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randomfoggytiger · 1 month

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React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Founder's Mutation), Part II

This is gonna be quick and dirty because my keyboard’s acting up--

IT’S A CONTINUATION FROM MY STRUGGLE I?????????? NO WHY NO, PLEASE NO.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

WHY do those glasses not fit anymore?? If Mulder lifts his eyebrows, they don’t even touch his cheekbones. But they were fine last episode, what happened.

Mulder reminding us about William in yet another opening monologue. I may have the memory of a goldfish, Mulder, but I don’t have brain damage.

I’m already so tired.

Narration, narration, sudden voice change and drop, “Bringing Scully and I back together”-- okay, that’s straight-up David's voice.

Oh, good. A bloody eyeball. How marvelous.

If this is the brain Morse Code episode, I will throw hands.

I’m Dr. Sanjay. We’re both too tired.

WHAT’S WITH THE SHAKY CAM AS DR. SANJAY DETERIORATES.

I’m not gonna be nit-picky… okay, I am.

The X-Files has a certain style, aesthetically. Because of that, one has to operate inside the rules in order to cleverly bend them. Shaky cam AND close-up break two rules back-to-back.

This "modernization" isn’t a limbered stretch so much as a spinal dislocation.

Ghost in the Machine and Blood 2.0, I see. But worse.

The “Sanjay losing control” scene is… not too different from similar 90s ones.

But that’s the problem-- the visuals have updated, but not the method. And that leaves us with the impression that the director or screenwriter or both are either amateur or outdated.

It’s also incredibly cluttered and confusing. Not confusing in a way that would expertly translate the meltdown in Sanjay’s brain, but confusing in a way that bombards us, the audience, with compounding “lost in translation” errors.

Okay, welp, he’s dead.

WHY do Mulder and Scully sound so old? Was it absolutely necessary to suck the life force out of the actors every time they walked on set? For Pete’s sake, I’ve heard more life in David’s voice while reading a Lexus ad.

Okay, DD’s picking up a bit, and GA’s compensating with her expressions but none of this is engaging.

Minor nitpick-- and I know both actors complained about wardrobe later-- but the second Mulder gets pants that fit him and Scully remembers to finish buttoning up her top, the sooner I’ll get a glimpse of the old show. Just sayin’.

His pants will eventually swing to the opposite tragedy, copping a feel while forcing him to do a little Marilyn Monroe shimmy.

I shall call them Patriarchy Pants.

Scully knows Indian?

She really is the series’ language OC, isn’t she.

Mulder got this informant to trust him by flashing his puppy eyes. I mean… it’s always worked on Scully.

Speaking of which… where’s Scully?

I’m wracking my brain, but I thiiiiiiiiiiink it’s consistent, even pre-S9 canon, for Mulder to sneak off and fill Scully in later. So, no complaints. I think.

What is it about the comedy scene that didn’t work…?

Hm.

‘Kay, so, if this guy (Gupta, looked it up) is no longer a repressed homosexual-- like he chastises Mulder for being-- then why was he so skittish in the bar?

He didn’t know Sanjay was dead, so therefore he didn’t know he was in danger (note from the future: he isn't in danger... which explains his skittishness even less.)

So, is his jumpiness because of repressed or hidden homosexuality? But he says he's out and urges Mulder to come out, as well.

Perhaps he's saying one thing and living another, i.e. pretending to be out and proud to save face in front of Mulder.

But then... that would be the comedy in this scene-- that he would have to eat his words (ex. another guy opens the door on them and Gupta makes a big fuss trying to cover up the homosexuality of it all-- “no homo” dialed up to 11, etc.)

So, he was either scared to be on a hit list-- yet wasn’t aware he might be on one-- or scared of being outed-- yet didn't signal this in his actions or dialogue.

If this is Gupta’s only scene, it was a waste.

It was a waste of an introduction, regardless. But.

Oh, Scully’s doing an autopsy, got it.

Characters are playing by their strengths, got it.

Also, forgot to note, Mulder sensing the guys in the bar were bad news points to his years spent on the job. A great touch.

…Unless, now that I think of it, Gupta invited him to a gay or hookup bar, consequently making Mulder look like an out-of-touch old buffoon. Which… fits his characterization in My Struggle I, but I hope for better things.

I didn’t see any tension in Scully’s arms while pulling the instrument out of Sanjay’s ear, but, ya know, there weren’t perfect moments in OG canon, either.

Gupta’s still here, okay. (DD getting away with a bit of humor by having Mulder act slightly out-of-place chuggin down in a bar-- I see you.)

IT IS A GAY BAR.

MULDER’S AN IDIOT, CONFIRMED.

“He lived two lives.” Okay, that’s f-- “In two separate places.” NO, no, nonono-- get back over the unsubtle line before I whip out the broom, shooshooshooshooshoo.

Wait, why is Mulder explaining the autopsy results instead of Scully?

Even when he had a… siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Even when Mulder had a brewing theory in mind, he always let Scully explain all her results before asking pointed questions, hearing her findings, then craft a theory and run it by her.

Here, Scully says, “Broke fingers to find words on palm/instrument went into these parts of the brain” and Mulder says “It went in at that angle then turned at this angle/insert theory.”

When it SHOULD be: Scully explains fingers and cause of death, Mulder points at the pics and asks why the instrument’s angle changed, Scully says “it went in 90 degree angle then turned 60 degrees”, and Mulder concludes “Like he was hunting for something.”

The shots widen out or cut back for shock value, it seems. Sanjay’s body is shown obliquely until Scully says she “looked everywhere” for clues, which prompts the camera to cut to a wide shot and hang on his sawed-open skull. The timing’s oddly comedic, the music is light, and nothing about the scene meshes. It quickly pancakes, leaving us and the characters with dead (heh) air.

The dialogue leans “we’re gonna do this next” telling rather than natural conversation showing.

And-- I’ve gotta be frank-- I’ve not caught an ounce of chemistry from DD and GA aside from the scene where they were talk about phone stealing and Indian languages.

The car scene contributed nothing... except a kid accidentally fell over the hood. Reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal covert set-up, I tell ya.

Sanjay’s other apartment scene was… weird. They walk around, find pictures of experiments on kids, barely react, trip the silent alarm so the police show up--

Sorry, no, wait. The police show up ASAP, in THIS part of town? NAH. Not happening.

Okay, the scene where Mulder has a… brain… thingy WORKS because it uses just the right amount of “new trick”: closeups without disorienting lens action slapped on top. THAT’s how you integrate a modernized technique into an older show; and it fits seamlessly into The X-Files.

SO WHY DIDN’T THEY DO THIS FROM THE GET-GO?

Also, Scully may have had cancer, but she never had migraines. Those seem to be reserved for Mulder.

