life, I swear. She never did nothing to nobody. Jesus help me, if I get my hands on the one that did it—"
"Who is that, Randy?" you interrupt. It's a question you've asked law enforcement before in your life. The air pressing down on your skin is even warmer now.
"Look, I can't imagine how hard this is. She meant a great deal to everyone in this town, but you knew her best. Ain't nobody ever have a kinder word to say than her. I can't believe—"
"Randy, who the fuck is that?"
If you snap, it's not of your own volition. You're not here. Not really. You aren't with Randy O'Hare, Sheriff of Apolline County who apparently can't utter a simple name. Your mind has traveled backwards in time, and the house you're standing next to isn't your own, but it's painted just about the same. It’s easy to slip away into memory. The awning and the windows are fashioned into the same mold as your childhood home, because those were the things you’d loved most about that house— a mistake. You made a mistake. Your eyes are drawn to the ground, mind working in all directions.
"Hazel Bergman."
You think you hear another name for a brief and cruel moment. The sight of polished black boots atop lush grass only works to further blur the line between past and present.
"I'm so sorry, honey."
"What happened?"
You haven't been so aware of the nuance in your voice since it last betrayed you by shaking as it now is. It's so, so warm outside, but not humid. Not like Auckney. It's not as bad as it was when you were standing in front of a similar house, aged nineteen and wondering why the woman who raised you wouldn't get up from her rocking chair.
You need to get a grip. Look O'Hare in the eyes. You need to know if he lies to you, like cops always do. His face is melting under the cowboy hat. Even his eyeballs are sweating. He's emotional. He should be truthful.
"Daniel Roywood said he saw her arguing with somebody on your porch. He ain't hear what they were talkin' about, just that she looked upset. I've never seen that woman upset once in thirty years. She must've had a damn good reason," Randy explains, looking torn between grief and inoffensive anger. You're not torn between anything.
"Who was she arguing with?"
O'Hare sighs, a curt movement of his neck telling you he doesn't know shit.
"Nobody Danny knew. He couldn't get a good look— the damn house is too far away. But he just said they were arguin', and that was it. He shot her. Just some punk in a green jacket."
It's a miracle you don't react in any meaningful way. For that small interval between the words hitting you and your brain processing them, you're as impassive as before. That brief amount of time is all you get, however, because putting a face to that vague description happens in the blink of an eye.
You look away, covering your face with both hands. You slow your breathing as much as you can, trying to not make any noise as blood rushes through veins that have no hope of containing the pressure. It pounds at your temples and raises your temperature, and suddenly the only lever that hasn’t been flipped on your temper is labeled self-preservation. You can’t do this with people watching, and you’re briskly reminded of that as an unexpected weight settles upon your shoulders. It makes you flinch and move away, and you hear O'Hare apologize before he clears his throat again. A silence follows that isn't long enough.
"Look, I know this is hard. But you know I need to ask you some questions, right? We need to find the son of a bitch that did it and if you have any idea who—"
"I don't."
You've clipped your tongue with how hard you were biting it, but at least you've got your breathing back under control. Facing Randy is easier with a constant trickle of pain and metal. He looks torn, apologetic.
"Come on, honey. I know you don't want to think about anybody you know doin' something like this, but we need something to go on," he pleads. You don’t like the implication behind his words or the ring of truth around it.
"Randy. Everybody knows everybody here. I promise you, if Roywood didn't know him, then I sure as hell don't. I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not divorced. I generally don't keep male company. There is no one! " you seethe, and you're certain that he mistakes your outburst for lingering shock and anger about what happened. It is, but not in the way he seems to think.
The Sheriff frowns, so obviously pitying you and finally seeming more at ease now that you're the emotionally vulnerable one. It's fine. It works in your favor. Tonight will be long and you will benefit from not raising eyebrows or invoking anything other than sympathy from both police and neighbors. The Sheriff looks around for several moments, lips pressing together like he's chewing on the words he hasn't yet said. Soon enough, they part.
"Listen, I hate to ask right now. But if we have any chance in hell of catching this bastard, we could really use the feed from your cameras," he says, gesturing left. Your gaze follows his to the perimeter of the house, covered at every angle by wireless surveillance systems.
Just like that, a spark. A needle to thread. Another choice presented.
Crumpled up bills in your front pocket.
Warm steel at your back.
A splattered front door.
The maligned prescience of four words.
Ain't worth dying for.
"Randy, I…” You enjoy the first real breath since you've arrived. It really doesn't take you long to make a decision. “I'm sorry. I left those up for show more than anything. Couldn't afford the bills after a while. They don't work."
O’Hare deflates. There’s no suspicion you’ve told a lie. It's as if the grit he's supposed to have is flowing through you instead, lighting up your eyes and triggering the itch in your fingers. It's the challenge, the defiance, the guilt that sears through your veins now. The air is almost cool compared to the heat of your skin and the surge in your temper.
The Sheriff imparts more condolences you don't care to hear before walking away, but he's soon replaced by Deputy Dipshit, who you hope is wise enough to only offer pertinent details for the unfolding scene. You aren't interested in what Brent Rivers has been up to, and he usually insists on making it everybody's business. All you want to know is how long before you can enter your house, but pretty soon you realize he won't provide any clarity. It has to be his first murder scene, because he stumbles around simple words after greeting you with a mumbled hi .
He talks and talks, and nowhere does he utter that crucial piece of information you’re waiting to be told. Too long into his jumbled speech, you find the right place to interrupt. He had the nerve to comment on how you’re holding up.
"I'm sorry. I just don't think I'm all ears right now. All I want to do is…" A shaky breath rattles your chest. "… get away for a few days. I don't think I can sleep in my own house knowing this happened. Um, is there any way I could grab a few things and get out? I don't want to be alone once you leave."
Along the way, your words are punctuated by little tells of vulnerability: eyes downcast, vocal chords trembling, excessive blinking. Your shoulders pull in. Brent nods up a storm, mood lightening up as his arm comes to rest around them uninvited.
"Yeah, 'course. I can take you—"
You break away from his grip with an apologetic smile, rubbing your neck to keep your hands busy.
"Can you wait for me at the door? I'll feel better knowing someone's downstairs, and I already have a bag ready. You know, for uh, emergencies and stuff."
The Deputy is less pleased than before, but he acquiesces to your request with a nod and a motion towards the house. You pretend to hesitate before taking the wooden stairs slowly, keeping your eyes averted as you plant your feet on the porch. The edge of the tarp is barely an arm's length away. From this spot, you can see both the pool of blood seeping out from under it and the drops spread across the brick wall. You retrieve the keys from your jacket as Brent stops behind you.
"I'll be right here," he reassures in a too-gentle tone.
You walk inside without a reply, and to Brent's briefly glimpsed surprise, shut the door after you. The security system needs a two-step deactivation that would raise eyebrows after you've told O'Hare you can't afford the bills for the cameras. You breathe deeply for another moment, finally alone.
You only told a half-lie. There is a bag for emergencies, but not for the kind that people usually have. Downstairs as well as upstairs, you keep two duffels properly stocked and periodically checked. They're similar in contents, and yet your preference has always been clear. The bedroom closet. Upstairs. You move untethered towards your target.
