#this song is old and I have linked here on this blog before...

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

________________________________________________

Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.

[h1biscusgal]

RING RING, CHECK THE CALLER ID. + Masterlist °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ANONS : 🥔, 🥷🏻, 🧇 ⭐, 🧸, ⭐ 🐏 , 🌪️ 🐆, 🦄, 🧚🏻‍♀️,🦩, 🌺,  🍓

Who are you?:

- call me Coco, 18 F and still ageless on my mind, ENFP 'n I love the color pink and cheetah prints, hibiscuses and the neighborhood, and definitely Sonic, and oh I forgot, I'm a master of my own reality, I'm from glorious middle east and I like ice creams, one word for me = chaotic, welcome to my blog!

Why are you here?:

- fair question, I'm here to journal every moment of my life and to maybe connect around with other shifters/manifesters getting their dream life with a snap of my fingers, so why won't ya come along in my journey? Watch me blog on how I managed to enter the void and get my life, as it's my goal currently (ik damn well I can do it).

Current status and achievements:

- living in the end as of being a void state master + entered it consciously as of late, watch me build my life 🌺

Fav song:

- Ik this is new and not many do that, but I mean might as well break the ice in this manifesting community, either way I love "poison by Bell Biv DeVoe" and "Army dreamers by Kate Bush", ngl I also dig some old classics like "Hit 'em up by Tupac" and how can someone forgot the classic "How by the Neighborhood".

(For the love of GOD check the "important asks" section and see if I have answered your question before sending an ask PLEASE 🙏🏻)

My masterlist *:･ (if not linked = not posted yet)

ᯓ★ Shifters little Neighborhood WR, for shiftblrs.

ᯓ★ The all rounder void state subliminal, Voided Hibiscus.

ᯓ★ My HMM hypnosis to enter the void 2 min.

ᯓ★ "too easy" shifting/ void challenge for 7 days.

ᯓ★ Can't manifest/ enter the void/ shift? Think something is stopping you? Read this.

ᯓ★ Gateway to the void and shifting : the hypnagogic state before sleep and how to induce.

ᯓ★ How I entered the void. + Entered again.

ᯓ★ Things I manifested without the void.

ᯓ★ PI, the one advice you will only need. + Quick reminder for you.

ᯓ★ My DRs = part 1

Across the spiderverse DR

ᯓ★ A little motivation for you.

ᯓ★ My new life after the void. (Coming soon)

ᯓ★ Important asks.

ᯓ★ Results with subs = part 1

ᯓ★ Coco's rants and confessions. #coco's rants

ᯓ★ My journey (tw) + where have I shifted so far? Have I manifested anything in the void yet?

ᯓ★ Difference between LD and RS

ᯓ★ The click method (to change the mindset) + what to realize when you're waiting for the "click".

ᯓ★ My anons successes 1 2 3

"Gotta go fast!"

- Sonic the hedgehog

[groupiechick]

A real life story - Izzy Stradlin experience.

A while ago I came across this story from a woman named Cari who met and bedded the great Izzy Stradlin, here’s her story

Original blog post:

Warning for sex I guess but this is mainly just what he was like to meet in the golden days.

July 30, 1988

In the summer of 1988, a few friends and I took a long road trip to Val-Du-Lakes Amphitheatre in Mears, Michigan to see my new favorite band, Guns N Roses, who were the opening act for an old favorite band, Aerosmith. We arrived very early and wandered around the grounds in the sweltering heat. I walked up a hill with a friend hoping for a better vantage point to view the area where the bands' tour buses were parked behind a tall fence. At that moment a bus door opened and someone came out. The next thing I knew, Guns N Roses' guitarist Izzy Stradlin was propped up over the top of the fence pointing at me and wiggling his finger to come over. I looked all around me in disbelief but he really was pointing at me! I ran down the hill to the spot where he instructed security to let me through. We spent the afternoon talking to each other through the fence. Security wouldn't let him take me to the other side without a pass so he sent a crew guy to find one. Izzy kept running back and forth from the bus like a show and tell, displaying clothes and jewelry he'd bought on tour and telling me stories about some of the places he'd been. We had to tilt our heads slightly to see each other clearly through the fence. I was entranced by his eyes, glowing with the most magical olive and amber tones I had ever seen, as the glaring sun reflected down into them. I remember at one point he asked a road crew guy to help him rip the tag off his brand new pair of black jeans. His personality was bouncy and silly and uninhibited. We could pass things back and forth through the fence and touch each others hands but it was torture...or maybe it was like a teasing foreplay buildup...that neither of us was allowed to go to the other's side. Finally, right before he had to be on stage, one sticky pass was found and given to me.

My friends and I went out into the crowd and watched the show. It was a typical Guns N Roses live performance for that time--really bare bones, raw and raunchy sounding. This was only a short time before GnR Lies was released and they tried out a few songs none of us had heard before called "One In A Million" "Used To Love Her" & "Patience". The crowd, which was much bigger than the venue anticipated, went nuts and began tearing down a chain link fence that separated the VIP section from the GA section. It was scary. My friend Jynni and I were in a crush of people and had lost track of the friends we came there with. The agreement was for the car to be our meeting place if we lose each other. When the time came for me to go meet Izzy backstage, I was really scared. I was taking a big risk leaving my friends behind--we didn't have cell phones back then, you know!

Sure enough, Izzy was there at the fence waiting for me. As he was digging for the bus key in his pocket, he unknowingly dropped guitar picks in a trail behind him (and I tried to be sneaky and pick them up). Something about that was incredibly adorable to me. This must have been during a short sober faze because he had no drugs or alcohol and he offered me a 7up to drink on the bus. I think Aerosmith had a strict no drugs policy on that tour perhaps? He showed me more stuff he'd collected on the road and some live photos of Guns & Roses in LA. He had me pick out a photo and on the back of it he wrote "to Cari with lust...Izzy." He kept playing with my hair, piling it all up on top of my head then leaning back to look at me. Was he trying to see how I would look with an up do?? So playful and lovable, that Izzy. He told me his real name and that he grew up just a couple hours south of where I was from in Indiana. He talked about all his hats and how he wanted to buy more but hat boxes take up way too much space. He had just gotten the newly released Cinderella tape "Long Cold Winter" and put it on. We were having some serious music and philosophy talk and he said that I'm not like the other girls he meets on the road, that I actually have a brain and was really cool to talk to. He had me write my contact info in an address book for him.

At one point he started to kiss me but I was chewing gum and had yet to master the art of making out with gum in my mouth, so in a very parental way he put out his hand for me to spit it into and went to throw it away. Hello awkward moment! I couldn't have felt less sexy. Then again, what does a 17 year old really know about sexy anyway? For the sake of Mr. Stradlin's privacy, I will refrain from sharing the intimate details of our sexual encounter. I will, however, say that I was a clueless, naive little Indiana girl who had no idea what I was doing. Izzy, on the other hand, being almost 9 years older than I was, knew exactly how to do it right and I learned a thing or two. Izzy was a vision of perfection, with such smooth skin and a youthful god-like body, wide shoulders and a narrow waist. It was while he was laying back that I noticed for the first time his beautiful mouth, delicate, sweet and angelic, curled upwards slightly at the corners. Izzy and I had a lot of fun and even took a little nap as the summer heat had worn us out. We kept getting pestered by Steven Adler (whom he lovingly referred to as "Stevie"). Steven was bouncing around excitedly, pounding on the bus windows yelling that there were 14,000 people in the crowd! This must have been one of the biggest crowds they'd ever played for at that time.

It was dark by now and Izzy changed into some running pants and a jean jacket and we went outside for a walk on that perfect, magical, warm summer night with the full moon over our heads. We stopped by the hospitality tent for some pizza and there were Slash & Duff, kickin' back on a sofa having a deep conversation about drugs. Ok, now I was starstruck, and I stood there staring like a dumbass.

Duff: "You still have that shit man? What are you saving it for? If I had that *sssssnniiiiifff* it woulda been gone a long time ago!" Slash: "You can't do that much, man. You only need a little bit." I interrupted with "Slash, dude, you are so cool." (Somebody shoot me! I'm an idiot!)

Slash said "thanks" and Izzy dragged me out of there to the side stage to watch Aerosmith's encore under that amazing full summer moon. I'd never seen so many people in one place in my life--a sea of faces as far as the eye could see! Standing on the stage just a few feet from Joe Perry, I could imagine how it felt to be a rock star. Suddenly I realized in that moment that out of the 14,000 fans in that crowd, I was the only one backstage. Why me? And that's when the magic feeling came over me, showering me like fairy dust...Why not me?! I was different. I wasn't like anyone I knew, not family nor friends--no one I knew saw the world the way I did. I realized that for the first time, I was amongst my peers there backstage. And if I had the privilege of spending a day with the hottest band in the country at age 17, someday I would be doing a lot of other cool things all the while making my own dreams come true too!

Izzy asked me to ride on the bus with them to Cincinnati, but in the days before cell phones, I had no way to reach my parents back home nor my friends who were waiting in the massive parking lot to make the 3 hour drive home with me. What if I ditched everyone only to have the band's management say "no way, this groupie is not riding the bus with us!" and then I'd be stranded in a field in the middle of nowhere. What if I ditched everyone and they thought I got abducted and called the police? The deep shit I would have been in from every angle. I was helpless. He begged a security officer that was on a horse to escort me to the car--maybe I could tell my friends and then go back to meet him--but the "mountie" was a jerk and he refused to help us. I had no choice but to say goodbye and that's my biggest regret to this day. I'll always wonder about all the "what ifs".

The phone woke me up the next morning and it was Izzy. It sounded as if he were whispering. He said, "Listen...." I heard him press the play button on a tape player and then heard a clip of "Over The Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin, a band we'd talked much about the night before. Then he clicked the tape off and said, "Bye...." and I never heard from him again.

That one magical summer night is what led me down the path to becoming the independent, confident, dream chasing woman with rose-colored, heart-shaped glasses that I am today. I'd like to thank Izzy for making me feel so special...he might not remember me but I'll never forget him and how for one day I was "one in a million".

[mcyt-jukebox-bonanza]

Mcyt Jukebox Bonanza Event!

Jukebox Bonanza is an MCYT multi-fandom event held during the month of september where artists will take songs of their choice and create illustrations based on these songs. This is called a Jukebox Night, and it was popular in the hermitcraft fandom circa 2019. This event seeks to revitalize the tradition and create some fun art.

Every participant who makes at least one Jukebox Night will get their named added to the Jukebox Bonanza hall of fame, and artists who make more can reach higher tiers of victory! This event can be either casual or hardcore, depending on how many drawings each individual wants to make. (Sign-ups will be open for the duration of the event, so feel free to drop in even if it's halfway through September!)

Timeline:

August 17: The signup form drops and the discord server opens (having a discord account is required for participation in this event.)

August 24: song claims open! Each song behind a jukebox night for jukebox bonanza must be unique, so artists will claim a song before they begin drawing.

August 28: All first claims should be assigned. Once you receive confirmation of your claim, you can begin drawing. Additional claims continue throughout the month as individuals finish one jukebox night and request another song as desired.

September 30: creation period ends. You can't start any new drawings after this, but it's okay to finish one during the posting period.

September 30-October 7: posting period! Post all your jukebox nights and tag this blog so we can reblog the posts here. At the end, the mods will count up all the jukebox nights to declare the final illustration count and award victory tiers.

Sign up for the event by filling out THIS form! The link to the discord server is at the end.

FAQ and song claim information under the cut.

Who are the mods here?

There are two mods on this blog and on the discord server: Mod Idea (@paradoxlemonade) and Mod Ghost (@gay-ghosts).

Who can participate in this event?

Participation is open to all fans of MCYT ages 13+.

What's a jukebox night?

A jukebox night is a single completed illustration based on a song. They were usually square back in the day so they looked like the could fit on an album cover, but that wasn't a hard rule. Some had lyrics in the picture itself, and others had them below the drawing. For this event, a drawing is considered complete when it is fully colored and/or shaded.

What fandoms can I make a jukebox night for?

Although this tradition originated in the hermitcraft fandom, all MCYT fandoms are eligible for this event. Small MCYT, old MCYT, new MCYT, popular MCYT, and anything else are all fair game. If it's minecraft and it's videos, you can make a Jukebox Night for it.

What songs can I claim?

Most songs are fair game, but there are a few stipulations: Songs must not be graphically about sex or contain graphically sexual content, as this event is open to artists age 13-17. Additionally, no songs made by Wilbur Soot/Lovejoy are eligible for this event.

How do song claims work?

If you participated in mcytblr AU fest, then you might be familiar with this process. A google form will be posted at a determined time and all participants will fill it out. You must list at least one song, but you can name up to five. The first person to claim a particular song will be the one to receive it, so it's advised that you list a few in case your first choice is unavailable.

Once you finish your first Jukebox Night, you can fill out the form again to claim another song and receive a second assignment. You can do this as many times are you want, but you can only get a new claim once the drawing for your previous one is completed.

What can I depict in a jukebox night?

Pretty much anything, within reason. Canon events, canon divergence, AUs, headcanons, you name it! Shipping and violence are fair game as well. We ask that art made for this event be about the characters, not real people. Additionally, art made for this event cannot contain sexual content of any kind or anything that would warrant an E rating on Ao3, as the event is open to artists age 13-17. If you're uncertain about an idea, please reach out to a mod for clarification.

I have another question you didn't answer here!

Send an ask in and one of the event mods will get back to you!

[demaparbat-hp]

Hi Dema!! Your art is fantastic and even the lineart is awesome! Solid and confident in where it's thick and where thin. I really like how your style has characters look more realistic and they have specific consistent features. Your blog has a pleasant atmosphere, and you're skilled in weaving AUs! There's a lot of details and structure, and I'd like to ask if any of them have a full story arc? Could you do a list of all of the AUs? Is there a motif that you especially like that repeats in any of the AUs? And whenever you add comments to my stuff in the tags I literally smile, it makes me want to keep at my plan to create everything I have in mind. So I'd like to spread this joy! I hope you have a nice day! (from late-draft ^^)

Hello, Late-Draft! I wasn't expecting this ask at all but I'm so glad to have received it!

First of all—I'll try to hold myself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. I'm having a sempai noticed me moment over here and that's just embarrassing. So give me a second to compose myself, if that's alright?

Okay, I'm back.

Now, on to business.

Character design, especially when it comes to facial features and how they're unique to each person, has always been a passion of mine. I always try to have a solid design for each character. I choose which features feel like the character in question, which face feels natural to draw, and go along with it. I love drawing Katara as much as I love drawing Zuko. Meanwhile, I seem to be on a never-ending battle against Sokka's features. Woes of an artist, I suppose.

Character design is actually one of the reasons I love your work so much, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm currently experimenting a bit with a different style... Hopefully it won't be long before the artwork is done and I can share it over here. I'm so excited for everyone to see it!

Now it's time for the reason we're all here.