Oh, we’re in Skinner’s office now. I guess.

The clips are so poorly paced, switching or holding or integrating at the weirdest times. It even undercuts Mulder’s quips or Scully’s reactions.

On a side note, DD and GA probably had a hard time finding their characters-- as they mentioned for both IWTB and the Revival-- because all they had to work off of was plot regurgitation. ....What do you do with that?

I love the touch of Skinner playing hardball until Corporate Interest Guy leaves, then immediately switching to, “I assume you’re going to need [classified] copies, right?”

…

…..

…….

Scully really doesn’t have much to add, does she?

OH, we’re in the basement now. We're just... here. The first scene of these two back down here and they're just. Here. ...'Kay.

Mulder and Scully talking over his experience is the closest I’ve gotten to mature MSR… and it’s ruined by Scully stating the obvious, “There were no sounds. I didn’t hear anything.”

LOOK, OKAY? Mulder became CATATONIC before with these exact same symptoms and was only saved by a secret science mumbo jumbo brain surgery, WHY ISN’T SHE WORRIED. It’s equivalent to her getting a nosebleed and just wiping it away, no big deal.

“Mulder, what are you hiding?”

He’s not hiding anything, Scully, he’s telling you.

But if he were, that’d be outta character even for Beanpole Sneakybritches. By this point, he’d have a functioning theory to share with the class-- which he did, lest we forget-- or developed a taste for Hercule Poirot drama while holed up in depressed isolation, I guess. (Which you left him to, Scully, so this is your fault, tangentially.)

Which would be stupid.

(Note from the future: He was hiding something, but it didn't make sense how he leaped to that conclusion, anyway; so, logically, he has nothing to hide from her in this scene.)

But when's that stopped the show before?

“What are you hiding?”

“Sanjay heard sounds right before he died. It could be you, Mulder.”

WHAT.

Scully and Mulder established in the lab that Sanjay heard noises right before he died.

Mulder heard noises.

Tells Scully in the basement.

Scully: “I didn’t hear noises.” No reaction.

Scully: “What are you hiding?”

Mulder explains his frequency theory.

Scully doesn’t see how it fits.

Mulder: “What are you hiding?”

Scully: “Sanjay heard sounds right before he died. It could be you, Mulder.” No reaction.

PLEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE END MY SUFFERING.

16 min. in.

Been typing nearly an hour (a dying keyboard’ll do it to ya.)

“This is dangerous,” Scully says, flatly.

“When has that ever stopped us?” Mulder asks, brightly.

He is quite literally trying to pump life back into her-- WHO directed GA this way? You can tell which scenes she is given freer reign in (more natural, less muted) and which ones she is more tightly “guided” (less alive, more dead.)

How is she spry enough to be a field agent? How is Mulder? Skinner hasn’t aged a day but these two have been MOWED. DOWN. DD and GA aren’t like this in real life, so what gives?

Our Lady of Sorrows, go away.

It’s Karen Kosseff except it isn’t.

Mulder and Scully sneakily scare the daylights outta a Conservative-adjacent medical personnel with the dreaded threat of an “Obamacare” witchhunt... and at this point, the social commentary seems performative rather than intelligent.

I’m not gonna break it down by politics; but suffice to say, while Mulder and Scully were never above a little “campaign of misinformation”, but they've never stooped low enough to fearmonger-- in fact, they looked down on those who did.

CC-- he wrote this episode, too, right?-- turned them from FBI agents with ethics into Secret Agents with a dose of Krycekian immorality.

Just when I think I’ve “found” MSR, the writing snatches them back from me.

…And ANOTHER THING.

Ever since IWTB, Our Lady of Sorrows has been an awful, horrible, no-good, close-minded facility stuffed to the brim with egos and bottom-of-the-barrel intelligence. At least they’ve been upgraded from “let the kid die” psychopaths to “OBAMACARE?? INVESTIGATING OUR SAINTED, CONSERVATIVE COLLEAGUE????” Which makes them stupidly impressionable and stupendously ignorant of the law. Which they would know… because it affects their hospital.

There’s no hint (thus far) that Scully has some dirt on them and maneuvers them into compliance by hinting at certain shortcuts they wouldn’t want investigated. No. Instead, she weaponizes their faith-- calling the guy they want to interview a “godsend”-- despite sharing it, and despite taking all matters of belief very seriously; then lets Mulder slip in the Obamacare line because… Conservative medical professionals would cow in the face of that implication instead of, I don’t know, stonewalling to protect their ranks?

It’s such a silly, nonsensical line.

I just want old Mulder and Scully back, is that too much to ask for?

And the lady almost stonewalled, anyway. It was pure luck that Scully pulled the right emotional strings.

UGH.

“I’ll agree to relay a message,” Not-Karen says… then walks off before asking what that message would be. …Sure, fine, that makes sense.

Pregnant teen or young woman and….

And….

WHAT, IS THIS A CONTINUED PLOT POINT???????????

ANOTHER PREGNANCY PLOTLINE?????????? DO THE POWERS-THAT-BE NO LONGER HAVE ACCESS TO TUBES OR JARS OR WHATHAVEYOU TO GROW THEIR EXPERIMENTS, OR DID THEY ALL COPYPASTE THE EVES' AND DR. PARENTI’S VERY SPECIFIC NICHE?????

Hate the camera angles, too, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

Used and abused women, dismissed young mothers, callous Catholic hospitals…. It’s so… vitriolic. And all so poorly handled.

“Desire is the devil’s pitchfork,” oh, great, the Catholic nun? lady is eeeeeeeeeeevil, who would have knooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooown--

WHY. DOES. MULDER. SOUND. SO. OLD.

No wonder DD and GA think the series isn’t really about happy endings, they were shuffling around like geriatric Eeyores half the time.

Scully pushing back against Mulder protecting her from the incubation theory right after he tells her the incubation theory: in a word, disjointed. She needed to confront him BEFORE he spells it out to her--

…My brain melted and I lost the thought…. Wait…. Nope, it’s gone.

“Is this what you believe happened to me, fifteen years ago? When I got pregnant, when I had my baby?” WWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAT.

“Mybaby”??????????? After all this time, MY BABY.

WHY ISN’T GA ACTING APPROPRIATELY, SHE’S GIVING US NOTHING DESPITE BEING THE SOLE EMOTIVE PERSON ON THIS TEAM.

IF THAT LINE IS MEANT TO IMPLY SHE’S CREATING DISTANCE WITH “MY BABY” BECAUSE SHE THINKS MULDER IS DISOWNING WILLIAM, YOU’VE NOT ESTABLISHED, AT ALL, THAT RETICENCE IS PART OF HER SELF-PRESERVATION-- NOT ONE TIME, SINCE THE REVIVAL STARTED.

