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forever-rogue · 3 years

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In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished.

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would.

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that.

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable.

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here.

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days.

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!”

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast.

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down.

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there.

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be.

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you.

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly.

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn.

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground.

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead.

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything.

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to.

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room.

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings.

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness.

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet.

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away.

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you.

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino

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liaisun · 3 years

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Hi hope you don’t mind me asking but what is the monster therapy Au? Is it different from the other monster Au? It sounds cool whatever it is!

omg thank u for asking!!!!!! i love talking abt my aus its always welcome<3 when i saw u sent me an ask i got so excited JSJDKF also because i feel like you'd like it 👁️

yes!!! they r 2 different aus. so the monster therapy au is based off of this prompt: "You're a psychologist. Your speciality is monsters, who lack the self-confidence to actually scare anyone." and as soon as i saw it i was like BEE @ KEVIN!!!! it just clicked. honestly it does kinda have monsters inc vibes LOL, but in the sense like monster society values how scary u are.

so kevin is recently turned and undead; he's Tall, he's Intimidating but……. he's not scary. once you get to know him, what's there to be afraid of? HE'S the one who's scared. always. he's terrified. he's a coward—

once i read this thing about vampires going through the 5 stages of grief after theyve been turned and i kinda applied that here!!! even just being turned into a monster, thrust into this world u don't understand, really messes u up. most monsters are just born of the void, some are abstract and incomprehensible to the eye (powerful), some can switch between those forms and more corporeal ones, others are seen in various folklore and/or are human-like, but with other characteristics. then, people can become one after they die, either by being turned by another or being unable to rest, usually due to trauma. humans and monsters Don't coexist, so u lose everything and everyone you've ever known… compound that with some very traumatic experiences leading up to kevin's death and the death itself courtesy of one Ư̵͙̪N̵̺̲̊T̴͎̒̽H̸͎̔̉Í̸͓N̶̝̂́Ǩ̸͇̅Ä̵͕́̍B̸͇͐L̷̻̱̈́É̷̗ ̵͙͈͑̃Ň̶͓A̴̡̼̎M̸͊̊͜Ě̶̹͠ (UNTHINKABLE NAME) and bam. monster therapy time for kevin day

fear is a really big part of the story. it's what kevin tells bee is the defining characteristic of a monster; those who create it (everyone else), and those who feel it (him). ANDREW <3 his friend??? protector? small threatening omnipresent companion no one dares to cross after he devoured 4 higher souls on his first day undead? is someone who kev aspires to be. to him andrew embodies what a monster should be.

when i say kevin is recently turned i lied JSHSJF he was turned a while ago, but he was stuck as a little ball of fright (imagine the soot sprites from spirited away) in the shadows. one day andrew came across him and took him in, kept him safe and eventually…. kevin started changing. (inspired by the invisible children from moomin, kids who turn invisible after abuse but can become visible again with love and care and safety). kevin is a full being now, an actual monster, but he doesn't feel like it at all, which is where our story begins, with him talking to bee about this.

also because i am incapable of not including all three boys - neil! he is a complete shadow, dark and quiet and always moving, never taking any specific form. he's very interesting in their — kinda a mix of kandrew both. neil isn't frozen with fear like kevin was; he has bite and he isn't afraid of other monsters, has great power like andrew, but he's controlled by the past. even in a new life, he's still running, still invisible for the sake of survival.

the story isn't a romance (QUEERPLATONIC ROTATIONS) but it is full of love and trust. for example, kandrew: the dynamic between them is so important!!!!! foundation of thr au. the parallel and contrast of the times where kevin was vulnerable when a powerful person came 2 him; it destroyed kevin the first time, but now, with andrew by his side, it allows kevin 2 heal. also i think andrew became stronger while taking care of kevin in the beginning because his power wasn't running on anger and spite anymore, but protection 🥺

kevneil relationship: for kevin, i think neil entering his life in the same position kevin was/is in (but now having drew by his side) gives him new perspective . understanding . compassion too.

for neil, having people, tethers, support even in the smallest ways, makes him more real. brings him out. not in a physical sense— having a body most of the time is weird for him after changing for so long. he'll never choose or stick to one form, either. but overall, he's more settled in his existence, starts to see himself as an actual being, find his identity. even if he is Nothing, he's Nothing in the sense of a void, a black hole, and neil's been collecting bits of the world for years.

and although this au is kevin pov, i think a 2nd part with bee's pov and her different monster patients, the foxes, would be super fun :] (and more fitting of the prompt) so who knows.. . and if u want 2 know anything abt Other monster au (or any other monster au i have. so many) as well, i am here ;>

finally, here is a tidbit that doesn't fit the tone of this at all but i couldnt keep 2 myself LOL - there is a human-monster hotline u can call to speak to a liaison if u suspect monstrous activity in ur area! the number is 1-666-3005 and the Monster Identification Listing Force (MILF) is the organizer and even has an infomercial on human TV. for a generous donation of YOUR SOUL (ahem. 50¢) u can buy monster repellent. is it holy water? no, that's a common misconception - it is actually just unfiltered tap water because that stuff has so many metals in it the monsters take psychic damage near it<3 works like a charm

#liaison. liaisun. did u see what i did there i have been waiting 4 so long 2 mention that and the time has come!!! <3 i am free #i think the reclamation of monsters is very sexy!! healing monsters brings me so much joy #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG i wrote 99% in a day and when i came back to neil's paragraph i lost my groove and then overcompensated which is wh #its longer than kandrew's oops. but regardless<3 #ALSO U HAVE THE PERFECT NAME MONSTERMETAPHOR!!!! everything is connected #aftg #asks #kandreil #kevinzinho #neilisms #amdrew #kevin day #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #luniaisun #dailykandrew

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

59 notes · View notes

artsyxloner · 3 years

Text

Not Just a Monster

Warning: none

25: Trust?

Hyun-Su P.O.V

Could I trust this guy? My insides were in knots after just finding out he was just like me. He killed his team without hesitation. He pretended to be the rabbit but all along he was the wolf.

I sort of get it to survive even as a monster you have to do whatever it takes. It was true it's not the monsters that are the Scariest it's the humans.

Judging by the paper he showed me when the helicopters flew by dumping them out will they welcome me with open arms? I knew Soo-Nico would if she were alive, she showed me that.

But the others?

I could count probably a couple but that's it. I didn't know them long enough or know their true intentions if they found out about the safe camp. Would they report me? I got to thinking they did use me and Soo-Nico but they made up for it but still.

All this thinking of the what if's made my head spin as we came down the elevator. The same one Jae-Hyeon died in. He was one of the ones that were good to me would I let him down by trusting Ui-Myeong?

Time would tell, I was torn by helping him and trusting the group. I would have to be cautious from here on out. Turning my head I looked at my reflection through the mirror.

It went on because there was another one on the other side as it started back at me. I could have sworn someone my eyes were black. I couldn't die as a human but am I living to see myself become a monster?

I saw the numbers count down until it got to one. I waited a few seconds for the door to open. Soon it did revealing the group, but they all had Serious Expressions on their face I don't blame them after just what happened.

They were holding up all kinds of different weapons. I Scanned through every one of them. Until something NO more like someone caught my eye.

It was HER

Soo-Nico stood in front of me I didn't know how my mind didn't recognize or see her. My breath was caught in my throat, I thought she had died? she did die in my arms.

I had to make sure I wasn't seeing things. I stood there for a couple of minutes processing what was going on but I decided To take a step closer. My words came what stutter-ish and probably unconvincing.

" H-How?"

I raised my hand up and with the tips of my fingers, I gazed at her cheek. It felt warm and firm it felt real. It was. I dropped my hand backing up.

The only way she could be alive is if she was infected. But she couldn't be? She didn't show any signs that I saw or none of them. If she was did she kept it a secret all this time?

But why would she?

I recalled the times she hinted at it during our first and second couple of other meetings. How could've been so dumb not to realize? " Hyun-Su what's going on with you?" My train of thought was Interrupted by Yi-Kyeong.

She stepped towards me with her gun, questioning what was wrong with me. " did I win?" Ui-Myeong stated, more like reminded me of what he thought might happen.

By the looks of the group, I was beginning to think he was right. " Hyun-Su is okay," Eun-hyuk informed everyone but did he know if I was? I began to question everything.

As I heard footsteps walk up behind me. " is that so?" Yi-kyeong now pointed the gun at Ui-Myeong questioning Eun-hyuk.

She still had the gun pointed towards him so I brought my hand back up to the tip of the Barrel lowering it away from him. " don't more!"

" you know those things can't kill me?" Ui-Myeong reminded Sang-Wook who was angry holding the gun tight in his grip. " don't worry about that. I'll find a way to kill you when I need to!" He threatened.

This was all too much.

I kept getting asked questions if I was okay and they kept telling me to come here as if I was their dog. Sang-Wook gun was still up so I walked over towards it the end of it was on my chest. " put that away, he saved me."

" think about what they had done?" I remembered what they did. I took a glance a Soo-Nico I almost let my guard down seeing the bullet hole that was through her shirt that was fully stained in her blood.

I still had some of it on me as well, I was at crossroads. If she was like me why lie and deceive me? There must have been a reason for it. But that reason could be something bad that's why she didn't plan on telling anyone.

It wasn't that hard to guess. " Hyun-Su he killed his men, –Do you trust him?"

I stopped him right there, " –Do you trust me?" I wanted to know did they trust a Monster, Wasn't I good enough that Soo-Nico didn't trust me with her secret? I did trust her either now? I glanced down at her. " seriously, do you trust me or should I trust you?"

I didn't take my eyes off her, she seemed to understand what I was saying now. Her eyes glanced to the floor with a look of regret. I felt my heart skip. I was disappointed in her I was with all of them.

I was just used, I was just filled with lies. They were just like everyone else in my life, did I still have feelings for her maybe? I know I did but right now I need to think everything through.

But first I had to say saying about Ui-Myeong. " He's just like me— So please, put your guns down." I had to break the suffocating atmosphere.

What did that matter? It will be like this for a while it may even become Awkward. So I decided to walk away from them, I didn't have to tell Ui-Myeong he followed.

But something caught my hand, I knew who it was. " Hyun-Su please let me explain—" she squeezed my hand like she did many other times when she did that I use to feel all warm inside but now I don't feel anything.

I had to shake my head, " No, there's nothing I want to hear from you right now." I jerked my hand away, closing my eyes. I couldn't turn and look at her knowing I'll break.

I walked into the room where Sun-Young got killed. There was a large Puddle of her blood laying on the floor, " I did it." I mumbled to myself, I noticed Ui-Myeong stayed behind.

" I... killed Ms. An."

I could hear myself began to cry, usually, Soo-Nico would comfort me but I didn't want to see or talk to her. I hadn't noticed Yi-Kyeong stepped into the room. " I know you had no choice." She nodded her had bottom lip quivering a little.

" you waited until the end, She would've wanted that for you." She turned and walked away out of the room. I could tell there were tears in her eyes. I remembered her face when I made her take her last breath.

As I stared back down at the Puddle of blood seeing my Reflection. Then glanced up at the Concrete column seeing where she was counting down the day until monsterization. It was her Tenth day.

Raising my hand I rubbed my finger over it. Frowning, I had to look away. I had no right to be sad. So I walked out of the room. Seeing Ui-Myeong we took a seat in the day-care-center.

It was quiet until I spoke to you. " What are you going to do from now on?" I questioned not knowing what he was going to do from here? " I'm gonna find more that are just like us." I nodded my mind went to Soo-Nico.

She was like us but different.

He leaned more over towards me, " when the hunt is over, the hound dies. It should live as a wolf, come with me." She suggested, taking me up on an offer did I what to take it?

My heart says no but my head says yes. So there were small quiet footsteps. Ui-Myeong peered over. " is he your friend? Come here it's okay." He motioned. I was it was Su-Yeong, he slowly walked over.

" Hyun-Su have you seen Mr. Han?"

" No."

" look my T-Rex leg is broken, he said he would fix it. Do you know who to fix it!" He pushed it towards me. Asking if I knew how. I didn't feel like fixing anything.

" No."

He looked down said, I didn't feel bad. " what about us? Do you think we can be fixed? I used to think so. Because I thought it was a disease So I volunteered for the experiment." He sighed,

" They made every effort to separate it from me. They tried freezing, thawing, sawing, piercing, scorching. What do you think happened in the end?" He nudged me, " it never came out!" He smiled.

" why not?" He asked as if I questioned it. " because the monster isn't in me. it is me! I realized then this is an evolution! And that I was the chosen one." His eyes turned black like he was all excited.

My stomach began to twist, " Humans have failed Not only did they fail in experiments, But they also failed to be selected by nature."

His eyes turned back to normal after he finished. Did humans fail? Was it time for a new chance for us to evolve into something much more unbreakable? Only if you survive the changing process.

Was it true only the strong survive? Maybe I was looking at this all wrong it wasn't the monster that we have to worry about the next generations to come.

" Accept it humans and we can't coexist anymore anyway." Was he right but that? Even with Soo-Nico, she lied to me this was a tough decision to make she will probably take there the human's side.

She just like them.

So I got up walking down the hallway until I heard more commotion. Did I even want to know? But I went anyway knowing I had to be a better monster than a human. Turing a corner Su-Yeong was being held back by his sister.

He was crying, I didn't know what was happening until I saw Byeong-II and Hye-In and a couple of others. They were trying to kill slime monsters. " No! Stop it!" I Screamed.

But it was no use Byeong-II throw the bottle of fire hitting the monster. I couldn't believe it. " It won't attack us!"

" Well, yes but we–" Byeong-II was stopped by Hye-In. " you don't know when it will Change!" She yelled. " shoot it! It's a monster!" The little girl cried. After all this time they still think monsters are all the bad ones

There was still screaming and crying going around. They began to burn it more with a blowtorch. My eyes winded as the huge yellow light was reflected off the walls.

He was right all along.

I turned to Ui-Myeong, " I guess you were right, monster and humans can't possibly coexist!" Anger rose in me. If they did that to him how can I live or trust these people I'm with?

Not anymore.

@xetherealbeautyx

#kdramaedit #koeran #korean show #kdrama spoilers #kdramaspace #netflix korea #netflix kdrama #netflix #sweet home series #sweet home spoilers #sweet home webtoon #sweet home netflix #sweet home #song kang #cha hyun su #webcomic

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 1

Summary: Esme is an omega living in a quaint little town, the Alphas of the town are few but they are an asset to the place. Not like the dangerous and rogue-like Alphas that could be found elsewhere. But one day, a pack of Alphas turn up. And they turn Esme’s world upside down. Coaxing her to the ‘dark’ side and whisking her away… To use as their own omega, to breed and own, in every way possible.

Tom Hiddleston, David Tennant, Chris Evans, Michael Fassbender and Benedict Cumberbatch are the suspects in this fic! As usual Tom being the ‘main’ one. Though they’re all pretty involved in this fic. And I know they’re not in it a lot in this first chapter, but just setting the story up…

!!!WARNINGS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS OF THIS FIC!!!

Rape/Non-con, manipulation, kidnapping, knotting, forced breeding over and over, gangbangs, emotional trauma, selling of babies, almost constantly pregnant, Alpha fights/violence. -

East Meadowridge was a quaint little town. Known for its tranquillity, and was a hot spot for tourists with it being a seaside town. So it wasn’t exactly suspicious when there were strangers going about.

Although, a certain pack of strangers that just arrived were certainly suspicious. They took residence in the most expensive hotel in town, the entire top floor. Albeit there were only two hotels in town, with plenty of B&B’s scattered around the place. It was still odd.

The pack was obviously an Alpha pack. Five of them, all wearing suits and sunglasses, they turned up in two jaguar cars. And they were the talk of the town.

The mayor of Meadowridge worked hard to try and keep the town as peaceful and friendly as possible. The population was mainly betas, with some omegas and some Alphas. But the mayor didn’t allow packs or gangs to form, making sure that crime was kept low.