I have said it before and shall say it once more: AUs are my lifeblood.

I love them so much! Building them, daydreaming the scenes, thinking of the characters and how they differ from their canon versions. The arcs and the themes and the worldbuilding. Building AUs is my passion, and I have so many of them!

There are a lot of motifs and themes that tend to repeat themselves in several of my AUs, I believe.

You'll notice that most of my stories are Zuko-centric, with a heavy emphasis on grief and humanity. There's the question of what makes us human and how to move forward when the whole world seems to push you back. I put a lot of stock in metaphors and symbolism within the narrative itself. I'm especially interested in the nuance of war and how it affects people emotionally, physically, and psychologically

I also tend to reutilize some elements of the lore and/or worldbuilding! Such as the Painted Lady's backstory, or the existence of War Children within the ATLA universe.

Now, the list!

I think I'll start with my current project, if that's okay :)

For the Spirits (New Gods AU)

Zuko was a child when he met Agni. Then, the spirits started coming to him. Eyes hidden in the hallways, voices pleading for help, for recognition, for remembrance.

Zuko could see Agni. He could see the broken remains of a Great Spirit and the empty smiles of amnesiac ghosts.

And they could see him in return.

I've been working on this AU for a long time, but only now did I get the chance to start writing the fic (linked up there!). I'm extremely excited about FTS and where the story will lead us in the future, but I'll try not to spoil too much.

It's a Zuko-centric story, with a heavy emphasis on Spirits and humanity. I'd like to add a warning for depression/mental health issues.

To Hesitate (Lee & Kya AU)

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

.

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

The Lee & Kya AU is a vibe, a feeling. It's probably one of my oldest AUs out there as well as one of my dearest.

A classical Lee and Kya From The Tea Shop AU, full with wholesome fandom tropes such as: fake (but not really) dating, fake identities, Ba Sing Se shenanigans, vigilante stuff, White Lotus missions, Iroh is a great Uncle, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, and, of course, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever see.

Other than that, Lee & Kya is probably one of the less plot-focused AUs I have. However, that doesn't mean that there aren't scenes I can't wait to write or a canon divergence or two where Zuko is concerned.

(I have another fic posted but I'll leave that one to the end. You asked for a full story arc and, oh boy, does Soundless deliver.)

Kintsugi AU

Closer to being canon-adjacent than canon-divergent, Kintsugi is yet another Zuko-centric AU (and are we not noticing a pattern over here?).

I'd love to explain it in depth, but I believe the caption of the artwork linked above does a better job at explaining than I ever will.

Kintsugi is the art of decorating your scars with pieces of Agni.

In the Fire Nation, the amount of golden marks are a sign of status. Only the Royal Family can afford to seal every single wound with Kintsugi. Such is the weight of this tradition that, among the ones with Agni's blood, it is the highest mark of dishonor to have a natural scar, for it proves you aren't worthy of the privilege.

After the Agni Kai, Ozai forbid Zuko's scar to be sealed with Kintsugi. The boy wasn't worth his title, his traditions or his pride. Zuko would be broken, but he wouldn't be beautiful. Not anymore.

(And sometimes it's easier to pretend he never was)

Kyoshi Warriors AU

One of my absolute favorites!

In this AU, Ursa took Zuko and Azula with her when she was banished, so they could start anew. With help from Iroh and the White Lotus, she managed to relocate her freshly burned eight-year-old child and her crying daughter to Kyoshi Island.

Years later, when Avatar Aang and his companions first arrive at Kyoshi Island, they're met by the Kyoshi Warriors and their leader, Noriko of pale skin and warm brown eyes.

The Gaang leave Kyoshi Island many weeks later with a new companion. And if Jian Li, with his war paint and his scar and his dual dao, gives the island that he has called home for so long one final, longing glance as they fly away on Appa, they pretend not to notice.

Hunters AU

We're starting to dwelve deep into dangerous waters!

This is a Katara Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU, with a twist!

This AU was born as a writing experiment. What if we take Katara's character, and change one of her core characteristics? Katara, who looked up to the Avatar as a saviour figure, now blames him for leaving and allowing the Fire Nation to wage war on the world.

Then comes Zuko, a banished Prince with a crew full of traitors and his own agenda. Zuko wishes for nothing more than to dethrone his father and end the war. He is a White Lotus member, an honorable, driven young man, and he has a plan.

The catch? He needs to take the Avatar to his father if he wishes to regain his title and be able to rightfully take the throne. Oh, and he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—but nobody said it had to be in chains.

Halfblood AU

I watched Blue Eye Samurai a few months ago and it destroyed me. The idea of a half-blooded child dead set on getting revenge for their very existence stuck with me, and this AU was born.

Kanna made a life for herself in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North. Katara was raised by her grandmother in a small village, being taught to hide her bending if she wanted to live peacefully in a place she was only half of. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, a nameless warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who had loved Kya and left her behind, didn't know of Katara's existence.

Katara took over Kanna's clinic after she passed away. Always taking care of others. Always suppressing her need to bend. Always wishing for more.

One day, he arrived. A half-child, just like her. But while she was of Water, he was a son of Agni. He was searching for the man who brought him to this world. The man who scarred him. The man whose face he couldn't recall, whose name he did not know. The man whose specter had chased his mother to her grave. The man who would die at his hand.

The answers were hidden in a small teashop deep within Ba Sing Se. Lee offered her a way out, and Katara took it.

Soundless (Uiscefhuaraithe)

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has hands scarred by fire and great talent, though no teacher.

Zuko is a mute War Child, a herbalist and healer, and the Blue Spirit. He bears the mark of fire, and the scar of the blade that took away his voice.

The first time they met, the Blue Spirit had just saved her, tough not before her hands got burned. The second time they met, his name was Lee, and he was healing her.

They live in war and they will fight, if not for the world, then for themselves.

You asked for a full storyline, and I shall deliver!

Soundless is probably the only AU I have fully planned. Three-books, Azula redemption arc, role-reversals and all.

This AU has everything. From travelling through the Earth Kingdom together, to odd character team-ups that somehow manage to work, and a major goal/conflict to resolve.

Zuko and Katara must find their way to Omashu in an Earth Kingdom ravaged by war as they also grow to understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They meet with new and old alliances, keep their ears open for rumors of the Avatar (They say he is an airbender, Lee. Do you truly belive that?), and do their best to always be two steps ahead of their pasts.

Meanwhile, both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are searching for the runaway heiress, Aang must find his way alone on this new, hostile world, and Azula must face the revelation that, despite what her father has stated for the last two years (liar, he lied at her! Her! He lied he liedliedliedlied), her brother might just be alive.

I'm sorry for making this such a long answer! I just get very excited about these subjects and don't know when to stop. If you made it all the way down here: thank you again.

I hope you have a good day ❤️

[halfbloodfics]

Masterlist & Requests

hello all :) welcome to my blog.

requests are currently open, PLEASE read my rules/boundaries for what i will/will not write before sending in a request, linked here:

my blog is 18+ for all fics, minors please dni

General

Other rules and boundaries:

my blog is a safe space, fuck jkr, terfs and racists etc. general dickwads will be blocked

a lot of people, paritcularly those who are neurodivergent and queer (like me) find comfort in snape as a character and for that reason i dont want any debates in my comments or dms about whether or not snape is "good" or "bad" or whatever. i find it old, boring, tiring and not necessary

My taglist:

must be 18+, i mean my whole blog is 18+

i have a taglist, if you wish to be added, you can comment here or dm me and i will add you

dm at any point to be removed

Masterlist

Smut:

warmth: snape x professor! reader, established relationship, gentle dom:

talks you through it: sev giving reader first squirting orgasm:

focus: sub!snape x gentledom! reader trying cockwarming while he grades papers

our little remedy: gentle dom!snape x reader who has a bad day and snape comforts her with thigh riding

r u mine?: hard dom! snape x reader who was flirting with lupin, angry, jealous smut

let me get what i want: solo smut, sub!snape falling in love with female professor reader and fucking his sheets to the thought of her

let me get what i want pt 2: smut, sub!snape x femgentledom!reader, his first time, gentle, soft

prose: a short blurb/poem? about how he talks you through it

Fluff:

secure: lockhart flirts with prof!reader and sev and reader laugh about it later

medding snakes pt 1: request! snape x pomfreys assistant reader, snakes trying to set them up

work song: mainly angsty, but also fluffy with happy ending. femwife!reader saves snape in the shrieking sack

Headcanons/drabbles:

general headcanons:

misc things that remind me of sev:

songs that remind me of sev:

sub!snape headcanons:

gentle dom!snape headcanons:

his red flags

songs that remind me of sev pt 2

[dervampireprince]

so i've been coding a website

home of: the dervampireprince fanart museum, prince's art gallery, a masterlist of resources for making websites and list of web communities, and more!

[18+, minors dni (this blog is 18+ and the art gallery and art museum pages on my site have some 18+ only artworks)]

littlevampire . neocities . org (clickable link in pinned post labelled 'website')

if you don't follow me on twitch or aren't in my discord, you might not know i've been coding my own website via neocities since june 2024. it's been a big labour of love, the only coding i'd done before is a little html to customize old tumblr themes, so i've learnt a lot and i've been having so much fun. i do link to it on my carrds but not everyone will know that the icon of a little cat with a wrench and paintbrush is the neocities logo, or even what neocities is.

neocities is a free website builder, but not like squarespace or wix that let you build a website from a template with things you can drag in, it's all done with html and css code (and you can throw in javascript if you wanna try hurting your brain /hj). i love the passion people have for coding websites, for making their own websites again in defiance of social medias becoming less customisable and websites looking boring and the same as each other. people's neocities sites are so fun to look through, looking at how they express themselves, their art galleries, shrines to their pets or favourite characters or shows or toys or places they've been.

why have i been making a website this way?

well i used to love customising my tumblr theme back when clicking on someone's username here took you to their tumblr website, their username . tumblr . com link that you could edit and customise with html code. now clicking a username takes you to their mobile page view, a lot of users don't even know you can have a website with tumblr, the feature to have a site became turned off by default, and i've heard from some users that they might have to pay to unlock that feature.

i've always loved the look of old geocities and angelfire websites, personalised sites, and i've grown tired of every social media trying to look the same as each other, remove features that let users customise their profiles and pages more. and then i found out about neocities.

are you interested in making a site too?

neocities is free, though you can pay to support them. there is no ads, no popups, they have no ai tool scraping their sites, no tos that will change to suddenly stop allow 18+ art. unlike other website hosters, neocities does have a sort of social media side where you do have a profile and people can follow you and leave comments on your site and like your updates, but you can ignore this if you want, or use it to get to know other webmasters.

to quote neocities "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

i'd so encourage anyone interested to try making a website with neocities. w3schools is an excellent place to start learning coding, and there are free website templates you can copy and paste and use (my site is built off two different free codes, one from fujoshi . nekoweb . org and the other from sadgrl's free layout builder tool).

your site can be for anything:

a more fun and interactive online business card (rather than using carrd.co or linktree)

a gallery of your art/photos/cosplays/etc

a blog

webshrines to your a character, film, song, game, toy, hobby, your pet - anything can be a shrine!

a catalogue/database/log of every film you've watched, every place you've visited, birds you've seen, plushies you own, every blinkie gif you have saved, your ocs and stories, etc

hosting a webcomic

a fanwiki/fansite that doesn't have endless ads like fandom . com does (i found a cool neocities fansite for rhythm game series pop'n music and it's so thorough, it even lists all the sprites and official art for every character)

i follow a website that just reviews every video game based on whether or not it has a frog in it, if the frog is playable, if you can be friends with it. ( frogreview . neocities . org )

the only html i knew how to write before starting is how to paragraph and bold text. and now i have a whole site! and i'm still working on new stuff for it all the time.

i just finished making a page on my website called 'explore the web'. this page lists everything you might need to know when wanting to make or decorate your website. it lists:

other neocities sites i think are cool and i'm inspired by, check them out for more ideas of what your site could look like and contain!

website building resources

coding help and tutorials

free website html code layouts you can use if you don't want too start coding from scratch

places to find graphics and decorative images for your site (transparent background pngs, pixels, favicons, stamps, blinkies, buttons, userboxes, etc)

image generators for different types of buttons and gifs (88x31 buttons, tiny identity buttons, heart locket open gifs, headpat gifs)

widgets and games and interactive elements you can add to your site (music players, interactive pets like gifypet and tamanotchi, hit counters, games like pacman and crosswords, guestbooks and chatboxes, etc)

web manifestos, guides, introductions and explanations of webmastering and neocities (some posts made by other tumblr users here are what made me finally want to make my own site and discover how too)

art tools, resources and free drawing programs

web communities! webrings, cliques, fanlistings, pixel clubs (pixel art trades) and more!

other fun sites that didn't fit in the other categories like free sheet music sites, archives, egotistical.goat (see a tumblr users audio posts/reblogs as a music playlist), soul void (a wonderful free to play video game i adore), an online omnichord you can play, and more.

i really hope the 'explore the web' page is helpful, it took three days to track down every link and find resources to add.

and if you want to check out my site there's more than just these pages. like i said in the beginning, i recently finished making:

the dervampireprince fanart museum

every piece of fanart i've received (unless the sender asked me to keep it private) has been added to this museum and where possible links back to the original artists post of that art (a lot the art was sent to me via discord so i can't link to the original post). every piece of fanart sent to me now will be added on their unless you specifically say you don't want it going on there. there's also links to my fanworks guide on there and how to send me fanart.

other pages on my site

about me (including favourite media, quizzes, comfort characters, kins, and more)

art gallery (art i've made, sorted by month)

graphics (so far it's just stamps i've made but plan to remake this section of my site)

media log (haven't started the 2025 one yet, but a log of all films, tv, writing, music, theatre, fandoms, characters and ships i got into in 2024)

silly web pets

shrines

site map

update log

my shrines so far:

i have ones for lucifer from supernatural, sam winchester from supernatural, charuca minifigures (arcade prizes i wanted as a kid that i'm trying to finish collecting as an adult), my waifuroulette discord tcg collection. my masterlist of every lgbt+ marvel character is a wip. i love making each shrine look different and suit the character/fandom/thing the shrine is about. and then there's also:

the european musical section

i ramble about them a lot and it's no surprise there's multiple shrines for them. i fell in love with german musical theatre in 2020 and that expanded in being interested in all non-english language musical theatre and trying to spread the word of it and how they deserve to be as known as english-language musicals. one musical in particular, elisabeth das musical, is my biggest special interest so expect a very detailed shrine about that one day.

so far this part of the site includes

'enter the theatre' an interactive web theatre where you choose a ticket and that musical will play on the stage (click a ticket and the embedded youtube video for that musical will appear on the stage and play. i dealt with javascript for the first time to bring the vision i had for this page alive, it might be slow but i hope enjoyable)

elisabeth das musical webshrine [not made yet]

tanz der vampire webshrine [not made yet, might abandon the idea]

my favourite european musicals [not made yet]

a masterlist of european musicals [a wip, only two musicals listed so far, i am listing every musical and every production they've had, this was a word document i kept for a long time that i always wanted to share somehow and this page is how i'll do it. there's no other list for european musicals out there so i guess it's up to me as always /lh]

the future for my site

i will update my art gallery, the fanart museum, my media log and other collections as often as i can. there's so many more pages i want to add including:

profiles for my ocs

finish my european musical masterlist

finish my 'every marvel lgbt+ character' masterlist (i have no love for marvel or disney's lgbt+ representation nor are all of these characters good representation and a lot are very minor characters, but for some reason i have gotten hyperfixated on this topic a few times so here comes a masterlist)

make shrines for loki (marvel), ares (hades), my sylvanian families collection, vocaloid (and/or vocaloid medleys), my plushie collection, pullip dolls

make a 'page not found' page

and i have one big plan to essentially make a site within a site, and make a website for my monster boy band ocs. but make it as if it was a real band, an unfiction project (think like how welcome home's website portrays welcome home as if it was a real show). this site would have pages for the band members, their albums, merch and maybe a pretend shop, and a fake forum where you could see other characters in the story talking and click on their profiles to find out more about them. and then once that's all done i want to start posting audios about the characters and then people can go to the website to find out more about them. that's my big plan anyway. i hope that sounds interesting.

i also want to make an effort to try and join some website communities. be brave and apply for some webrings and fanlistings, and make some pixel art and join some of the amazing pixel clubs out there.

but yeah, that's my site, that's neocities. i hope that was interesting. i hope it encourages people to make their own site, or at least look at other's small websites and explore this part of the internet. and if you go and check out mine feel free to drop a message in the guestbook on the homepage, or follow me on neocities if you have/make an account.