AND IF THAT WERE THE CASE, SCULLY WOULD HAVE ACCUSED HIM DIFFERENTLY: NOT FLAT AND TIRED, BUT FLAT AND ANGRY. WHERE’S SCULLY’S ANGER THAT SHE’S HAD FROM DAY ONE, THAT SHE LOST RIGHT AFTER EXISTENCE SAID HAPPILY-EVER-AFTER????????

GIVE ME GUMPTION, GIVE ME SPIT, GIVE ME FIRE, GIVE ME RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION!!!!

SO THEY ABANDONED THE INCUBATOR TALK TO TALK ABOUT HER REGRETS, I GUESS.

THERE WAS NO POINT A TO POINT B, WE’RE JUST HERE NOW.

I don’t mind the rehash-- Mulder and Scully both had a habit of doing that, back in the day… but I’m not getting any of MULDER or SCULLY from these two… Revival robots.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, this is the “what could have been” episode. Thanks, I’m gonna hate it.

“Do you think he could have been an experiment?”

“I don’t know,” GET OUTTA HERE, ACTUALLY GET OUTTA HERE.

MULDER’S WHOLE ARC IN ESSENCE-EXISTENCE WAS THAT HE KNEW THE MATH ADDED UP TO BEING WILLIAM’S FATHER (though the writers did their best to obfuscate that issue) BUT WAS AFRAID SCULLY’S BABY WOULD BE BORN WITH SURPRISES. INSTEAD, HE WAS A NORMAL, HEALTHY BABY; AND MULDER CALLED HIS SON A MIRACLE BECAUSE OF IT.

BEFORE SEASON 9 RETCONNED IT, ANYWAY. BUT EVEN THEN, WILLIAM WAS UNDENIABLY HIS MINI MULDER.

Even in IWTB, how many years later, Mulder still considered William theirs.

Also, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait.

Pause.

Rewind.

Stop.

Mulder misses William but had to put that “behind him.”

That. has got to be. The most. antithetical statement to Mulder’s character that I have ever. Ever. heard.

You can’t have it both ways, CC: Mulder can’t be pushed by the ghosts of his past into wrecking his and Scully’s relationship, twice (IWTB and the Revival), while also putting HIS CHILD behind him.

nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOnonononononNONONONONONONO.

THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. THAT MAKES NO SENSE.

YOU’RE A LIAR, A LYING LIAR LIAR FACE.

THAT’S NOT MULDER.

MULDER WOULD NEVER SAY THAT.

SCULLY MIGHT, BUT EVEN THEN SHE’D STILL BE LYING TO HERSELF.

Scully was shattered into a million pieces in My Struggle I, and Mulder is obliterated in this one.

How.

Absolutely.

Lovely.

Also, again, Scully isn’t emoting fear or terror for her son. At all.

NORMAL SCULLY VOICE??????????????????????????????????

NORMAL. SCULLY. VOICE????????????????????????????????????????

WHAT.

I’M, I’M, WHAT.

FOR THE FLASHBACKS, BUT NOT FOR THE SERIES????????????????????????

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The cutback from the flashback-dreamsequence-whatever to Scully just… sitting there. Not napping. Not dreaming, just. Thinking, I guess.

But the sequence was obviously a dream, so.

Can you imagine if she snapped upright from her dream, possibly at her desk? The gifs sets that could have been made mirroring this moment to Mulder’s nightmare in Paper Hearts.

THERE’S THE SAME “OPEN THE DESK DRAWER TO SEE A PHOTO” MOTIF, TOO.

...WHY IS THAT ASSISTANT WALKING LIKE SHE'S ON A CATWALK?

That actress said, “This is my big shot, I’m gonna stick out” (literally), and dressed to kill.

…Or she’s a piece of commentary on the Evil Scientist Doctor and the male gaze, or something.

Guys, no facility would have kids kept behind glass cages for their entire lifespan.

That’s dumb.

Scully tells the scientist he’s testing (trying to isolate) for alien DNA. He shows them out.

Agnes (the teen or young mother) got killed and her baby taken, of course.

At least Scully’s no longer pretending medical people aren’t stealing babies or creating mutants, I guess.

I GUESS.

Mulder had to wiggle his way over to the printer because his Patriarchy Pants (first sighting!) are too tight. (Told you his fashion swings in the opposite direction.)

Mulder said, “This is my skinny jean era”, and I think I’m traumatized.

Syndicate wanted to colonize the world with alien-human hybrids, says Mulder. And though it was unsuccessful--

(HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT)

--he doubts they stopped trying.

So, that sweeps away the Supersoldiers, I guess.

Since, y’know, the Revival said the aliens were never involved to begin with.

So it was just the government making a hoax of the government hiding aliens but pretending they weren’t but really were but weren’t.

Got it.

What did Scully’s study about all European men being traced back to three individuals in the Bronze age (that’s a reference to Shem, Ham, and Japheth, isn’t it CC?) have to do with Mulder’s point other than for her to talk about her study.

An illustrative hypothetical:

Mulder: “Everyone loves juice.”

Scully: “I read a paper last year that found the three most favored juice flavors tie back to the Whirligig tastebud genome.”

…’Kay.

I HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES LEFT, LET IT EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEND.

Jackie (Evil Scientist Man's “insane” wife) doesn’t like cats and threw an apple at it. …Why’s there a loose cat in the “mental asylum”?

They put in the spooky track from the original show-- the tinkling symbol sound-- when she recounted her daughter breathing underwater, but I liked that bit.

Good filming, good bit.

Jackie was being used for experiments, crashed her car, was forced via the brain thingy to cut her child out, the end.

…Oh, right, this plot was supposed to be about Sanjay.

My bad.

You forgot, too, didn’t you.

…Why doesn’t Jackie like cats again?

(Note from the future: Jackie feared her biological daughter because she had supernatural abilities; and ran away hoping to save her son from the same experimentation and fate. ...But her son? (or her daughter?) already had powers and forced her to cut him out??? by manipulating her brain????????? to find his way back to his sister??????????????? Even though he was a baby??????????????????? (She still doesn't know this and wishes she could see him again...????????????????????????????????????????)

This is such a BAD. SCRIPT.

It has no direction, it swings wildly from topic to topic, nothing really connects together, it’s all… nonsensical garbage.

Mulder gets closeted at a gay bar, the Catholic lady hates men and thinks unwed mothers are damaged, women are made to cut babies out of their stomachs, Mulder put William behind him, Scully has a waking dream instead of a sleeping one, aaaaaaaaaaaaand… Jackie hates cats.

No, you will not get a logical explanation for any of this.