Throwing two changes of clothes inside along with a plain pair of sneakers, you zip it back up and lift it over your shoulder. It feels familiar. This bag could be your life. Your life could be this bag. If things go wrong, you'll be good for a while. Back downstairs, where you arrive in the same haze, you make sure Piper and Mae will be good for a while too, replenishing the bird feeder and their respective water drippers, bidding them goodbye soon thereafter. You try not to linger in the house, but a glint draws your attention to the kitchen counter in your peripheral.
The casserole you stuffed your face with this morning and forgot to put back inside the fridge is resting exactly where you left it, the blue sticky note still attached to its side. You remember the message word for word, as well as the curving of the letters you've always been impressed by, though never more so than by the kindness behind each gesture. Hazel couldn't grip the pen quite as well as she used to in her old age, but she liked to practice in the notes she left for you.
She made you food. Cared for you. Made life feel less lonely.
She's outside your door for the last time because you didn't do the right thing today.
Ain't worth dying for.
You don’t realize you’ve walked over until your outstretched hand hesitates before the small note. It's the final one you'll ever get.
'Don't work so hard! It's Saturday, live a little!'
More copper flows into your mouth, this time springing from the lip you tore into so a sob could be stifled. You fold the paper with care and it goes into the same pocket as the pair of singles, just as your mind goes to the same place it's always been more comfortable resting. Maybe, the only place it can have any peace.
Keeping your head down as you exit the house, your eyes find her almost by accident. They're drawn to the tarp. You figure they have to be, since you put it there. You put her there, because you didn’t put a bullet in the right person. You didn't do what you knew you should've.
"Hey. Did you get what you need?"
Ain't worth dying for.
Your eyes don't stray, glued to a puddle of blood and the greedy floorboards swallowing it up. The eyes want to remember, just like the ears remember a thundering rock slide and the nose remembers diesel and construction equipment.
You tell the truth, and it sets you free.
"No."
.
.
-to be continued-
A/N: No Frank in this one unfortunately, but plenty of him in the next one and let me tell you, they are not the best of friends. Chapter 3 is scheduled for August 13th. If you'd like to be tagged for updates, you can reblog any of the previous chapters!
#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle imagine#the punisher x reader#frank castle#frank castle smut
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I'm pretty sure he met Ukkomon before that event happened. After all the flashback/memory? showed it took place around young Tai's and Kari's age of that movie, and after the wish that event happened right after. Unless I missed something that proves its after that event?
[...] Lui and Ukkomon state how they're the first Digimon and human to interact. When they're actually the third ones to interact in the timeline.
Kinda got this on my replies for the headcanon-theory that Rui witnessed the Greymon vs Parrotmon in 1995. And since due to the character limit in the place i got this response, i'll just talk about it here.
Things to consider:
The cameo of baby Taichi and Hikari in the movie is not retconning anything. It's just a small cameo and to indicate Rui and Ukkomon lived in Hikarigaoka in 1996. Besides, this video here has a timeline for the movie. [static photos of said timeline here and here]
[⚠ Take this with a grain of salt] In an interview in Korean with SekiP, she already confirmed they changed a bit of the lore. And, since we can't check the original wording in Japanese (since translation from JP to KR to EN might have something lost in the translation and re-translation) there's nothing we can do about it. Said interview also mentioned the math count being about a kid with a digivice, and not by digimon encounters. Because we all know the "first" to have interacted with a digimon were Oikawa Yukio and Hiroki Hida (Iori's dad) in the 1980s. I took those words granted (yeah i decided to take the risks) when i made this list & math here.
If we're going with that statement, Taichi and Hikari never had a digivice in the 1995 events. They only got digivices and partners in 1999. You can consider Wallace’s issue solved if you think this way too: Got the twin-mons before 1995 but only got a digivice and officially partnered with Terriermon/Gummymon somewhere later.
I'm so sorry to disagree here, but I don't think director Kakudou ever explained how the math actually worked. So i can't really claim this is a plot hole/contradiction or just straight up the 02TB staff interpreting the rule of "digimon partnerships doubling once per year" in their own way. Like i said, we never had details about how digimon partnerships happen: is it one per each person in the span of a year or the number just doubles instantly?
Now, actual SPOILERS from the movie. This section will be left under "read more" in case you haven't watched it yet!
The entire movie does not blatantly agree with Rui's statements -- None of the 02 kids believe him immediately. They even point out certain oddities in Rui's statements, especially about the origins of the human-digimon partnerships. The movie definitely makes you question if whatever he's saying is true or is something Ukkomon told him a long time ago and he believed it.
The movie also is in check with the "math" as well, and said count is stated in one scene. The math just tracks with the count for the 2012 period -- it's not a full number, but makes sense coming from the actual count stated in Kizuna materials. Despite Kizuna also breaking a few specifics in order to make their plot work, it is still pretty loyal to the OG rules about partnerships.
According to the Bandai null lore profile for Ukkomon, the part of granting wishes is a rumor, not something confirmed to be true. This is also something that makes everyone doubt Rui's words. Miyako even comments on this being suspicious enough. (tho i can't remember exactly her words now alas)
However, i give Ukkomon the benefit of the doubt when he talks about being part of something bigger. Which is proven correct because once BigUkkomon is beaten, the digivices also are not needed anymore and they disappear. If this was part of Ukkomon's power or not, i don't know, but my assumption is that whoever is Ukkomon's higher ups acknowledged that the humans can form bonds with their digimon without that token. It's something similar to Adv'99 ep 53 & 54 in which the kids realize they didn't need the tags to evolve their digimon -- and that said tags were only needed to teach/train them to unlock those evolutions properly.
Btw the reason the digivices disappear are stated by the staff that in the OG 02 epilogue there's no digivices shown. This is correct: None of the scenes involving the grown up Tokyo Chosen or their children depict the digivices.
The movie is still in check with the OG lore and it might be its own interpretation of what we only got from the "digimon partnerships double per year" rule (which we never had enough details of how it worked). Even if it is plot hole or not it doesn't matter to me, or to others who liked this movie.
I'll quote Shinomiya Rina's words in Cyber Sleuth, when you have a friendly match with her:
[ID: "Haha, who cares? Don't think so deeply about it. It's boring to give a reason for everything, isn't it?"]
Interpret it in your own way, i'm just pointing out my own chain of thought and stating what was already said by the staff as well.
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I want to hear from you as a fellow shipper:
1. Out of all the humans that Sigewinne has encountered in her probably long life, what makes Wriothesley special?
2. In turn, what makes Sigewinne special to Wriothesley?
Side note: Fontaine has really been emphasising on the human-non-human relationships (Neuvia, Callirhoe and Finch, Neuvifuri) and how they have changed each other, and I would be very happy if they do continue in that direction and give us significant Wriosige moments. I personally think that their best dynamic would be a complementary contrast to NeuviFuri's - as in NeuviFuri revolutionised against the tyranny of Celestia and the Heavenly Principles and were the lead actors in the drama that was Act V, but WrioSige are more down-to-earth and "realistic", quietly improving the Fortress one reform at a time (and because it's been bugging me a lot, I hope post-Archon Quest events give ample time to develop the reforms of the justice system in Fontaine bc if it's as simple as "Neuvi ascends to power" it's still a shit system).