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i just found your blog and i love your writing!

i was wondering if you could write a loki x fem!reader. i am currently obsessed with Wicked at the moment and have been since i first heard the musical. but i was wondering if you could write a one shot based on the first song “No One Mourns The Wicked”. in case you don’t know much about Wicked the story ends with Elphaba telling Glinda to not tell the people of Oz the truth or they would think wrong of Glinda and just let Elphaba roam free making the people think she is dead.

So in the sense of that we could have reader be a princess or enchantress in which the people look up to her and while they talk badly about Loki, she has to hide her feelings and keep smiling and live with the lie. I would suggest listening to the soundtrack a bit, especially the new one it’s AMAZING.

Sorry this is so long!

NO ONE MOURNS THE WICKED

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre:tiny bit of romance, angst,

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): abandonment (?)

ᯓ★ Okay so, I need to tell you all the truth...I didn't see Wicked and don't plan to cause idk...I don't feel like watching it I can say it like this? Anyway this request is old I'm so sorry but with the holiday special I was so busy I'm sorry, hope you like it <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The moon hangs heavy in the midnight sky, casting its silver glow on the barren cliffs overlooking the sea. The wind whispers against the rocks, carrying the salty scent of waves crashing far below. You stand near the edge, your silk gown brushing against your ankles, the delicate embroidery of your kingdom’s sigil glinting faintly. It feels wrong to be here, draped in finery and forced smiles, when every step in this hidden place carries the weight of goodbye.

Behind you, Loki leans against a jagged boulder, his dark leather armor blending into the shadows. His raven hair falls across his face as he stares at the ground, his usual mask of confidence cracking under the weight of the moment.

"You don’t have to do this," you whisper, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound steady. You turn to face him, clutching your arms against the chill of the night. "You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for a lie. They deserve to know the truth."

Loki lifts his gaze to meet yours, and your heart aches at the flicker of pain in his emerald eyes. “And what would the truth grant us, my darling?” he says, his tone soft yet edged with bitterness. “The people would never accept it. They see me as the villain, and you…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “You are their light. Their savior. If they knew I was alive—if they knew it was I who saved them—they would turn their hatred toward you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you argue, taking a step toward him. “Loki, they can think what they want of me. I don’t care—”

“But I care!” His voice rises, sharp and cutting, before he reins it back in. The restraint he forces upon himself only makes the moment more excruciating. He pushes off the rock, closing the distance between you with a grace that belies his turmoil. His hands hover near your arms, hesitant, as though touching you would make it harder to let go. “I will not see you dragged down because of me. I will not see your kingdom turn its back on you.”

Tears sting your eyes as you shake your head, frustration and helplessness boiling inside you. “You’re asking me to live with this lie,” you whisper. “To smile while they sing my praises for something I didn’t do. To listen while they call you a monster when you were the one who saved us. How can I—” Your voice cracks, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. “How can I live with myself?”

Loki exhales slowly, the sound heavy with sorrow. “Because you must,” he murmurs. “For your people, for your crown. For the peace that this realm so desperately needs.”

You feel his fingers brush against yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver up your spine. When you look at him again, his expression is one of resigned determination, a mask of acceptance over the storm raging within.

“I have spent my life wearing the mantle of the villain,” he says. “It fits me well. Let them mourn me as the wicked, as the deceiver they always believed me to be. Let them celebrate you, their hero, their beloved. That is a small price to pay for your happiness, is it not?”

You recoil as if struck, your hands trembling as you ball them into fists. “Don’t you dare call this happiness,” you snap. “Don’t you dare pretend this is for me. This is for them. For their small-minded, hateful judgment.”

“And for you,” he counters, his voice quieter now. “Because as much as you despise the lie, you cannot deny the peace it will bring. They will never forgive me, my love. But they will forgive you. And you deserve their love, not their scorn.”

The words lodge in your throat, choking you. He’s right. Of course he’s right. And yet every fiber of your being rebels against it, against the injustice of this sacrifice. Against the cruel irony that Loki, the so-called villain, would be the one to make it.

“You saved them,” you say, your voice trembling. “You saved me.”

“And that will be enough,” he replies. His smile is small, brittle, and it breaks your heart. “For me, it will be enough.”

“No, it won’t,” you say fiercely, stepping closer. “You’re lying to yourself. You’ll hate yourself for this, just like I will. How can we—how can I—” The words falter as your vision blurs with tears.

Loki reaches out then, his hands cupping your face with a tenderness that makes you want to scream. His thumb brushes away a tear as it escapes down your cheek. “You are stronger than you think,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You will carry this, as you have carried so much already. And you will thrive, because that is who you are.”

Your hands come up to grasp his wrists, as though anchoring him to you could stop the inevitable. “Stay,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Please, Loki. Stay with me.”

For a moment, just a moment, you think he might. His eyes soften, and his breath hitches as he gazes at you. But then he closes his eyes, his jaw tightening as he steels himself. When he opens them again, they are resolute.

“I cannot,” he says. The words are a dagger to your heart.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. The waves crash below, indifferent to the anguish unfolding above. Finally, Loki steps back, his hands slipping away from you as though the act itself is unbearable.

“When they sing of this day,” he says, his voice steady but hollow, “let them sing of your courage. Let them sing of your light.”

“And what of you?” you ask, your voice barely audible. “What will they sing of you?”

He tilts his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing,” he says simply. “No one mourns the wicked.”

With that, he turns and walks toward the edge of the cliff, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. The words you want to say claw at your throat, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them. You can only watch as he raises a hand, summoning a portal of shimmering green light. He pauses for a heartbeat, his back to you, before stepping through and disappearing.

The portal closes with a faint hum, leaving you alone beneath the vast, uncaring sky.

And though the world will believe him gone, though they will celebrate the lie he has left behind, you will carry the truth. You will carry it in the hollow ache of your chest, in the unshed tears that linger in your eyes.

Because the wicked may not be mourned, but you will mourn him. Always.

The royal hall is ablaze with light, the sound of jubilant laughter and clinking goblets reverberating off the high, gilded ceilings. Your people celebrate with unrestrained vigor, their faces alight with relief and triumph. The wine flows freely, and the tables are laden with an excess of food. Everywhere you turn, you see smiles, hear songs of victory, and feel the oppressive weight of a lie you’re forced to bear.

A lie they are toasting with every raised glass.

Your hand grips the stem of your goblet tightly, the fragile crystal in danger of shattering under the pressure. You force a smile as yet another noble approaches, their face flushed with wine and cheer.

"Your Majesty!" they exclaim, bowing low. "Tonight, we celebrate not just the kingdom’s victory but your unparalleled bravery. To think—you outwitted the God of Mischief himself!"

The words are bile in your throat, but you swallow it down and nod graciously. "It was a victory for us all," you say, your voice a careful balance of strength and humility.

If only they knew the truth.

If only they knew that Loki wasn’t their enemy, that his schemes and his sacrifices had saved them. If only they knew that the villain they revile is the same man you love.

Your heart clenches at the memory of his parting words, of the pain etched into his face as he walked away from you.

No one mourns the wicked.

But you mourn.

"You’ve been requested to speak, Your Majesty," one of your attendants murmurs, bowing slightly. "The court wishes to hear your thoughts on this momentous occasion."

You nod stiffly, your pulse quickening as you make your way toward the dais. Your people cheer as you ascend the platform, their faith in you reflected in every hopeful face. They don’t see the turmoil beneath your calm exterior. They don’t see the cracks in your composure.

As you stand before them, the hall falls silent, anticipation thick in the air. You glance at the sea of faces—your subjects, your court, your advisors—and feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Tonight," you begin, your voice steady but low, "we celebrate a victory hard-won. A victory that marks the end of a great threat to our kingdom."

Applause erupts, and you force yourself to wait, to let the cheers wash over you like waves battering against a crumbling shore. When the noise subsides, you continue.

"But as we celebrate, let us remember the lessons this ordeal has taught us," you say, choosing your words carefully. "Loki, the God of Mischief, was a figure of great complexity. His actions brought destruction, yes, but they also revealed truths about ourselves. About our courage, our unity, and our capacity to overcome darkness."

Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. "Loki was… clever. Resourceful. And, in his own way, driven by a purpose he believed in. It is not for us to judge the heart of another, but to learn from what they leave behind."

The crowd murmurs, their reaction uncertain. Some nod, others exchange confused glances. But you can see in their eyes that they don’t fully understand the weight of your words.

You grip the edges of the lectern tightly, grounding yourself. "Tonight, we celebrate not just the fall of a foe but the strength of our kingdom. We celebrate the light that outshines the darkness. And we honor the truth that even in the shadow of chaos, there can be redemption—" Your voice falters, and you quickly recover, "—for those who seek it."

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, your mask of composure slipping for only a moment. You offer a faint smile, your gaze sweeping across the hall.

"Let us raise our glasses," you say, lifting your goblet high, "to a brighter tomorrow. To peace."

"To peace!" the crowd echoes, their voices ringing out in unison.

You take a sip of wine, the bitter taste clinging to your tongue as the hall erupts into applause. You step down from the dais, the weight of the lie settling heavier on your shoulders with every step.

"Beautifully said, Your Majesty," one of your advisors comments as you return to your seat. You nod absently, the sound of their praise hollow in your ears.

The rest of the feast passes in a blur of forced smiles and hollow laughter. You play your part, nodding and responding where necessary, but your mind is elsewhere—on the cliffs, on the man you left behind. On the truth you can never speak.

When the feast finally concludes and the last of the revelers leave the hall, you retreat to your chambers, your mask of composure crumbling the moment the door closes behind you.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, your hands trembling as you remove the circlet from your head and toss it onto the nearby table. The weight of it, both physical and symbolic, has never felt heavier.

Tears spill freely now, hot and unrelenting, as you bury your face in your hands. The lie is suffocating, the memory of Loki’s sacrifice an open wound that refuses to heal.

You whisper his name into the silence, the sound of it both a comfort and a torment. "Loki…"

But there is no answer.

And you know there never will be.

The days that follow are a blur of duties and false smiles. Every waking moment, you play the role of the triumphant monarch, the savior of your people. But the weight of your secret, the truth that Loki lives, gnaws at you like an open wound.

Every night, you sit by your window, staring at the vast expanse of stars, wondering where he is. If he’s safe. If he’s thinking of you. The ache of not knowing becomes unbearable, and soon, the need to see him—just once more—consumes you.

You make the decision in the dead of night. Draped in a dark cloak, you slip out of the palace unnoticed, taking the hidden path that leads to the cliffs where you last saw him. The air is cold, biting at your skin as you navigate the rocky terrain. The sea roars below, the sound a relentless reminder of how fleeting this moment might be.

When you reach the clearing, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Closing your eyes, you summon the courage to speak the words that only he will hear.

"Loki," you whisper into the darkness. "Please. If you can hear me, come to me."

For a moment, there is only silence, the wind carrying your plea into the void. But then, a familiar shimmer of green light dances before you, and your breath catches as he steps through the portal.

Loki’s form emerges from the shadows, his dark armor glinting faintly in the moonlight. His expression is guarded, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes betrays his own struggle.

"Y/N," he says, his voice low and tinged with disbelief. "You shouldn’t be here."

"I had to see you," you say, stepping closer. "I can’t—I can’t do this without seeing you one more time."

He exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to the ground. "You’ve made it this far," he says softly. "You’re stronger than you think."

"Don’t say that," you snap, the desperation in your voice breaking through. "Don’t pretend this is easier for me than it is for you. I know you, Loki. You’re hurting just as much as I am."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t reply. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are stormy, a mixture of anger, pain, and something deeper. "Do you think I wanted this?" he says, his voice rising. "Do you think I wanted to leave you behind, to watch you carry this burden alone? I didn’t have a choice."

"You always have a choice," you counter, stepping closer. "You chose to save them, to save me, and now you’re choosing to disappear. But what about us, Loki? What about what we could have?"

The words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. Loki’s shoulders sag, and he runs a hand through his hair, his usual composure slipping. "You think I don’t dream of it?" he says, his voice breaking. "A life with you. A chance to be more than the monster they believe me to be. But that dream… it’s not ours to have. Not here. Not now."

Tears blur your vision, and you shake your head, unwilling to accept his words. "It doesn’t have to be this way," you plead. "We could find another way, Loki. Together."

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. His hands come to rest on your arms, grounding you even as his touch sets your heart racing. "And what then?" he asks softly. "If we run, if we hide, what kind of life would that be? You’d lose your kingdom, your people. Everything you’ve fought for. I can’t do that to you."

"You already have," you whisper, your voice trembling. "By leaving, you’ve already taken it all from me."

His face crumples, and for a moment, the mask he wears shatters completely. "I’m sorry," he says, his voice barely audible. "I’m so sorry."

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. The tears that fall from your eyes are mirrored in his, and the sight breaks something inside you. "Then stay," you beg. "Please, Loki. Just stay."

For a fleeting moment, you see the temptation flicker in his eyes. The possibility of giving in, of holding on to you, even if it means defying the world. But then he pulls away, the distance between you more painful than any wound.

"I can’t," he says, his voice raw. "This is the only way."

"No," you say, shaking your head. "It doesn’t have to be."