Awwww, look, Jackie’s talking about her missing boy because she thinks about him “every day” but hasn’t seen him since and so does Scully, of course, and Mulder can sense that so he, looks, too, and this case will make him cling to William’s memory again and--

One word. Riverdale.

“All my training-- everything that I know about psychology--” WHAT. Scully, you’re a medical doctor, not a psychologist. Definitely not a psychiatrist.

So Mulder can read x-rays with medical accuracy, and Scully can read Indian and diagnose someone’s psychological state.

Great.

Just peachy.

By the way, if you’re wondering why Mulder keeps getting bumped into or keeps peripherally noticing janitorial staff at each location, here’s your payoff (NO, IT WASN’T HAMFISTED, YOU JUST DIDN’T NOTICE THAT THIS WAS A PLOT POINT AT ALL, IT'S SO CLEVER):

The janitors work for a larger company that also services the hospitals. And Sanjay’s company.

….Eh? Eh? Clever isn’t it??

NOITISN’T.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, so the kids are dying and inadvertently killing… off… their… parent? Or something? Or the reverse?

(Note from the future: Jackie feared her biological daughter because she had supernatural abilities; and ran away hoping to save her son from the same experimentation and fate. ...But her son?-- or her daughter?-- already had powers and forced her to cut him out??? by manipulating her brain????????? to find his way back to his sister??????????????? Even though he was a baby??????????????????? And she still doesn't know this, hoping to see him again someday...????????????????????????????????????????

THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN WHY THE TEEN/YOUNG WOMAN WAS ALSO FORCED TO CUT HER BABY OUT AFTER BEING HIT BY A CAR, per the baby's instructions. Because that's what the episode says happens.

DO THESE ALIEN BABIES HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST VEHICULAR MANSLAUGHTER OR WHAT????)

Guys, this is dumb.

Mulder’s stupid sunglasses.

But he looks goofy overall, so I’ll CHOOSE to be endeared rather than angry or petulant.

(IchoosethisIchoosethisIchoosethisIchoosethis--)

Wait, why does Mulder keep getting affected by the brain thing?

More importantly.

The episode is setting up a few, blatant parallels:

These parents are having brain problems.

Their kids are experimentation kids.

William's probably an experimentation kid.

Which is stupid, but would then prove Mulder is the biological father.

They will sacrifice this parallel to the plot but also because Scully, not Mulder, ends up being the one to communicate constantly with William.

Which would prove William-Jackson is still Scully's biologically.

(Note from the future: This complete theory is debunked in about two seconds; but will be recycled later for Scully's Morse Code seizure. Wonderful.)

It’s all.

So.

Stupid.

Stupid sunglasses.

I…

I died laughing.

Guys.

I’m gonna include a clip because it’s so goofy.

Context: Mulder’s brain thingy is acting up, so Scully has to run around to find a kid-- Kyle-- so he’ll… help? her partner. Hence, we have Gillian trying to keep up her Revival smoker voice whilst running off and shouting, “KYyyYYyyyyYYLLllelleleee”:

This is The X-Files.

Weep and gnash your teeth in torment.

This is old.

Sorry, Mulder’s ears should be busted by now. Gimme fic where he now has to use hearing aids.

They grabbed Kyle and stuffed him in the car.

Ahh, this is the scene where Mulder looks back at Kyle and someone mentioned it looks like Mulder looking back at William in another, better universe (post here.)

Okay, so, this kid doesn’t mean to hurt people by communicating with his mind, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut was or wasn’t responsible for Sanjay’s death (who was helping him.)

Scully decides “LET’S PRETEND TO HAND HIM OVER TO HIS EVIL SCIENTIST DAD IN ORDER TO FIND HIS SISTER” and that sound and reasonable. As reasonable as a starving pig at a pie fair.

Wait.

The kid was a janitor.

Sanjay was helping him.

Sanjay was working for Evil Scientist dude.

Sanjay was trying to figure out where the kid's sister was, or he knew where she was but wasn't telling the kid?

The kid-- Kyle-- accidentally killed Sanjay because his... powers were outta control?

And... the kid can connect with different people's minds and that's how he hacked Mulder's brain (which retracts my biological theory... until, again, Scully's Morse Code seizure reinforces it.)

But the kid attacked Mulder when Mulder and Scully questioned his mom... didn't he already know who Mulder was?

And the kid kept pressuring Sanjay to find his sister, so much so that Sanjay hadn't been able to sleep well or function in weeks?

So, this kid's... questionable, at best.

Evil Scientist, M.D., pretended to introduce the kid to his sister, but Kyle wasn't BAMBOOZLED nor FOOLED.

Oh, btw, this kid is Jackie’s son. Looks an awful lot like William-Jackson... but anyway. (Jackson's storyline is brazenly ripped off from CC's own material, wow-- right down to the "never saw my son again" line. The writers have charming things to say about adopted families in The X-Files.)

Now he’s running around the hospital looking for Molly (the sister who scared Jackie because she can breathe underwater, etc. etc.)

Reunited with Molly.

Now the kids are throwing the adults with their minds and killing Evil Scientist Badman with the brain thing in order to stay reunited, I guess. Like the Eves. (Another rip-off recycle of their own source material.)

SO, anyway, the Evil Scientist Father died a very gruesome death.

Cut to the place swarmed with FBI.

Another guy said, “Skinner, keep your sfjfkfsdfksj behind the red tape.” I think. Can’t understand him.

Guys, this is the first Mulder-and-Scully posturing I’ve seen since the series began. Praise be, they’re not mannequins.

Here's the Mulder and William "could have been"s.

See, guys? His faith is back. He’s choosing to remember his son and reengage with his past~.

Yeah, and where did THAT come from.

To recap:

Mulder had depression sometime after 2012, so bad that it made Scully… leave, I guess (which would have been a death sentence for someone with a temperament like Mulder’s.)

But he shouldn't have had depression after 2012 because 2012 just reset the Colonization clock (according to he, himself, and his theory.)

So, he’s got "no reason" depression, then disconnects from Conspiracies and shoves away memories of William.

But he hadn’t had a breakdown or disconnect from reality before My Struggle I (which made Scully’s decision to leave even stupider.)

And Scully worries he’ll have a breakdown in My Struggle I.

And he actually didn’t leave Conspiracyville despite also leaving it and knowing things he shouldn’t and not knowing things he should.

Following?

Conspiracy guy calls up Skinner who calls up Scully who calls up Mulder; and he and she don't hesitate to investigate despite putting “that life” behind them.

There were no aliens, period, only men in government wearing suits or planting false memories or whathaveyou.

He’s still got depression but doesn’t, actually, in My Struggle I despite Scully thinking he does and worrying he’ll have a breakdown despite knowing he left Conspiracyville but not coming home, etc. etc.