Do they have to be special? Is it not enough that, of all the people they've met across their lives, something slowly came to life as they spent time together?
I don't know much about love, really. I'm aromantic, so it's a feeling that will forever be out of my grasp. But I do know I don't really believe in soulmates, or in "the one". I believe you either find, or build a connection with someone, and that "someone" can be many people.
I do think Sigewinne has been Wriothesley's only romantic interest across his life, if just because he was sent to Meropide when he was still very young - 10 to 15 years old, most likely, considering Genshin seems allergic to characters older than 30. You can fall for your fellow inmates, Avice and Faissolle have shown as much, but under the previous warden I doubt that was much of an option - and his focus was largely elsewhere. As was everyone else's, really. Every day was pretty much a fight to survive. And that leaves Sigewinne, who was likely there before the previous warden and who will still be there once someone takes over after Wriothesley. Her existence almost feels separate from the rest of the prison. Pair that with the fact that he fought a lot and so probably saw her a lot to get patched up, and she starts standing out to him. She's kind, but she isn't naive. Humans to her are both endearing and interesting, and neither of those feelings are malicious. And she's much, much smarter and older than she looks. Compared to what most other people in Meropide had to offer, plus those inhuman traits unique to her, no wonder she caught his eye and later on his heart.
Sigewinne, though, has lived a long time. Several centuries is a safe assumption. We know from Neuvillette's story quest that the relationship between humans and mélusines hasn't always been good, but it's been better for many decades. And with her interest in them, I'm willing to bet several humans caught her attention long before Wriothesley was even born - likely all for different reasons too. She might not have understood her own feelings back then, though - in fact she might only have come around to understanding "love" by the time she met Wriothesley. Those that came before him paved the way, in a way. If she were to find a pattern across all those that caught her eye, I'd say she likes strong characters. People who stand their ground and keep their beliefs at heart even when all the odds are stacked against them. It's fascinating to her, because it's not a feeling that comes naturally to her the way it does to them. She sees a spark in them, one that's very literal in her mélusine eyes, and she's drawn to it. And maybe they remind her of an old friend, too.
(And my friend I sure hope we'll get more interactions between them as more patches come out. As you said, Fontaine has been delivering on the side of relationships with nonhumans and I want more of it. Especially these two. They're so casually married, I'm still not over the photos conversation.)
#ask#answer#rainycloudmountain#wriowinne#structure? i hardly know her#but yeah i don't know#maybe i misunderstood the ask maybe this is just an Aro Moment#maybe the wording confused me#i don't know how to interpret them being special to each other#sigewinne had many humans who were special to her#each one was a learning experience until wriothesley came along#and she'd finally learned enough by then#he came at the right time and he was the type of person that appealed to her#i hope he knows how lucky he is#and then wriothesley... didn't have much of an opportunity to find anyone else#he could have after the end of his sentence#but sigewinne was already in meropide and so she too came at the right time#before anyone else even had a chance#they both lucked out in that way#what am i saying at this point#this is such a long answer my god
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Can you give an example of what are your yaoguai Golden Cicada's desires be would even be. Like I always thought the reason he fell asleep during class was that he was just a dumb teenager (cause cicadas emerge around 13-17 years even though most have a life cycle of 2-5) who'd over worked himself to the point of exhaustion and never asked for help. I thought that was point of all the kidnappings to force "Cicada" to realize that he needed help weather he liked it or not
Although now that I'm typing this out he might have been lonely. It couldn't have been easy to be an adult cicada and just kept on living, while the rest of his brood die after two months. Is he the only bug immortal? Does he have someone to confide in that understands?(Sorry if this is a lot, I just really like cicada)
Well anon in all honestly this is something I haven't even thought about that hard eawgrgrefed. If anything this was just based on my own personal and perhaps faulty sense of "falling asleep during a lecture doesn't seem like that big a deal" & "spending ten lives in the dust of Earth makes a lot more sense if his 'heedlessness' of Buddha was something much worse." And as per usual it needs to be acknowledged that the religious name "Golden Cicada" could be much more of a metaphor for rebirth/the 'casting off' of worldly desires than having anything to do with the actual insects. But we have very little information on who or what Golden Cicada "canonically" was, so that leaves a lot of room for interpretation.
AND SO THAT SAID you are bringing in some interesting potentials for this slowly formulating pre-Xiyouji tale anon! Because in JTTW we do encounter a number of yaoguai who earned their power and 'human' form from surreptitiously listening to the teachings of various boddhisatvas, and it could make for an interesting story if Buddha's second disciple started out life as an actual cicada who Buddha gladly granted a human form to in a similar way but deliberately when he saw the little insect listening to him intently. One one hand such a major transformation really would be an example of the mutability of all things and perhaps an act of mercy on the Buddha's part under the assumption that only humans have a chance of achieving enlightenment. And perhaps for some time (for we don't know how long Golden Cicada maintained the position of Buddha's second disciple) his life was one of peace and contemplation. But oh how things can change.
Maybe Golden Cicada came to formulate a sense that for as pleased and as proud as he was to be Buddha's second disciple, the others still saw him as less because of his insect origin. Maybe his status as Buddha's second disciple came with all kinds of pressure to always behave in an idealized way, something that could be very frustrating for Golden Cicada, especially if this was his first time being a human and having all these human emotions and having to follow all these human rules that he never experienced as a cicada. So maybe he starts putting more and more pressure and expectations on himself to figure out how he's Supposed To Act Like The Perfect Human without really understanding (or even at times refusing to accept) that these are things you can't simply immediately pick up and need someone to guide you, partially because of a holdover of the fact that cicadas rely on no one but themselves to survive from day one, and partially because he convinced himself he has an image to maintain as Buddha's second disciple. So he spends his nights studying later and later, and his days feeling like he can't tell anyone about his troubles because he needs to hold himself to a certain standard. And, well, there's no one in the heavenly realm or at the Thunderclap Monastery is quite like him. Even the Buddha's compassion couldn't erase that fact. It all makes Golden Cicada a little standoffish and surly, even while he still maintains his pride for his closeness to the Buddha.
And then one fateful day, in spite of all of his studies and efforts to maintain the image of the perfect disciple, Golden Cicada commits what seems to him an unforgivable act; he falls asleep while Buddha is giving a lecture. When he wakes up from the Buddha gently shaking his shoulder, he sees that all of the other disciples are staring at him. Some are whispering and quietly laughing, likely finding it hilarious that the prideful second disciple would have committed this error. The Buddha simply smiles and tells Golden Cicada to rest better at night before resuming his teaching.
But for the rest of that lecture, Golden Cicada doesn't pay any attention, too stung by humiliation and a bruised sense of pride. He was trying SO HARD to be the perfect disciple, and this is where it got him.