But Loki steps back, the green light of a portal beginning to shimmer around him. "It does," he says. "For your sake, it does."

You lunge forward, your hands reaching for him as though you could anchor him to you, but the portal hums to life, and his form begins to fade.

"I love you," you cry out, the words spilling from you in desperation.

He pauses, his gaze locking with yours one last time. "And I love you," he says, his voice breaking. "More than you’ll ever know."

And then he’s gone, the portal closing with a soft hum, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You sink to your knees, your sobs lost to the roar of the sea below. The pain of his absence is a physical ache, a hollow void where his presence used to be.

When you finally rise, the weight of the lie presses down on you once more. But this time, it feels heavier, the burden of his sacrifice carving a deeper wound in your heart.

You wipe your tears, steeling yourself for what lies ahead. If Loki can bear the weight of this lie for your sake, then you will bear it for his. But as you make your way back to the palace, the ache in your chest reminds you of the truth you’ll carry with you always.

The weeks that follow Loki’s departure are a blur of hollow duties and forced smiles. You carry the weight of the kingdom’s expectations on your shoulders, playing your part as the celebrated hero who triumphed over the God of Mischief. Every day is an act, every word you speak a carefully crafted lie to preserve the peace Loki sacrificed so much to give.

But the nights are different.

The nights are when the silence swallows you whole, when the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. It’s when you remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name. It’s when you whisper his name into the void, knowing he cannot hear you, and wonder if he’s as lost in the darkness as you are.

You try to move on. You try to focus on your duties, on rebuilding the kingdom in the wake of the chaos Loki helped avert. You attend council meetings, oversee treaties, and settle disputes, all with the grace and composure your people expect. But beneath the surface, the grief festers, a constant reminder of the man you lost.

And yet, despite the pain, there’s a part of you that clings to hope. The memory of the portal shimmering to life, of Loki stepping through it, lingers in your mind. He’s out there somewhere, you tell yourself. He’s alive.

One night, the hope becomes too much to ignore. Draped in a simple cloak, you slip out of the palace once again, retracing the familiar path to the cliffs where you last saw him. The journey is as treacherous as before, the jagged rocks and roaring sea below a stark reminder of the fragility of this moment.

When you reach the clearing, your heart pounds in your chest. The moonlight bathes the cliffs in silver, the wind whispering through the silence. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before calling out to him.

"Loki," you say, your voice steady despite the tears already threatening to spill. "It’s me."

The only answer is the sound of the waves crashing below.

"Please," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I just need to see you. Just once more."

The silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating. You wait, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of him, any flicker of green light. But the cliffs remain empty, the only movement the swaying of the grass in the wind.

You try again, louder this time. "Loki, I know you can hear me! Please, don’t shut me out."

Your voice echoes into the night, but there’s no response. No shimmer of a portal, no familiar figure stepping out of the darkness.

He’s not coming.

The realization hits you like a physical blow, and your legs buckle beneath you. You sink to your knees, the tears you’ve been holding back spilling over as sobs wrack your body.

"You promised me," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You promised you loved me."

The words are lost to the wind, and you bury your face in your hands, the grief consuming you. You cry until your throat is raw, until the stars blur above you, until the ache in your chest becomes unbearable.

Eventually, the sobs subside, leaving you drained and hollow. You lift your head, staring out at the horizon where the sea meets the sky. The moonlight glints off the waves, a cruel reminder of the beauty that continues on despite your heartbreak.

Loki is gone, and no amount of pleading will bring him back.

You stand slowly, your body trembling with the effort. As you turn to leave, you take one last look at the clearing, hoping against hope that he’ll appear. But the space remains empty, and you force yourself to walk away.

The journey back to the palace is a blur, your mind numb and your heart heavier than ever. By the time you reach your chambers, dawn is breaking, the first rays of sunlight casting a warm glow over the cold stone walls.

You collapse onto your bed, the exhaustion of the night catching up with you. As sleep claims you, your last thought is of Loki—of his voice, his touch, his love.

But when you wake, you know what you must do.

The days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months. The ache of Loki’s absence never fully fades, but you learn to live with it. You throw yourself into your duties with renewed determination, using your grief as fuel to rebuild your kingdom.

The people continue to look up to you, their faith in you unshaken. They see you as the hero who vanquished the God of Mischief, the beacon of hope in their darkest hour. And though the lie still weighs on you, you wear it like armor, a shield against the pain that threatens to consume you.

There are moments when the grief feels overwhelming—when you hear a voice that reminds you of Loki’s or see a flash of green that makes your heart leap. But you push those feelings aside, burying them beneath the mask of composure you’ve perfected.

You find solace in small victories: a treaty signed, a village rebuilt, a child laughing in the streets. These moments remind you of why Loki made his sacrifice, of the peace he gave you the chance to preserve.

And though you carry the pain of his absence, you also carry the memory of his love. It’s a bittersweet comfort, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, he chose to protect you.

One night, as you stand by the window of your chambers, staring at the stars, you whisper his name. It’s not a plea this time, nor a call for him to return. It’s a quiet acknowledgment of what you’ve lost, of the love that will always remain.

"Loki," you say softly, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I hope you’ve found peace."

And though the wind carries your words into the night, you imagine that somewhere, somehow, he hears you.

You close your eyes, the weight of the moment settling over you like a warm embrace. The grief will always be a part of you, but so will the love. And as you open your eyes and look out at the horizon, you feel a glimmer of hope—a reminder that life, no matter how painful, will go on.

You will carry the truth. You will carry the love.

And though no one mourns the wicked, you will mourn him. Always.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

My Bonnie Gallops Over the Ocean 

Mermay 2025!

Summary: A follow on from mine and Gallifrey's collab known as Crab Boil. This can be read as stand alone but that fic Will ad some extra Flavor~

Link to my Reblog of That Fic Here

Warning: Unintentional microaggresion, Social Awkwardness, Arson, Accusations of witch craft, execution, a massacre (I Mean It, It Gets Brutal) self doubt, self hatred and fear of judgment. 

Edit I Forgot the Tag Lists!!

Ahhh!

@moodymisty @boop-le-snoot @angronsjewelbeetle @jaghatai-khock

@passionofthesith @bispecsual @bleedingichorhearts @beckyninja

@sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @legionsofthehungry @i-am-a-dragon34

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Khopesh hums to himself as he waits on a rock outcrop above the water. The mid to late day waves swish baaaaack and fooooorth, baaaaack and fooooorth. His sharp teeth turn up into a smile as he recalls what brought him here. 

“It's called a metronome.” Lullaby excitedly discussed, showing him the old human gadget. “I haven't touched it in Years, but I spent ages in front of a piano with this little thing helping me learn.”

“It can go Sloooooooow.” And thus does Lullaby set it as such and places it in his hands. 

Tock……

…… Tock

Tock……

The electronic beats are small, and would be grating if they were louder, but the feeling of the mechanism's beeps and rhythm is strangely calming. 

“And they can go-” You crank the dial to the fastest apex. 

TockTockTockTockTockTockTockTockTockTockTockTockTock…

The little device makes Khopesh's tail flick with interest as it makes beats faster than he believes a baseline human playing an instrument could conceivably move. How strange! 

“Older ones have a swinging pendulum. It kinda reminds me of the waves…tick tock tick tock.” They smile, tilting their head in sync as they turn the dial to make the pace more moderate. “and it reminds me how You also come and go to a perfect beat.”

Khopesh giggles to himself, it tickles him that his Lullaby was reminded of him even when he wasn't there. 

He remembers being fascinated by the little item. Especially the satisfying scritch of the dial as he turned it back and forth. 

His Lullaby had noted his interest. “If you like it… I was thinking…if you wanted, I could give you one? It would be a New one of course! And waterproof obviously.” They say. “I just figured you might find it kinda cool since songs and music seem to be important to your kind.” They offer. 

Khopesh perks up. A gift?? A Gift? THIS IS A GIFT FOR HIIIIIM??? Khopesh's ear fins wiggle with excitement! Not realizing he missed the offer of a completely New item. 

His expression may not be the best because Lullaby fumbles over their next words. “Ah not implying you need help staying on beat, I just thought you'd think it was a cool item so ah so-”

But Khopesh is already trilling with delight. He hugs the small item to his chest with happiness! 

A gift! A gift for hiiiiim! He's so Happy! He literally flips over backwards in the air. 

“I am honored to be given this!” He proclaims, and his spiking energy goes even higher. He suddenly (but carefully) grasps his Lullaby's face and gets in kinda too close. Lullaby's face goes Very red but Khopesh kinda misses that too in his haste. “Oh! I Must find a proper gift to give you in return!!!” He turns already thinking in his head about what or who he can contact. 

Lullaby protests. “Woah woah wait a minute that one is Waaaaay too old to be used as a gift. You deserve a nice new one! Not to mention one that's actually water proof!”

But Khopesh doesn't fully hear Lullaby calling after him as he air swims off to start his quest for a nice gift. And because they will have exchanged Gifts maybe then he could…a blush erupts over his skin. 

Maybe he could ask them about entering into a proper courtship. He already Adores them as a friend and confidant so…maybe they could be more. 

Oh he hopes he isn't pushing too hard! He wants so badly to be in their life. 

But! Before he can even Have that conversation he needs a proper reciprocal gift. And so here he is now…waiting, the Metronome is still in his hands and he happily turns to the different settings to feel and hear the ticks until a familiar dark shape and new Less dark shape appear on the horizon of his vision. 

“Claudy! -Oop!” He calls happily, and Almost slides into the water until he catches himself and makes sure he and his treasure are flying above the water. 

“Brother Cousin.” Claude trills happily, and beside him is…an Ultramarine. “It is good to see you!”

Khopesh chimes back with the same voice in response. The large (possibly another Pri-mar-is??) Ultramarine seems confused and slightly taken aback.

“This is the one who has requested our help?” The big blue bean counter asks with both interest and hesitance.

Claude nods. “Yes! Worry not Olly. Like I said Khopesh is eccentric, but very generous.”

Khopesh grins genuinely with his full sharp teeth. He's…trying to look friendly. 

“Is that a Seiko Quartz SQ50 Battery Powered Metronome?” Olly asks, his eyes drawn to the object held lovingly in Khopesh's hands. 

Khopesh, on habit, pulls the item closer to himself. He remembers items being stolen from him as a neophyte, and how his tormentor's blood tasted when he snapped his jaws closed on their impolite hands. He lets out a low growl. “Why do you want to know?” 

Olly glances away, suddenly self conscious. “Oh ah…no reason…I was just curious...sorry.” He mumbles, his face dipping partially below the waves. 

“Oh Olly it's okay! Nightlords are just protective of their things! He knows you're not going to try and take it.” Claude comforts the larger Marine. 

Oh…he got overly defensive again. Dammit. Something in his heart tugs. 

“Here, come out of the water cousin.” Khopesh gestures, and asks in a much calmer, kinder voice. 

Olly looks to Claude, who nods, and the Ultramarine comes to float above the water. Claude follows too. 

“This is my treasure.” Khopesh explains. “It was given to me by someone Very special to me so I do not want others to touch it. But I will let you hear its song.” He turns the dial to a slow moderate pace. 

Tock…Tock…Tock…Tock…

Claude…doesn't Fully get it. It's not really a Song but it makes beats to keep pace With a song. They gave him an old teaching tool as a gift?? Maybe it's his preference for shiny or handmade things, but it being a mass produced mostly plastic item seems like an odd gift.

“OoOh,” Claude glances over to see Olly is Completely fixated, gently swaying his head and even the end of his tail with the beat. “I see…” His eyes are almost sparkling. “I've seen this model before as I happened to find it while reading about items named after Quartz minerals. It's not Nearly as old or venerated as the wooden and metal metronomes from before the industrial revolution, but many young music students used these about a decade or two ago. They were a common tool for many across the globe and the brand still makes new versions today. Many of the older versions were not well kept and often ended up discarded.” Olly rambles with a smile. 

“This is a tiny piece of Terran history. So small…but So fascinating! Made for such a simple purpose and yet part of so many lives and stories!” 

Khopesh smiles, his ear fins wiggle with delight at Olly Getting it (at least from a broader perspective). “See! That's why it's so precious to me! It was part of my Lullaby's life that they look back on fondly!” He exclaims. “It's like they're trying to share some of themself with me. Letting me see a piece of their past!” Khopesh snuggles the old item to his cheek and purrs. 

Ah, that makes more sense. Claude thinks, sentimental value is one of the highest aspects of value for a gift after all. 

“And That is why I called you both Here! I require your aid in finding the Perfect reciprocal gift!” Khopesh's wriggling energy returns as he thinks excitedly about all the possibilities! He turns his attention to Olly. 

“Claude told me You have skill with finding good rocks cousin!” 

Olly perks up. “Ah! Yes, I love a good rock. I know many that pair well with different fish and certain types of seaweed.”

Khopesh tilts his head in confusion. “Ah…what?” 

Claude gently bumps Olly and whispers. “I don't think he or Lullaby can eat rocks Olly.”

Olly blushes in embarrassment. “Ah! Sorry cousin.”

Khopesh snrks a bit, but not out of unkindness. “It is alright cousin! I am actually curious what rocks taste like myself! But well…” He pulls his lips back with one hand to show his sharp rows of teeth. “My maw isn't quite built for such things.” 

Olly again, calms and actually smiles genuinely. “Ah…I would be happy to show you some time, if you are amenable to that…I wouldn't want to presume.”

Khopesh cackles, and claps the nervous Pri-mar-is on the shoulder. “I will gladly take you up on the offer another day! For now I require a rock that is beautiful for the eyes, not the mouth.” 

“In fact I have the perfect idea! But I need help finding it. Tell me, have either of you heard of Ammonites?”

Olly nods excitedly. “They are common but venerated fossils of hard shelled animals from the past! Is that what you wish to find as your gift?”

Khopesh nods. “Yes! And Even better I have heard of a certain phenomenon that occurs in certain fossils.” He gets in close and whispers as if it is some grand secret. “Opalization.”

Claude has heard a little about such fossils as they trade for a slightly higher price than those without it. 

Olly meanwhile cannot contain the excited swishing of his tail, and his hands begin to flap a little. “Yes! Rather than normal stone replacing the biological parts of the animal, the minerals that compose opal coalesce into the shape of the extinct creature Or become embedded along with other minerals! It leaves a beautiful shine behind and on some specimens makes them akin to sculptures made of the jewel!” 

“Exactly! It is the Perfect reciprocal gift for my Lullaby! They adore creatures of the land and sea and have told me of their love for fossils and gemstones!” Khopesh gestures animatedly while still keeping careful hold of his treasure. 

Claude takes notice. “Brother Khopesh, I think you should place your ite- I mean your treasure in your water proof storage pack.”

Khopesh sighs a bit. “I Know but well…” He clicks the small compartment on the waist of his utility belt, and shows that the interior Does have water in it…which it shouldn't. “When I fell here I was unharmed but my armor and storage packs took a beating, that's why I haven't worn my armor in some time. I've been meaning to get them fixed, but just kept pushing it back.” He slumps down a bit. 