Both are let into the FBI.

Still following?

He put William behind him but engages in conspiracies now (despite still engaging in them while not engaging in them-- you get it.)

Let me reiterate: Mulder. put someone that he loved. behind him.

Mulder makes peace with the thought that William’s his son regardless and daydreams about movies and rocketships.

And that’s that on all his hangups, I guess. His crops are watered and his depression is cured.

And now he and Scully are installed at the FBI... despite the unlikelihood either of them would pass the physical tests, let alone the training they'd need to requalify. To put them on the field otherwise would be very, very dangerous... right, Skinner?

The End.

Just make this easier for me next time and beat a bat over my head.

I do have another nitpick.

Mulder is too downcast in his “happier times” flashbacks, especially compared to Scully’s buoyant, sweet, upbeat persona. So, basically, he has a stunning lack of imagination, I guess.

Which, jokes aside, is an interesting thought: Mulder creating realities in his mind so convincingly mapped onto his current one that it’s even more devastating to snap out of them and face each and every unsatisfying day.

Also, both he and Scully have the same sort of nightmare....

This had BETTER be Jackson’s way of reaching out to them for help, or so help me I’m going to label these moments as narrative clickbait.

EYYYYYY, we got an actual Mulder “NO!” It sounded like him, too! FINALLY! SPIRIT! SPUNK! THE MULDER ESSENCE.

Oh, yeah, that William can get yeeted-- he doesn’t fit my headcanon, anyway.

Mulder's sitting upright, too, without having woken from a nightmare.

…So this was a deliberate choice on the filmmakers’ part.

So this is setting up for something. Like William communicating to them BOTH in waking dreams.

We all know that won’t happen, but, anyway.

CONCLUSION

YOU’RE NOT GETTING ME WITH THE HAPPY FAMILY TIMES, YOU MANIPULATORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

YOU CAN’T TAKE ME ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE.

Also: very rarely do I like movie kitchens, but Mulder's... it's alright.

Lastly: again, I am so tired.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #React #mine #A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try #Part II #S10 #Founder's Mutation #Revival Reviler's first-time watch through #Revival #x-files #the x files #xfiles #Mulder #Scully #William #first-time watch through #thoughts #xf meta #uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh

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emilykaldwen · 5 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

Next Chapter

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

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mirrortalk7 · 5 months

Text

I successfully materialized my SP !!!

Backstory: for brief context, I have been doing alot of spiritual work over the past two years. I work heavily with tarot, my spiritual guides and more recently over the past year/-the law of assumption.

Like many people on this platform, I found happiness and ease once I started to indulge in the law, everything felt lighter and my manifestations didn’t feel like they were ‘seprate’ from the current me I embodied.

I used any material I could find that made me feel like I could absorb and retain whatever I learned. I did this via consistent saturation.

Ex.

💭Social media (tumblr, twitter, insta, Pinterest)

💭 Videos (manifest and finesse, guru tapes and Rita kaminski)

💭 Dedicated a journal (w/lock) to anything and everything Loa related

💭 List method, I am a detail oriented person and find that making lists help boost my efficiency. Using this method helps me track the better part of what I want. Everytime I use it it works

💭Robotic affirming

💭Aff tapes

The key to all of this imo is to find whatever works naturally for you and fully indulge in living in the end whilst utilizing that method! Rather simple.

Don’t be afraid to go into deep detail on what you meant because it actually strengthens the pull AND it helps you branch into more things you want from said manifestation.

My SP is everything I wanted with additional goodies I didn’t even think of, but love. He matches every little note I made.

Now, for the maintenance of my new reality~

I’ve noticed that with SS stories like these, it’s not often that the person talks about how they plan to maintain their desire.

Here is my plan, one of which I used during and will continue to use, for the betterment of us both! Including my craft.

Self concept work daily

Robotic affirming

Saturation via fantasizing and reminiscing

Creating new fantasies in imagination that I wish to fulfill

Stick to the version of SP that I love, act as them in imagination

Affirmation verbally between the both of us

Open communication

I appreciate you time, thank you for reading, I shall update. Until then enjoy the rest of my blog ~~@

#self concept #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassblog #robotic affirming #neville goddard #success story #Spotify

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starrywooyo · 8 months

Text

treasure: Six

synopsis: when y/n gets whooshed into an alternate universe, an adventure: one with pirates and monsters and much, much more

pairing: ot8! pirate ateez x fem! reader

genre: pirate au!!

!!warnings(per chapter)!! - [bellow cut!] no warnings i can think of- plz lmk if there is

notes: omg- guess who's backkkkk with an update!! I'm so sorry it's taken this long to get this chapter out.. i also split this chapter into 2 since i felt its a bit much to read with it being so long.. or do you guys not mind really long parts/chapters?? maybe i also done it to keep you guys in suspense too 😏😏

word count: 4.3k

taglist: (if you want removed or added to the list please lmk)

@toxic-babexe , @sunnyhokyu , @cambriel , @lelaleleb

if if missed anyone again just let me know! i also don't know where my tag list is so please let me know if you wanted added and are not on here

series masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

previously:

hongjoong stands, placing his hands in the table, slightly leaning forward.

“I have some news I want to share” he says

your breath gets stuck in your throat. He doesn't know, does he??

“i have progress of our voyage for the Cromer.” he adds

everyone now gives him their full attention.

“thanks to sedna here, we have our heading. it'll be a long, dangerous journey but I know we as a team, a crew. can manage it!! we will get the cromer before they do”

You don't know how long, it’s most likely been days that have passed. All you can see from the horizon is the ocean and then more ocean.. Water as far as the eye can see.

Crew are starting to feel as though this mission is lost, that you were all lost on the sea, some starting to get bored out of their minds.

You sigh

“What’s wrong?” a voice asks

You close your book over

“Are we ever going to reach wherever it is we’re trying to get to yeosang?” you ask

He bookmarks his own book and lets out a small laugh.

“I’d tell you to be patient but I feel we’re all getting a bit restless these days, we’ll get there all in good time y/n.. Now let's continue reading shall we?” he replies and then proceeds to open his book to continue reading.

Deciding to do the same you reopen your own book and continue reading.

…

You toss and turn in your bed, unable to get some sleep. You still can't help the thoughts that pass through your mind. Tossing off the covers you pull your boots on and make your way through the ship.

It's mostly quiet as you walk down the corridor, the only thing to be heard being the waves crashing outside the ship and the slight creak of the wooden floorboards, the rest of the crew getting some kip while they can.

Walking up the stairs you slightly shiver from the nip from the cold air, rubbing your arms you take no notice of your surroundings and make your way to your spot you like to rest on at the front of the bow.