It was no secret that Alphas could be dangerous and vicious, but not the Alphas of Meadowridge. They were able to coexist with fellow Alphas, betas and omegas peacefully. Even omegas in heat they weren’t bothered by, able to respect them instead of pouncing on them to mate, which most Alphas from elsewhere would do.

So the mayor was always on edge and quick to nip anything in the bud when strange packs turned up. But this was a first for him, having never dealt with an all Alpha pack.

- Esme burst in through the front door, she went flying past her Mum who was cooking dinner in the kitchen.

‘Woah, woah, where’s the fire?’ Her Mum, Wendy, called to her as she started running upstairs.

Esme stopped dead and ran back down, crouching she looked through the bannister at her Mum.

‘Haven’t you heard about what’s going on?’

Her Mum frowned, shaking her head.

‘There’s an all Alpha pack just arrived in town! They’ve rented the entire top floor of the Seaview hotel. Turned up in fancy cars. Katherine and I are away to go and see if we can get a glimpse of them.’ Esme explained quickly, still a little out of breath from running all the way home after work.

‘Esme, wait.’ Her mum said sternly, walking over to the bottom of the stairs with her arms folded over her chest.

Esme cringed, knowing what was about to come.

‘Your father and I have told you plenty of times, Alpha outsiders are dangerous. Especially for a beautiful young omega like yourself. You are not to go near them, do you understand?’ She said firmly.

Esme sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Good. Now come and help me with dinner.’

‘I just need to get changed and message Katherine first, tell her I’m not coming.’ Esme said and her Mum nodded in agreement.

Esme went to her room and shut the door. She put her handbag down on the bed and went over to the window as she messaged Katherine, telling her she wouldn’t be meeting her anymore.

She went onto Facebook, and noticed on the towns group page that people had taken a few pictures of the Alpha pack arriving in their fancy cars. Esme zoomed in to get a better look at the Alphas, but couldn’t see their faces well because of the sunglasses. But they all looked well built, strong. Stronger than the Alphas that lived in town, that was for sure.

There were a lot of comments under the post. Many of the beta men and few Alphas were commenting that they looked dangerous, to keep an eye on them and protect the omegas of the town. But there were many omegas and also beta women commenting that they looked hot and should be welcomed like every visitor.

‘Well, this is going to cause a bit of a shit storm.’ Esme muttered to herself before getting changed and going downstairs to help her mum with dinner.

It was just about ready when her Dad, Richard, came home from work. He greeted his wife with a kiss and ruffled Esme’s hair.

‘Dad, stop that!’ She grumbled.

He chuckled and sat down at the table. ‘You’ll always be my little girl. No matter how old you get.’

Esme shook her head and started dishing up dinner.

‘How was work today? Busy I imagine, with the new guests.’ Wendy said cautiously as the three of them sat down to eat together.

‘Indeed. The mayor is going ballistic trying to find out information on these guys.’ Richard sighed, shaking his head. ‘But the names they gave at the hotel aren’t giving us anything. If they gave their true names, that is.’

Richard worked closely with the mayor, whilst it meant he got a hefty wage, it also meant long and sometimes gruelling days. Especially when they were dealing with something such as an Alpha pack in town.

‘Maybe they’re just here to enjoy the seaside.’ Esme shrugged.

Richard looked at Esme with concern, then to Wendy. Who looked concerned, too. They both knew there would only be one reason an all Alpha pack was on the move… To find omegas.

‘How’s your work going?’ He asked Esme, to change the subject.

‘We were pretty busy today, but it helps to pass the time more. Now that summer is starting, we are just going to get busier and busier.’ She smiled.

Esme worked down at the carnival, in the ticket booth. She enjoyed it because that’s where all the tourists would flock to, so she got to meet an array of people on a day to day basis. And she was great with people, so it was the perfect job for her.

‘Good, that’s really good.’ Richard nodded.

After dinner, Esme excused herself to her bedroom. She had decided to call Katherine.

‘Oh my god, Esme! You should’ve seen them, they are… wow. I have no words. They’re like Gods! The Alphas here have nothing on these guys!’ Katherine squealed down the phone.

‘Where did you see them? I’m so jealous. My parents wouldn’t let me out.’ Esme huffed as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

‘I just casually sat on the bench opposite the hotel, looking out to the sea so it wouldn’t seem suspicious. Three of them left and walked right past me, one of them smiled at me too!’ She giggled like a schoolgirl.

‘So not fair. I’ll need to wait until tomorrow to hopefully catch a glimpse of them.’

‘There’s a few of us going to the bar next door to the hotel in an hour, why don’t you come join us?’ Katherine asked.

‘I doubt I’ll be allowed.’

‘You’re not a kid anymore, Es. You’ve got a job and you are twenty for crying out loud! They can’t stop you. They don’t normally mind you going out for drinks.’ Katherine said. ‘Come on. You never know, they might even be there for drinks since they’re staying in that hotel.’

Esme paused, thinking about it for a moment.

‘Ok. You’re right. I’ll meet you there.’ She grinned.

It took an hour for Esme to get ready. She picked out a nice dress and did her hair up nicely. After grabbing her bag, she made her way downstairs and prepared herself for the questions her parents were no doubt going to ask. But she was pleasantly surprised.

‘Off out?’ Richard asked, looking over the back of the sofa.

Wendy paused the TV, waiting for Esme’s answer.

‘Yeah, meeting with Katherine and a few others for some drinks. I might be back late, but I have my key.’ She said, patting her bag as she made her way to the door.

Richard stood up and walked over to the door, meeting her there.

‘Esme. I’d rather you didn’t go out, not while this Alpha pack is in town… Though I won’t stop you meeting your friends. But I do ask, please be careful. And take this with you.’ He went to his jacket that was hanging by the door and pulled out some mace spray from the pocket.

‘Come on, Dad. I won’t need that! I’ll be with my friends.’ She whined.

‘I know, but please. Just take it.’ He grabbed her hand and slipped the mace to her. ‘It would make me feel better.’

Esme could never resist when her Dad pleaded with her and gave her puppy dog eyes. She was lucky and glad they weren’t making a bigger deal out of this.

‘Ok. I’ll take it. Thanks.’ She smiled and went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Or afternoon, no doubt.’ Richard chuckled, opening the door for her.

‘Yeah, likely!’ Esme laughed as she walked out.

Richard shut the door and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

‘Do you think she will be ok?’ Wendy asked.

Richard went back over and sat down. ‘Yeah, she’s a smart girl. Even when intoxicated she still makes good choices, I am sure she will be fine.’ Richard assured Wendy and gave her arm a squeeze.

Even though her Dad was an Alpha, Esme was super glad that he didn’t try and just make her stay home. She knew that in a lot of other places, omegas did obey Alphas without hesitation. Whether they were a family member or not. It was totally different to their town. But this was one of those times she was so glad for, because she was super excited and hopeful that she might catch a glimpse of these mysterious Alphas.

When she met up with Katherine and two other friends, Dani and Liz, the four of them went into the bar that was next to the fancy hotel.

‘Any sign of them yet?’ Esme asked.

‘Nope. I don’t even know if I’d have the guts to speak to them.’ Dani whispered.

‘I just want to see them. It’s so exciting!’ Esme said, beaming from ear to ear.

The four girls sat down at a table near the bar and not too far from the main door. They ordered some drinks and a few shots as well. They didn’t fail to notice that the bar was a little busier than it normally would be on a Thursday night. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Considering it was mainly females that were occupying the seats.

‘Hey, imagine if one of the Alphas wanted our omega here as their own.’ Dani joked to the others, nudging Esme.

‘Don’t even joke about that!’ Esme said, glaring at her.

‘Yeah, poor Mason would be heartbroken.’ Liz said with a smirk.

Esme just grumbled and downed one of her shots. Mason was an Alpha who she had been matched with, thanks to her Dad and the mayor. That’s what happened with the omegas and Alphas of the town, because there weren’t as many, they were paired off. Keeping it all within the town.

It was rare for a Beta and an omega to have an omega or Alpha as a child. But an Alpha and omega were guaranteed to have either or. And if it was an Alpha, at least having both parents from the town meant the Alpha child would grow up to be a calm and caring Alpha, that would be a good asset to the town. In the mayor’s words, anyway.

‘He never even messages me. I’ve met him three times in the last four months and every time he’s just taken me for dinner and walked me home again. Not even a kiss on the cheek. I’m not even sure if I’m attracted to him or not.’ She said honestly.

‘It does suck that they’ve paired you up like that. So glad I’m not an omega!’ Katherine said, taking a sip of her own drink.

The other two agreed with her.

‘If it wasn’t for the test, I wouldn’t even think I was an omega. I have NO feelings towards him, or any other Alpha in this damn place for that matter. They say omegas are supposed to feel submissive and timid around Alphas, well I certainly don’t.’

‘To be fair, the Alphas here are more beta-like.’ Said Liz.

‘True. But still, I thought I would’ve felt something. Maybe the test was false.’

Just as she said that, the door opened and suddenly the place was filled with the most delectable smell she had ever smelled. It was like a mixture of oak and leather, a very masculine smell. Very… Alpha.

Esme turned her head to see who had just came in the door, her eyes widening.

‘Scratch what I just said… I am pure omega.’ She said in awe, watching as the five stranger Alphas strolled into the bar like they owned the place, and every single person in it.

#butterfly into chains #tom hiddleston #david tennant #chris evans #michael fassbender #benedict cumberbatch #fan fiction

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

Text

By : Callie Ahlgrim and Courteney Larocca

Taylor Swift released her eighth studio album, "Folklore," on Friday.

Swift surprised fans by announcing its release just one day in advance — and less than one year after the release of her acclaimed seventh album "Lover."

"Most of the things I had planned this summer didn't end up happening, but there is something I had planned that DID happen," she wrote on social media. "And that thing is my 8th studio album, folklore. Surprise!"

She described "Folklore," stylized in all lowercase, as "an entire brand new album of songs I've poured all of my whims, dreams, fears, and musings into."

Much of the 16-song tracklist — 17 on the deluxe edition — was cowritten and produced by The National's Aaron Dessner. Smaller pieces were cowritten by Bon Iver, Jack Antonoff, and someone named William Bowery. Antonoff also produced five songs.

Insider's music team (reporter Callie Ahlgrim and celebrity and music editor Courteney Larocca) listened to the new album on our own, jotting down our initial thoughts track by track.

Almost immediately, we were forced to reckon with the fact that "Folklore" might be Swift's best album yet — potentially even better than "Red," which previously seemed like it couldn't be topped. We were stunned with the mature, poetic, stunningly understated collection of new songs.

Here is what we thought of each song on "Folklore" upon first listen. (Skip to the end to see the only songs worth listening to and the album's final score.)

"The 1" is the best album opener Swift has had in years.

Ahlgrim: "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" is a wild way to begin a new Taylor Swift album. This is going to be different.

This is easily the best intro song she's released in years. "The 1" far surpasses "I Forgot That You Existed" on "Lover," "...Ready for It?" on "Reputation," and "Welcome to New York" on "1989" in terms of sheer quality.

It's also an engaging scene-setter; I find myself gently rocking back and forth, eyes closed, smiling without realizing. It's only the first song and so far, I am totally grasping the woodsy aesthetic of this album. I'm already ready for more.

Larocca: I would argue that there hasn't been a strong album opener on one of Swift's albums since "State of Grace" on "Red" in 2012. "The 1" breaks that curse.

I was vibing from that very first piano note, but when Swift comes in and warmly delivers the first line of the album — "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" — it became evident this project wouldn't be anything like the rest of her discography.

As far as "The 1" goes as a standalone song, it's incredibly solid. Swift has a breezy attention to rhythm as she paints a tale of a the-one-who-got-away romance. I truly, truly love it. This might end up being an all-time favorite track.

"Cardigan" is beautifully influenced by Lana Del Rey.

Ahlgrim: I heard "Cardigan" first because I watched the music video before I listened to the album.

Right off the bat, I was struck by the Lana Del Rey melody in the chorus; I jotted down "folksy 'Blue Jeans.'"

Swift has actually cited Del Rey as an inspiration in the past, so this makes sense — and that particular shade of nostalgic, haunting glamour really works for Swift's voice, so I'm overall very impressed with this direction. I am more than amenable to a "Red" meets "Norman F---ing Rockwell!" album experience. On my second time around listening, sans music video, "Cardigan" already feels richer coming after "The 1."

This time, I'm struck by small lyrical details like "Sequined smile, black lipstick," a clear callback to her past eras, and "Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy," an effective way to evoke young love and innocence lost.

I also think the song's central refrain, "When you are young they assume you know nothing," is clean and sharp and — especially given Swift's public struggles with sexism and years-old contracts — extremely poignant.

Larocca: I had the thought that Swift listens to Lana Del Rey after hearing "Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" on last year's "Lover," but now I know for sure that Del Rey is an influence on Swift.

While "Cardigan" isn't what I thought this album would be like sonically, I'm overjoyed at how clearly singer-songwriter this album already is. I've been waiting years for Swift to make a lyrical marvel set to acoustic, warm, folksy instrumentals and it's here.

(And while I expected something different sonically, I am not mad at all by the backing instrumental choices here.)

"The Last Great American Dynasty" proves Swift is a natural storyteller.

Ahlgrim: Personally, I love Storyteller Taylor, so this is quite literally music to my ears.

There are so many delicious details here to unpack. The first verse, with its subtle sexist whisperings about Rebekah Harkness ("How did a middle-class divorcée do it?" and "It must have been her fault his heart gave out"), is a truly savvy way to set up for the song's eventual reveal.

Rebekah spent her time partying with friends, funding the ballet, playing card games with Salvador Dalí, somehow "ruining everything" — and her Holiday House was "free of women with madness" until Swift herself moved in.

That twist in the bridge is poetic genius. When the final chorus adjusts to the present day, underscoring the parallels between Rebekah and Swift, I'm forcefully reminded of an iconic bridge when Romeo finally proposed and changed everything — but Swift has evolved past daydreams of pure white dresses and fathers giving permission.

Larocca: I'm immediately taken back to 2012's "Starlight" when "The Last Great American Dynasty" starts. Thankfully, this song ends up being a lot better than "Starlight," which always felt more like a filler track on "Red" to me.

I love a lot here: the casual use of "b----," the acute attention to detail ("She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green"), and every version of this line: "There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen."

I had a marvelous time listening to this song.

"Exile," featuring Bon Iver, is one of Swift's most successful duets to date.

Ahlgrim: Swift and Bon Iver, aka Justin Vernon, are two of the best songwriters alive today, so this song was destined to be breathtaking.

Swift has historically had difficulty allowing her voice and vision to coexist with a featured artist; her collaborations often leave me feeling like she should've just delivered the whole song herself.

But Swift and Vernon were able to weave their lyrics together so gracefully, I was left feeling grateful for his presence. His rich, rustic tone and those iconic hummed harmonies lends the regretful song an added coat of sincerity.

The production here is generally fine, but the layered instrumentals in the ending really bring the song together. I love a dramatic exit.

Larocca: When I see a "featuring Bon Iver" on a track, I instantly assume Vernon is going to come in with his high falsetto. So it was almost jarring that the song starts with Vernon sounding like a lumberjack dad who hasn't left the woods in a decade.

That didn't end up being a detriment, though. Swift sounds delicate on her verse, and their vocals contrast nicely later on the track.

This one also brings to mind her collab "The Last Time" with Snow Patrol's Gary Lightbody. The line "I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending" is also reminiscent of "If This Was a Movie."

I'm obsessed with the clear influences Swift's previous discography had on these tracks, which have also so far felt completely unique to her catalog.

"My Tears Ricochet" is an extraordinary display of Swift's songwriting powers.

Ahlgrim: First of all, "My Tears Ricochet" is an incredible song title. Let's take a moment to appreciate that.