Olly chimes in. “Would you like a boater's lanyard?”

Khopesh perks up, as Olly continues, shuffling through his own pack. 

“It's another niche Terran item I found at one of the seaside settlements. It allows baselines who work in and near the water to keep electronic items on their person. It can also be used to hold items they generally do not want dampened.” Olly explains bringing out the small plastic shell that has a cord attached. 

Before he hands it off, Olly dunks the shell into the sea water while it's still closed, then brings it back up. He opens the shell and shows that indeed there is no water in it. 

“Ah yes! Thank you!” Khopesh's tail swipes back and forth happily as he takes the shell into his hands. He places his treasure inside, and hangs the lanyard on his neck. He likes how it rests against his hearts.

“Alright!” Khopesh claps his hands together. “Let's go! Lead the way Cousin!”

Olly smiles nervously, his hands tap the fingers together as he thinks. “Hmm..well the best place to look is on rocky shorelines. Opals can form almost anywhere there is silica and moisture, so the type of rock isn't as great an issue for that part.” He details as he begins to swim, Claude and Khopesh follow. “But Ammonites are more commonly found where there are sedimentary rocks. I think I know a place that might have what we're looking for.”

“It's also near a human settlement! I've done trade with some of them before! If we cannot find the perfect ammonite ourselves, we may be able to trade for it!” 

They cut through the waves, Claude and Khopesh exchange news and sounds and gossip. Olly chimes in occasionally with his own tidbits, and Claude is grateful to see Khopesh respond kindly to this. 

They come to the larger human port that lies down the coast from his Lullaby's farmhouse, and specifically they start scouring the rocky ledges and tide pools. 

“We need to look for round stones. Ones that look almost spherical. They are called nodules and can even be attached to or found inside larger rocks! Those could have fossils embedded inside!” Olly exclaims as he flits from spot to spot, eager to help his brother and cousin with this task. 

Claude finds his heart warm seeing Olly so eager and happy, and is further gladdened that he decided to take a chance when interacting with Khopesh. 

Soon they do find a few of the nodules Olly spoke of. Khopesh finds two in a tide pool, and attached to a larger rock respectively. Claude finds one on a high rock face near where the seabirds nest. Olly finds four all on his own as he flits about and cracks open larger, mostly flat rocks. 

“Alright Olly, let's see what we've got!” Khopesh rubs his hands together with excitement. 

But the Ultramarine hesitates. “Ah well…it might be better if we take these to someone with the proper tools.” He explains shyly. “Breaking them open isn't difficult, but we might break the fossil inside as well.”

Claude nods astutely. “Ah you're right. We wouldn't want to find the perfect gift only to break it before we can properly see it.”

Khopesh sucks in some air at the thought. “Ouch ah No you're right…well who can we go to?”

Olly smiles. “There's a shop in this town, a blacksmith and jewelry shop run by a Salamander and his partner.” His expression becomes a little…unsure. “They’re…a bit of an odd pairing so Please let me do the talking. And don't make any odd comments.”

Khopesh huffs, and waves his hand with a humorous dismissive gesture. “Please! I will be on my Best behavior!”

Claude also smiles wryly. “Yeah Olly, I think we can handle ourselves.”

10 Minutes Later Now Standing in The Hooved Drake's Smith Shop. 

Claude feels he's about to eat crow as he looks over the happy couple in front of him. 

“...You have Horse Legs.” Khopesh points out cheerfully. 

Olly…facepalms. 

Claude feels a mix of mortification, and embarrassment. Partially because of Khopesh's bluntness, and because he was also thrown off by the same thing. 

Khopesh simply smiles, utterly unaware of the odd comment he made. But it is made less odd by the fact it wasn't said with malice. Khopesh is just too curious for his own good. His tail wags while he holds the nodules in his arms. 

“I've never met someone with your features before! But I suppose if avian humanoids exist in the form of the harpies it is not Too great a surprise.” Khopesh supplies.

Pyrus, Olly's contact, hums and gives a pointed Look. “There are indeed many diverse magical creatures on Terra. They may be different but they are All part of its splendor.” 

Khopesh does Somewhat realize he must have said something bad given the protective posture the Salamander has. His long lava rock patterned tail has been lightly wrapped around his bonded since they came in. 

Luckily the saytr with beautifully braided hair, and warm brown skin smiles. Their hair shimmers with different ornaments that are clearly all handmade. “Well I suppose I can say the same for the two of you. I've never seen a mer with black eyes, let alone two of them.” They say with a charming warmth. “My Name is Ogun, I am of the Saytr people. And specifically I have the features of a Friesian horse.”

Khopesh smiles, trying to look less scary despite his teeth. “I am Khopesh, Night Lord Scout. I have patches on my tail that fluoresce in the dark, and hide venomous spines. And I have a request for you.” He dips his posture to show off the nodules he carries. 

Olly chimes in. “Khopesh wishes to find an ammonite with opalization so he may give it as a gift. We found these and hoped you could help us open them so as to not damage the fossils that might be inside.”

Pyrus's partner smiles and giggles. “Ooh! Sounds Very familiar.” 

Pyrus in turn blushes fiercely. “Well to be Fair, I fetched You a piece of coral, not a fossil. But the sentiment is quite sweet to come from a…”

“A Nightlord?” Khopesh smiles, now giving a pointed look. 

Pyrus excuses himself with an embarrassed Ahem, and that he will fetch the tools so they can unearth the fossils. 

Meanwhile Ogun takes the rocky spheres to a work table, and begins examining them, trying to find the best places to chip at them. 

The boys give Ogun some space to work. Meanwhile, Pyrus mentions letting them peruse the other items in the shop, and even offers some refreshment to them in the form of homemade fruit punch and water. 

It's an offer the boys see akin to being let loose in a candy shop! Olly and Claude peruse the weapons, ores, and decorative items. Khopesh quickly takes the offered fruit juice, and joins in.

At one point Khopesh does ask something of Pyrus while Claude and Olly play. 

“May I ask, did I say something untoward to your mate?” Khopesh asks, he's not trying to stir more trouble, but he feels he should still ask. 

Pyrus sighs a little. “Not…technically. But there Are others who have said such things.” He murmurs.

Khopesh is confused slightly. “They spoke badly of your partner?” With an unspoken In front of You?? Following the statement. 

Pyrus grimaced. “Yes, because to some the idea of an Astarte being paired with anything but a baseline human, or paired at all, is aberrant.”

Khopesh snorts. “How does that make any sense? This world is full of humanoid magic creatures. Surely some would bond with Astartes. Claude's family is full of Harpies for Curze's sake.” 

Pyrus shrugs. “Does prejudice for such things Ever make sense?”

Khopesh hums. “True. We Nightlords have a saying ‘All flesh bleeds the same. Most important is what's beneath…And how it stitches.’” He purrs.

Pyrus…looks a bit disturbed, but he understands the idea Khopesh is trying to illustrate. “Ah…I see.” He coughs to clear the tension. “At any rate we knew your words were from curiosity, not spite. Just be careful in the future not to blurt out other's features at random. Others may not take it as well.”

Khopesh nods. “That is good advice cousin. I will be sure to follow it.”

After about an hour, Ogun calls them over to see what they've found. But their expressions are a bit mixed. And due to the spheres behind them it makes sense. 

Khopesh's shoulders slump as he sees that half the nodules they brought in are empty. “I don't understand.”

Olly puts a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry Cousin, nodules can also form without fossils inside, it seems we were unlucky.”

The others are fortunately inhabited by ammonites, but they have very little opalization if any. They're lovely fossils, and one is even bursting with layered Ammonites but none are exactly what Khopesh had hoped for. 

Ogun sees his disappointment and chimes in. “Well none of These may be exactly what you wanted, but you've still got some nice finds here.” They say, holding up the nodule that is filled with ammonites. “Especially this one! Once it's polished it'll be a beauty. Perfect for decoration in a house. Are you sure your gifted person wouldn't like it?”

Khopesh thinks for a moment. “No…I think they would be grateful. They're always so kind and enthusiastic…” He hums. “I suppose I wanted one with opalization because they love fossils And gemstones. So it would be even more perfect than the fossil alone.”

Ogun thinks for a moment. “You know…you Could take a look at some of the fossils and jewelry we have in stock. Depending on the price, we may find one you could trade these for.” 

Khopesh perks up. “Do you have ones with opalization?” His tail wags with excitement. 

Ogun nods and laughs with delight. “Indeed we do, my friend. Indeed we do.”

A little bit later Khopesh has found it. The Perfect gift for his Lullaby. He holds the small (for his hands) ammonite up to the light. It is polished and smooth, only a few rough or rocky patches remaining as grinding further could damage the specimen. 

And the Opalization! Rather than crystalline blue the lines appear firey with gold, red and green reflection as if mimicking the placement of the creature's stripes in life. 

And though others might dislike it, there is a perfectly natural pin prick hole, perfect for binding a jewelry wire to. His Lullaby will be able to wear his gift just as he wears theirs. 

Pyrus whispers to his partner. “Is that not one of the specimens we discounted due to the imperfections?”

Ogun shrugs. “Is anything truly imperfect if it is Exactly what someone wants?”

Pyrus smiles. “True.”

Khopesh doesn't really hear the exchange, and is immediately and eagerly asking “What is your price? And ah, would it be possible to purchase your labor to make this a necklace?”

Ogun nods. “I'd been happy to do a simple set up for you, I'll even make the cord water resistant And adjustable so your special person can shorten or lengthen it as they please.” They take the ammonite and proceed to their work table as Pyrus negotiates the final trade parameters. 

Khopesh is happy to hand over all the nodules to them for their trouble, even the empty ones can be broken further for materials or sold to Iron Hands as snacks. Although he withholds one of the empty ones, when he notices Olly staring at it longingly. 

“I will part with all but one. Brother Cousin Oleanderos, choose whichever suits your taste.” Khopesh declares. 

Olly perks up, but smiles gratefully. “Thank you Cousin Khopesh!” He gleefully grabs a mid-sized empty nodule and stows it so he can snack on it later. 

Soon his gift is stored away and their group is swimming back, it is already deep in the evening with the last flickers of the dazzling sunset coloring the horizon. But if they all hurry they can arrive in time for a Crab Sing. 

“What is a crab song?” Olleanderos asks. 

“Crab Sing.” Claude corrects and then smiles. “You'll see, it's a lot of fun. And will give Khopesh a good opportunity to present his gift.”

Khopesh is about to laughingly hush his cheeky brother but…something stops him. A scent on the breeze. 

Smoke? 

It's not the smell of cooking food. Or even of burning food. It smells…larger, of wood and…

Hay…

Khopesh doubles his speed, the others follow behind and call to him in confusion. 

“Something is wrong!” He calls back. “I can Feel it! Don't you smell that?”

Once it's pointed out the two younger mers catch on, and their speed takes on further urgency as they can See the smoke plumes rising. 

Dark, Black, Choking and Acrid…

My Lullaby! No No No NO my Lullaby! Please! Please don't let it be them!! Khopesh begs but his prayers go unanswered. 

The Mer Astartes enter the small cove-like beach where Khopesh had visited just mere hours ago. And what they see shakes them to their core. 

The farmhouse is engulfed in flames, the barn is beginning to catch due to the wind blown embers and it’s filled with the sounds of panicked horses. A small shape throws the main doors open and runs inside. 

Khopesh flies from the water without thinking, and immediately storms into the barn. 

“LULLABY!” He cries with relief seeing his Lullaby throwing open stall doors so their beasts can escape. They turn to him. 

“Khopesh! Oh thank God you're here! I need your help!” They cry. “Open the doors!”

Khopesh doesn't hesitate, he begins ripping doors open and the large beasts plow past him into the forest and land beyond the farm. 

“Go! RUN AWAY!” They cry out, begging their animals to save themselves. 

Luckily the beasts have a sense of preservation, some even flee in the direction of the water. All of them are released as not a moment too soon as the smoke is beginning to fill this space. 

“T-thank-Cough! Cough! Thank goodness you're- Here!” Lullaby says, ducking lower to escape the smoke. 

Khopesh doesn't immediately respond, instead sweeping his Lullaby up into his arms, and carrying them out of the barn. 

They slump against him, he in turn purrs in relief, trying to soothe his Lullaby. “My…my home. My barn…anyway to -Cough Cough!- save it?” They rasp. 

Khopesh whispers quick fervent promises. “Of course! Of course, just let me get you to safety! Claude! Olleanderos! WHERE ARE YOU!?” 

Khopesh looks around, seeing nothing but the shape of dancing fire. Hearing nothing but the snap of timber and crackles of the flames. The water in the cove is still. 

But how? They were right behind me! 

“Claude! Olleanderos! ANSWER ME!” He bellows, then turns to his vox in desperation. 

“Alliance, Alliance Forces come in! I am Khopesh Nightlord Scout, a fire has broken near the port of Gannet Point and two of my fellow Astartes have vanished! Please send hel-”

SMACK! 

A hard blow catches him off guard, not a piece of falling timber, but a concussive armored fist that sends him reeling. 

He drops your limp body, as he ends up splayed before your burning domicile. His head spinning, he tries to get up, only to find himself forcefully pinned by armored hands. 

“If you had let the witch burn. You would not have been struck, Nightlord.” A stern yet seethingly smug voice announces. 

The mismatched images of his vision try to focus and he realizes he isn't alone. 

One…two…three…four…five…

Fucking Curze shit five Black Templars in various levels of armor. A Chaplain and his Toothache of squirming little Emperor's choir boys surround him. 

And being held prisoner by them as well is Claude and Olleanderos. Their captors have them held physically, and bound with Astartes grade restraints; including the kind that disables their air swimming ability. Khopesh notices they've clearly had to use double the amount for Olly.  “They ambushed us as we tried to follow you from the water.” Claude shouts. 

“They overwhelmed us with numbers! I'm sorry Brother!! -Ahrg!” Olly cries, only to have his tail stabbed by one of his captors with a “Silence Abomination!” snarled for his trouble. 

Khopesh struggles and snarls and bares his fangs, but the Chaplain doesn't even pay him any mind besides a quickly spoken “Silence his mouth.”

“I'LL RIP YOUR SPINE FROM YOUR BACK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR-MRPHPH!” A restraint is slapped across his face, were it not for the armored hands he'd have sunk his teeth in and ripped them off. 

“I do this for your own salvation. Though I firmly believe you are unworthy of such.”  The Chaplain states as he grabs your body with a single hand, and hauls you to your feet. “For this Wretched Witch Whore has beguiled our brethren with their saccharine disguise!”

“Burn the Heretic!” “No Mercy for the Witch!” “Death to the enemies of mankind!” The Templars cheer. 

Khopesh can do nothing but watch as the Chaplain roughly tosses you to the cliff of the cove. 

Where you'd always feed them crabs. 

Where you'd sing songs with him. 