After the lecture, Golden Cicada wanted to flee, but instead he stays behind at the Buddha's request. He expects to be punished for having disrespected his teacher. Instead, however, the Buddha says that he knows about the late nights of study and the restless days of uncertainty and haughtiness that currently define Golden Cicada's life. The Buddha had been waiting patiently for Golden Cicada to actively tell his teacher about his troubles, but he sees that his second disciple has fallen prey to a very common mistake; that in his efforts to seem worthy of his position, Golden Cicada was allowing his character to diminish through a refusal to do anything that might appear to harm his image, even asking for help. The Buddha tells Golden Cicada that he is far from the first to do so, even stating that he himself had once fallen prey to this mentality; how in the Buddha's own youth, he never even thought to look "below" his high caste station, believing he would be forever happy as one of the best of humanity, when in truth he was nothing but an overindulged and spoiled prince who only learned about suffering in the world when he grew so bored of pleasure that he decided on a whim to see what lay beyond the palace doors. It was only after the shock of realizing how wrong his sense of himself and his understanding of the world was that he was able to start his journey of Enlightenment and become the Buddha.
What the Buddha thus wanted Golden Cicada to understand through this honestly minor mistake is that there's a vast abyss between striving to look like you're an Enlightened individual, and genuinely striving to be an Enlightened individual. That to truly achieve Enlightenment, Golden Cicada needs to comprehend how harmful his ego is even to himself; to accept that an active effort to cultivate oneself requires developing genuine and active compassion for all living things, including himself, so that he can forgive himself for the ignorance all are born within, and use that hard-won knowledge to take one step after another towards nirvana.
The Buddha understood that his second disciple was terrified his teacher would be angry. But of course he's not. Golden Cicada is still very young, younger than even the Buddha was when he first embarked on his own true steps towards Enlightenment. And the Buddha has experienced for himself how difficult it is to achieve this without a few human mistakes.
Golden Cicada is still embarrassed, but he is relieved that his teacher isn't angry with him. And in all honestly, he can see the merit of the Buddha's words. He thanks the Buddha for his understanding and for the lesson, and goes about his day feeling lighter than he has for a long time.
And yet...and yet Golden Cicada cannot (will not) ignore the light teasing some of his fellow disciples send his way. Every question that reveals his ignorance seems like a barb against his sense of self. His origin as a cicada still seems to stand as an unbreachable void between himself and every other entity in both heaven and at the Thunderclap Monastery. And though he cannot admit it, he starts to resent the Buddha for having taken him on as his second disciple. How could his teacher think that giving lectures was the way to solve the world's suffering when there was so much pain he could alleviate if the Buddha only utilized his unfathomable power and made everyone stop being so cruel? How could his act of turning one cicada into a human for a chance at Enlightenment be considered merciful, given that every last one of Golden Cicada's four hundred brothers and sisters, and countless cicadas besides, were doomed to die two months after they emerged from the ground?
Golden Cicada had heard the stories about even deities descending to Earth so that they could live free from the expectations of the heavenly court, embracing and indulging in all the joys that realm had to offer.
He decides to descend as well.
---
He has, perhaps, lost all rights to call himself Buddha's second disciple, but Golden Cicada, now bearing multiple insect-like features upon his still mostly human form, finds he no longer cares. Because here there's lots of different people like him; spider yaoguai, scorpion yaoguai, centipede yaoguai, even nine-headed yaoguai insects, and no one bats and eye over any of this. But best of all for Golden Cicada is that NO ONE can deny his power or his high status. Having been the second disciple of the Buddha himself, Golden Cicada's cultivation translated in his yaoguai form to vast magical powers far above that of any other yaoguai he encountered. A number of these yaoguai asked to form a fraternal alliance with him, and for some time Golden Cicada felt that the loneliness which he struggled to ignore in heaven was assuaged.
But his obvious superiority against all others soon leads him to believe that, in truth, he neither wants nor needs any friends or even companions. What Golden Cicada slowly, insidiously, but absolutely comes to desire is pawns who will follow his every order, who will indulge his every whim, who will do everything they can to ensure that his sense of pride remains unchecked. At first the his fellow yaoguai desired his company out of genuine admiration, but now it is all tinged with ever-growing fear as to what Golden Cicada can and will do if they do not obey his commands. As strong as he may be and as much as he has learned about the martial arts in his time on Earth, of course, Golden Cicada has no desire to tangle with the likes of Erlang Shen or Li Nezha. So he keeps all his violence targeted at yaoguai, and grows rich off the treasures from their caves and the labor he forces upon them.
His pride in his power grows ever more monstrous.
On one of his raids against a yaoguai community, Golden Cicada massacres a troop of four-eared yaoguai macaques. The only one he spares is a strange little infant with six ears. For all its crying, he muses on how it would, tied to a post with a golden chain, make for a one-of-a-kind and amusing curiosity in his ever-expanding treasure rooms. A number of the macaques had thrown themselves at his feet and begged Golden Cicada to take everything he wanted, but not their precious infant. They were easy to slaughter.
He didn't kill them for any particular reason. It was just because they were stupid creatures in his way, and because he could.
Soon after, Golden Cicada has an encounter with an enraged monkey wielding an iron staff.
Nine lifetimes later, Tang Sanzang encounters this same monkey, and agrees to free him from under a mountain.
#anon answered#shark's scribbles#lmaooooo sorry that this turned into an entire fic but you got my brain chugging anon#jttw au#golden cicada#tang sanzang#i hope i did the buddha justice but of course don't fail to let me know if i could do better
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1. The Thief's Debut! (I feel like you've definitely talked about this one before, but I want to hear you talk about it again. 😄)
Yes, I have mentioned this one before. I used it as an Imaginary Book Rec, but I'm happy to talk about it again. This is a Cinderella retelling where a Venice-like city has a tradition of thieves who perform flashy heists at noble houses during certain festivals. These thieves are larger-than-life personas who often become popular folk heroes, and their function is to keep the power-hungry nobles humble by reminding them that they can be bested.
The Cinderella character, Teresa, is one of these thieves. Her late mother was a thief before her marriage, and Teresa has been trained in the tradition by a godmother (a senior thief who once worked with her mother) whose job it is to train the next generation and arrange their heist opportunities. Unfortunately, Teresa's father (a lovely, lively man) has remarried a stick-in-the-mud foreigner who doesn't approve of this tradition of thievery, even in fun, so Teresa has to keep her activities hidden from her stepfamily--which only heightens the clash of personalities happening in the household.
For Teresa's first heist (otherwise known as the thief's debut--title drop), her godmother arranges for her to steal valuable glassworks from an ambitious young lord whose House is quickly becoming a serious power in the city. Teresa sneaks out of the house, shows up in a beautiful gown, and pulls off the heist beautifully, leaving behind her shoe as a calling card. The ambitious young lord takes this as a major blow to his pride, and instead of brushing it aside according to tradition, vows to capture this thief.
Teresa couldn't have dreamed of a more successful debut. This is the stuff of legends, the talk of the festival. She'll go down in history. Now she's obligated to keep the rivalry going with flashier and more daring heists. She has also encountered the prince in her ordinary identity, and he has recruited this quiet, respectable young woman to provide information for the search. She's having a grand time keeping this game of cat-and-mouse going, but her stepmother is cracking down on her after she disappeared during the festival (though she believes it was more more mundane troublemaking) and it's getting harder to slip away without revealing the truth. And as she gets to know the prince, she begins to suspect he may not be as selfish and heartless as he first appeared, and it's getting harder and harder to think of him as an enemy, even as he's getting closer and closer to tracking her down.