In fact, pretty much every line of this song is arresting.

Much of it feels both familiar and rare, like you know exactly what Swift is singing about, but hadn't thought to put it in those words before — which is, in my opinion, the mark of any good piece of writing but especially a breakup song. You can relate to the emotion, if not the particular details. You can hear the pain. It almost plays like a funeral march.

What a gift it is, what an exhilarating experience, to feel like you're listening to a poem being recited in real-time.

Larocca: Any true Swiftie knows that track five is reserved for the most vulnerable moment on the record, so I went into "My Tears Ricochet" ready to be sad.

I am endlessly impressed with how Swift managed to bake the word "ricochet" into this song so effectively. She also ditched her traditional song structure for this one, and instead built the track from peak to peak, utilizing clever lyrics along the way to tell an epic, devastating story, almost obviously calling back to the most beloved track five of "All Too Well."

I'm calling it now — this one is going to age like a fine wine. As all of Swift's best breakup ballads do.

"Mirrorball" is several strokes of genius.

Ahlgrim: This song gives me intense Clairo vibes, and I mean that as a very high compliment.

It's so fun and refreshing to hear Swift slip into different musical styles, and this shimmery take on alternative-bedroom-pop highlights her soft vocals and nuanced songwriting supremely well.

Also, my Leo sensibilities are fully under attack by this bridge: "I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try / I'm still on that trapeze / I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me." Oof! Just tag me next time.

Larocca: This one is so pretty! Swift's vocals sound better than ever as she spins on her highest heels across a glittery daydream.

"I'm a mirrorball / I'll show you every version of yourself tonight" might be the thesis statement of this entire album. So far, "Folklore" feels both diaristic and vague; detailed and completely anonymous.

Fans will be debating for years whether this album is about Swift's own life, or if it's simply really great storytelling pulled directly from her own mind. In the end, it doesn't really matter.

Because as all of Swift's best songs do, these songs will attach themselves to listeners in completely new ways, showing them elements and stories from their own lives.

"Seven" is pure whimsical magic.

Ahlgrim: This is playing make-believe in the garden when you're too young to feel self-conscious; it's poetic and nostalgic and full of awe in such an unpretentious way.

I wouldn't change one thing about this song. Swift's whispery high register sounds divine, and at this point in the tracklist, her rhythmic delivery in the chorus hits like a shot of espresso.

Right now, I'm wondering if it's possible for Swift to maintain this intrigue and momentum for another nine songs. There hasn't been a misstep to speak of, and I remain wholly beguiled. Can it last?

Larocca: The beginning of "Seven" sounds like Swift listened to Marina's "Orange Trees" on repeat before showing up to her songwriting session. Fortunately, "Orange Trees" is the only song I like on Marina's "Love + Fear" so I will gladly accept this inspiration.

Swift continues to impress with both her vocals and her sense of rhythm on "Seven." I also personally love space imagery so the line "Love you to the moon and to Saturn" is a standout line.

"August" will go down as one of the best songs in Swift's extensive repertoire.

Ahlgrim: I'm immediately catching hints of Phoebe Bridgers and girl in red in Swift's delivery. And I simply adore the idea that Swift has spent the last few months sitting at home, daydreaming about summertime humidity and listening to music by queer indie-pop girls.

In an album full of songwriting expertise, this song has some of Swift's best lines yet: "August sipped away like a bottle of wine / 'Cause you were never mine" actually hurts me.

In my notes, there simply sits this valuable insight (yes, in all-caps): "WANTING WAS ENOUGH. FOR ME IT WAS ENOUGH TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL." This song has my favorite bridge on the album so far.

In terms of production, "August" is exquisite. It's lush and layered without feeling overwhelming at any point. It builds to the perfect level then recedes, like a wave.

Also worth mentioning: It can now be considered a historical fact that any time Swift mentions a car or driving in one of her songs, it's a perfect song.

Larocca: While listening to "August," I texted Callie and said, "I can't wait to finish the album so I can relisten to 'August.'" It's an instant favorite.

This is also the first track on the album that seems directly inspired by our current state. Not because she's expressing fear or singing about being bored at home, but because she so easily slips into a reflection of a relationship that ended years ago with a newfound wave of wistful nostalgia.

When quarantine started, it seemed like a million lifestyle articles came out explaining why everyone suddenly felt compelled to text their exes and why we're so invested in looking back instead of forward right now.

"August" validates those feelings with zero judgment, letting its listener know that yes, it's totally normal for you to be overanalyzing that quasi-relationship you were in back in college that never made it past graduation. Am I projecting? Maybe, but that's debatably what Swift's music is best utilized for.

I'm also going to be thinking about this song's bridge and outro for the rest of my life.

The National's influence can be felt on the stunning "This Is Me Trying."

Ahlgrim: "This Is Me Trying" quickly strikes a more sinister tone than its predecessors — still nostalgic and wistful, but carrying an edge, like a threatening secret.

Ironically, this one was co-written and co-produced by Jack Antonoff, not Aaron Dessner, though I can really hear The National's influence here. I'm getting strong wafts of songs like "Pink Rabbits" and "Dark Side of the Gym."

Based on Swift's own words, we can speculate that "This Is Me Trying" is a fictional tale, built around the image of "a 17-year-old standing on a porch, learning to apologize." And, as previously stated, I'm a big fan of Storyteller Taylor, so I'm into it.

The song's darker tone mingles really well with Swift's imagery; when you're a teenager, and you make a mistake, it can feel like the end of the world.

Larocca: "This Is Me Trying" is precisely what I imagined this album sounding like when I found out Swift collaborated with the National's Aaron Dessner and Bon Iver.

But I'm glad she was strategic about her use of echo and also finally paid attention to the tracklisting from a sonic standpoint. This haunting soundscape is reminiscent of 2014's "This Love" and comes in right when you need it after the yearning daydream of "August."

I'd also like it to be on the record that the line "I got wasted like all my potential" ruined me and this song is a win for that lyric alone.

"Illicit Affairs" is a glowing example of what sets Swift apart from her peers as a songwriter.

Ahlgrim: The expert songwriting on "Illicit Affairs" reminds me of the as-yet unseated queen in Swift's discography: "All Too Well."

Swift is a master of wielding specific details like weapons: "What started in beautiful rooms / Ends with meetings in parking lots," she sings. "Leave the perfume on the shelf / That you picked out just for him." These are the sorts of images that set Swift apart, and they're especially strong when she punctuates their delivery with a little growl in her voice.

This song has real power. I have chills.

That power is magnified in the third verse, similar to how "All Too Well" builds to a crescendo: "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me."

Certainly, "Illicit Affairs" is more restrained than Swift's iconic arena rock ballad, but goddamn that last verse hits hard.

Larocca: The way that she says "him" in the second verse shook me out of my skin in the very best way. And "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me" will go down as one of her best breakup lines of all time.

It's been a minute since Swift delivered a painstakingly beautiful breakup ballad, and the fact that this album is littered with them is, simply, a gift.

"Illicit Affairs" has growing power and will likely become one of those tracks that fans form a strong emotional attachment to over time.

"Invisible String" is Taylor Swift at her most Taylor Swift.

Ahlgrim: "Invisible String" is a feast of Easter eggs and callbacks.

"Teal was the color of your shirt" reminds me of the line about Joe Alwyn's blue eyes on "Delicate," and her reference to a dive bar is similarly familiar. "Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs" recalls the push-and-pull on "Exile."

"Bad was the blood of the song in the cab" is undoubtedly a reference to Swift's 2015 single "Bad Blood," while "One single thread of gold / Tied me to you" feels like a nod to Swift's description of love's "golden" hue on the "Lover" album closer "Daylight."

This song is sprightly and sparkly and certainly nice to listen to, but its real strength lies in these details.

Swift is weaving many different stories on this album, many connected by a sort of "Invisible String," tying different pieces of her life and your life and other lives together. It ends up feeling like a growing plant with far-reaching roots, or a sentient treasure map.

Larocca: I'd be lying if I said there weren't multiple points throughout this album where I worried that Swift and her boyfriend Joe Alwyn had broken up.

Thankfully, "Invisible String" is a rosy, wide-eyed ode to love. The plucky guitar paired with Swift's soft vocals is a sound I want to live in, which is fitting since this track feels like coming home.

Every small detail, from the nod to Alwyn's time spent working at a frozen yogurt shop in his youth, to the color imagery that paints every inflection of Swift's adoration (especially the single thread of gold) come together to lay the holy ground Swift's relationship walks on.

Also, the image of Swift mailing Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner gifts for their expectant first child brings about an unbridled sense of joy.

"Mad Woman" is yet another highlight.

Ahlgrim: Every time I think I've heard the peak of this album's songwriting potential, Swift manages to surprise me.

Case in point: "Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? / Does she smile? / Or does she mouth, 'F--- you forever?'" Whoa.

And another, for good measure: "It's obvious that wanting me dead / Has really brought you two together." I texted Courteney, "Did she really just say that??"

This song is sublime on its own, but the way it ties back into the perception of female freedom and "madness" on "The Last Great American Dynasty" makes it even better. "Mad Woman" is definitely a personal favorite so far on this album, if not in Swift's entire catalog.

Larocca: "Mad Woman" will forever hold the honor of being the first song in which Swift says "f---" and for that, we should all be thankful.

I was also so wrapped up in the storytelling of this album, that it took a minute for this to even register that this is likely about the Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta / Kanye West and Kim Kardashian West ordeals of Swift's past. These callouts used to be so obvious, that I greatly appreciate the subtlety and restraint here.

It almost feels like these feuds were a lifetime ago, but this track does an excellent job at showcasing how anger and pain can leave an indelible mark on you. Swift went mad years ago, and that's just an accepted part of her narrative now.

But for the first time, her rage sounds like freedom.

"Epiphany" doesn't stand out.

Ahlgrim: There are some really interesting vocal moments on "Epiphany," but so far, this is the only song I haven't felt captivated by. It's a bit snoozy, and a bit too long.

This song clearly references war, the loss of a loved one, and the coronavirus pandemic, which makes it lyrically intriguing at best — but distressing at worst. I don't mind letting the overall effect waft over me, but this won't be a song I revisit outside the context of the album.

Larocca: "Epiphany" is the only track on "Folklore" that didn't immediately grab me. It's essentially a war drama in song format, so some people might like it, but I truly couldn't care less about war movies or war songs! So it's not my favorite, but it makes for pretty background music.

"Epiphany" does have another benefit though: Now, whenever some random dude erroneously claims Swift "only writes songs about her exes," fans have a clear song in her discography that they can point to and be like, "That's not true. This one's about war."

That's not to say Swift needed that — anyone who has been paying attention understands she's quite possibly the best songwriter of her generation.

This just happens to be further proof of that fact.

"Betty" is a charming callback to Swift's country roots.

Ahlgrim: "Betty" is like the best, sauciest song from Swift's 2006 debut country album that no one got to hear. It has sonic and lyrical similarities to hits like "Our Song" and "Tim McGraw," plus some name-dropping stuff like 2008's "Hey Stephen," plus a little harmonica thrown in for good measure! I love that for us.

"Betty" also appears to complete a three-song story, recalling details from "Cardigan" and "August" to close the loop on Betty and James, a couple in high school with some infidelity issues.

Looking back, it feels like "Cardigan" was told from Betty's perspective, while "August" was told from the perspective of a sort of "other woman" character. Now, we get James' side of the story. This is high art, folks! This is peak Storytelling Taylor!

"Betty" is also, like, very gay? I know it's easy to assume that James is a male character, but Swift herself was named after James Taylor, so she could be referring to herself. The song also references someone named Inez; James and Inez are the names of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's daughters.

Plus, in retrospect, the idea of whispering "Are you sure? Never have I ever before" during a summer fling seems pretty gay to me.

I'm not saying the story of Betty and James would be better if it was written about sapphic lovers, but I'm not not saying that.

Larocca: This one is gay, and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will simply ignore you.

But Courteney, it's from the perspective of a guy named James. James and the other character, Inez, share the same names as Reynolds and Lively's kids (will leave it up to you to decide if that means their third daughter's name is Betty). James is their daughter. Get out of here with your antiquated ideas about which names connotate which genders.

To me, the James named in this song is a woman and a lesbian and this song is for the gays. I will not be saying anything else or accepting any feedback on this opinion, thank you.

"Peace" is honest and raw.

Ahlgrim: This song's intro sounds like LCD Soundsystem had a baby with "The Archer." The gentle guitar riff is also lovely.

With Dessner's echoey production, Swift's voice sounds like a warm little fire in a cave — fitting, since she sings in the chorus, "I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm."

OK damn, I'm getting really emotional. This songwriting is beautiful and haunting. "Peace" perfectly captures the ambient dread of feeling your partner slip away, of wondering whether love can be enough.

Larocca: If you're a "Call It What You Want" stan, you're going to love its mature older sister "Peace."

I will hereby forever be thinking about the parallels between "But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm" with "He built a fire just to keep me warm" and between "Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother" with "Trust him like a brother."

Also, "Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" has the same emotional impact as when Swift changes the lyric in "The Archer" to "I see right through me" and that's meant as the highest form of compliment.

Swift's vocals are so crisp, that guitar riff is so stunning, and these lyrics are so gut-wrenchingly vulnerable. A perfect song, through and through.

"Hoax" is unlike any other album closer in Swift's catalog.

Ahlgrim: I don't know if Swift is going through a traumatic breakup, but if she isn't, the woman is one convincing creative writer.

The National makes some of my favorite music to cry to, so when I heard Aaron Dessner had co-written and produced much of this album, I knew I was in for some glossy cheeks. Until now, I think I've felt too captivated by Swift's artistry to really let myself get there.

But finally, "Hoax" is making me cry.

This is heart-wrenching stuff for anyone, but for a fan and student of Swift's work, this is like reading a friend's diary entry.

"Don't want no other shade of blue, but you" must be a reference to "Delicate," in which Swift sings: "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you / Oh damn, never seen that color blue." Later, she croons, "You know I left a part of me back in New York," perhaps regretting the move to London that she detailed throughout "Lover."

"You knew it still hurts underneath my scars / From when they pulled me apart," recalling the public shaming she endured and demons she exorcised on "Reputation." "But what you did was just as dark." Like I said before: Whoa.

Personally, I love having a good cry set to moody music, so I appreciate Swift's soul-bearing. "Hoax" is one gut-punch of an album closer.

Larocca: Swift has a habit of ending her albums on an uplifting, hopeful note and I always eat it up. But if "Folklore" hadn't made it clear by now that it should be consumed differently than any of her previous works, "Hoax" brings that message home.

Instead of reveling in all the ways that love has made her stronger, happier, or more whole, "Hoax" deconstructs everything Swift has learned about love and leaves a bleaker picture about how maybe even the best of relationships hurt.

But at its most tragic, this love still isn't something Swift will ever let go of: "Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do."

Finishing a Taylor Swift album has never been so devastating.

Final Grade: 9.7/10

#taylor swift #folklore #review

50 notes · View notes

perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Zapped Perspective (5)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Slight fear, arguments, and mention of treating someone like a pet

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

——————————————————————————————————–

“How do you think the switch happened?” Patton found himself asking as he cooked the two of them dinner. He had decided to make hamburgers, since it would be easier for Logan to handle.

“That’s a fairly loaded question.” Logan had taken a cross-legged seat on yet another section of the counter, finding the surface very uncomfortable and missing his platform as he craned his neck back. “I believe it has something to do with astrological physics and a burst of unexplained energy between a dimensional void.”

“You mean, like magic?” Patton asked, flipping the burger.

“Magic is mere fiction.” Logan scoffed. “I meant science.”

“I don’t know, ‘burst of unexplained energy’ sure sounds like magic to me.” Patton shrugged, turning the stove off and placing the meat on a plate. He went to go grab a bun and some stuff to put in it.

“I take it you’re not a man of science, then?” Logan rolled his eyes. “What exactly is your profession?”