Where he'd mimic the sounds of sea creatures for you. 

Where he truly fell in love with you. 

And now he watches helplessly as you stumble to your feet, lit by the smoldering inferno of your house. 

“Feeding and enchanting our brethren with your poisonous wiles! Turning them from the Emperor's Light, softening their souls so they may be corrupted. But No More!” The Chaplain snarls. “I will Purge this evil from Holy Terra's shores! One foul heretic at a time!!” The Chaplain unsheathes his chain sword as his followers cheer. The other Black Templars continue their cheers and surround the cliff, in a half circle. He can hear Olly and Claude fighting against their binds, but everything fades to the background. 

You stare at your fate, seeing your haggard and fearful reflection in the blade. 

“Any last words, before I deliver you to the Emperor's mercy?” The large Astartes asks. 

You look to your house, now fully bloomed into an oppressive wall of heat. You look to your loved ones, then to the ocean below you. 

You make your choice. 

“Please…If you're Really a man of your word, let my friends and my animals go in peace once you've killed me.” You say. 

The Chaplain doesn't reply. So you continue. 

Olly and Claude protest only to be cowed again. 

“You claim to be a savior! A man on a Holy Crusade so Please, Please offer them your mercy once your bloodlust is satisfied! No one else deserves to die for my transgressions!” You beg, “And let my body return to the ocean. So it's waters can wash away my guilt.” 

The Chaplain seems satisfied with your groveling, even taking Enjoyment in it. “Very well.” He agrees. 

You turn to Khopesh, he still struggles, screeching and begging despite the gag in his mouth. You look to Claude, and the other Marine who must be their friend. 

You smile. “I'm…So Happy I got to know you Khopesh. I'm so happy to have had you in my life. I just wish…I got to know you m-OrRk!”

Blood. 

Pain.

A sword plunged right through your middle. 

The Chaplain's uncaring hand, pushes you back off his weapon. 

You fall into the waves. In the distance you hear the sounds of hooves and frantic horse calls. 

Khopesh breaks, both his heart and the cover on his mouth. 

"Nnmph! NO! NOOOOOAAOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

His screams echo, his innate power as an Angler coming through despite his lack of other gifts. His voice bounces and amplifies as he screams. It causes the Templars around him to flinch and tremble. 

“GAG HIM DAMN YOU! IF ANY OF HIS KIND HEARS HIM THEY'LL BE DRAWN HERE!” The Chaplain yells. 

The armored altar boy holding him moves to put another gag on him. 

Khopesh whips his tail, he cannot air swim due to the restraints but he's still able to flip upside down and catch the templar's neck and helmet-less head in a bind. He jerks his entire body, so the venomous spines on his tail shoot out.

“RrRAAAAAGH!” The little bastard screams as his head and neck are skewered. He falls to the ground writhing and twitching. 

His venom will work quickly but it may not be enough to kill. Another rushes to his brother's side until the Chaplain barks to stay where he is. 

The Templar hesitates, but leaves his brother on the ground, seemingly too fearful to challenge his chaplain. 

“You fucking Traitor Bastard!” The Chaplain snarls and grabs Khopesh. He's still restrained and cannot move as swiftly as he normally would. “You've just ruined whatever mercy your Witch Whore's begging earned you, Traitor.” 

Khopesh doesn't answer but struggles and snaps, utterly overcome by rage. In his desperation, the Chaplain notices his lanyard. 

“Well well…what have we here?” He growls, easily breaking the cord from the Nightlord and tossing him to the ground. 

The Chaplain rips open the shell and pulls out his treasure. 

The last piece of you. 

The Chaplain grins. Power tripping bastard, I'll flay you! I'll flay you while you're still awake and breathing! 

“This carries the Witch whore's scent. Nothing may remain of their Filth, so this too should be eliminated.” The Chaplain begins to tighten his fist, causing the plastic to begin to Crack.

“No! NO! DAMN YOU STOP IT! STOP IT YOU BASTARD!” Khopesh snarls, with the restraints suppressing his air swimming ability he can only snarl and flop uselessly. 

The Chaplain laughs wretchedly and slams his long tail into Khopesh, sending him reeling back from the strike to his gut. He ends up next to the poisoned Templar ironically. “Worry not Curze Spawn, you'll be joining them soon.”

…splish…drip…drip…

The Chaplain continues his gloating, but Khopesh's dark sensitive eyes pick up something moving in the darkness behind the now smoldering light of the fire. 

Beyond the cliff you'd fallen from, in the light of the moon, long…arms?

Two wide spread hands too distorted to be human. Ten wicked curved claws glinting in the moonlight. 

And the color, deep, bleeding red, like flayed flesh. 

“Chaplain! Look out!” One of his underlings screams. He turns but it's too late. 

The long strangling arms ensnare the Chaplain, wicked claws digging into whatever flesh they can pierce and one even breaks the lense of the Chaplains helmet and by the sounds gouges his eye. 

His cries become choked and gasping, like the very presence of those limbs is paralyzing him. He trembles, as a horrific form climbs up the cliff and slowly becomes more clear in the dying fire's light. 

It's entire form appears flayed and skinless, it's face has sunken dark eyes and exposed teeth akin to a human skull. Kelp like structures stand in for hair as Flayed skinless equine legs find purchase at the top of the cliff, pulling the creature's body and second head up to show it has the form of a literal night mare. 

No one moves, the aura of the ghastly thing seems to pin everyone in place. It's damp dripping face comes to whisper in the Chaplain's ear in a voice that makes Khopesh's heart jump. 

“You broke…your promise...” 

“NEIGHEEHEHHEHEARGH!!” An inhuman cry rips through the night, a sickening stomach twisting mix of equine and human vocals that overwhelm the Chaplain's cries.  

“Templars! Save-meUrglel!” The Chaplain is yanked off the cliff and into the waters below. 

SPLOOSH!

““Chaplain!”” Two of the Templars abandon their hold over Olly and Claude to chase their leader, the other begins to follow but hesitates, then turns to his poisoned brother. 

Olly uses his new freedom and his impressive strength to break his restraints. Then he rips them off Claude followed by Khopesh. 

“Thank You!” Khopesh says with shaky relief.

“What the hell is that Thing?” Claude asks, actually trembling. 

Khopesh feels a similar cocktail of stress, but rather than feeling fear he feels exhilaration. “I think it's on our side.”

Flashes from ammunition being spent light up the cove as the Templars fight this being in the dark. 

“And I, for one, am Eager to lend it my aid.” Khopesh snarls, diving off the cliff and immediately ambushing one of the Templars, who screams as the Nightlord begins to rip him apart. 

“Wait!” Olly says, holding Claude back. “What about them?” He gestures to the injured Templar and the attending Templar. 

“We should restrain them. For questioning.”

“We should make sure they cannot interfere.” 

“...”

SMACK! Olly uses his snack rock and whams it into the conscious Templar's head, he crumbles on top of his other brother. 

“Good work.” Claude compliments. 

“Thank you.” Olly responds before slapping the same restraints that bound them onto their captors. 

Now onto the main battle. 

The two join the fray, Claude moves into the shadows. Teleporting behind one of the Templars, while Olly takes the front as a distraction. 

Claude sends a bolter round point blank through his enemy’s head as Olly moves out of the way. 

Khopesh's Templar is bleeding out in the water, his face and mostly unarmored torso violently shredded. Olly doesn't hesitate, and crushes the Templar's skull so he cannot rise again (though Olly is fairly certain he's already dead…fairly certain.).

While Claude and Olly fight the others all that remains is the Chaplain, facing two enemies in the water. Long arms and claws strike out at the desperate half blind Astarte, while Khopesh swims circles around him and uses hit and run tactics as he lacks armor. 

On the next jump Khopesh screams using his powerful Angler voice to stagger his enemy and Crack the Chaplain's remaining helmet lens. He recovers but just before the Templar can pull his bolter. 

The malevolent voice and form of the flayed creature erupts from behind him, huge elongating clawed arms snatch the Chaplain as equine hooves bear down.

“NO! NO! EMPEROR! SAVE ME!” 

CRaCk SPLASH! CRACK SPLOOSH CRACK! CrACK!

CRACK!

The sickening sounds of a splitting skull and cracking bones fills the air as the creature beats the Chaplain's body to a bloody pulp. They even continue until the water fills with the swirling red of the Chaplain's blood. 

Soon, the rampage ends, the equine monster pants with exhaustion, it's human and horse parts moving in sync. They're both slumped in the water. The arms retract but still hang low, at their shortest length they would be able to lay their large palms on equal ground to their horse's hooves. 

No one moves for a moment. 

Claude whispers to Olly. “Should we…should we approach it?” 

“I don't know…it doesn't seem hostile? Ah to us I mean.” Olly responds. 

Khopesh…can't believe his eyes, the more he looks, the more sure he is. He swims toward…

You. 

“"Don't,"” A layered voice tells him, and that does cause him to stop for a moment but oh! Oh he knows that voice! Or one of those voices! "“Don't come closer.”"

“Lullaby?” Khopesh asks, feeling as if any moment his fragile hold will break and he will burst into grateful tears. 

The creature turns more, and Khopesh sees it. The structure of your face and  your torso has a large mark through the middle. 

A Scar. 

“Oh my Lullaby! My Lullaby!” Khopesh cries, unable to stop himself from flying and grasping for you. 

““Wait stop!”” You cry, keeping your fists balled as your equine half rears back out of his reach. “"We don't want to hurt you!"”

Khopesh pulls back and watches your…transparent face? In the moonlight he can see the watery shine on your skin; it's just less visible at the moment. “Why would I fear you my love? You Saved us!”

Your face emotes disbelief. “”Are you JOKING!? LOOK at us! LOOK at what We are! LOOK AT WHAT WE'RE CAPABLE OF!”” You gesture to the dead mangled body in the water. ““We are dangerous! We shouldn't! We shouldn't be like this…””

Khopesh's expression falls for a moment, you turn away. “How did you…become like this?” He isn't sure what else to say or ask. 

You glance back, before answering. “”We are…Fey Touched. Our whole family holds this trait.””

“Fey touched?” Claude asks. 

““Some creatures of magic are born. Others are…made. Some families hold a trait, whether it's due to genetics, a blessing, or a curse placed long ago…we receive gifts. We don't get to choose them, some are benign, some are beautiful and even useful and others…”” You look at your reflection. “”Others are like Us.””

Your invisible eyes meet his as you speak. “”We are Nuckalavee, we are two that become one when plunged beneath the waters together. The Ocean heals and protects us, and Our ancient legends say that our urges to drown and devour led us to be hunted to extinction. It is why…it is why we do not go in the water…””

“This…Fey touch? It would've changed you if you'd gone swimming with me, wouldn't it?” Khopesh suddenly understands why you seemed to be adverse to it, passing it off as not wanting to get wet. 

You nod. “”Yes, we are stronger together, but our human side would still change had they gone into the water. We…did not want you to see us this way…”” Your head hangs low before him,  ““That Chaplain was right about one thing…we should not exist.””

“Don't say that!” Khopesh snarls. Your form reels back in slight shock but he continues. “You are not Wrong! You are not Evil! THAT!” He growls pointing to the Chaplain's corpse. “THAT IS EVIL! BURNING YOUR HOME ON THE ASSUMPTION YOU WERE MAGIC! MAKING YOU GROVEL FOR OUR LIVES, FUCKING IMPALING YOU WITH A SWORD AND MAKING US WATCH!”

“YOU protected us! YOU saved our lives when that dead meat BASTARD went back on his word!” Khopesh urges coming closer. “You were protecting yourself and Others. You are not evil. You do not enjoy killing. Trust me I've seen what that looks like.”

“You are Not wrong for existing.” Khopesh declares, relieved tears coming to his eyes. “And I for one am so…So happy you are like this because it means I get to live more days with you.”

You pause for a moment, and your human and horse faces look at each other. Then…to his surprise, you dismount. 

“Oh so…they can still be separated in this form.” Olly examines. 

“That's…a relief.” Claude replies, still very unsure about what he's seeing. 

The water comes up to your waist as you approach Khopesh, you could walk on top of it if you wanted but…you don't. 

Your flesh is still translucent from the seawater. 

Your hair is still tangling, unnatural kelp. 

Your arms are long, and strange, and clawed, And stained with blood.

But in that moment, you cannot find it in yourself to care. You wrap them around Khopesh, who gladly returns the gesture, trembling and purring with all he has. 

“Lullaby! My Lullaby! You're wonderful!” He croons. “Precious and strong! I love you! I've loved you for so long!” He babbles, almost madly. 

You look up at him. “How long?” 

“I liked you when I first met you. You were interesting! Fun and hesitant, but still willing to play with me.” Khopesh cooes. “Then I came to love you as a friend, I wanted to spend more time with you! I cherished every moment! And now…” He looks at you, seriously. “And now my hearts burn for you- Ah wait bad word for right now! My hearts Yearn for you.”

Despite your pain, you smile. 

“You were my small joyful fascination. Then my cherished friend. In fact you still Are that!! But regardless what we have or haven't been I Love you all the more now because…” His shoulders begin to buckle as the sobs come. “B-because, I almost Lost you.”

You feel your own crying start up. “I…I feel the same way! I was just so scared!” You hold him tighter. “I was scared! If you knew my secret, you'd never want to speak to me again!” 

““IF YOU HURT RIDER. I BREAK YOU ON ROCKS AND RAKE YOU ACROSS SHARP SEA BEAKS!”’  Your voice suddenly comes out more distorted, which startles Khopesh until your human form turns back to your mount. 

“TUMI!” You chastise. “I'm sorry Khopesh, you know how protective Turmeric is…”

Khopesh…can't help but laugh with delight. “I'd sooner gouge my own eyes out with barnacles dear Mare.”

The horse doesn't send a message through you this time, instead snorting and stamping in the water. As if saying he damn well better keep his word. 

He will, oh by the stars and heavens above he Will keep his word. He purrs more, simply so happy to be holding you and that you are both alive.

“I'm sorry I couldn't save your metronome too. I actually had two of them but…” You glance back to the smoldering embers of your once prosperous home. 

It's then that Olleanderos chimes in. “Ah well, I happened to snag this before we jumped into battle.” He digs in his waterproof pack and holds up Khooesh's cracked treasure. “The Chaplain dropped it when you pulled him under.”

Khopesh's entire expression brightens further, his ear fins wriggling happily as he takes the item in his hand while keeping the other around you. 

“It appears mostly intact, though it may still need repairs if it is to sing again.” Olly explains. 

Khopesh smiles, holding the small device, and you close to his hearts. “Thank You Little Brothers, for helping me save my Treasure, Both of them.”

You rest your head on his chest, the sea water is starting to dry on certain areas of your skin, turning it more opaque as it does. Your slowly shrinking hands gently trace along the metronome as well. 

To think it's all that remains of your home is startling, but at least in this moment, you have hope. 