Leaning on the wood, you look out into the dark, there's not much visibility bar the light coming from the little lantern hanging down but when you look up, you’re in awe. The stars are out and shining bright. They look so… pretty. You wish you had a camera so you could capture this moment

Still gazing at the stars above you don't catch the sound of someone walking up behind you

“D’you like stargazing?”

You flinch turning to the voice

He laughs slightly “sorry didn't mean to scare ya” he says leaning beside you

You finally take in your surroundings you notice hongjoong is at the wheel and that's pretty much everyone who’s still awake

You turn back to him, he’s just looking at you intently

He gestures to the stars with his head and asks again.

“D’you like stargazing. y/n?” he asks.

“I do.. Do you like the stars, Yunho?” you ask him.

He smiles

“I do, being a lookout i get to see ‘em pretty much every night, i know a lot of the constellations too but what ‘re you doing awake at this time.. Can’t sleep??” he asks

You shake your head

He looks away for a second, then walks away a little bit and hold out his hand for you to take.

“Follow me”

You take ahold of his hand and he and he begins to lead you up the stairs past hongjoong at the helm to where the mizzen mast stands.

“Ladies first” he gestures to the rope ladder

And you climb up till you get to the barrel-like section at the top and yunho climbs in after you.

“It’s easier to see the stars from up here” he says and blows the candle out from the little lantern that's hung up in the mast so that he or wooyoung can have a little light when they need it. And then he sits beside you on the ground and tucks his legs up to his chest just like you.

Looking up you can see all the pretty twinkling lights and you’re in awe of them all.

A light tap on your shoulder brings you back to the man sitting beside you, and you listen and watch intently as he points out various stars and constellations and explains some of them to you

…

You shiver slightly rubbing your arms as a chill wind blows through you in the mast.

“Hmm cold?” yunho asks, tilting his head to the side a little.

You nod “ a little bit.. Yeah”

He shuffles about a bit in the space and opens the basket sitting in the corner, and pulls out a worn out greyish blue blanket

“ ‘ere “ he wraps the blanket around you and you pull it tighter around yourself

“it does get pretty chilly up here so there's a blanket in every basket for the three masts just in case you need that information” he laughs a bit and he sits back into his spot beside you on the ground and he wraps one of his arms around you pulling you closer to his side

“See that one ‘ere.. thats pleiades its-” he stops seeing you are now fast asleep he breathes out a laugh and then pulls you closer to his chest and then proceeds to fall asleep not long after you

…

You’re drawn out of your slumber from people talking in hushed tones, one of which you know to be yunho but the other you can't tell, still being in a haze.. The other person leaves.

“Yunho..” you voice out.

He hums

“What's the prettiest star youve seen?” you ask randomly still in your sleepy haze while wrapping your arms around his waist snuggling into him

“Hmm well… it's not actually a star but the aurora’s the most beautiful thing i've seen in my life time”

You smile and shut your eyes again resting your head on his chest

“I'd like to see that too” you say as you slowly drift off

Yunho rubs your back as you do

“I'll take you to see it.. Don't worry”

…

Your eyes flicker open and you stretch bones clicking in the process. Scanning your surroundings you see you’re still up in the mast with yunho still wrapped up in his arms as you shuffle around he stirs in his sleep, hands coming up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Hmm good morning” he says, his voice still laced with sleep.

You reply to him and the both of you begin to make your way to the kitchen to get something to eat before everyone else.

You grab a bread roll as does yunho as well as an apple that yunho reluctantly lets you cut up yourself with your history of knives.

“Thank you.. By the way” you say as you begin to nibble on your food “for last night.. I had a good sleep thanks to you, yunho” you smile.

“Don’t worry about it, m’glad you could get some rest”

You both sit and continue to eat your food in the peaceful silence quite content.. Until it wasn't- more of the crew came piling in to grab their own breakfast before getting to work and it's then that yunho leaves you to go do his own chores around the ship again. And you go and join yeosang again.

…

“So where is it exactly we’re going yeo??” you ask him

“Well we’re going here to this docking town to restock supplies then we’ll head east or ‘tis where captain says we need to go” he explains pointing places out to you on the map “not to worry though, we’re almost there i'd assume we’d be arriving to the dock at any minute”

And he was right, you were in fact pulling up to the dock but not 20 minutes later.

Most of the crew started flowing out the ship, stretching. Their feet finally on firm solid ground. Standing on the dock you watch in silence as members of the crew converse with the workers on the dock, seonghwa wagering with the man how many pieces of gold would grant the amount of time the ship could stay docked

In the distance you see hongjoong talking with sedna about what.. You don't know but it looks to be a serious conversation. The conversation stops and he seems to make his way back over to you all and he speaks.

“I want everyone to stock up on supplies they may need and rations for the ship as for seonghwa, mingi, jongho, yunho, wooyoung and san you all come with me.. y/n you stay with yeosang” he says then he claps his hands together.

“Okay. everyone get to work” he says and he and his little team head off.

…

And so you walk through the streets of the town with yeosang carrying some of the things he buys to help him carry them back. You’re bored out of your mind, it’s been a good few hours since hongjoong and the crew left to god knows where. And you wont lie, you’re curious so… you pester yeosang about it. To which he replies something about a mini mission for the actual mission..just boring stuff

“Hey y/n.. I'm gonna nip into this last shop real quick. Can you wait out here for a second?” yeosang asks you, you nod watching him through the window of the store after he enters.

Bored you end up zoning out looking in the opposite direction, lost in your own thoughts.

Something catches your attention, as you stare your features contort in confusion

What.. is.. that..!?

You must've been staring for a long time as you’re brought out from your trance from yeosang calling you

“y/n… you good?” he asks, looking worried.

You hum

“Hmm.. yeah.. I thought I saw..” you look back, the thing is no longer there “nothing.. nevermind ..”

And then the both of you head back to the ship.

…

The others didn't get back to the ship until a long while after you, some covered in cuts and other bruises.. Just what was the ‘mission’

San ushers those with cuts to his study to clean the wounds up the rest follow hongjoong to his cabin and you’re left in the dark.. Not included. So you just help the other crew carry the stock onto the ship

…

With the ship now stocked and ready for the vast journey on the water you can finally start the main voyage.

The main 8 currently gathered in the captains cabin, map sprawled out on the table as hongjoong points to the locations on the map and explains in detail the route to be taken for this quest.

They all end up piling out of the foom after a few hours

You sit in your cabin seemingly lost in deep thought

“A penny for yer thoughts y/n.. What's got yer mind so busy” there's a knock from the doorframe.

Being drawn from your thoughts your head snaps to the doorway.

Hongjoong leans on the frame, sleeves of his white button shirt rolled up and his jacket discarded, being held in his hands.