“Oh! I’m a vet...well, a vet in training, anyway.” Patton chuckled.

“Oh.” Logan was quite surprised to hear that his assumption had been incorrect. “That’s quite admirable.”

“Aww, thanks! Helping out animals has always been my passion.” Patton grinned. “Oh! And my training dealing with small creatures came in handy a few times with Virgil too!”

“Really?” Logan found that surprising. “But isn’t the anatomy vastly different?”

“Well, yeah, I meant more the actual handling of him. But I also learned a few things about humans as I went along in school too, which helped as well.” Patton explained.

“Well, I would imagine.” Logan informed him, sounding serious as though he thought Patton might be unaware. “You are, after all, human.”

“That I am!” Patton exclaimed, before coming towards Logan and setting the plate down on the counter. At this point, he was used to eating standing up, as Virgil always preferred to eat where he didn’t need to be picked up.

He cut off a small piece of the burger, handing it over to Logan. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Logan remembered his manners, delicately handling the greasy food.

“You’re welcome.” Patton said, taking a bite out of his own burger.

Logan bit into his food, cautious not to make a mess of himself.

“So...how do we get you back? How do we get Virgil back?” Patton broke the silence, staring down at his burger. He really missed his friend.

Logan was quiet a moment. “I am… uncertain. Were you or Virgil engaging in any odd behaviors that may have triggered the phenomenon?”

Patton shook his head. “No, nothing like that. We just had dinner and then went our separate ways for bed.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary happened on our end either, as far as I can recall.” Logan said thoughtfully, taking another bite.

“That’s so weird.” Patton murmured. “How are we supposed to fix it if we don’t know what caused it?” Patton sighed, setting his burger back on the plate. He wasn’t feeling very hungry all of a sudden.

“I am uncertain that we can.” Logan admitted, feeling a similar uncomfortable sensation.

“No, no, we have to! Virgil is probably already terrified out of his mind, he can’t stay in a world like that!” Patton spoke, tears appearing in his eyes.

“The implication that we need to act does not negate the fact neither of us has any viable course of action!” Logan’s voice began to raise, his own frustrations bubbling to the surface.

“I know!” Patton yelled and then winced. “I-I mean, I know, I just...s-sorry.” That was the second time he had yelled at Logan. It must be his worry for Virgil that had him so high strung.

“It’s...fine.” Logan set his meal to the side, his appetite gone. “I understand your concern.”

Patton nodded. “Virgil doesn’t deserve to be a pet. And...neither do you.” Patton spoke softly, looking at Logan sadly.

Logan took a deep breath. “Your concern is noted. But I live, or perhaps lived,” (Logan gave a slight shudder), “a comfortable life there. Roman is kind; he will take care of your Virgil.”

Patton let out a long sigh but it seemed pointless to go back and forth with Logan on this. “I hope so...even so, Virgil is probably terrified. He’s not used to other humans knowing about him.”

“I imagine it will be a difficult adjustment for us both.” Logan murmured.

“Wait, why are you talking like you’ve just given up? We can’t give up! We’re going to figure this out.” Patton thought for a moment. “Maybe...maybe I can look it up?” He was already taking his phone out and pulling up google.

“By all means, though I doubt there will be any information pertaining to our immediate circumstance.” Logan slouched inwards, no longer caring about his perfect posture.

Patton typed in dimension switching and all other variations of but Logan was right. Nothing but old sci-fi movies had come up. He placed his phone on the counter and rubbed his hands down his face. “Why did this even happen? Why Virgil?” Patton cried softly. His heart was going out to his borrower friend.

“I have no idea why your friend and I were chosen.” Logan frowned, uneasy with emotional outbursts from strangers. “Please do not be upset.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Patton wiped his tears away. “I just can’t stand the thought of Virgil being alone or-or never seeing him again.” And the tears were back.

“Virgil is not alone, although your other concern is valid.” Logan cringed. He didn’t see the benefit in crying over a problem with no solution.

Patton let his head hang low for a moment. “I just...it seems like there really is nothing we can do.”

“We are dealing with powers beyond our control.” Logan shrugged, unfortunately used to the sensation of not controlling his own fate. -

“So...that’s it then? We just give up? You live here and Virgil is stuck being a pet to this Roman guy?” Patton asked quietly, not liking the idea of that at all.

“He’s not a pet!” Logan snapped, and with a jolt he realized he had let his emotions get the best of him. Logan took a deep breath, reeling himself back in. “I apologize. It’s just… that is not how arrangements function.” It could be a touchy subject.

Patton was taken aback by Logan’s outburst and he bit his lip. “Then...how does it function?” Patton asked, wanting to understand.

“The term ‘pet’ comes with certain connotations.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “It implies a submissive nature, a possible willingness to serve, and a training period, none of which are what my life entailed. If anything, such practices apply more aptly to Roman’s life.”

Patton blinked. “So, Roman is...your pet?” He asked slowly, very confused. That didn’t seem right though.

“In a manner of speaking, one could put it in those terms.” Logan seemed quite amused by the notion. “He was required to attend a training session in order to understand how to accommodate for someone of my stature, and is quite eager to see to my every need. However, once again the submissive nature fails to apply- both of us are rather strong headed.”

“Wait...so borrowers really aren’t pets in your world? You have the freedom to do what you want? How did you end up with Roman, then?” Patton asked, more curious about this world now that he was having second thoughts about it.

“Freedom is a generous term.” Logan admitted. “There are still precautions that must be taken; after all, we live in a primarily human world. To go out without a human companion could be disastrous. Have you seen the proportions of native wildlife?”

Patton winced. “Yeah, I can understand why that would be a bad idea.” The whole arrangement still sounded...sketchy, at best. “So you’re basically required to be with a human. And they...care for you in turn?”

“Affirmative.” Logan nodded. “In terms of your prior query, I began coexisting with Roman after he chose me from the agency.”

Patton’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get a say in whether or not you went with him?” Because that didn’t sound right.

“Legally, no.” Logan explained. “That decision resides entirely in a human’s court. However, prior to such a decision a human must meet privately with a borrower they wish to reside with and the borrower may voice their opinions on the matter.”

“But if a borrower doesn’t want to go with the human and the human chooses them anyway, there isn’t anything they can do.” Patton said, less of a question and more a statement.

“Yes, that is a potential outcome.” Logan nodded. “Although I have not heard of such a scenario in a few years. The closest case to that would be my own.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “Roman took you home against your will?”

“No, but originally he was close.” Logan corrected. “I was not… overly fond of him, shall we say. However he has a sense of stubborn determination, so despite my efforts to drive him away he continued to visit me at the agency in an attempt to win my favor. I found our arguments to be a refreshing change of pace and over time realized he was not the conceited airhead I originally mistook him for.”

That...didn’t sound too bad. “Logan, you make it sound like everyone is, for the most part, in agreement with all of this. But...can you really tell me that all borrowers in your world are happy with this arrangement? Happy with the humans who have claimed them?” Patton asked, frowning in concern.

“Of course not.” Logan answered. “I cannot speak for all borrowers, just as you cannot speak for all humans. The very notion is absurd.”

“So, you admit that just because you’re happy and fine with your own arrangement, that doesn’t mean that any other borrower is.” Patton said, trying to get Logan to see how bad this still was.

“No, that does not imply that every other borrower is content.” Logan stood up. “There is an important distinction in our wording, in that my statement implies that the general consensus is that borrowers are content whereas there may be some exceptions, but your statement implies that the majority of borrowers are uncontent.”

“Can you prove to me that they aren’t? I’m just going by everything I know about borrowers here and I don’t think any of them would be happy with that sort of arrangement. And...unfortunately, humans have been known to take advantage of things that are weaker than them. It’s a fair assumption to make, that a lot of humans would treat their borrowers like...like pets.” Patton said, wincing a little as he did. Humans could be cruel, that was for sure.

“Once again, your concern is noted, but unnecessary.” Logan shook his head. “Granted I am not a particularly social borrower by nature but I have yet to come across a borrower who was truly miserable within their arrangement.”

Patton sighed. “Well...either way, I guess the only thing that really matters right now is how Roman is. And...I mean, if you say he’s okay, then at least Virgil will be in good hands. I doubt he’s still happy with the arrangement though.”

“I doubt that as well, if these are his origins.” Logan glanced around the room again. “Although I certainly hope he enjoys the precautions I put in place. It took me years to develop such a complex system of transportation.” Logan gave a small sigh. He was going to miss his contraptions most of all, both for their convenience and sentimental value.

“Wait, transportation? You mean, you built stuff all over the house to make it easier for yourself?” Patton asked, looking around his own home and picturing what Logan could mean.

“Indeed.” Logan looked pleased with himself. “Assistance from Roman included, of course. It consists of a collage of platforms, escalators, elevators, walkways, ladders, conveyor belts, ziplines…although the most efficient form of transportation is, naturally, human hands. The equipment is more so for when I am left to my own devices.”

“Oh wow…” That sounded amazing. Also complicated. He would have loved to do all that for Virgil though.

...Maybe he still could.

“I’m not giving up.” Patton declared suddenly.

“Giving up what?” Logan tilted his head.

“On getting you and Virgil back to your own worlds! If you truly are happy with Roman, I’ll help you get back to him as well.” Patton said. The world might not be the best suited for borrowers in his belief but by the sounds of things, at least Roman was one of the good ones.

“How exactly do you intend to do that?” A curious Logan asked, enjoying the sentiment but realistic about the probability.

“I...don’t know yet.” He thought for a moment, an idea coming to him. “But I might know where to start! You said that you just woke up in Virgil’s bed after going to bed in your own last night, right?” Patton asked.-

“Yes?” Logan was not a fan of where this was going.

“Well, maybe, if you go to bed tonight on Virgil’s bed, the two of you will switch back!” Patton exclaimed with a grin.

Logan glanced back at the location where he knew the hole was waiting for him just beyond the wallpaper.

“...I don’t think that’s a particularly sound theory.” Logan tried to quietly shut Patton’s idea down, hiding his true feelings on the matter.

“Huh? Why not? It makes sense if you woke up there, right?” Patton asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“None of this makes any sense.” Logan retorted. “I understand your logic, but I do not want to test that hypothesis.”

“Why? Do you...wait.” Patton frowned. “Are you...scared of going in the walls?”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable concern.” Logan shifted on his feet. “I am in an entirely new dimension, and have none of the skills of my ancestors. I don’t know what awaits me in those walls- how would I defend myself should a rat get in? Or some other infestation of insect, perhaps? Not to mention, it can hardly be sanitary, and I have no way of knowing the layout of the area as my eyes will not adjust to the darkness and it smelled unsettling when I was there only briefly and there is certainly no chance I could ever fall asleep under such troublesome conditions.”

Patton blinked. “Okay, yeah I-I get that.” He supposed it was just strange hearing that come out of a borrower's mouth. “I’d be scared too.” Patton thought for a moment. “Well, maybe you don’t need to be in Virgil’s bed. Maybe you just need to go back to sleep? You can sleep in my room if you want?” Patton suggested.

Logan doubted it could be that easy, but the stress of today had left him exhausted enough for sleep to sound wonderful. “It’s certainly worth a try.” Logan agreed. “I thank you for your hospitality, Patton.”

Patton grinned. “Of course, kiddo.” Patton turned around. “I’ll meet you in there.” He said, already heading towards his room.

“Now wait a moment!” Logan was quick to raise his voice, rushing along the counter edge to try and keep pace with the human. “Just where are you going?”

Patton paused, turning to look at Logan again. “Huh? Oh, uh...to my room?” He answered, looking confused.

“I thought you offered for me to accompany you tonight.” Logan looked a bit hurt.

“I-I did.” Now Patton was really confused. “I said I would meet you there.”

Logan glanced around. “I see no ladders, or platforms. How am I meant to travel to your quarters? Not to mention the fact I have no knowledge of where your bed may lie.”

Patton felt heat rise up to his cheeks. “O-Oh. Right, sorry, I’m used to Virgil going around on his own.” He felt awkward as he went back over to Logan. “Uh...need a ride?” He asked as he set his palm down in front of Logan.

“That would be greatly appreciated, yes.” Logan paused a moment, looking at Patton’s hand. He had been carried by many humans in his life, but for the last several years it had only been Roman. To once again be putting his life in the hands of a stranger left a strange hollow feeling in Logan’s chest as he stepped onto the waiting palm.

The feeling felt strange and Patton was nervous as he slowly lifted his hand up, cupping one side to keep Logan from being jostled. He had only ever held Virgil a handful (pun intended) of times. And two of those had, unfortunately, been against the borrowers will. He made sure to hurry but still be careful as he made his way to his room.

When he got there, he realized he didn’t know where to put Logan to sleep. “Uh, where would you like to sleep? I can share my bed or I could set something up for you on the nightstand…?” Patton suggested.

Logan had hardly considered it himself, forgetting for a moment he was in a dimension without the usual amenities. “I suppose a makeshift bedding would be ideal.”

“Right.” Patton placed Logan down on the nightstand and then started scouring his room for stuff to use. He found a small blanket and wrapped it in a way that created a little nest. He set it down next to Logan nervously. “Er, how is that?”

“It’s...satisfactory.” Logan decided. It certainly wasn’t his comfortable handmade bed, but it would function for the night.

“Alright, well...do you need anything else before lights out?” Patton asked.

Logan just shook his head, attempting to make himself more comfortable in the folded fabric.

“Okay.” Patton climbed into bed and turned off the light. “Goodnight, Logan.” He really hoped it was as simple as having to go to bed...he really wanted Virgil back. And out of that world.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #borrowers #human!patton #human!roman #borrower!virgil #borrower!logan #platonic #zapped perspective #part 5

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theunboundmeg · 5 years

Text

Nefarious (Chapter One)

Summary: It wasn’t a year ago and Y/N can still remember being the new girl in school. Now it’s a new year, SENIOR year...and there’s another new kid at Hawkins High School. Billy Hargrove is a jerk, headstrong, and extremely presumptuous. And yet...he still manages to find his way in Y/N’s path...and it’s really starting to cause some “problems.”

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Y/N (Reader)

Word Count: 2,973 Words

Rating: 18+ (For the Future)

Warnings: Cussing, insinuation, angsty angst! And some other stuff!

Other: Please note, this story takes place at the beginning of Season Two and actually follows to the storyline. I thought it would be interesting to write from a different perspective of the main story and see what happened to one of our favorite characters while the others were off fighting the demodogs! Enjoy this and if you guys like this chapter, I’ll probably write more! <3 Also note that there is no planned amount of chapters for this yet. I will write this story until it just naturally folds up. So...look forward to MANY more to come!

________________________________________________________________

Chapter One: Tell Your Friends It Was Nice to Meet Them

The first day was always supposedly the worst day, right? Well, this wasn’t exactly the first day...but still. I looked in the mirror at myself, cringing slightly. What in the world was with my sense of fashion today? Seriously? And why was it that no matter what I put on, I felt as though I was an imposter? It just felt...different. That day did, anyway.

“Y/N! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

My mother’s voice echoed up the stairs and floated about the space in my room. She wasn’t wrong. And it wouldn’t be the first time either. One more tardy mark in homeroom and I’d be serving detention for a week. That was just how “serious” Mrs. Perkins had become with me. I didn’t exactly have a great relationship with my homeroom teacher, but we still managed to coexist...for the most part.

“Coming!” I screamed, grabbing up my backpack and taking one last look in the mirror. Out of control hair, high rise skinnies and a tank. Fine. It would do.

___

Just as the last bell sounded off, so did my footsteps on the tile of my classroom.

“Ah, Y/N! You did manage to make it on time! How gracious of you!”

Mrs. Perkins, along with the twenty or so other students in the classroom all gazed at me, causing my face to flush even more than it already was.

“Yeah, sorry. Just...tough morning” Not much to really say on the matter, I just shrugged and made my way to the back of the classroom.