You have Tumi, your other horses and animals can be found and collected, and you have dear friends, a family, and a beloved who will help you get through this. The boys are speaking about contacting their friends and battle brothers to help clean up and rebuild at this very moment. 

You take the ammonite necklace as Khopesh finally has a chance to present it to you, and you gratefully place it on your throat. 

You love it, just as he hoped you would. 

Authors Note: HOLY SHIT WHY MY FICS ALWAYS END UP SO LOOOOOOONG!

[jcollinswrites]

hi, sorry in advance if this is already somewhere else on the blog, but how do we pronounce the RO names? or the character names in general

Narmer and Tabiry is quite straightforward I think and Qenna I assume is pronounced with a hard K sound, but is Zaia pronounced with the first syllable rhyming with lie or lay? (I anssime it’s the former and spoken in two syllables, but I guess it could be said in three syllables??)

and is the “e” in Ahmose pronounced as another syllable (making the total in his name three syllables)? Im guessing petmes is either peetmees or petmees or peetmes but idk lol so it’d be nice if you could clarify it :]

thanks!

I made a post once upon a time of how I pronounce the names. You can find it at the end of the ROs and NPCs link in the main post, but here it is again: link

The way I pronounce Petmes rhymes with the word 'endless'. The vowels are the same so it's like an 'eh' sound, both times.

Zaia is zaah-yaah, and Ahmose is tricky because Ahmose isn't even the original name. The original Egyptian name was something close to Yahmes (similar to Petmes, where 'mes' means child, and 'Yah' was the moon god, so Yahmes means Child of the Moon). The 'Ahmose' spelling probably comes from Greek, and the English translations just adopted it. Is the 'e' pronounced at the end? Who knows? Hieroglyphs didn't include vowels most of the time. I pronounce it as 'eh', but it could also be silent.

Interesting tidbits about the language and pronunciations under the cut if you wanna read further:

The thing is, we don't know how these words were pronounced. The original language completely died out more than two thousand years ago and they didn't write vowels in hieroglyphs, so when linguists try to imitate the pronunciation, that's just guesswork based on Coptic and other languages that came later and evolved from Ancient Egyptian.

The pronunciation and words changed a lot as well during the thousands of years when the language was in active use, just like how our own languages sound completely different from even 500 years ago.

Old Kingdom Egyptian was probably quite different from New Kingdom Egyptian because there was a thousand years between the two historic periods.

In the game, the characters use late-Middle Kingdom Egyptian, which was probably heavily influenced by Hyksos after the Second Intermediate period, when the Hyksos occupation took place. After the Hyksos were banished (around 1500 BC), it is possible that a linguistic reform took place to erase the Hyksos traces from the language, because pharaohs always loved to erase traces of the past they didn't like, which we have proof of. They constantly re-carved the texts on monuments to get rid of the evidence that the offending thing (or person) even existed. It is noticeable even today on the walls of temples and other monuments.

If Narmer was a real person, he would 100% do that. So the language they use in the game is already not exactly the same that people would have spoken even 50 or 100 years before. It is practically impossible to say what it was like.

And then later, that mix of a language evolved into New Kingdom Egyptian, which was in use for another good 500 years.

New Kingdom Egyptian evolved into Demotic Egyptian from around the 26th Dynasty (around 1000 BC).

Cleopatra VII (the famous one) was from what could be considered the 33rd Dynasty, so when she was alive (around 50 BC), people hadn't been using New Kingdom Egyptian for almost a thousand years. They spoke the then-newest version of Demotic Egyptian, which was heavily influenced by Greek and Aramaic, so it was not the same as the older versions.

By 200 CE, Demotic evolved into Coptic Egyptian, and Coptic became the language that people in Egypt spoke during the last few centuries before the Arabic conquest (around 600 CE). By that time, they adopted the Greek alphabet for writing. In some old Christian monasteries in Egypt, they still have songs and old texts that are sung in Coptic, but nobody actively uses the language anymore.

Thousands of years later, filtered through millions of people's different accents and pronunciations, we simply can't know what the old languages were like. The only way to know would be to invent a time machine.

If you wanna know what Bohairic Coptic sounds like (that's the latest version of the Coptic language), here is a cool video I found on youtube:

[idesofrevolution]

Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

[amongsnot]

We’re making cheesecake in a kitchen without you.

I am scrolling through recipes (because we were using one that we used to use with you. One that requires buttermilk; something that none of us have ever bothered to remember to buy from the store. Not when we had you. Something we can’t buy from the store, now. Now that we don’t have you) and Spongebob is sitting on the counter next to the oven, telling jokes that I think you would have liked (because you always liked the jokes he told, silly and innocent. I think it was a challenge to you, to try and see what you could get him to say). Danny watches with an amused furrow of his eyes, but I can see the way he flinches when Spongebob leans too close to the oven (You’d laugh if you knew that. You’d laugh if you knew that Danny flinches more from precautionary baking based on the amount of times you’ve burned yourself making Mac-N-Cheese than he ever did fighting ghosts). 

I think, in hindsight, there’s a lot of things you’d laugh about now. 

I would like to tell you about them, but then I remember that I am here and you are there and there is a whole multiverse between the two of us; space within space, stars that we used to travel to together. Everything we ever saw as nothing more than a hurdle.

“That’s a bad joke, Squarepants,” Danny says with a furrow of his brow. Spongebob laughs at his response. I click on a link from an unfamiliar familiar cooking blog that claims to have the best cheesecake ever. The world continues to spin like it never even stopped in the first place.

And I would like to tell you about that, too. How the world stops and starts in sudden and unpredictable moments. How sometimes it is turning and then I think about how you liked this song and it stops. How sometimes it is dead silent and then Danny asks if I would like to make cheesecake with him and Spongebob and it starts to spin again, albeit slowly.

“Have you found a recipe yet, Jimmy?” Danny asks, because Spongebob and him have had an entire conversation in the time it took for the link to load (in the time it took my thumb to hover over the loaded and opened page). There’s something to be looked at there—examined between the lines of verbal dialogue like it is English class. I’m not the same and they’re not the same and sometimes they can have entire conversations that I’m not even aware about because I am busy being forgettable. I am busy being someone forgetful you could forget about.

“It shouldn’t be that hard. I mean, you just need one that requires a maximum of a cup of milk,” the mainly empty carton sits on the counter, sunlight from the old stained glass window diluted through cream. Your mind is like this, I think, so desperate for a remembrance of you.

Diluted. Cloudy. Not entirely there. Like light.

You used to be so warm, I think, and I am doing that thing again where I somehow say absolutely nothing while feeling absolutely everything. Dissociation, Danny calls it. I think I prefer the name grief.

Because you didn’t die, but my heart tears in a straight line down the middle like you did. Like you have always been dead, and I have always been living, and we circle each other like two sides of a flipping coin.

We met before we were branded, you know. When we were nothing but metal—my hands were yours and your arms were wrapped around my neck, and we were nothing more than what we made of each other. Young lovers, young dancers. There was no Jimmy Neutron without Timmy Turner and no Timmy Turner without Jimmy Neutron. And now we are branded and you are heads and I am tails and now we can never meet.

And that is the cruel fate of your life, I think. Because just like coins, we have only known a life with the other. I do not think I know how to exist without knowing myself.

“—and two sticks of butter.”

There is a press of a button. The flip of a switch. The world is whole again.

Spongebob gleams from the counter, kicking his feet against the counter in a way you used to hate. “And one that doesn’t have buttermilk!” 

“And one that doesn’t have buttermilk,” I add, like it is a last thought. 

I think it is.

[galway-girlatwork]

Airwaves

Fandom: The Last of Us-AU-No outbreak.

Rating: Mature-There is SO much fluff. It's a love story wrapped in music. I don't care how cheesy anyone thinks it is. I needed fluff after all the angst I write. Every song in the story has a link to Spotify.

Central Characters: Joel, Tommy, Sarah, Ellie and Maggie (Original Female Character)

Central Relationship: Joel and Maggie

Word Count: 4,301

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal the mood board, it was a gift and stealing is just WRONG. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

This was inspired by the brain rot I constantly have and an awesome mood board by Aly, @iamasaddie, who prayed for me and the enormous amount of WIP’s I have. Thanks Aly.

Music Inspiration:

Silent Lucidity- Queensrÿche

Airwaves

The radio crackled to life as Joel turned the dial in his truck, the familiar voice of Maggie, the local DJ, filled the cab, smooth, warm, and full of energy, a hint of mischief that always made him smile, even after the longest of days.

“Alright, folks, this next one’s a request from Joel for his two little rock stars, Sarah and Ellie. Here’s Dancing in the Moonlight by King Harvest. Keep dancing, girls!”

Chuckling, shaking his head wondering how Maggie had a way of making every request sound like it came straight from her heart. Sarah, his ten-year-old, loved dancing in the living room, twirling Ellie along until they both collapsed on the couch in giggles and Maggie played the perfect soundtrack to their evenings, even if she didn’t know it.

Pulling into the driveway, he parked next to Tommy’s old truck, waiting for a commercial before getting out. When he opened the front door, the scent of fresh pizza wafted out, the girls running to greet him.

“Dad! Did you hear? Maggie played our song!” Sarah beamed, dark curls bouncing.

“I heard. Y’all thank Uncle Tommy for bringing dinner?” Joel asked, setting his stuff on the kitchen counter.

Ellie, only eight, grinned wide. “Thanks, Uncle Tommy!”

Giving his brother a nod of gratitude before the girls pulled him to the couch, pizza boxes were opened and plates handed out, the radio played softly in the background when Maggie’s voice returned after the song, this time with a track she had picked.

“This one’s for Joel. He said to surprise him, so I went with one of my all-time favorites, Crazy on You by Heart. Enjoy!”

Joel froze for a moment, before leaning back, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got good taste.” Later that night, the girls tucked into bed, house quiet, Joel sat on the worn recliner in the living room. The faint hum of the radio was his only companion as he sipped on a cold beer. Maggie’s voice came through again, and this time it was softer, more personal.

“Alright, night owls, I’ve got a couple more songs before we wrap things up. But first, I wanna give a shout-out to one of my regulars. Joel, I know you’re listening. Thanks for trusting me to pick a song for you tonight. Here’s hoping it hit the mark.”

His heart did a funny little flip, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. He shook his head, muttering to himself. “You’re ridiculous, Miller.” Still, he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

The next day at work, Tommy caught him humming Crazy on You while laying down beams for a new deck.

“You got somethin’ stuck in your head, or you finally thinkin’ about joining a band?” Tommy teased, leaning on a post.

Joel rolled his eyes. “Not joinin’ a band, just... Maggie played it last night. She’s got good taste.”

Tommy smirked. “Ah, Maggie. Ya know ya talk about her more than ya talk about anyone else. When you gonna do somethin’ about it?”

He shot him a warning look. “Do what? She doesn’t even know me.”

“She knows your voice,” Tommy pointed out. “And from what you’ve said, sounds like she likes hearin’ it.”

“Whatever.” But he didn’t argue. By now, his nightly calls to the station were as much a part of his routine as putting the girls to bed.

That evening, after finishing dinner and a board game with Sarah and Ellie, Joel sat down with the phone in hand, the girls in their pajamas, curled up on the couch, waiting for him to make the call.

“Hi, Maggie. It’s Joel,” he said when she picked up. Her voice was just as warm off the air as it was on.

“Hey Joel! What can I do for you tonight? Got another request for the girls?”

“Actually, yeah. Sarah’s been hummin’ Brown Eyed Girl all week. Think you can fit it in?”

“For you? Always,” Maggie replied, and he swore he could hear the smile in her voice. “And what about you, Joel? What’s your request?”

He hesitated, eyes closing for a second, “Surprise me again. You’ve got good taste.”

Laughing softly. “You’re giving me a lot of trust here. Alright, Joel. Tune in. This one’s just for you.”

After hanging up, Joel sat back with the girls, waiting for the song. When Maggie came on, her words carried a little extra something tonight.

“This next one is a classic, but it’s also got a bit of soul. Joel, I think you’ll like it. Here’s Bad Company.”

Joel closed his eyes again as the first chords played, letting the music wash over him. He knew that it was probably all for show, she was a DJ and that is what she did, right? Make everyone feel like she was talking to just them. Yea he was losin it.

Over the following weeks, his nightly calls became a cherished ritual for her. She found herself looking forward to hearing his voice, intrigued by the man who clearly adored his daughters and had a deep appreciation for music. She began teasing him on-air, voice playful as she introduced his requests.

“Alright, everyone, you know the drill. This goes out to my regular caller, Joel. He called earlier for his girls and asked for another surprise song so here’s Silent Lucidity by Queensryche.”

Joel listened with a faint smile, not noticing the looks he was getting from the girls.

“She likes you, Dad,” Sarah declared as they listened together.

Shaking his head as Sarah climbed up on the couch, settling down next to him. “She’s just doin her job and bein friendly.”

Ellie, who’d always been the more serious of the two, shook her head. “Dad she always sounds happy when she talks about you.”

He couldn’t deny how Maggie’s attention made him feel. Her laughter, her playful comments, and the music she chose—it all felt personal, like she’d found a way to reach into his life and he knew it was the craziest thought he could have had as he got the girls ready for bed.

For Maggie, Joel was becoming more than just a regular caller. She’d started to wonder about the man behind the voice. Was he as ruggedly kind as he sounded? What did he look like when he smiled? The mystery only made their nightly interactions more interesting, knowing the single dad with two girls who loved music just as much as he did.

One evening, Joel called the station as usual but this time, she had a surprise for him. “Hey, Joel,” she said warmly. “I’ve got something different for you tonight.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked, curious.

“Well,” she began, a hint of shyness in her tone, “the station’s hosting a live event this Saturday at Grady’s Bar downtown. I’m doing a set, and chatting with folks. If you’re around, maybe you can swing by.”

He froze, phone pressed tightly to his ear, not expecting this. “Uh... yeah, maybe. Um I can see if I can get someone to watch the girls.”

Smiling on the other end of the line she doodled on a notepad, wondering what the fuck she was thinking. She’d never asked any listener, personally, to come to an event. “No pressure. But if you do come, it’d be nice to finally meet you. Gotta go but the last song of the night, it’s for you. Night Joel.”

Hanging up, sliding the headphones back on, she took a deep breath. “All right everyone, my times up tonight, you’ve got Crystal coming up to get you through the witching hour but this last song for tonight goes out to Joel and his girls. Be safe out there. Here’s a little Patty Griffin to get you through.”

When Saturday rolled around, Joel found himself nervously adjusting his shirt in the mirror. Tommy had offered to babysit, smirking as he shoved Joel out the door with a teasing smile. Grady’s Bar was lively, the music loud but not overwhelming. When he walked in, he noticed Maggie’s booth was set up in the corner, records spread out in neat stacks, noticing she wore a vintage Doors t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was not what he was expecting, realizing that it was her voice that captivated him, not what she could look like. He hesitated for a moment before walking over. “Maggie?”