You frown.. Thinking about it some more

“It’s nothing” you brush it off

He sighs

“May i?” he asks, gesturing to your room, you nod and he enters placing his jacket on your bed and taking a seat next to you.

“It cant be nothin if its got you frowning like that.. Did somethin happen??” he asks slight worry on his face

“No.. nothing happened per say.. I just.. I don't know.. I saw something but i don't know if my brain was playing tricks on me”

“Whatd ye see? Maybe I can help if I know what it was?” he pries some more..

You turn to face him

“I thought i.. When you and the others went on that little mission.. When i was shopping with yeosang.. i .. i thought i saw you.. Only it wasn't you?? I don't know.. you had different clothes on and.. All black and a black hat too” you laugh “i’m going crazy right?” you ask him

Only a sinking feeling comes to your chest as you see his face, its pale as if the colours been drained out

“y/n.” he begins “if you see that person again or someone similar. I need you to tell me or one of the others.. Can you do that for me?” he asks

You nod.

He shakes his head “no. i need you to say you’ll do it. Promise me you will”

You tilt your head in confusion

“I will” you say

“Good” he starts to grab his jacket and stands to leave the room

“But hongjoong,who or what was that?” you ask

“You don’t need to know that right now” and with that he leaves the room.

…

The ship comes to a stop with a sudden jerk, an island in the close distance.

Hongjoong stands giving commands as the crew rushes about the ship preparing to leave the ship and get to the piece of land on the longboats.

Chucking equipment onto the small boats crew piling in and getting lowered to the ocean.

Most of you make it to land, some crew having to stay back and watch the ship.

This is it. The main island.. Whatever it is you're searching for. It's here.. Somewhere.

Making camp on the beach tents get set up in all different sizes as well as some crates as makeshift tables, a fire being planned to get set up in the middle of camp.

“Yunho, wooyoung go scout the surroundings and make sure its safe” hongjoong orders. And the two do as told with woo whining a tad.

“And y/n, mingi, jongho come with me.. Lets split up and get some firewood for that fire later”

And the four of you make your way up the sandy dunes to the entrance of the woods. And slowly you all creep in.

You walk a good few minutes in far enough in that there's branches and leaves

“Just take as much as you can carry, we won't be camped on the beach long, take just enough to keep the fire going overnight and to cook a dinner” hongjoong says and begins to pick up the sticks on the ground and the other three of you follow suit.

With arms now filled with branches and dry leaves for kindling you make your way back to camp on the beach and dump the wood on the ground where the fire will be set up. And seonghwa comes along and gets started on the fire and you watch him intently; he starts by taking stones from the beach to which you help and places them in a circle for the boundary of the fire, then taking the twigs and branches you all collected and places them neatly in the stone circle, lastly he takes the dried leaves and skaters them throughout the logs.

He pulls from his pocket a rock of flint and holds it securely on one of the big stones surrounding the unlit fire close to some of the kindling and he whips out a small steel dagger. He pauses-

And briefly looks up to you.

“You good?” he asks

You let out a hum

“It's just, you’ve been watching me for a while.. Is it really that interesting?” he asks

You nod

“Hmm! I always used to watch my da- i mean i just think its cool to watch” you tell him

He kind of looks at you with your first choice of words but he decides to not comment on it. And just nods along.

“Y’wanna try then?” he taps the sand beside him

You slightly laugh

“I don't know if i can do it but i'll certainly give it a shot” and you get on your knees beside him.

Seonghwa briefly shows you how to hold the flint and the angle to strike the dagger against it, once you're sure you’ve got the hang of it, you take the items from him and strike the blade against the rock.. Nothing happens the first few times but then all of a sudden a few sparks fly off and land on the leaves slightly letting some smoke travel in the air. Seonghwa gets closer to the leaves and gently blows on them and at last the fire is going!! It works its way through the other twigs and leaves until finally a big blazing fire lights up the camp.

“Why don't you go see what the others are doing and if they need any help while I get started on dinner” seonghwa tells you. And with a nod of your head you're off through the camp.

Walking around the camp you find jongho sitting cleaning out his gun, all the pieces laid out..

You sit in front of him and he looks up from cleaning and gives you an awkward smile

“y/n… hi” he says

“Hi Jongho”

The awkward smile still there he doesn't pay you any mind and goes back to cleaning

Damn this is awkward..

“So.. jongho..” you begin-

“Look y/n. With all due respect just leave me alone” he sort of snaps as he puts the cleaned gun back together “im not interested” he gets up and walks away.

Oh…

Disappointed you sit and look out to the waves.. The sun is starting to set, it hangs low in the sky

Someone takes the place of jongho..

“y/n?” they speak

“Captain.” you reply.

Hongjoong sits across from you.

“I.. um.. I have somethin’ for you.. Will you come with me a minute..?” he asks, his eyes darting everywhere bar into your own.. His cheeks slightly flushed

You let out a small yeah and get up to follow him, he leads you towards his tent and holds open the fabric for you to enter. Which you do.

Hongjoong enters after you and you take a look around the large tent.

There's a make-shift table to the right with a chair and to the left his bed, some clothes folded on top with his hat neatly placed against them and a rucksack laying on the floor at the foot of the bed and some oil lanterns hang in random spots

“y/n.. Come in. don’t just stand there..” he says now standing at the table so you walk closer to the table.

He clears his throat and places a medium-ish flat box on the table in front of you.

“I.. haha um.. It might be weird but.. I got you this.. I know you were lookin at one a while back..” as he rambles on you peel the lid of the box off and your eyes go wide

“A-and you don't have to like it. I know it's not the same one you saw.. And its probably weird that i bought you it-” he continues

“I love it” you whisper out

“That's okay.. Wait- you do?” he asks

You nod and take it out of the box. Inside was a pretty black lace up corset with little white and red flowers embroidered on going up the left side with green vines and on the right side in the same red as the flowers which looks to be an ‘A’ in a red circle.

Hongjoong watches as you look at the corset with pure happiness in your eyes and a smile goes onto his own face

You look to him

“This is probably one of the nicest gifts anyone has given me..thank you. Hongjoong.”

“Of course, I'm just glad you like it.. Now. let's go get something to eat shall we?” and you both go out to join everyone else around the fire to eat.

…

The next day you all wake up bright and early ready to make your journey into the dense forest. Getting ready, you pack your little bag first and change into your clothes: trousers and a nice white flowy shirt.. The corset catches your eye in the corner so you decide to put it on. undoing the laces you slip it over your torso and go to pull the laces shut.. Only you realise something. You can't do it by yourself.

You make your way to the entrance of your tent and slightly poke your head out..