Nancy and Jonathan were both there, seemingly lost in a hushed conversation that was only becoming more hurried and hushed the closer I got. I let my backpack hit the tabletop of my desk, causing Nancy to nearly jump out of her skin, which in turn brought a snort from Jonathan.

“You guys talking about creepy monsters again? Or am I actually going to understand the conversation you’re having this time around?” I asked.

Their adventures from before weren’t exactly a mystery to me. In fact, Nancy and I had become so close, she’d disclosed nearly everything that had happened before our friendship had blossomed. She’d told me all of it: from the Upside Down to how some small chick named Eleven or Elle or...Ellen...(I honestly couldn’t recall half of the time) had saved everyone in Hawkins. And while I’d be forever grateful to the girl I’d never meet for saving the small town I’d only just recently moved to with my mother, it was just difficult for me to buy...most days. Naturally, the thought of such a story intrigued me, it even drove my imagination on the dullest of my days. But still...monsters? Right here in this place? Come on now.

“Nooo...I was just telling Jonathan that he should reconsider the Halloween party. They’ll eventually be handing out flyers, but I already heard something about it.” Nancy replied, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back slightly.

I perked a brow and looked to Jonathan, who began to shake his head immediately.

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Nooooo.”

“Seriously?”

“No.” he hissed, clearly firm on the answer.

I glanced to Nancy then and shrugged again.

“I’d tell him to come but, he’s clearly made up his mind.”

“We’ll see.” Nancy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

She wasn’t really in the wrong for wanting him to come. Jonathan hardly got out much lately. Ever since the incident with his brother Will, he’d always made a point of trying to be home with him as often as possible. Then again, who could blame him? If I’d almost lost my mother, I’d be the same way. She was the only person I had left in the world, after all. It was then my attention was yanked back to the present by the door creaking open. The male walking in seemed to attract the attention of pretty much everyone in the room, even Mrs. Perkins. A mullet well kept, jean jacket and tight fighting jeans to boot and one would almost assume they were looking at a model.

“Mrs. Perkins! Sorry for the interruption! I’ve got a Mister Hargrove for you.”

The Principal pressed his lips together firmly as Billy moved past him, looking around for a chair. Something about him already seemed to pick at me. Not a word had escaped from between his lips and there was just something that was off about him. Cockiness? Or maybe he was an asshole.

“Mister Hargrove, are you-”

“We probably won’t be here for long, so maybe it would be worthwhile to just skip over my introduction and move on to better things...Mrs. Perkins, was it?”

While Billy had pretty much insulted Mrs. Perkins and talked over her, he’d done so in a way that oozed charisma. Asshole. Definitely asshole. I frowned and glanced downwards.

“Please...find a seat then.”

It wasn’t long and Billy was making his way between the desks, girls giggling and whispering about him as he passed them. Nancy leaned over towards me, lowering her voice.

“Steve and I saw him pull up outside earlier. Think he’s got a sister too.”

She tilted her head, her tone holding that of a curious nature. Other than that, she didn’t really seem to have much more to offer. The scrape of a chair caused me to jerk my gaze away and look to my left. Billy had apparently decided to make himself at home in the empty desk next to mine. Just my luck...a whole fucking classroom full of other people and he’d chosen to sit by me. Great.I made a point of looking away from him and back over towards Nancy.

“So about this Halloween party? I’ve got nothing to wear, but I thought I might go out today and see if I can find something at one of the thrift stores in town. Think there might be something good?”

Jonathan scoffed.

“Could always go looking like a goddess or a cat? Like most other girls do.” he replied.

I shrugged. “I happen to like cats, Jonathan.”

The chair scraped again, this time forcing my attention away once more and back over towards Billy as he leaned back, seemingly considering whether or not he could balance himself in his chair with his feet up on the desk. The look on my face must have said enough, because he took the time to actually stare back, inquiring now.

“You got a problem?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Not yet.” I replied, sniffing.

“Not. Yet?” he repeated, furrowing his brow.

“Did I stutter?” I asked.

Okay, perhaps that’d been a bit too forward or rude. After all, I’d been the new kid once as well...and I’d known how hard it was to acclimate to a new setting and new people. Just as I opened my mouth to apologize, he began to laugh. Billy actually began to laugh and just shook his head.

“My first day at this place and I thought I was going to run in with a bunch of airheads. Instead, I only run into a few airheads and one smartass. Might even be too smart for her own good!” he barked.

I could feel my face going hot as his chair finally sat back on all fours and he leaned over towards me.

“Sweetheart, lighten up. I’m not going to bite you. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

His gaze roamed downwards slowly, then back up, causing the heat in my face to travel to my ears and neck. Finally catching hold of myself, I inhaled sharply and shook my head.

“You know...I WAS going to apologize for being an asshole, but I feel like you feed into that sort of thing.” I retorted.

“I feed into whatever feeds me.”

It suddenly felt like a sparring match of sorts. The more I threw at this guy, the more willing he became to throw it right back at me. Dealing with my mom and her various boyfriends had always caused me to become a bit more straight edged...perhaps even cold. I’d never really been able to flirt well and guys tended to stray away. Usually. So, this encounter was different. He was flirting...but he was also being a dick about it. THAT was what made me feel more irritated.

“By the way, cat ears would look good on you. Don’t let the guy who’s clearly never been laid tell you otherwise.” Billy said, jerking his chin in Jonathan’s direction.

“God. Welcome to Hawkins.” I grumbled, looking away.

Nancy had managed to keep herself quiet during the small exchange. Her gaze darted between me and Billy, and then back again. Jonathan seemed to be struggling with something to say, perhaps even something towards Billy for his comment about the cat ears.

“Christ...” I mumbled, glad to hear the bell ringing to signal the beginning of classes.

Chairs were pushed and shoved and the stampede of feet began towards the door. I grabbed up my things and nodded to my two friends. “I’ll see you guys in second. Going to head to Chem and hope I don’t die from boredom.” And I’m also in desperate need to get away from this jerk.

I glanced towards Billy one last time, who seemed to be in no rush to get to his first class of the day and shook my head. He was going to end up being one of those. You know the one. He gets in good with the Kings and Queens of the school. Cool guy, cool hair...cool car probably too. And they’d suck him dry. Or perhaps it would be the other way around. Of course, that crowd didn’t exactly exclude me either. I’d been very lucky my mother had the money she did. And because of that, I’d earned a free ticket into the club as well. And while I never really partook in any of the “cool” kid activities, I made myself known there ever so often with Nancy and Steve.

“Come and get sheet faced?” I heard Jonathan say to Nancy as they left the classroom.

If I’d been paying any sort of attention, I would have seen the flyer that had been waved in my face before the girl had given up and given it to the person behind me. The flyers they were talking about were the Halloween party ones everyone had been buzzing about. Well, perhaps cat ears would end up being a thing after all. I shrugged, my backpack shifting weight on my back, and began heading off to class.

___

The day hadn’t really been anything to write home about. Classes had dragged and by the time sixth period had rolled around, my brain was fried. Chemistry test in first period, and countless amounts of note copying in the classes after had made me wish I’d stayed home. The only thing that had pretty much gotten me through the day were my friends and trying to figure out what costume I’d be wearing to the party. I pushed open the door to the front building and began making my way around. The courtyard was empty, save for a few students rushing from the back building to the front. I had my last class of the day in the detached building and like most, enjoyed the possibility of skipping. Such was the freedom of being able to actually...you know...go outside between classes.

“Hey! Cat Ears!”

I stopped and looked around. Cat Ears? I furrowed my brow and searched until my gaze fell on Hargrove. He stood there, just out of sight enough of the common passerby so that he could sneak his cigarettes under the stairwell on the side of the building.

“You going to class or you actually doing what I think you’re doing?”

I moved over towards him, nose wrinkling at the smoke curling upwards into the air. I’d only ever smoked once in my life. While I didn’t really complain about it, I’d heard from my mother it was probably something I shouldn’t pick up. The smell was just something she didn’t enjoy...therefore I shouldn’t either.

“We have a back building. I’ve got my last class of the day there.” I huffed. “I do have a name, you know?”

“Cat Ears just fits you so much better though. Makes you seem...more...crafty.”

“Crafty?”

“Did I stutter?”

There it was...he was throwing it back at me again. Then again, I’d probably deserved it. Especially since I’d said it to him earlier.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like class?” I asked, shifting the weight of my backpack again.

Billy’s eyes roamed over my face and he reached up, plucking the cig from between his lips.

“Sure, I’ve got class.” he replied, “But I figured I’d take in the scenery first.”

He motioned towards me, causing me to feel that hot feeling creeping up my neck again. He wasn’t terrible to look at. But he also seemed like the sort of guy that had a shit personality...and enjoyed collecting women like he collected trophies. And I wasn’t about to fall for THAT sort of type. He stepped forward and circled around me, causing me to turn and watch him. Now, my back was near the wall and he stood out in the open.

“What’s your name?” he asked, finishing off the cigarette and flicking it away.

“Y/N.” I replied, curtly as possible.

“You don’t seem like the other Hawkins girls. Sure, you dress like the royalty, but you don’t seem like them.”

“I’m not from here.” I replied, “ My mother and I just moved here this past year.”

“Ohhhh, so we DO have something in common.” he jested, grinning that wolflike grin.

“We have NOTHING in common,” I said, stepping forward to try and pass him.

Billy sidestepped and put himself directly in between me and my route to freedom. It wasn’t long and he was stalking forward, causing me to back up until my back was firmly planted against the wall. He paused...eventually. He stood close enough that I could smell the mix of cigarettes and cologne on his jacket. He was clean and the way his jaw worked, it almost made me hold my breath.

“Here’s the thing Y/N. Usually, I get what I want. And right now, I’m wanting to know more about you...a lot more. Want to skip class with me and find out more about me to?”

Was he actually asking what I think he was asking? For fuck’s sake.

“Listen...buddy...” I reached forward and gave him a small push, causing him to blink in surprise.

“You might not be used to being turned down by girls, so let me go ahead and educate you. I’m not some prize to be won. I don’t just randomly go off with guys and explore with them. You seem like the type that enjoys an easy catch, so how about I point you in the direction of Carol and her flock of bitches.”

If Carol had heard me talking about her like that, she’d probably have ousted me from the “group” then and there. But she hadn’t...and this guy knew nothing about the social system at Hawkins High. Yet. Billy stood there, taken aback, before letting out another round of that barking laughter.

“You’re actually-?”

“Yes. I’m actually turning you down. A nice looking guy who is acting vile and quite frankly looks like he enjoys the feeling of being on top.”

“Well, you got one of those things right for sure.” he affirmed, nodding slowly.

He watched me, like a predator hunting his prey. But I wasn’t about to become his prey. Not today. Not ever. And yet? Some part of me...deep down...I felt that feeling. I felt it. He ENJOYED that about me. And perhaps that was why we were in the situation we were in now. He held his hands up and backed up.

“Pretty girl like you...I just couldn’t NOT ask. Was worth a shot.”

The smell of his cologne lingered on my jacket and in my nose. That’s how close he’d been to me...and it was going to haunt me for the rest of the day, I just knew it. I let out a breath and perked a brow.

“Maybe if you didn’t put off that asshole vibe, I would be more inclined to be curious about you.” I said, stepping back further.

“What can I say? People just seem to love that about me.” he replied, opening his arms wide.

It was sarcasm, but I understood what he was saying. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried not to think about the way he’d looked at me. It was a look that had made me feel something I almost wished I’d never felt. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit curious about him. But I knew Billy’s type. I knew we’d only destroy each other if we got close enough.

“I hope I see you at the party!” he called after me as I turned and began to walk away.

I shook my head and looked to the ground, feet carrying me as quickly as I could. I only just made it to class and sat down, clearly looking as though I’d run a marathon.

“What’s wrong with you?” hissed Nancy.

Yeah, having class with her this many times in the day had brought about a great friendship. And an open one at that. Though, part of me didn’t want to tell her about running into Billy. News was already spreading around the school about the hot, new guy...and I really didn’t want to get THAT look from my friend.

“We’re going to that stupid Halloween party.” I replied, “And need to find some fucking cat ears.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Chapter Two>

Author’s Note:

Hey guys! So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything and I’m super sorry! I apologize if this chapter seems a bit short, but I’m rusty and finally starting to get back into writing again. This story idea came to me while I was lying in bed one night and I just couldn’t help but get started on it. I really love the idea of seeing a more thoroughly explored story for Billy during the events of season two and even season three...so I’ve decided to give us one! I hope you liked this and stay tuned for Chapter Two! Let me know if you guys have ANY suggestions!

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xweetara · 5 years

Text

What If I’m Into Girls?: An Oriented AroAce Confession

I wanted to share my story of coming to terms with who I am and what life might look like for me with all of you. Maybe I’ll help someone. Maybe I’ll reaffirm someone’s suspicions. Maybe I’ll just vent, and I’m the only one who will feel better about it at the end of the day. Whatever happens, I think I will at least do myself some good by getting it out in words.

This gets long. I’m sorry. It’s not too late to jump ship.

So, hi. My name’s Erika, I’m almost 26, and I’ve been asexual my entire life.

The pressure starts on little girls early to be into boys, especially when that girl is raised in the LDS (previously Mormon) church. For the first eighteen years of my life I was a faithful church-goer, and that meant:

Every little boy I played with was insinuated to be my “boyfriend” before I even knew what the term meant

Teenage-aged classes were split into boys and girls, and any co-mingling (even as friends) was seen as scandalous

Lessons about temple marriage and the importance of being “sealed” to a man for all eternity were pressed on me early and often

Aging into adult classes meant immediate pressure to find the man I would marry, and soon!! (seating us boy-girl-boy-girl, encouraging us to meet and “court” as often as humanly possible)

The average marriage age in my area was about 19-21

All of this, as you can imagine, rubbed me the wrong way. I considered myself asexual even before I knew there was a word for it. I didn’t want a boyfriend. I didn’t want to get married. I. Didn’t. Like. Boys. And that was final.

The thing was, I didn’t feel like I really liked girls either. At least, not in a fairytale romance, Disney-princess-in-love kind of way. Sure, kids at school called me gay to the point where I finally had to ask one day what it meant, but I never really thought to apply the word to myself. Besides, loving girls wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t part of God’s plan. I would be shunned from heaven, basically. So I decided not to think about it too hard.

I was 18 years old when I left Mormonism, and with it the heteronormative belief that I would be married to a man and pregnant by age 20. It was a huge relief, but it also left me with a lot of questions. Was I still expected to find a man? Did any of my peers still think I was dating material if I wasn’t religious? Did I even want to date? Honestly, at this point in my life I was also at a very low point with my mental health, so relationships were the furthest thing from my mind as I just tried to find a reason to keep myself alive, but as I sought treatment I also sought answers.

It was around then that I discovered the terms asexual and aromantic, and found myself in both of them. They told me I didn’t have to date, or have crushes, or look at men like future husbands instead of present friends. They told me I could just be. Be myself, be human, be alone and be happy despite it all.

And that brings us to present day. I’m asexual. I’m aromantic. And I’m happy.

But then, what about girls?

I’ve never known what being “in love” feels like. I’ve never even managed to imagine. The heart palpitations and mumbling and blushing and buzzing thoughts that are described in books, they all sounded less like love and more like an anxiety attack to me. I don’t “love” girls in that way. I don’t have this craving for dating them. And I certainly don’t want to have sex with them -- I’m pretty sex-repulsed on all levels, really. And some people would say, well, that’s that. If you don’t love girls romantically, and you don’t love girls sexually, then you don’t love girls at all.

And to those people, I say: Why is it, then, that I find myself daydreaming about being with a girl? Not dating, not engaging in intercourse (blech), just... spending time. Living our lives, together, as one life, one unity. Coexisting. Loving, not romantically or sexually but so, so much more than platonically. Having a girlfriend, a wife, someone I can embrace from behind and tell them how nice their hair smells that day, someone I can hug (maybe kiss???) in front of the Salt Lake temple just for shock value and beautiful photos, someone I can buy gifts for whenever I’m thinking of them, someone I can come home to after a work day and talk for hours about our books, our shows, our video games, or nothing at all.