This is one of those stories that's meant to be flashy, fun adventure. Very colorful. Very Scarlet Pimpernel. But with a depth of character from most of the people involved that surprises me. As I'm thinking about it, there's sort of a theme of masks, and how everyone wears them and may be very different people under different circumstances. How we all have hidden depths and can't make assumptions about people. Nothing terribly mind-blowing, but complicated enough that I'm not sure I'll be able to do justice to the premise. But right now, it remains a fun Imaginary Book that I wish I really could recommend to people.
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Alrighty, now here’s a question that has been stirring in my mind for a while now...
Do Darkners have SOULs?
A while ago I might’ve been like “Well, yeah, obviously. As we’ve seen with the story of Flowey in Undertale, SOULs are the source of love, compassion and kindness in the Toby Fox Video Game Multiverse. Darkners are obviously capable of feeling these emotions, so they have some sort of SOUL.”
(Also just for the sake of clarity, I know the worlds of Deltarune and Undertale are not the same. However, since there does seem to be some connection, I’m making this post under the assumption that the two worlds do at least share the same basic underlying laws of phsyics and metaphysics.)
Anyways, yeah, if we were to go by the rules established by the story of Asriel “Flowey” Dreemurr back in Undertale, obviously the Darkners should all have SOULs, right?
But... maybe not? I’ve gone over it in a different post, but despite what Flowey says, there does seem to be instances of him displaying kindness and compassion even in his SOUL-less state (pleading with the Player/Chara to not ruin Frisk’s happy ending, the whole story about giving Toriel a glass of water in the Alarm Clock Thingie). Plus with both games reiterating that everything we know about SOULs is in-universe speculation:
I think it’s not impossible that Flowey was misidentifying his problem (which is mostly that he was a traumatized emotionally-numb child stuck with god-like timebending powers and the belief he’s incapable of feeling love) and that SOULs actually have a totally different function.
Now, we hop into Deltarune and think about the encounter with Spamton:
Spamton seems to be interested in their SOUL pretty much as soon as he saw that they are a Lightner (although he might have become more interested when he saw it’s a Human SOUL spesifically?). The wording seems to connect the ‘Light’ of the Lightners with their [[HeartShapedObject]], AKA their SOULs. And we know that Spamton believes that Kris’ SOUL is what would allow him to become [[BIG]] or in other words, ‘free’.
And ‘Light’ is equated with ‘Hope’ in Deltarune, which can be just another word for...
And Queen defines it as a trait of Lightners. Humans might be more Determined than Monsters, but it seems like both of them have much more Determination than any Darkner. And that, of course, connect to the idea that Lightners seem to have a lot more Free Will right now. Of course, no one can truly choose who they are in this world, but Lightners seem to have a bit more agency in general - while Darkners are tied in with their ‘purpose’ of making Lightners happy, and the way they represent concepts and physical objects in the real world.
(As in, how much of Queen’s personality is a result of her own life choices and how much is because she’s obviously a stand-in for Noelle’s mother? Did Spamton ever had a chance to truly improve his salesmanship, considering he is a representation of Spam E-Mail?)
In Undertale, Alphys calls “Determination” two things, it’s the “the will to keep living”, which obviously connects to how Determination powers SAVEs. And also “the resolve to change fate”, which connect with the power of RESETs, but also I think with the ability to change who and what you are. This is what Spamton wanted when he wanted after Kris’ SOUL, right? To change his fate from being forever doomed to trash beings and spam folders and become a true [[Big Shot]]? He wanted Determination, from a Lightner’s SOUL.
And there’s two things Deltarune keeps repeating when it comes to SOULs, the first is the connection to Compassion which has been carried over from Undertale, and the second is a big empahsis on the subject of ‘Will’ (which again, Queen literally says is just another name for Determination):
Also, while the book is worded in a not-definitive way (”even now, the true function of it is unknown”), I do think it’s curious to pay attention to the difference between “font” and “source”. Both words can mean ‘where something came from’, but “font” can also be a container rather than an origin point:
So maybe we can take this to mean that the SOUL does contain kindess and love but you can still have kindness and love without a SOUL just in a Different Way? But that it IS where Will/Determination comes from? Your free will/Determination is the thing you would normally lack without a SOUL? But it’s just that we couldn’t notice it before cause our only example of a SOUL-less being in the Toby Fox Video Game Multiverse has become an artifical source of Determination all on his own so he’s obviously an exception?
Is the SOUL just the thing that gives Lightners more Narrative Agency than Darkners?
This would obviously put Kris in a very precarious position. The part of their mind that’s supposed to allow them some amount of Free Will is being controlled right now and robbing them of that Free Will. But they can’t just rip it out and live without it because it doesn’t just contain their Life-Force, but also their personal will and agency. They can only truly have Free Will for short period of times while SOUL-less but still retaining some Determination in their body, and it’s otherwise a real no-win scenario.
That also kinda puts Flowey’s whole being in a new light, or should I say Light. Cause Flowey really is, more than most “Lightners” in the Toby Fox Video Game Multiverse, really a Light-Equivelent to Darkners. He’s an object given consciousness and life by consentrated Light rather than by the Dark.
(of course, this is all just very vauge speculation right now, all of my evidence is very circumstantial. All I can really say for sure is that I would want to REALLY pay attention about what is said about SOULs in the upcoming chapters of Deltarune, and espacially in relation to Darkners. Cause right now we can’t be sure if they even have those at all)
#deltarune#deltarune theory#spamton#spamton g spamton#spamton deltarune#kris#kris deltarune#kris dreemurr#undertale#queen#queen deltarune#flowey#flowey undertale#alphys#alphys undertale
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Some drafts of a peraxil based fan-character for Serina. The silhouette is newer and better looking, so it goes first. I’ve included a human to illustrate Timber’s height, and made them hold hands as if he’s touring Earth’s cities and asking lots of questions. The sketch is from a spontaneous stream I did during December from memory, hence why his body was rounder and his face finchier than the species of his inspiration. Since I don’t use a mic, notes were sketched on canvas or typed into chat. Details were kept on the vague side as I didn’t want to raise hopes and let people down in case this ended up in the trash bin. It also plays a little bit with the canon like taffy candy.
So... to reiterate Timber’s origins, he popped into my head while I was reading the project via text-to-speech as a narrator character with a penchant for weather forecasts. He speaks with a playful cadence and doesn’t always pronounce words the way we do. Think if Microsoft Mark had a little more emotional/tonal range and that’s roughly the pitch and texture for him.
Timber is an outdoorsy dude largely by obligation, since he has nowhere else to be if not hunkered inside temporary shelter, built or found. Through a combination of his sapience, its ensuing isolation, and sheer boredom, Timber occupied himself with skill-building activities that would eventually aid him on his journeys. He seldom stays in one place, driven by his stomach and a need to satisfy his curiosity of the world around him. It began with uncovering a bug he’d never seen before, which was an unexpected and positive outcome of his father driving him away from the family. It was then he really took in the sight of his surroundings, the trees thinned out to open skies, and he didn’t know why. He has seen biomes that his species hasn’t, with a preference for temperatures slightly warmer than his native habitat. On occasion, some of his rounds bring him back home and he can be seen swinging through the branches.