He wasn’t what she’d expected but in the best way. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a quiet confidence and beautiful brown eyes. When he smiled, it was lopsided and a little shy, feeling her heart skip a beat, possibly two. “Joel?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yea. You seem busy.”

“Never too busy for my favorite caller,” Maggie teased, motioning for him to sit. “Order anything you want to drink, it’s on me.”

Joel shook his head, smiling. “Naw you ain’t gotta do that.” When the waitress came by, he let Maggie order first, before letting the server know he’d have a Shiner Bock. They talked for hours, Maggie occasionally ducking away to adjust a track or chat with other attendees, but always returning to him. They shared stories about work, favorite songs, and by the end of the night, he felt like he’d known her forever. As he stood to leave, Maggie slipped a CD into his hands, a copy of Queensryche.

“For your collection,” she said softly. “And maybe... a reason to call me tomorrow.”

Grinning, tucking the CD into his jacket pocket. “You don’t need to give me a reason. I’ll be callin in tomorrow.” Leaving the bar that night with the CD now on the seat next to him, what got him the most was the way Maggie had smiled at him—as if she’d been waiting for him all along. He couldn’t shake the warmth he felt just sitting with her, her laughter, and the way her eyes lit up when they talked about music.

Back home, Tommy smirked as Joel walked in, his good mood evident.

“So? How’d it go?”

Setting the CD on the counter, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Went fine. We talked. She’s nice.”

Tommy barked a laugh. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Come on, Joel, don’t play dumb. You like her.”

Joel shrugged, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Over the next few weeks, their nightly calls became something more. Maggie would stay on the line a little longer before playing his requests, asking about his day or teasing him about the girls. He found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t in years, telling her stories about Sarah’s fierce independence or Ellie’s knack for making him laugh.

“Sounds like they keep you on your toes. You’re a good dad, Joel,” Maggie said one night, voice soft over the line. “Girls are lucky to have you.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, not expecting to get compliments like that but hearing it from Maggie meant more than he could explain. “Thanks,” he murmured. “That means a lot.”

Meanwhile, Maggie found herself looking forward to Joel’s calls more than anything else in her day. There was something grounding about him, the way he spoke, steady and calm, with just enough humor to make her laugh. She could picture him easily now, the rough edges of his hands, the warmth in his eyes, the way his smile crinkled at the corners, the scruff of his beard.

“Evening listeners, that last song was a request from April and I hope it got her and her friends in the mood for her birthday dinner. Happy Birthday April. Alright, everyone, it’s time for another live event. This Sunday, we’re doing an outdoor set at Centennial Park. There’ll be music, food trucks, and lots of great company. Bring the family, and come say hi!”

“Dad, we have to go!” Sarah said, practically bouncing. “Maggie’s gonna be there!”

“Yeah! We wanna meet her!” Ellie chimed in; her eyes bright.

He hesitated when he heard the broadcast. Taking the girls to a public event wasn’t something he did often. But Sarah and Ellie, having overheard the announcement, were already buzzing with excitement. Sighing, knowing he couldn’t say no. “Alright, alright. We’ll go.”

That Sunday, the park was bustling with activity, her booth set up near the stage, where live music would happen throughout the day, she’d just started a song, the oversized headphones slung around her neck. Looking up, she spotted Joel almost immediately, grin widening when she saw Sarah and Ellie at his side. “You made it!” she called, waving them over.

The girls ran ahead, their excitement bubbling over, he hung back just a little, watching as she crouched down to their level, introducing herself, asking them about their favorite songs, before handing them huge bubble wands, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Maggie was even better with the kids than he’d imagined—patient, funny, and genuinely interested in what they had to say.

When she stood, he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly not sure what to think of the whole situation. “Thanks for inviting us. The girls were real excited.”

“I’m glad you came. It’s nice to finally meet the girls who have such a large love for music. You know they’re just like you described.” She knew in that instant that it was all over for her. She was falling so hard for him, she didn’t know what the next step was, having been out of the dating scene for years.

For the rest of the afternoon, they lingered near her booth, the girls dancing to the music while they talked, stuffing themselves with corn dogs, funnel cake and lemonade. By the time the event wound down, she realized she didn’t want the day to end.

As they were leaving, she slipped a small piece of paper into his hand. “Call me,” she said with a smile. “Outside the station.”

Joel looked down at the number scribbled in Maggie’s neat handwriting, heart thudding in his chest. “I will,” he promised.

As sat on the back porch, the girls passed out on the couch after crashing from adrenaline and sugar levels bottoming out, he thumbed the piece of paper before he called her. It would be just them, no music in the background, no audience listening in.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually call,” she teased when she picked up.

Chuckling softly. “Thought about waitin’ a day, but found I couldn’t.”

“Glad you couldn’t,” almost sure her smile was audible. “So, how are Sarah and Ellie? They seemed like they had a blast today.”

“Talked about you the whole way home,” Joel said. “Already askin if we can listen to your show tomorrow night but today caught up the minute we hit the road. Both sleepin now.”

“They’re sweet kids, Joel. You’ve done a good job with them.”

“Thanks. Been hard bein a single dad.”

The conversation stretched long into the night, covering everything from childhood memories to favorite concerts. By the time they hung up, he realized he hadn’t felt this comfortable or this hopeful in years.

A week later, he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out during one of their late-night conversations. “Hey I was wonderin if you wanted to have dinner this Friday, say 6? I know this diner, they got good food, good music.”

“Love to. Meet you there?”

“Alright. See you then.”

When Friday rolled around, he was more nervous than he wanted to admit to anyone including Tommy, who agreed to watch the girls again but making sure he gave Joel a teasing pat on the back as he left.

“Don’t mess up, big brother.”

The diner was cozy, not yet packed with other couples doing the Friday night date thing, a jukebox in the corner and a menu full of comfort food. She was already there, leg bouncing when he arrived. It took her an hour to decide what to wear, going with a faded jean jacket over a simple dress, smiling when she saw him.

“You clean up nice,” she said, standing to greet him.

Joel grinned. “You look great, too.” Sliding back into the booth, the conversation began flowing as she teased him about his preference for older music, while he learned she loved not only the older music but the newer, more eclectic stuff she played.

When the jukebox came to life, Maggie raised an eyebrow, small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “Silent Lucidity?”

“Recently become a favorite.”

By the end of the night, she couldn’t stop smiling. As they walked to their cars, she leaned against hers, hands tucked into her pockets, night air a little heavy with humidity. She couldn’t help but replay the moments over dinner and the way her chest felt tight every time he smiled at her. “This was fun, Joel. I’d like to do it again.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “I’d like that too.” Moving towards her, rough callused hands cupped both of her cheeks, tilting her head back, a beat of silence, a moment between them, noticing her eyes briefly dropping to his mouth, the action giving him unspoken permission as hands moved to gently rest on the swell of her hips. Leaning in, lips capturing hers, tender at first, cautious as though he would wake up and it was all just a figment of imagination.

She responded instantly, lips moving against his as she pulled her hands free, fingers now curling into his jacket to pull him even closer, deepening the kiss, confidence growing as she leaned into him, feeling a hand slide up to cradle the back of her head while his thumb brushed over her hip bone. When they finally broke apart, breaths mingling in the night air, cheeks flushed, she looked up at him, noticing the way he stared into her eyes, his name a breathless whisper.

Resting his forehead lightly against hers, he closed his eyes, wanting to remember how sweet she tasted. His hand was still at her neck, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. "I’d like to do that again."

Leaning up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Then you better call me tomorrow."

“I will.”

Over the next few months, the connection between them deepened, finding small ways to fit into each other’s lives. She joined Joel and the girls for dinner, bringing all different kinds of CD’s for music nights, while he sometimes surprised her at the station with coffee during late shifts. She adored Sarah and Ellie, who often dragged her into vicious games of Monopoly, Go Fish and Uno, in which they were absolutely lethal. The trio was quickly becoming a fixture in her life.

They were sitting on her couch after having a movie date at her place, sharing a bowl of popcorn while the credits played in the background. Glancing up at him, before resting her head resting on his shoulder.

“You ever think about what’s next?” she asked.

Joel tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then said, “This. Us. I know it’s still new, but... I care about you, Joel and the girls.”

Setting the bowl down, he turned to face her. “Maggie, don’t you know how special you are to me? To all of us? I, we, care about you too, more than I’ve been good at sayin’.”

Breath came out in a deep sigh, relief settling in, “I just needed to know.”

Leaning in, he kissed her, slow and deliberate and when he ended it, her forehead against his. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want in my life right now but you.”

Her presence in his life quickly became something he couldn’t imagine going without. She blended seamlessly into his little family, not just as someone he cared about but as a meaningful person in the girls’ lives.

He came home from work one Saturday, finding the three of them in the kitchen baking. Flour was everywhere, Ellie’s lips held chocolate at the corners while Sarah was methodically measuring sugar under Maggie’s supervision. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he watched chaos unfold.

“You’re really brave takin’ this on,” he said, smirking as Ellie tried to sneak a spoonful of dough.

Laughing, cheeks slightly pink from the warmth of the oven, she shrugged her shoulders. “Figured it was time to show the girls I can do more than play music.”

Stepping close, brushing a streak of flour off her cheek. “I think you’re doin’ just fine.”

Smiling up at him, is when it slammed full force into her body and soul. She was in love with Joel Miller. She wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling that blossomed deep within the confines of her chest, the words never spoken by either of them. Distracted by thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention to the surroundings until Ellie screamed cookies, that she swore out loud pulling a burnt tray of cookies from the oven. “Sorry girls. Good thing I brought enough stuff for us to make up for it.”

He knew in that instant that something wasn’t right. She never swore in front of the girls, even though he knew she had the mouth of a truck driver, hearing her road rage more than once while they were on the phone. She looked distracted, defeated, shoulders slumping just a little, like her heart was no longer in the moment. He didn’t say anything until later that night, after the girls were in bed. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been off since this afternoon.”

“Yea, I’m fine. Just tired I guess. I gotta head to the station. Got the graveyard tonight.” Kissing his cheek, she grabbed her purse and practically ran out the door. It wasn’t until she was sitting at the station, queuing up the next five tracks that she felt like she could breathe normally. “All right all you night owls, I am taking us all the way back to 1961 with a classic by Elvis. So, grab that special someone, hold them close in silent lucidity and tell em how you feel.” As the first few notes of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” came through her headphones, she slipped them off, biting her nails, wondering if Joel was listening since it was past midnight.

Sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, he listened to her, voice lower than normal, sounding almost wounded as she went through her set. It was just after midnight when her voice filled his room, talking about Elvis and the song from the CD she’d given him. That’s when it clicked for him. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he dialed her number, not the station, waiting for her to pick up.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“Wanted to listen for a little while before I went to sleep. Maggie, the song you’re playin and the reference…”

“I love you Joel. I don’t know when or how but it just…I realized it this afternoon at the house. I love you. Been in love with you and…”

“Maggie take a breath…I love you too. Think I have been since you played that first song for the girls. Look I know you’re busy at work but I want to talk. Can you come by the house tomorrow?”

“Yea.”

“Play our song?”

“Of course.”

“Wait how do you know what song I’m talking about?”

“Trust me, I just do. Night Joel.” Hanging up, she knew she had to have had the stupidest grin on her face and she didn’t give a flying fuck. She didn’t care if their relationship was cliché and cheesy. She fell in love with him, he fell in love with her and maybe, just maybe there could be a future there. “Well thanks to all my listeners for letting me go down memory lane with that one. Next up is Silent Lucidity by Queensrÿche and then I’ve got a little classic rock comin your way with Boston, The Stones, Aerosmith and Black Sabbath. Stay safe out there.”

A year later, he surprised her with a somewhat quiet dinner at the house. He’d cooked, which involved grilling, all of them sitting at the table, the girls going a mile a minute. Chaos ensued afterwards, with a movie, popcorn scattered everywhere, Maggie offering to clean up while he put the girls to bed. When he came down the stairs, he took her hand in his, leading her out into the backyard, where the record player was set up in the backyard under strands of lights Tommy had helped him hang.

“Joel this is beautiful.”

“Thought I’d do somethin nice.”

Swaying to the music, laughter filling the space between them as they talked, fingers laced together, she kissed the span of skin showing at the base of his throat. “I love you.”

“Maggie,” he began, voice steady but full of emotion, “you walked into my life when I didn’t even know how much I needed you. You’ve made me and the girls so happy. I can’t imagine any of this without you. Marry me?”

Whoa. Wait. What? Pulling away from him, she looked up at him, eyes searching his. “Are you serious?” Watching as he fumbled to pull a ring from the pocket of his jeans.

“Yes, I’m serious Maggie May, marry me.”

“Yes, Joel, yes and yes.”

Just then both girls burst out from behind the sliding door, giggling as they tackled both of them in a hug, all of them now laying in the grass, laughing, both of them knowing it was going to be a chaotic mess until their dying days.

[video-game-jams]

Hello, everyone! First off I wanted to wish you all a very happy holidays and an upcoming happy new year.

I have come to you all today with a very special announcement. From today (December 25 2023) until the end of the week (December 31 2023) I WILL be accepting song requests. I wanted to show show my appreciation for your support on this little blog of mine and this is the best way to do so! After the end of the new year, I will go back to not allowing requests.

All I ask is to please try and look for the song you want BEFORE you request it. I know tumblr's search function isn't the best, but I have more than 4,000 songs uploaded already so chances are that I may have already uploaded your request.

I thank you all again for all of your support. This blog is just a fun side project for me, but I do love seeing everyone find new and old songs to love and share with others. (As an aside: I have re-opened a ko-fi donation page of mine if you are interested in throwing me a couple of dollars for my efforts. This isn't a requirement of course, but if you decide to donate I would be most grateful for your kindness. Here is the link: https://ko-fi.com/dmanaa)

Thank you!

[kurbcotain]

pictures from when Thursday played in animal suits in the UK for some reason (as posted by Tom on thursday.net)

tom blog post under cut if you dont want to click on the archive link

6/1/06

Hey Everyone!

So we're on day 7 over here in the grand old UK. The shows have been a blast, nice and intimate with impossibly small stages for the 6 of us fools. Its crazy how jetlagged we still get even in the UK. We had the opportunity to play a few songs in full on animal costumes the other day...just seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. Geoff was a tiger, Tim and Andrew were monkeys and i thought i was a donkey only to later discover i was Baloo from jungle book. I don't know if anyone really understood what was going on...i heard a few giggles but i think we were being silently judged moreso. But it doesn't matter because from the inside of one of those suits the world just kinda seems to stop and reality flips itself...so as far as i could tell it was the biggest awesome rock spectacle anyone has ever seen. I'm taking that to my grave. We've posted some pictures in the photo section for all of you. Hope you dig em. Only a couple more days of Prawn Chips, Pockets full of English coins, and being too tall for any of the doorways over here before we come home and start Warped Tour. psyched. see you all there, hope you bring it.

Tom