That’s what I crave. I don’t want a kiss-and-make-out kind of sloppy romance. I don’t want a rolling-around-on-the-bed kind of hot sex life. I want a girl who I can live my life alongside. I want a girl who will adopt a cat with me, who will welcome me home and let me welcome her home as well, who will love me for who I am and in the way I want to be loved, and will tell me how best to love her in return. I want a love that feels more real than sex or romance.

About a month ago, I said all this (much more succinctly) on my Facebook, and a friend of mine did some digging and came up with the term Oriented AroAce. It fit me pretty much perfectly. It was one of those “there’s a name for it?” moments that I feel like every queer person has gone through at least on some level. It gave me a community, albeit a very small and intensely argued one. It gave me an umbrella I could stand under. And it gave me a (frankly beautiful) flag.

Maybe someone out there needed to read this veritable essay. Maybe someone out there is feeling the same way I am. Or maybe no one has read this far down the page and they’re just looking for the next post. Either way, whether or not anyone actually reads all this, I’m happy. I’ll probably never find a relationship that fits my narrow and ridiculous criteria. But maybe it’s okay to just be.

#Oriented AroAce #AroAce #Aromantic #Asexual #Lesbian #LGBT

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danicamaebaliuag · 4 years

Text

Annyeonghaseyo!

Where do I see myself 10 years from now? Is my learning in SPUP

vital to where I’m leading to?

The way I see myself ten years ahead of now is not something I often think about. To tell you the truth, it scares me a little to know that in one short decade I will be twenty Six years old, and that my years of youth are coming to an end. One thing I’m certain of, is that if God gives me the opportunity to get to that age, I will make the most of my years and put all of my effort to become a successful, happy woman.

A vision I’ve always had of myself years ahead of now is a successful police woman and a wealthy business woman that owns an famous restaurant , and is a world-wide well known my restaurant . I will have graduated from ST.PAUL UNIVERSITY PHILIPPINES . My institution will give an education to people.

I’m sure that with perseverance and the help of the people I love, as well as God’s, I will have the chance to travel around the world and meet many beautiful places.

By the time I turn 26, I will have visited dozens of countries around the world, and known places of incredible beauty. Another one of my wishes is to be able to build a very beautiful house with a music studio, a big garden, a couple of dogs and cats , a few nice cars, and maybe even a swimming pool and a hot tub.

Other dreams I have include a house in SEOUL NORTH KOREA , as well as an apartment in TOKYO JAPAN , a room share in Steamboat Colorado, and a beautiful house in Puerto PRICESSA PALAWAN, I’m not very certain I will be living in my native country ten years ahead of now, but I am certain that I will visit it often to see my family and friends as frequently as my job allows me to.

Is my learning in SPUPvital to where I’m leading to?

- YES BECAUSE I CAN'T REACH EVERYTHING I HAVE WITHOUT THE ST.PAUL UNIVERSITY OF PHILIPPINES TEACHERS AND SISTERS AND FATHER

H b n m n m n o c x z s d f g k l o p h j n b g u I p f h u b d s w q s as dc ds as dc f k o l m n m k I n b n m k o b j k d f s a w e f c v b f g f d w f v b g c s d f b v s f v b cv b f c v d v c s x v m k m k m k m k m k m k g d m s a d c z x z c v s c s w e f v b v c x

Was HUMMS the best choice after all?

Yes beacause in hums It trains you to think and consider ALL sides of a situation.

It’s common in a HUMSS classroom to be knee deep in debates, especially if the topic interests everyone. Whether you are involved in the action or are standing in the sidelines, you’ll get to hear all kinds of information and opinions. You’ll learn how to weigh each one, sort them out, and decide for yourself what would be the best course of action. Being exposed to this, one good thing you will understand is the value of listening. I’ve had Disciplines and Ideas in the Applied Social Sciences subjects in HUMSS and I found it really useful especially that one of the topics in it is counseling.

The avid reader and the aspiring know-it-all are both at an advantage here.

If you’re the kind of person who finds yourself randomly hitting some article you found in the internet or someone who just believes that #KnowledgeIsPower, congrats! You’ll fit right in. A HUMSS classroom is a hub for information sharing and includes a lot of conversations and exchange of ideas. You’ll most likely have the upper hand during class discussions.

You will realize that you have power

One thing that the HUMSS subjects instill in you is that you’re powerful as a human being. You’ll learn about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which is highly important in our world. You’ll learn about your power as a citizen in Philippine Politics and Governance. You’ll learn the power of your mind in Philosophy. Trust me, learning under the HUMSS strand is an eye-opener.

Confidence will slowly but surely become your second skin.

Even if you’re naturally shy, gradually, you’ll learn how to speak up for yourself. You’ll find that you are comfortable in saying what’s on your mind because that’s what being in the HUMSS strand encourages you to do: to share your thoughts to the world.

Individuality and diversity are welcome.

You’ll learn how to appreciate the differences between people, especially in the subject Introduction to World Religions and Belief Systems and Trends, Networks, as well as Critical Thinking in the 21st Century Culture. Everyone is inherently unique in their own ways. Understanding and embracing it is one step closer towards achieving harmonic coexistence with one another.

What course will you take in college and why? CRIMINOLOGY

I am Danica Mae D. Baliuag I Choose this course, because of the stable job after you finished it or this is in demand most especially now some of officials goes retiring because of they are older, goes to after life and some of company , organization needed a new one deserving to be an officer who can be the one we can trust and willing to serve and protect in the community..

Because this course fit your personality and ability, so when you asked someone about the course you take and you probably answer one of those question from the knowlegde u have learned from studying on this fields.It is happy to study, especially when the course you have is the one you like, and I am one of those students. “i choose it because i like it ”. All I want is to be a successful professional policewoman someday. They all say that there are many course aside from my course. And BsCrim is not the only option. Just like ”HRM ”, but all I want is CRIMINOLOGY NOT THE OTHER COURSE

What topic would you like to learn more in this subject?

Basic Computer Understanding and Skills Knowing the basics about computer really means a lot, today technology like computer is widely used and being uneducated about computer means being left behind, not only by the trend but also by the benefits we can get by using the computer.

What the corona virus has taught you about life?

I’ve learnt to live with the bare minimum, comfortable with what I already have. Lockdown has taught me what is truly valuable in life and what’s a facade. It’s given me an opportunity to slow down in this fast changing world and to appreciate what truly matters: friends, family and the connections I’ve made over the course of my life

I’m rediscovering myself. And with every passing day, I’m rekindling with my passions, my likes, my interests and, mostly importantly, my desire to live, rather than merely survive.

Understanding what we really want

It’s funny how it takes the entire world coming to a stop for us to realise that maybe, just maybe, we’ve been doing things the wrong way after all. Of course it’s important to put bread on the table, but it’s equally important to keep your heart fed with the things that it really wants.

Maybe it’s that music lesson you’ve been wanting to take since you were 10, but never could find the time for. Or maybe it’s just spending some time with loved ones. The point I’m trying to make here is that even though the world seems like it’s falling apart on the outside, on the inside, it’s been a healing experience for a lot of us. At least, it has been for me.

Many of us have been using this time to do things that we generally wouldn’t, things we’d normally shun with an excuse of not having enough time. But now, time really does feel like an absurd concept, doesn’t it? The truth is, it was never really about time, it was about prioritising. In a world where instant gratification is the norm and everything is at our fingertips, the virtue of patience seems long lost. We’re bombarded with content on social media and streaming platforms and are constantly stimulated by text messages. Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost our ability to sit still and appreciate what is, rather than what isn’t. My observation might seem a little harsh, but it’s reflected in everything we do. From that summer body you’ve always longed for to the language you want to be fluent in. We want it all in a moment, we don’t want to wait, because waiting is boring. More importantly, waiting is hard.

So, what can we take away from these hard times? Despite all that has gone on, there have been some positives to the world coming to a stop. It’s forced us to take a step back, think, understand and appreciate what it means to live and not just survive. And that’s something I’m going to try to hold onto for a long time to come.

#blog1

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northwind4 · 4 years

Text

Dearest WingDings（22）

*It's a story about HandPlates! Gaster and Wing! Gaster

*I’ll appreciate it very much if you point out the mistakes I made in the translation, all kinds of help are welcomed!

*previous & next

*Handplates by @zarla-s

Wing!Gaster by me

—————————————————

Chapter22

“You have my word.”

395

G: We should develop a touch screen suitable for skeletons

G: It’s really inconvenient to wear finger cots every time when you use your phone

W: So let’s add it to the to-do list

He leaned over Gaster’s shoulder to watch him typing.

W: By the way, it looks good on you.

396

W: You also have a Webiter account

G: The world’s largest social networking site will help collect information

G: ...and the strong demand from Alphys.

G: Besides, for the students in the academy, I have to know what they are thinking in their inexplicable human brains.

G: I still don’t understand why we have to spend half a day on them every week. This kind of thing can obviously be given to Alphys. She thinks that her class time is too short—

Wing hugs him from behind.

W: Really?

W: Look into my eyes and tell me that you hate those young people calling you “Professor”.

W: You can’t_(:з」∠)_

397

G: What...

G: I haven’t posted anything yet, but many people have followed me.

W: Let me see?

W: Hmm...

W: It may because Alphys has introduced you on her page.

398

G: Hmm

G: Alphys must enjoys this life.

G: Robots and artificial intelligence, large ANIME EXPO, cat cafe, global shopping sites, thousands of flavors of instant noodles and soda...everything suits her taste.

W: And so many fans on social networking sites.

399

G: I remember you also have an account

G: What’s your Nickname there...

G: Don’t say anything, let me guess

G: ...

G: Blacky.

W: You know me(/ω＼)

400

W: I remember

W: I think I’ve seen you before...“you” in another world

Gaster didn’t mind spending five minutes listening.

W: Humans and monsters coexist peacefully there, and everything is completely different...

W: Asgore runs a flower shop called “Flower King”, he doesn’t earn much money because he prefers giving than selling

W: Toriel teaches in middle school, which is like nowadays

W: Alphys and Undyne don’t even know each other! But I think they will meet one day

W: Sans opened a grocery store, and Papyrus seems to be much quieter

W: And, uh, “you” in that world...

W: You have nice relationships with all your families, including the brothers

W: On the other hand...you never step into science.

W: You work in a library where aren’t many things every day, but that’s good, because that “you” also like reading...

Wing started to doubt if he should talk about this, compared a scientist who is shining like stars, this Gaster seemed...too ordinary.

He did not become WHO or achieve SOMETHING.

Gaster seemed to be thinking, and Wing was nervous. Facing his love, he was always unable to maintain extreme rationality, which could make some of his behaviors not get strictly analyzed and judged.

G: ...

G: That’s good.

The young scientist smiled lightly.

“He has everything I have lost.”

401

Wing urged himself to think about some words—comfort, encouragement, sorry, love, or just switch to another subject.

Gaster talked before him.

“But I'm the best.” He looked at Wing, with his words full of unique confidence and pride.

Wing felt like being lighted up.

“Of course,”he couldn’t help kissing him,“of course you are the best.”

“The best one in every time and space.”

402

W: Another successful experiment?

G: A major breakthrough! Resource utilization efficiency has reached to a new level!

G: The energy loss in the process of material conversion is getting lower and lower. If combined with magic, there may be no loss...even without magic!

This kind of topic could always lift Dr.Gaster’s mood. Wing couldn’t tell how much he liked him now.

W: Speaking of materials and energy

W: Well, my body can neither be ignited nor frozen, it won’t react with any reagents, if I want, my weight can become 0

W: What am I?

There was a bit of bitterness in his smile.

W: Sometimes I think, my existence may—

Gaster interrupted him.

G: You are WingDingsGaster, a genius scientist, a mystery man, a hobbyist of dancing, a thermos user, a super cook and a father of four young skeletons

G: And my love.

403

G: When did you become so self-doubtful?

G: Leave the philosophy questions to philosophy

G: And in my place

He pressed the other one on the desk.

G: ...sometimes you are a bit too tall, you should know

Wing was stared down by him.

W: ...

W: I remember you are against dating during working hours?

Gaster shut him up with action.

404

*You were invited to a party hosted by the Monster King.

*You saw the king cut a heart-shaped pie for the queen

*You saw a flower talking to someone you couldn’t see

*You saw the Royal Guard leader picked up her Royal Scientist and shared a Pocky with her

*You saw the tall skeleton playing games with his brother

*You saw the famous star robot feeding the grapes to his cousin

*You saw a Royal Scientist sitting with another world’s Royal Scientist toasting marshmallows

*All these filled you with determination .

405

G: (*fell into the bed) Party must be the most tiring activity

W: But it’s also happy

G: Maybe...

*A message

G: An invitation...to the new energy exhibition NEXT MONTH

W: ...

W: Hm...

He moved over and helped Gaster take off the coat.

W: I suddenly remember I have an extra class for my students tomorrow

W: Sorry...but I have to go check my lesson plan now

He left the room a little too quickly.

406

Wing stood on the balcony. Before Gaster spoke to him, he didn’t even notice his approach.

W: Ah...why are you...

W: I, uh, I’m—

Gaster walked over and hugged him with deep breath.

W: What’s up? Is it a nightmare?

W: Sorry, I should wake you up in time, I-

G: Nothing

G: You’re still there, that’s enough.

Wing felt himself being frozen.

407

G: I dreamed of a world without you

G: The barrier had not been broken, we had collected 6 human souls

G: I still treated the children as subjects, a lot of things happened...a lot of bad things

G: When I opened the cracks of the void, it was not you who came out of it, but a dark...gloomy monster

G: ...

G: Finally I fell off the bridge of the core—then I woke up

G: Everything in the dream is too real. When I woke up, I didn’t even know which side was the reality.

G: What if everything really goes that way

G: ...

G: But it’s just a dream. Look, you are standing right here

G:......?

G: Hello?

408

Wing didn’t respond, and Gaster snapped his fingers to make him back from the unknown imagination.

G: Are you okay?

G: Don’t tell me that you are freaked out by this dream

W: ...

W: No...nothing.

W: Maybe it’s because you ate too much whisky chocolate tonight...?

W: Let’s...go back to sleep.

Gaster stopped him.

409

G: Look at me.

Wing turned away subconsciously, so Gaster forced him with the magic hands.

G: I can feel it

G: When did these start? Your...pessimism, your self-doubts, there must be something troubling you, I can feel it.

G: What happened?

G: WingDings “Blacky” Gaster.

He called this funny full name, the other one tried to step backwards, but he couldn’t.

G: You are making me worried.

410

W: ...

W: I...

Gaster waited for him to continue.

W: I...I’m not sure, just...

His voice was shaking, and his expression reminded Gaster of some poor little skeletons.

411

G: ...

G: Something bad happened to the children?

W: Of course not

G: You got terminal illness?

W: No

G: The end of the world?

W: No

G: You fell in love with others?

W: NEVER!

G: (sigh)

G: Is there anything worse?

412

Wing took a deep breath.

W: The break of the barrier had some effect on the space-time

G: Yes, I remember you’ve said it

G: Did you find out what it was?

W: ...yes.

G: That’s not a bad thing.

G: Or...?

He thought of something, but he didn’t want to follow that line.

He didn’t even want to listen to Wing.

W: I found that the effect was not on the machine that can open the crack.

W: But...

W: ...

W: ...me.

413

W: It was like...the world’s self-cleaning system

W: And I don’t belong here, you know

W: I’m, I-I don’t know when it will-I can feel-

W: I’m......disappearing.

These words almost exhausted all his strength.

414

W: ...

It took him a long time to speak again.

W: I’m sorry.