It doesn’t mean he feels entirely at home with other whitecloaks, and not for a lack of trying. The species’ familial structure comprising of one territorial male with multiple females and their offspring has proven prohibitive, he would relearn painfully. He fathered some chicks with an individual who was temporarily separated from her group, under the assumption she was alone. Timber would then be a dad solely in a biological manner when his mate’s presumed male found them both shortly after the encounter. The shouting match had been brief, one-sided, and profoundly embarrassing for Timber as he chose to retreat. How can you argue with someone who will never understand you for reasons beyond any living beings’ control? None of his offspring would display behaviours indicative of his spark, so he couldn’t recognize his chicks if they were to meet at all.
It would not be the last unpleasant encounter he’s had with anything, but those are for another time. Below are more general notes.
Timber’s favourite foods are insects and other metamorph species larvae. With some exceptions he’ll eat just about any arthropod, exoskeleton and all. He’d probably do handstands and sing the alphabet backwards to get some lobster from you.
Meeting other sophonts would make him squeak and gesticulate happily, if it’s safe to do so. While his intentions are good, he can come across as insensitive in his questions concerning social norms, traditions, and physical traits.
Humans would make his head spin. Our jaws, forward-set eyes, and ear structure are especially uncanny and interesting to him. He will look you up and down with one eye.
He’ll bring snails and or hug a friend to comfort them. If neither is an option, he’ll apologize and scramble to try something else.
Timber’s OCEAN index scores are highly open, mid to highly conscientious, highly extraverted, highly agreeable, and mid neurotic. If we’re going by human standards, that is.
#art#fanart#digital art#fan character#serina world of birds#rough draft#Timber (FC)#I'll edit and add more stuff to this as it goes along
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do you have any experience with or advice for coping with terminally ill loved ones who are now on the edge of the end? you’ve always been very wise and thoughtful with your answers to things, and I’m feeling a little lost right now.
I've had four grandparents die, but all when I was either twelve years old or fairly distant from them in one way or another, and I'm not sure that's the kind of experience you're looking for - I was more supporting my grieving parents than grieving myself.
the most relevant experience is probably when @fleetingeternities died, because she was young - younger than me by a few years - and, although there wasn't a specific time estimate, i knew she had a disease that would eventually kill her (rather than the kind of neurological and physical decline associated with senescence.)
honestly, I don't feel like I handled it well at all...her brother emailed me to let me know she had died, because I was on a list of internet friends to contact in the event of her death, and he asked if i had any stories or memories i wanted to share for her memorial service. and i knew she'd had a decent relationship with him but she'd had such a complicated and contentious relationship with the rest of her family - namely, they repeatedly tried to stop her from talking to strangers on the internet about her situation and illness - that i didn't feel like telling them anything about how we had bonded over avengers soulmate AUs. so i just. didn't reply. i was just quietly sad.
that's after her death, though. before her death... well, she was already sick when i met her, although i didn't know HOW sick right away. i think i dealt with it basically by repeatedly reminding myself that not everything is my problem to fix, and that what she needed was for me to be her friend and to not make everything about my own distress, even indirectly.
i will now collect what i have learned from her death, deaths in my family, and deaths in my community into what i think might be helpful to you.
1) dumping out
you might have encountered this concept before, but in case you or any of my followers haven't, it's an important one for anyone dealing with a secondhand trauma: dumping out.
Think of any crisis as a target with rings around it. The person experiencing the trauma directly - in your case, your terminally ill loved one - is at the center. If they have a caretaker, such as a spouse or an adult child doing the bulk of the care work, that person is in the second circle. Dependent children would go in that circle as well. Very close friends and any immediate family members who no longer live in the home probably come next. And so on from there, with the outer rings less affected by the crisis than the inner rings.
We all have to talk about crisis in order to process it, but it's important to "dump outward" when you wordvomit your struggles onto someone. The caretaker is likely under a lot of emotional strain, but if they try to process their grief and worry by talking it out with the terminally ill person, that's "dumping in". Instead they should "dump out" to someone less immediately impacted by the situation. And so on into the outer rings.
It sounds pretty obvious when I say it like that, but there can be kind of a wounded-animal instinct to keep the grief in, regardless of dump direction; there can be a fear that talking it over with someone less affected will spread the sorrow rather than ease it; there can be a natural assumption that the most affected will understand the best. So sometimes people dump in instead of out, and sometimes they resist dumping at all. Or they dump so far out that they have no sense of shared sorrow - if you're very close to the crisis but only talk to people 100% unimpacted (like me) that might not satisfy your needs much as you'd like.
I guess it's just a reminder to make yourself available for some "dumping out" from the people one or two rings in, and make sure you have folks to "dump out" to yourself, that you can categorize as less impacted or at least only similarly impacted as yourself.
That might help with being more systematic in your coping: thinking of yourself as ferrying emotional burden (and possibly caretaking burden as well) away from the center of the crisis and out towards the fringes.
2) ritualize your grief
Enact your own rituals. If other people suggest rituals, do your best to participate. There's a reason humans have been inventing mourning rituals since before we were even homo saliens sapiens, and it's not base superstition. It's that rituals help us process. They trigger our sadness in a way that helps us connect to each other and collaboratively process that sadness.
So, assuming you can still talk to your loved one, have an intentional interaction where you ask them a question about their life you never knew the answer to; tell them something about yourself you never said, and ritualize it somehow - associate it with an object or piece of media. Do it together with fellow loved ones. Doodle together on the same paper or listen to their favorite song together or interact with literally any other thing together that will be a sappy Important Last Memory Attempt.
If they're past that now and you haven't already done something you feel falls into this category, then do something ritualized with other affected loved ones. I know when my mom's mom was passing, my mom and my aunt sang a hymn together at her bedside, a practice which would work nearly as well with a secular song. You can google "deathbed vigil" for great practical advice if you're going to be physically present and providing support during the person's last hours.
But even if you're halfway across the country, you can still do some sort of ritualized memorial-like thing in your loved one's name, and it's important! It helps! It's not magical or religious, it's very very real.
3) hugs are good
Hug people. Hug fellow grievers, hug unaffected folks offering you support, hug pillows and stuffed animals. Nice long hugs, aggressively hard hugs, leaning on each other side-hugs. Get that oxytocin flowing. Touch. Touch touch touch touch. Including people you don't normally touch. Not to the point of true discomfort for anyone involved (that would be the opposite of helpful) but do your best to crank it up a notch.
What I remember is a tendency to sort of - hunch up. Tense up. Hold very still. And when I hugged people it was permission to unclench and let a little feeling out.
4) crying is good
Don't stop yourself from crying. Encourage other grieving people to cry. It's obviously fine if you don't feel like crying, but if there are tears anywhere near the surface, don't hold back. It's good for you.
There is, I think, a tendency among both religious and secular groups to try to make death into a happy thing. "He's with the Lord now" or "She had an amazing life and now she's returning to be one with the universe" all Do not stand at my grave and weep style. If that's how things are going in your vicinity, then make sure you clear some space to be actually sad! Do stand at that grave and do weep! It's sad when you lose someone, regardless of how great their life was or whether you believe you'll see them again in the hereafter.
5) make hot meals happen
If you're not in the home of the dying person, then make casseroles for that household. Or if you can't make casseroles then some other heat-uppable thing that can be dumped on a plate or bowl and function as a meal on its own, like lasagna or pot pie or chili or stew. And if you're not in the immediate area, then use a delivery service.