The other one stopped him from apologizing. Besides the sound of breath, the only thing could be heard was the wind.

After a long silence, Gaster looked up into Wing's eyes.

415

“You owe me a dance.”

#wingdingses #wing!gaster #handplates #gaster #dearest wingdings

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 5 years

Text

Lift Confessions II (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

A/N: I am really going HAM on this series, guys. I love it so much tbh. the amount of traffic I’ve accumulated the last few days on my blog has me SHOOK. I’m so glad I’m bringing entertainment to well-deserved people! Love y’all!

Summary: It’s Friday. You just need to survive one whole work day before the night is all yours and Roger’s.

(Again, BoRhap or real Roger, whatever tickles your peaches)

WARNINGS: Swearing, Vaguely Mature Subject Matter

I’d rate this big boy a T.

It was definitely Friday.

And it was definitely seven o'clock.

A.M.

You watched as the red numbers on your alarm clock changed every infinity.

Twelve hours until dinner.

Two hours until work.

You felt as if you’d been lying awake in your bed for years. You barely had any sleep the night before, taking to the alarm clock as a distraction from your thoughts.

7:02, and your mind still raced with your heart.

It had only been two days since the situation regarding you, a lift, and a certain blond beauty occurred. Despite this, those days dragged on almost as if each day were a lifetime.

You’d had those days off, and you only did what you were doing now; staring at that damned alarm clock.

You didn’t know if you were excited or scared of this dinner with Roger. On one hand, you didn’t know how well the night would go considering your relationship with him had been transparent for a whole two years…

But you couldn’t help but think back to his confession in the lift. One you’d forgotten about until just this morning.

“My Doll, I have been in love with you since the moment I set eyes on you, and I never stopped.”

You shut your eyes and sighed. You remembered his voice being so gentle, and how the pause after his confession hung in the air in a very pleasant way.

You remembered how his bright blue eyes carved effortlessly into your heart and soul, and how his soft listings of the little domestic and romantic things he wanted to do with you had your chest nearly bursting with every butterfly that could have coexisted in your being at once.

You opened your eyes and frowned.

7:04.

You wished you’d responded to what Roger had said.

You could think of a million and one things to tell him if you were back in that situation.

In the lift.

7:05.

And a million and two things to tell him.

"Higher.“

"Fred, if this is gonna be like Bohemian Rhapsody, I may just have to leave–"

"Roger, Darling, you’re doing great here. Your falsetto is fantastic, but it just doesn’t seem to want to match tones.”

Roger sighed, pressing the palm of his right hand against his headphones. With his other hand, he spun his finger in a counter clockwise motion.

"Replay,“ he requested with a yawn. Roger really needed his morning coffee.

Freddie replayed the audio, and Roger waited for his falsetto.

In that moment, you ran through the doors of the console room the band was in, five cups of coffee and tea hot and ready for your coworkers and yourself.

"Sorry, the lineup was long, and they kept screwing up Roger’s order. As always.”

John leaned back in his swivel chair so he could see you past Freddie.

"You… seriously made sure they got his order right? That’s not… usual for you.“

You shrugged, setting the trays of coffee on the side table before removing your raincoat. "Figured I’d be nice today.”

You heard the famous Roger Taylor Falsetto from the studio.

"Still trying to perfect that part?“ You asked, taking Brian’s chair next to Freddie since he moved to retrieve his tea.

"Yeah. He insisted this song needed this one falsetto, but it’s not looking too good.”

You nodded at Brian’s response, and glanced down at the empty case the song’s tape was in. It was labelled “Somebody To Love.”

You pursed your lips, and looked up at Roger through the last window, only to see him looking back at you. You smiled the tiniest bit, and he returned it…

That is… until his attention was brought back to Freddie, who was scolding him for completely missing his time to hit his notes.

A break for Roger was called, and he left the studio. He knelt down next to your seat to talk to you, but he could see John glaring at him in harsh suspicion from over your shoulder.

Neither he, Freddie, nor Brian were aware of what happened the few nights before.

You found the silence the smallest bit awkward, so after clearing your throat, you smiled a little. “So I uh… I got you your coffee. For real this time. One and a half milk, one and a half sugar.”

"… Really?“ Roger got to his feet, and moved to the coffee table to grab his drink.

"Thought I should. You’re all working very hard. You deserve it.”

Roger took a sip of his coffee and hummed gently. “T'is a shame. I was just starting to enjoy the sweetness of two milk and two sugar.”

You just rolled your eyes in response, a smile at your lips. "You’re welcome, Blondie.”

From the other side of the room, Brian watched closely at the unusual encounter. Seeing a dinosaur in the middle of London in this time period would have been more believable to see than you and Roger…

"Are they flirting?“ John asked Brian in a hushed tone. He’d read his mind, but the lanky guitarist only answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

Freddie was more amused by yours and Roger’s engagement, mindfully leaning against the console board with his arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk on his lips.

Despite his desperate want to call you both out for your strange behaviour, he’d much prefer watching John and Brian go mad trying to figure the situation out.

"If I may,” John cleared his throat apprehensively, eyes narrowed.

“But Roger, you haven’t made one snide remark to y/n, and she’s already been here for a whole three minutes."

He paused. "Not that I’m wanting you both to fight.”

Roger just shrugged, and proceeded to hand you your order. This was the first time he didn’t try to purposely spill a hot drink on you in two years, and it was a very relieving feeling.

"Change of heart ‘suppose.“

After the boys’ coffee break, they found themselves back in the recording studio. You sat in the console room, and gave little suggestions to them every once in a while on how to improve the song.

Despite this, you knew that Somebody To Love was already a masterpiece.

"Can we start just before that falsetto, y/n?” Roger asked over the mic. You just nodded, and rewound the tape.

"Got no feel, I got no rhythm,“ you nodded your head along to Freddie’s vocals, and the already recorded instruments blasting through the speakers of both rooms.

You weren’t prepared to hear a wail of a falsetto coming from Roger. You snapped your head up to look at the band in the recording studio, Roger beaming at you in success.

You rose to your feet and cheered for the blond as the song continued on.

You knew for certain this take really counted.

The long repetition of the band members pleading the listeners to "find me somebody to love” eventually arrived in the song.

Whether this was purely a coincidence or not, Roger held eye contact with you the entire time he sang, a smile never able to leave his mouth every time he said that “L” word.

And you just found that fact utterly adorable and innocent.

It was true, then.

He really did forgive you.

And he really did love you.

"Lunch time!“ Brian announced with an excited clap of his hands. "Roger, it’s your turn to choose.”

Roger was sitting at the console board, staring at his reflection in the window separating the room you five were in, and the studio.

"I may have to skip out on lunch today, lads. I really need to practice some other songs for this album.“

While Freddie was obliged to leave, Brian and John found this really doubtful. You were staying behind to pack up the instruments the band weren’t going to use for the rest of the recording that day.

Why would someone insist on staying behind to be near an enemy? None of it was making sense.

Brian knew you. He’d known you since university. He just didn’t understand why you weren’t mouthing Roger off, or making an excuse to leave him behind.

Despite this, Freddie found himself out, and Brian and John followed.

You were lying on the couch behind Roger, reading a book. You weren’t really paying attention to it, though.

Especially not when you heard Roger’s swivel chair squeak. "Hey, Doll,” Roger greeted as he sat on the armrest of the couch by your feet.

You glanced up over the pages of your book, bending your legs so Roger could slip into the now vacant seat. You stretched your legs back out, and Roger rested his hand on one of your kneecaps.

"Hi, Loverboy,“ you acknowledged back, dipping your head back behind the book.

"Whatcha readin’?”

You shook your head. “Nothin’ interesting.”

You closed the book and dropped it on the floor, resting your arms over your stomach. “Whatcha practicin’?” You nodded your head towards the recording studio.

Roger gave you the same answer you did.

"Nothin’ interesting.“

Your lips twitched into a smile, and you closed your eyes.

Roger just watched you, his thumb rubbing circles over your kneecap in a slow, repetitive pattern.

"It’s so weird… being like this with you again.”

"Tell me about it, Doll.“

The only thing that really could be heard was the analog clock on the wall. You opened your eyes and examined the time.

1:34.

Five hours and twenty six minutes until dinner.

Three hours and twenty six minutes until the end of the work day.

"Why don’t I teach you some drumming?”

You moved your gaze from the second hand on the clock to Roger, whose eyes were wide and hopeful.

"What is this, 1974?“

"It just may be. For this lunch. If you want.”

You turned to face the live room’s tempting door handle.

"… only for a few minutes. I still need to pack up for everyone else.“

Roger beamed, and you lifted your legs to set him free. He immediately grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the studio, shutting the door behind you rather quickly.

"Okay okay,” Roger took a seat in his drumming stool, and turned to you, patting his thigh innocently with his hand.

"A special seat for a special lady.“

"In your lap? You call that special?”

"Well, not me, but some women might.“

You smiled, and shook your head. "Gross.”

Despite this, you seated yourself in Roger’s lap, and he spun the both of you around so you were behind the drums.

"Here,“ he gave you his drumsticks from his back pocket, and put them in your hands.

He went to cup his larger hands over yours, and you teasingly mumbled "gee, at least take me to dinner first.”

Roger shifted over so he could look at your face. “You mean to tell me I have to buy you dinner to hold your hand, but lap-sitting is completely fine?”

You shrugged, your uncontrollable grin resulting in a smile from Roger.

You both turned back to the drums, and Roger started naming the different types of drums on the kit.

Of course, you knew everything he told you. He’d told you before. You’d dealt with his drums and put them away for the longest time. Before…

"–And here’s the snare. T’s my favourite because its name is fun to say.“

You just let Roger talk. You missed hearing his voice speak with such passion.

You missed doing things like this with him.

You missed him.

How blind were you in the past not to catch on to how into you Roger was?

How into you he is now.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Roger was still going on about the drum kit.

You didn’t cut him off.

But you let him help you play.

He helped you play both simple and complicated songs, his arms guiding yours to the correct drums and cymbals at the right time.

At one point, Roger let go of your arms, and you kept to the notes he’d taught you moments before.

"You’re doin’ well, Doll.” He watched the drumsticks tap the cymbals over your shoulder, his hands innocently resting at your waist.

You repeated the same notes for a minute or so before you felt Roger’s arms slide around your body into a gentle embrace.

"… Rog?“

"I’m sorry, y/n. About the last few years. How I’ve treated you…”

He rested his head on your shoulder, and you reached up to comb his hair with your fingers.

"Hey, hey now. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.“

Although Roger found some relief in your words, he tightened his arms around you. You just sighed, and leaned back, turning your head to kiss his temple.

"It was justified, and all is forgiven, Hun. Let’s put these last two years behind us. Start over, yeah?”

Roger turned his head to face you, and after looking at you for a moment or so, he nodded his head.

"Thank you, Doll.“ One of his arms unravelled from around your waist, and he let his own fingers glide through your hair.

You shut your eyes, and basked in the short amount of time Roger gave you this attention.

When you opened your eyes, Roger’s gaze was obviously fixated on your lips. You lifted your head up a little, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, gently, and kindly smiling.

"Y'know… you have nice lips.”

Your cheeks glowed, and you shyly looked away. Roger laughed– a short exhale out his nostrils.

"Don’t make me kiss you, y/n.“ You turned back to him, and the both of you’d found yourselves moving ever so slightly closer to each other.

Before he got too close, you pressed the tips of your fingers to his mouth, and smiled innocently.

"Whatever you say, Blondie.”

Roger’s mouth fell open in shock after you pulled your hand away.

"I wasn’t being serious!“

"No, Meddows. I’m doing what you asked,” you’d never looked so smug in your life, or sounded so proud.

You believe this was the first time you’d put the Roger Taylor in his place.

You glanced up at the clock, and proceeded to do a double take. “Shit!”

You jumped out of Roger’s lap, and started running around the studio, gathering cords, and wrapping them up frantically.

"What?!“

"We spent that whole hour drumming and talking! The boys will be back any moment!”

Roger wordlessly got to his feet and helped you clean up. You were thankful for that. You just never verbally expressed it.

When Freddie, John, and Brian all returned from lunch, not only was the studio empty of any unnecessary instruments, but your relationship with Roger, if you could even believe it, had been strengthened even further after the confession on the lift.

As much as it bummed you out, you and Roger didn’t kiss in the studio.

Were you close when Roger was apologizing?

Absolutely.

It was something that plagued your mind for the rest of the day.

The clock in the console room struck five, and you took a deep breath.

Two hours until dinner.

Brian entered the console room from the studio, his Red Special in hand. He was spending the last few hours practicing his solos for other songs on the album they were working on, and John was also in there with him at some point.

"That was a great practice, everyone!“ Freddie announced, a painfully wide grin on his face.

"Why don’t we all go for drinks tonight? My treat.”

You looked over at Roger with mild worry, shrugging on your raincoat slowly.

"I can’t tonight, Fred,“ Roger said apologetically. "I’ve plans I can’t cancel.” Freddie nodded in understanding.

"What about you, y/n?“ John asked.

"I have a date, actually.” At that, the room went quiet.

This was new.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “You… you’ve met someone?”

You swallowed. You didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. You’ve dated around after your breakup with Steven. Why is it different now?

"Old friend,“ you explained. "Our friendship’s been kinda vacant. We wanted to reconnect. See what’d happen, you know?”

You swear on your life that you saw a hint of jealousy in Roger’s eyes, but it soon faded away when he realized the mistake he made.

Fucking dumbass, I was talking about you!

You shook your head a little in mild frustration, but smiled once more.

"Best be going, actually. Date’s at seven. Have a good night everyone!“

You heard a collective "good bye"s from Fred, Brian, and John, but an isolated "have fun tonight, y/n,” from Roger.

You shut the door to the studio, and made your way to the lift. As soon as the doors of the lift closed, you audibly groaned.

"Fucking moron.“

This little shit really just got jealous over himself.

Maybe all those months of faking hatred towards one another was really getting to him.

The lift, since it was broken, was very slow going down the elevator shaft. It gave you time to think.

After this date, you hoped to come clean with Freddie, Brian, and John about the state of your relationship with Roger.

Messages wouldn’t be underlying, nor would your unusual behaviour towards the drummer.

This situation was very complicated the more you thought about it, but you really hoped a fun night out with Roger would be enough to solve everything.

And it would.

A/A/N: This was very long so I apologize for the wait. I also wanna thank y’all for being patient. As always, comments, and feedback are always welcome!

@radiob-l-a-hblah @bohemiansweede @demo-wise @culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap

#Queen #queen x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury #John Deacon #Brian May #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #x reader #bands

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 5/6

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments/reviews and support! They mean so much to me as a writer, knowing you folks are enjoying the story! Also, if you already haven't seen, I have a story called "A Sun in the Night Sky" which is basically a collection of one shots based on this story. There is also amazing artwork attached to each one-shot by mitsukatsu on tumblr, so I'd highly recommend you check it out! Prompts are always welcomed! -Jen

Bay of Biscay, Atlantic Ocean

The Demeter

The salty air drifted through the thin gap underneath the cabin door as Agatha sat on the edge of her bed watching Dracula give his undivided attention to their daughter as she played with her dolls. Days had passed now, and each moment seemed to push her sanity a little closer to the edge. She remained strong for Sorina, hiding it as best she could, but her restlessness was evident enough to attract her husband.

"Go outside and get some fresh air," he suggested, looking briefly away from their child. "I'll stay with her."

"I'm fine," though her tone was far from convincing. "I can make it until nightfall."

"The fog might mask the sun, but what little light breaks through is good for you," he commented. "Go, Agatha, we'll be fine."

She considered arguing, but his point was rather tempting. Agatha let out a sigh in defeat, eyeing her daughter who, oblivious to it all, had taken to making one of her dolls dance on Dracula's knee. A few minutes of fresh air wouldn't hurt. Her mind could use a moment to recollect. Meeting the vampire's eyes one last, she stood up and quickly slipped out of the room.