You can contact them to coordinate, but don't make them ask. (If the ill person is part of a religious community or other community organization, there may already be a meal schedule you can join!)
If you're in the household of the dying person, anticipate that cooking is going to be hard immediately before and after the death. Consider pointing friends and family to a website like MealTrain or CareCalendar to ensure your household gets hot meals regularly while they are weighed down by deep grief, providing hospice care, and possibly hosting out-of-town relatives coming in for the funeral.
----
and that's that, Dove's incomplete guide to death!
I'm sorry you're going through this, and sorry for your loved one. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help.
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Pre-reading thoughts on the CDDH novel Crazy Heartbreakers (we’re gonna call it CH to differentiate it from the manga)
Under the cut for spoilers.
Keep in mind this is just based on Vish’s tiny translation of the novel, but whatever assumptions and mistakes I’m saying in here would be purely mine. Once I get the novel, I’ll see if these thoughts would change.
So, CH established that Hol Horse is an orphan and his cowboy persona was taken from a Clint Eastwood character. I’m just guessing that, apart from the Emperor card dictating his fate as a father figure, I’d figure his background as an orphan emphasised the need for him to be protective, especially to children and teenagers, even if his cowboy care-free and unattached persona seemed to clash with that trait.
Not related, but I do have two headcanon backstory for an orphan Hol: (1) Hol came from an abusive household, his dad killed his mum, and he used Emperor to kill his dad as revenge, but no one suspected him murdering his dad, and (2) Hol was the long-lost son of Joseph, his name was most likely John Joestar, he was kidnapped at a very young age and over time he forgot who his family was except the name Hol(y) which he later adapt as his first name, hence he just assumed he was an orphan.
If one of these is even remotely in CH, I’m gonna freak out fr
Hol and Polnareff also had a conversation after Dio’s death, and it’s more than what my polhol heart could wished for ♥♥♥
Apparently after witnessing Kakyoin’s death, Hol most likely passed out from his still healing injuries, and the SPW found him and treated him. Oingo and Boingo were also under the SPW custody. At this point, I guess Hol kinda got smitten with SPW, but most likely not considering that he didn’t like being attached.
But gawd, his conversation with Polnareff is honestly bittersweet. They’re no longer the goofy enemies at that point, but instead were like old, long-lost friends. It’s just additionally painful when we know that Hol was almost considered to be a Crusader, and the pregnant pause Hol gave when Polnareff joked that he expected Hol to beg for his life and ask to be a comrade...
Sweet. But pretty painful.
I’ve seen fanarts and fanfics of Hol having unrequited love for Polnareff, and this bit in the CH novel just amplified it.
Tbh, I just want Hol to go and search for Polnareff after this, as I had headcanoned about it in post-Part 5, because Hol deserved to at least be friends with Polnareff. No human can live alone without a bro, after all.
I’m also kinda intrigued with Hol’s hesitation when Italy was mentioned. Most likely, its from Polnareff’s intimidating tone...but what if there’s something in Italy that Hol Horse knew about and he hesitated to share it with Polnareff? Maybe he knew about the arrows and its origins. Maybe he knew about Passione and who were in it. Maybe he had encountered the Italian mafia prior to being hired by Dio.
Who knows?
Well, that’s all I can speculate and assume. I’m still excited and heartbroken at the same time with the PolHol conversation in CH. I wished it was longer.
Also, Hol mentioned he had a girl in Japan and I really just cannot not assume it was Tomoko, which could possibly make Josuke his illegitimate son. Again this is just a stretched headcanon theory that I don’t usually share, but why not mention it now. It somewhat fits the CDDH and CH narrative after all.
Also also, it’s safe to assume that Hol can speak and have comprehension of Indonesian, Portuguese, Hindi/Bengali, Japanese and French.
#musings#thoughts#hol horse#crazy heartbreakers#i actually couldn't fully articulate what I wanted to write about this since i haven't read the novel yet#plus i'm still excited with the holpol scene#ch spoilers#again everything i said here is purely speculation and assumption so i will be making mistakes for sure#also what do you think of the hol horse is a joestar theory? i hope people elaborate on it more
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"'Tis good to see you again, Lenar," Lalah greeted him as he arrived in Idyllshire.
"My apologies for being away so long," Lenar said. "My other obligations kept me busy for quite a while."
"It's alright, I understand," Lalah said. "It's given me some time to consider what I've learned in your absence, at least. In the interest of catching you up to speed, after you left I had a chance to speak to the apothecary some more. If you recall, she recognized two of them—the ones known as Mahaud and Ancel."
"Ah, yes, I do recall that."
"According to her, they were her adopted children. She raised them from a young age, and though they were not related by blood, they were as real a family as any. One day, however, Mahaud fell ill with a rare illness: Aetherspurn."
Lenar's eyes widened. "Aetherspurn? I... think I recall hearing about that somewhere."
"I've read about it as well. 'Tis a rare disease wherein the body becomes unable to draw aether from food."
He grimaced. "Yes, that's the one. It's a truly dreadful disease. Due to its nature, it's damn near impossible to cure, and even palliative care is difficult. Fury's..." he caught himself before he said something truly vulgar, "spear, that's awful."
"Indeed. And it only gets worse from there. Ancel was seriously injured protecting Mahaud from a wandering beast, and was likely to be permanently bedridden for the rest of his days."
Lenar fell silent for a moment, but the look on his face apparently betrayed his thoughts.
"It is a truly cruel fate to befall a small, struggling family, I agree." Lalah took a deep breath and continued. "It was in that desperate state that a kindly traveler found her. A healer by the name of Guildivain, apparently from Sharlayan. He offered to help her children, without payment, but he would need to take them back to Sharlayan to treat them properly. Their conditions required special care and facilities, after all."
Lenar grimaced again as a knot formed in his stomach. "...I feel like there is a crucial piece yet missing, but I already mislike the implications."
Lalah fell unusually quiet for a moment. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she continued. "Onto our mission, I would like to review the situation as it stands."
"Go ahead."
Lalah began pacing back and forth as she spoke. Sapphire watched her tail twitch as she moved, momentarily distracted by the motion until Lenar urged the carbuncle to focus. "We have been laboring under the assumption that Loifa and his companions had come to Eorzea to further enhance themselves in pursuit of forbidden power. To that end did they seek to procure muscmaloi, which they would use in conjunction with the stolen soul crystal. But it wasn't the muscmaloi that they wanted. No, what they wanted was the man who wanted it—Master Faldrinet."
"So, in hopes of encountering the man as he attempted to gather the herb, they attempted to find him at the arboretum. But they either failed to find him entirely or else our arrival interrupted their search and allowed him to escape, and so they tried another tactic."
"Which is how we encountered them at Lost Hope. Or such is my theory at this point in time. What do you make of all this?"
Lenar folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. "...I do not think Loifa and his companions are criminals. I strongly suspect that they are victims in all this."
"So you think so too," Lalah remarked. She took a deep breath and sighed. "There is something else, Lenar."
"Hm?"
"The rumors I mentioned, of a Sharlayan healer who conducted heinous procedures on live subjects... After sharing recent developments with command, they reopened the investigation..." She paused again, taking another deep breath. "And have, to our considerable shock and surprise, confirmed that there appears to be some truth to them after all."
"Of course there is," Lenar muttered darkly.
"The villain went to great lengths to conceal his operation—"
"Of course he did."
"—and thus did he manage to elude the authorities for years. The man's identity is yet to be conclusively ascertained, but we have a suspect: a sage who disappeared from Sharlayan shortly before our fugitives first appeared. A sage by the name of Guildivain."
Lenar's eyes widened. "Guildivain?"
"Yes. The same Guildivain who took Mahaud and Ancel into his care, I expect. If they were victims of his experiments, then they would have every reason to follow him to the ends of the world."
Lenar grimaced again. "If he did take them and subject them to such horrific experiments... then it would seem I was right to have misgivings about his intentions in taking two critically ill and injured individuals into his care." He wrapped his arms around himself tightly. "...Had he encountered my parents back when I was young, and if they were the type to seek a way to 'cure' my blindness, I wonder if I may well have suffered a similar fate."
"Ah... there's a thought that had... honestly never even occurred to me."
"It is a story I have seen play out far too often. Someone masquerading as a kindly benefactor, offering aid and succor to those who are desperate, only to turn around and commit some sort of heinous act once they've secured the target's trust. Whether that is committing some sort of physical harm upon the ones they claimed they would help, or else simply leveraging a person's desperation to bilk them for everything they have."
Lalah fell silent for a moment. According to Sapphire, she fixed her gaze onto Lenar.
"I cannot begin to imagine what sort of life you've led that such things are commonplace to you."
Lenar let out a soft sigh. "...The world is a harsh place for those without means. While I myself have been able to live with a certain level of comfort, I have nevertheless been acquainted with people from many different walks of life. And yet, even those with means can fall prey to malign influences. A desperate parent is a desperate parent, regardless of whether they have the means to pay for expensive treatments or not."
"...I see." Lalah sighed and shook her head. "My theory is still conjecture of course, but it does go far towards explaining that which we know."
"If we proceed on the assumption that they seek the man responsible for their misfortune, then it seems likely that Faldrinet and Guildivain are one and the same."
"Indeed. Regardless, of course, since Faldrinet is very clearly the object of their search given the way they have reacted to him in the past, it seems logical to track him down and have the truth from him."
"Do you have a means of finding him?"
"I have a possible idea. The apothecary said 'twas a merchant in Aleport who introduced them. If we find this merchant..."
"Then we are like to find Faldrinet. To Aleport, then."
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So I came up with a silly little hypothetical episode/fanfic idea exploring BETC!Blitzwing’s past inspired by both Psychonauts and that one episode of Transformers Prime where Megatron goes inside Bumblebee’s head:
Fellow unique, one-of-a-kind model Sari goes inside Blitzwing’s head in an attempt to try and foil some sort of Decepticon plot (with her having volunteered to do so under the assumption that since she doesn’t look like a “traditional” Autobot and doesn’t wear the insignia of one, Blitzwing’s processor won’t perceive her as an immediate threat), which ends up resulting in her teaming up with Blitzwing’s “inner sparkling”/pre-TC alter and traversing through the system’s memories to try and locate their lost moral compass (which they lost due to a combination of their CPTSD and Megatron’s manipulations convincing them that emotional vulnerability is a sign of weakness and will only result in them being hurt again) while doing their best to hide from the other alters who are frantically trying to hunt them down (Icy, Hothead, and Random due to them sensing that an outsider has infiltrated their headspace and the Astrotrain and Octane introjects due to realizing that the pre-TC alter has left his “safe space”).
(Of course, Sari returning the system’s compass to them isn’t so much magically returning their morality as it is taking Blitzwing back through their past and showing them that they’ve become the very people who hurt them, and afterwards, once the Decepticon plan has been stopped and Blitzwing’s moral compass has been retrieved, they decide to forfeit doing battle with the Autobots in favor of going off to spend some time alone and reflect on themselves for a bit.)
See, this is an interesting episode/fanfic idea (probably more the latter than the former since it's operating under the BETCs AU), but as I read this it felt less like a 'silly' little hypothetical and more a 'after the body comes back online Astrotrain or Octane front to scream at whoever's idea it was to use [cortical psychic patch/equivalent] on them' trauma and another bad thing to happen to Blitz ticked off a long list- not faulting for creativity but 'looking for a moral compass' with the alter not entrenched with trauma memories suddenly having to encounter them seems less like a 'well damn I gotta stop being a Decepticon' and more 'okay what the fuck Autobots!? xMillion'.
I've only seen two instances of canonical Psychic Cortical Patches (or some equivalent) and from the TFP version it was invented as a Decepticon (torture?) interrogation tool used to bypass any 'pitiful' resistance the interrogated kept up. Icy, Hothead and Random are the alters that split to cope with the new modified body, even if each feels they take up a specific mode with Random either taking root mode or as the glue to keep the body together. Astrotrain and Octane tend not to front because they are already introjects who's body is altered beyond what they were forged with, experiencing fronting in a body not even theirs to begin with just makes either of them uncomfortable even when they deem it necessary to front. Pre-TC Blitzwing, the 'little' of the system, is not aware how fucked up the body has become in his absence from fronting that something like a psychonauts Sari showing him everything with little preamble would probably just stress himself out to dormancy, which is hardly any good for the system currently trying to help him live.
The system of Blitzwing is probably well aware of the general low morality of the Decepticons, but as far as his body is aware they're nothing like the Autobots that refuse to leave them alone in both his body and NOW his mind. Do forgive me for thinking otherwise, but as an angst prompt that unfortuneately also makes the 'let's find out Decepticon plans' Autobot team (whomever you envisioned) perhaps uncharacteristically villainous and severely unethical, this idea is now rotating in my mind a little bit for darkfic potential (despite me not being that good of nor passionate enough to be a fic writer) and a little bit of 'Blitzwing might need therapy but this ain't it chief' microwaved rotisserie chicken.
#ask#anonymous#blitzwing#tfa blitzwing#transformers#tfa#BETCs#bot experiment triple changers#maccadam#ask to tag#this took me an hour to contemplate and consider because i'm not a system myself so i can't say one way or another how this should go#it just feels from what i've read from systems and impersonal psychology notes just that little bit uh- what's the word#it's not an awful idea it's just that this idea would probably be far too evil for any of team prime and even the public facing elite guard#the autobot scientists that turned civilian twins into the jettwins? maybe sure#whether autobot scientists had to update to modern times and lost a lot of unethical bots#or continued to be as debased as the original BETCs scientists because 'they weren't outed'#this is old pre-war 'we hate warframes so much we will fight them in a [how ever many years] war' scientist/spy intelligence#the type of age where bot scientists didn't care that one of their intelligence agents was practically comatose for their information#far from the 'discharged rookie' lead space bridge repair bot team with little reputation to their name#that 'little reputation' coming solely from their resident war veteran ratchet#honestly the waspinator mutation does more for blitzwing defection rather than this-#because the 'cons clearly don't mind doing what autobots have done for longer- even if blackarachnia is just one egg gone bad#(or still operating under autobot scientist teachings)
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