Despite the mist, the former nun could see clearly to the front deck. The wind blew and she couldn't help but close her eyes and inhale the scent. It felt freeing after being cooped up for so long. As she made her way to the edge of the boat, she gripped the sides and gazed down at the water. The dark waves lapped calmly against the wooden frame, their color deep and mysterious the further she looked on.

"Agatha Van Helsing is it?"

She jumped slightly in surprise at the mention of her name. Turning, she saw a man dressed in several layers of thick clothing, his shaggy beard begging for a trim. His smile was warm, slightly embarrassed as he held out a hand towards her.

"My apologies," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's quite alright," she stated, taking his hand. "Captain Sokolov, is it?"

"Please, call me Yuri," he smiled. "I can't say I've seen you around much. Your family keeps to themselves-not that that's an issue, of course." He let go of her hand. "Which brings you onto the Demeter?"

"We're moving to England," she responded somewhat curtly.

"Oh?" He inquired.

"We needed a change of scenery," she nearly smirked to herself at the idea. "And I have family there."

The words slipped out unexpectedly, Agatha momentarily freezing. Until that point, stupidly she had forgotten about that small fact. A tiny, but very significant fact. Had Dracula known all this time? Was this yet another reason he chose England over any other place in the world? She would be confronting him about this later.

"Yes…" she continued, noticing the concerned expression growing on the captain's face. "My sister lives in Yorkshire with her family. We both decided life in Holland didn't suit us."

The captain smiled, looking out towards the sea. "I suppose you could say the same happened to me. Though," he met her gaze and chuckled. "I found the ocean more of a home than the land itself. To be quite frank with you, Agatha, I can't exactly imagine my life outside of The Demeter. Interesting how life works."

"Yes," she agreed. "Very interesting indeed."

The wind blew again, this time stronger. Agatha wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a slight chill. She glanced behind her and back towards where cabin seven was located. Though being outdoors felt lovely, the growing anxiety about what she had now realized about England was overtaking her.

"I should return to my family," she mumbled. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Yuri."

"The pleasure's mine," he smiled. "I'll see you at dinner? Olgaren is making a stew that I would highly recommend."

"My family will be there," Agatha replied, sounding somewhat distant. "Thank you, Yuri."

The walk back to her room was short, Agatha managing to carefully slide herself inside without letting the door open too much. Dracula looked up from where he sat on the floor, their daughter fast asleep in his lap. He gave her a genuine smile which she did not return.

"There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you," Agatha said, breaking the silence. "A reason why I wasn't too keen on England when you first mentioned it."

"Oh?" Dracula said, eyeing her with almost innocent curiosity. "I'm listening."

"Back at the convent," she began. "When you guessed I was from Holland. You were correct about that. But I also have family elsewhere."

"In England," he finished. "I know. You'd be surprised what a few drops can tell you." The vampire chuckled, lovingly running his fingers through his daughter's hair. "That was one of incentive, among many, for my reasoning on choosing that particular country."

Agatha's expression changed to one of alarm. "You aren't serious, are you? Are you trying to imply that we meet them? Dracula, there is absolutely no way I'm introducing them to you, much less to Sorina!" Her daughter shifted in her sleep, the former nun's voice low. "Under no circumstance will we be visiting them. They can't know about Sorina. About her existence and what she is."

"Suppose something were to happen to-"

"No." Agatha interrupted firmly. "I've agreed to move to England, not that we had much of a choice, but I will put my foot down about this. I abandoned my family a long time ago. It's best that it says that way."

"Papa?" Their daughter's voice sounded. "Mama?"

Both parents peered down as the young girl rose from her slumber. She blinked, yawning as she stretched her small arms up in the air. Agatha sighed softly, smiling as her child stood up and hurried over for a hug. As her arms wrapped around Sorina, she once more locked eyes with her husband.

"Never, Dracula," she said. "I'm ending this discussion."

XXX

By the time supper rolled around, Agatha was still giving Dracula the silent treatment, much to the vampire's dismay. The couple walked into the dining room, their daughter between them as one of her dolls swung precariously in her hand. It was evident that all who were present were still on edge since the disappearances of some of the passengers.

"Eat your soup, Sorina," Agatha commented, her voice flat. "It's good for you."

"But it looks weird," the young girl frowned, stirring it with her spoon.

"It's supposed to look like that," her mother replied. "Now eat."

The little girl frowned, but did as her mother asked. Agatha began to slowly eat her own stew, ignoring her husband's ever unmoving gaze on her. It was evident that he realized he had messed up, something he often didn't recognize until she blatantly pointed it out. There were a lot of things the former nun couldn't stand and deception was one of those.

"Are we really going to do this in front of Sorina," he questioned, hoping for some sort of response. She remained silent. "Agatha, I admit I am somewhat at fault for all of this, but you can't just ignore my existence for the next few weeks."

"Sorina, don't eat around the carrots. They aren't going to harm you," Agatha said, her voice sounding stern from the pressure built up by Dracula's constant annoyance.

"You're being rather stubborn," Dracula remarked.

"And you are trying to cause a scene," Agatha hissed quietly, finally responding. "I have every right to be furious with you right now. First, how dare you decide to move us to England without consulting me first! I am your wife, and then to have the audacity to move there because I have family? I-"

"My doll!" Sorina suddenly cried out, causing her parents quiet bickering to cease. "Where's my dolly?!"

Tears began to brim in the child's eyes as Agatha and Dracula looked at each other. It was then, from across the room, a girl no older than twelve made her way over to their table. She smiled softly, holding out Sorina's lost doll. The young girl quickly took it and hugged it close to her chest.

"What do you say, Sorina?" Agatha prompted.

"Thank you," the little girl said. "My name is Sorina! Who are you?"

"She cannot speak," a man commented, rising from his chair to stand beside his daughter. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, the girl smiling softly. "This is my daughter, Yamini. We're traveling to England for business reasons. I must say, I was surprised to see someone so young on board." He looked down at Sorina through his glasses. "Yamini is glad to meet you too."

Agatha watched as the man led his daughter back to their table. She was so young, far from adulthood. The former nun felt her stomach twist as she looked to her husband, all anger momentarily replaced with desperation. Their eyes locked, everything around them seeming to be still.

"Please," she almost pleaded. "Leave the girl alone. Think of Sorina."

Dracula didn't reply at first, and Agatha watched as he pressed his lips into a thin line. She had gotten him. Embedded the idea into his mind that killing the girl, a child, would be like killing Sorina. He swallowed, brow furrowed.

"I'll spare her," he finally said. "If you'll agree to set all of this behind us. Then you'll have my word."

"I'll agree," Agatha. "No more arguing in exchange for her safety."

His lips curled into a small smile. "A strange way to stop fighting, not one I would suspect."

The corners of her own lips twitched upwards. "We aren't exactly a normal pair."

He reached over, taking one of her hands in his. "Quite right."

XXX

Nights on The Demeter were silent, most everyone fast asleep before the moon shone the brightest. Agatha rested comfortably on her bed, lost in the realm of unconsciousness. By her side, Sorina lied with her, still yet to give into the lack of exhaustion she felt. When the cabin door opened, she smiled as her father stood at the entrance.

"Ah, micul mea liliac, you're up," he smiled, walking over. "I want to show you something. Quiet now, let's not wake your mother." He scooped her up, careful not to jostle Agatha's sleeping frame. "The night waits."

Sorina wrapped her arms around her father's neck as he carried her out to the front of the deck. The fog that was ever present had faded away, leaving a clear sky littered with sparkling stars and a moon as white as milk. The little girl gasped, her grip loosening around her father as she pointed upward.

"Stars," she breathed. "So many stars! Look, Papa! Look!"

Dracula chuckled. "Isn't it wondrous, little one? Why, I suppose they go on forever."

"The moon," she exclaimed. "It's so big! It's pretty!"

"And yet, nothing can compare to your beauty," the vampire murmured. "But it is rather marvelous."

"The sun!" Sorina smiled, looking at her father. "Papa, I want to see the sun! Where's the sun?!"

Dracula froze, inhaling deeply despite not needing to. The sun was almost a forbidden topic when it came to Agatha. Almost taboo. But the delight and curiosity in Sorina's innocent eyes actually caused him to feel a pang of pain.

"I'm afraid I can only offer you the night, darling," he said sadly.

"Why?" His daughter asked, brow knitting in confusion. "Why can't I see the sun, Papa?"

"I'll explain it to you when you're older, my love," he smiled sorrowfully. "I think we've seen enough of the sky for tonight. It's past your bedtime. We don't want to worry your Mama if she wakes up and you're not there." He gently smoothed her hair back. "Remember, tonight was a secret okay? Don't tell Mama we were out here, yes?"

Sorina nodded happily. "Okay, Papa!"

Dracula placed a kiss on her forehead. "That's my girl." His eyes flickered back up to the stars, and to the moon that would never hold the beauty that was the sun. "Our secret."

XXX

The final day aboard The Demeter was drawing close and to all it couldn't arrive sooner. That night, with the remaining members of the crew and passengers, Yuri forced a smile, holding up a bottle of ale. Agatha stood close to Dracula, Sorina pressed in front of them as they listened to the captain's speech.

"I know that this voyage has taken a toll on us all. One that simply cannot be explained, but by morning, we will have reached the docks of Whitby and a formal investigation can begin, but for now, I invite you all to sit and drink. Enjoy your final moments aboard the ship. As your captain, I can say that I couldn't have asked for a better crew and passengers."

As everyone gathered to talk and drink Agatha felt an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Just one last night, one last night and this would all be over. They could start anew, far from this all. She felt someone touch her hand and she looked to see Dracula smiling at her. He probably sensed her worry. Their fingers interlocked as she turned her attention down to Sorina.

"It's time for bed, love," she said. "Come, let's get you ready. We'll be going ashore tomorrow." Her attention briefly met Dracula's gaze before returning to Sorina. "England will be good for us, you'll see." Agatha stated as if for her own reassurance.

XXX

It was the middle of the night when Sorina awoke to find her mother fast asleep and her father absent from the cabin. Curious, she quietly slipped out from underneath the covers, her feet planting softly on the floor. It was rather warm, almost uncomfortably so, and the child looked towards the door. Perhaps if she was silent, her mother wouldn't wake up and realize she'd gone outside. It wouldn't be for very long, just until she felt a little cooler. Taking the risk, still wearing her nightgown, Sorina exited the room and tiptoed onto the open deck.

The fog hung heavy in the air, blocking out the night sky, and yet, to young Sorina, it was quite beautiful. The girl smiled, twirling around when her eyes caught those of a figure peering out from behind a barrel. It was Yamini. Sorina cocked her head curiously, noting the express on the other's face. She looked almost scared. She beckoned her over, holding a finger to her lips. Even more curious, Sorina went over.

"Hi-" She began to say before the girl forcefully covered her mouth.

Holding onto Sorina, the girl pointed towards something far off into the shadows. The younger girl squinted, her eyes adjusting to make out what appeared to be a figure kneeling over another. There was a loud slurping sound and Sorina watched as the person rose, finally turning to reveal who he was.

"Papa?"

Dracula's stunned expression quickly became one of rage as the boat lit up with men holding torches. He tried to make a grab for Sorina, but was quickly blocked by the chef and one of the passengers. The vampire hissed, blood splattering from his mouth as he bore his sharp teeth. Yamini held Sorina back as the girl cried out for her father.

"Sorina!"

Agatha came bounding from the cabin, a look of horror etched across her features as she yanked Sorina so quickly away from Yamini, the girl was knocked backwards. The young girl was sobbing, clinging to her mother as she watched several men crowd around her father.

"Murderer!"

"Vampire!"

It was then the cook's eyes turned to Agatha and Sorina, a look of rage flashing across his face. He made a dash towards the two before being knocked several feet backwards by Dracula. The vampire held his arms out, attempting to shield his family as the angry mob approached, torches ablaze. The former nun held their daughter close, the young girl inconsolable. With everyone's attention focused on the family, no one seemed to notice the cook's abandoned torch until the heat from the flames that quickly engulfed the ship captured their attention.

"Run," Dracula insisted. "Take Sorina in a life boat and go!"

"You're a fool to think if I'm leaving you," Agatha shouted.

He stared hard at Agatha before his gaze softened. "I love you," he whispered. "So much, but if you stay, you'll die! Sorina will die!" Dracula leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his daughter's head. "Papa loves you," he murmured. "More than existence itself." The vampire's attention turned to his wife, pulling her in for a forceful kiss. "Go!"

The former nun swallowed, turning away from her husband as she hurried towards the other end of the deck. Her eyes fell upon the only lifeboat that sat unoccupied. As she made her way towards it, her gaze locked on to Yuri's. The captain didn't look at her with fear or anger, only pity. It was then Agatha Van Helsing made the hardest decision of her life.

"Please," she begged. "Take her with you. Take her to England. I have family there. Please, she's just a child."

The captain seemed to hesitate. "I cannot take a child away from her mother. You must come too."

"I can't...my husband," she looked behind her, tears filling her eyes. "Please, I beg of you, save my baby!"

Yuri bit his bottom lip, staring hard at the child who clung desperately to her mother. He gave a small nod and, Agatha grabbing a large piece of sail, wrapped Sorina tightly in it, trying to ignore the wails. With only her little face peeking out, Agatha gazed down sorrowfully at her child.

"Mama loves you," she whispered. "Papa loves you. You are a brave girl, Sorina. You must be brave. Be brave for me and Papa." Agatha leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead before turning her attention to Yuri. "When you find my family, tell her she cannot go into the sun. Ever. Skin condition. Share what you wish. But ensure her safety. She's all I have."

"May God have mercy," Yuri said, climbing into the boat. "I'm sorry, Agatha."

The former nun tried to drown out the sounds of her daughter's cries as she turned away from the lowering life boat. Quickly, avoiding falling beams, she caught sight of a form launching a body off the ship. Dracula. As if immediately aware of her presence, the vampire turned in shock.

"You stupid woman," he hissed, suddenly by her side. "Where is Sorina?"

"She's safe," she whispered, gazing out towards the ocean. "Did you really think that after all this time I'd leave you?"

Dracula's expression was hard to read, but suddenly Agatha felt his grip on her wrist as he pulled her quickly down to the bowels of the ship. The smoke was getting thicker and Agatha could feel it burning in her lungs. She blinked back tears as she took in the sight before her. Boxes of soil. Dracula's sleeping ground. She felt his cool fingers touch her chin as he tilted her face upwards.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered, gazing deeply into her eyes.

"With my life."

His mouth was suddenly on hers, a kiss filled with passion like no other. She let her eyes close, leaning against him as his lips pressed against her jugular. When she felt his teeth pierce her sensitive flesh, the blood leaving her veins, she gave into the darkness that pulled her far away from the reality that she knew.

XXX

It was the dark depths of the ocean that greeted Dracula the moment his eyes shot open. He remained still for a second, recollecting his thoughts as to why he was presently in a box underwater. With little strength, he forced wood into pieces, freeing himself from the confines. As he regained footing on the ground, his gaze traveled to a second box not far off.

Tearing back the lid, his eyes fell upon his wife who appeared as if she was merely sleeping. Tenderly, he touched her face and was quite pleased when her eyes fluttered open. She looked around in confusion, her stare locking with his. He smiled, holding his hand out, which she immediately took.

Upright now, they began to walk as if doing so on the surface. Slowly, the water levels began to fall and both found themselves on a beach. The former nun turned, a smile beginning to form on her face when all of a sudden a large, loud, whirling object flew over them. A bright spotlight hit them, and Dracula took a step in front of Agatha, an arm outstretched to protect her. Quickly, the pair found themselves surrounded, voices shouting phrases that were foreign to them.

"Welcome to England, Count Dracula and Agatha."

A woman stepped forward, her appearance disturbingly resembling the former nun's.

"What kept you?"

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