You see hongjoong giving out orders and overseeing them as most people are packing up their things and tents, majority of the crew are busy though someone catches you sticking your head out, with a cheeky grin on his face he saunters over towards your tent, you quickly pull your head back in and hold the opening shut

“y/n~~ are you ready?? We’re about to head off” he says..

“i - nearly, i'm just getting ready but i-” you weigh up all the options in your mind. Cursing at yourself you pop your head back out again and look at the blonde who's still smiling, his arms crossed over his chest.

You bite your lip slightly “wooyoung” you sigh out “can you come in here and help me?” you ask

He frowns slightly and tilts his head

“Help? Hmm sure, but with what?” he asks

You pop back in the tent

Wooyoung follows in after you, brushing a hand through his blonde hair and when he finally looks at you he sucks in a breath.

“Y-you need help lacing that up..” he asks a faint yet prominent blush creeps its way onto his cheeks

You nod slowly.. “if .. you wouldn't mind” you add.

He quickly shakes his head.

“I don't mind” he says and he walks over to you.

You turn around for him and he takes hold of the laces with shaky hands

“Let me know if it's too tight.. Okay..? i don't wanna hurt you” he says and begins to fix the strings before pulling on them. You feel yourself being sucked in oh god you don’t know how those women in towns do this, He pulls them tight a few times before he's asking you if it's okay you tell him it's fine before he’s pulling some more more and then he ties the bow in the back. His hands rest on your waist for a moment.

“There” he whispers out.

“Thank you”

He smiles though you can't see it.

Turning around you grab your bag to head out. It's wooyoung's turn to look over you, he bites his lower lip looking away slightly before looking back to you.

“You look good.. It suits you, pretty” he says and you both leave the tent. He helps you pack the rest of your things and roll your tent up and attach it to your bag.

Walking over to the rest of the group by the forest entrance, the fact you're wearing his corset doesn't go unnoticed by hongjoong. A blush of his own coating his cheeks as well. He clears his throat and continues his ‘speech’ and not long after you're all off into the forest..

…

hongjoong leads the line from the front, map and compass in his hands. You don't know how long you walked for.. All you know is this island is bigger than it seems to be and all you've been seeing is trees, trees and even more trees. And you’re losing daylight again.. Wherever it is that map leads.. We’re not getting there as quickly as hongjoong hoped we would.

You come to a small clearing in the woods.. Still covered with trees but space enough to make a small camp for your team of 15..

Hongjoong stops turning to face everyone.

“We’ll camp here for now” he sighs out shaking his head frustrated. He seems to have a silent conversation with seonghwa before he's speaking again “Mingi.. Jongho you both take night watch.” he says to the two men before he begins to walk off seonghwa close behind him.. Yeosang too before he adds

“We don’t know what or who lurks in this forest..”

…

The camp set up everyone seems to get settled seemingly staying in their own tents exception of jongho and mingi who pace around a makeshift border of what you call ‘camp’

Sitting watching the flames of the fire at the side of the camp.. It's quiet.. Peaceful.

“y/n..” yunho stands in front of you with a smile on his face. He outstretches his hand for you to take.

“Come with me.” he says and you look at him suspiciously.

He sighs out.. “Just come on.. Or we’ll miss it” he grabs your hand and begins to pull you away. Away from camp.. Down the path. You walk hand in hand with yunho for around 10 to 20 minutes. Until you come to another opening. This time a cliff opening. He lets go of your hand and goes and sits on the edge of the cliff sighing dejectedly

“Missed it.. It was right there my star.. I'm sorry” he says to you.

You sit next to him

“What was it?” You ask

“The lights..” he sighs

You smile

“Thank you for coming to get me because you saw them.. Don’t worry though Yun.. the stars are still very pretty to watch” you tell him. He nods still upset that he failed to get you on time.. You sit in silence for a few moments and then he turns to you.

“I'll be back quickly star.. I'll go get a blanket and my telescope and we can watch them better” he says to you and you agree and he gets up and walks back in the direction you both came from.

You sit yourself in the quiet and peaceful for a bit looking up at the stars.. Occasionally looking at the darkness of the ocean below from your viewpoint.

You hear the crunching of the ground in the distance

“Sorry I kept you y/n.. I’m back” he says and sits beside you again.

#starrywooyo #starrywooyo fics #starrywooyo treasure series #starrywooyo treasure #treasure #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez pirate au #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung oneshot #jongho x reader #ateez series

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 months

Note

I have literally read all of your completed fics and read updates from you immediately so sorry for the insane ask but I'm genuinely to excited for a normal one

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Because I'm intrigued as to how you'll do it 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

And for fun 🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

AHHHH THANKS! THAT IS SO KIND!!!!!!

Here we go! I love a challenge!

93 for ⚡ (we shall see if I have 93 left, if it's a bit short, it's because the chapter ends):

---

Overall, almost everyone who matters is there.

There’s one thing that does happen at the party that has ended up falling under Buck’s list of demands. His wishlist of things he wants for their wedding, that he has tried to be consistently vocal about to assuage Eddie’s nerves. Though, this one has nothing to do with Eddie. So he can’t exactly demand it. But he’s been waiting anxiously to ask for it for a while now.

He waits for a quiet moment. Bobby is taking a stack of empty plates from the backyard into the kitchen. It’s a stroke of luck that no one else seems to be in there right now. Buck excuses himself from a conversation with Sophia and Adriana - who are partway through mercilessly teasing Eddie - to follow Bobby inside.

“Need any help?” Buck asks, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

“It’s your party,” Bobby protests. “You’re not supposed to do the work.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “You can help me scrape plates.”

“Thank you,” Buck says.

He walks over to the kitchen garbage to begin his chore.

“You having a good time?” Bobby asks, tone sincerely inquisitive.

“I really am,” Buck says. “Thank you again for throwing this. It… Well, honestly it sort of never occurred to me anyone would ever want to do this for me.”

Bobby frowns. “Of course we wanted to. Athena and I, we’re thrilled for you and Eddie.”

“I know,” Buck says. “It’s a silly thing to be surprised about, I guess. I mean, you also did that party for me after my leg, and… And yeah. Thanks, I guess. For wanting to.”

Bobby nods. “It’s my pleasure, Buck. Really.”

“I have something I was hoping to talk to you about,” Buck says, looking at the plate he’s scraping rather than at Bobby.

“Okay? Shoot.”

“So, you offered to officiate like you did for Maddie and Chim.”

“I did,” Bobby confirms.

“But we asked Hen to do it, instead.” Buck continues.

“Oh.” There’s a slide edge of disappointment in Bobby’s voice, but he covers it well. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“Only because, I was hoping maybe you’d just… Well, maybe you’d stand with me, instead?”

Bobby pauses. Buck feels a peel of nerves. He’s not sure why. He has thought about it several times though, and he really can’t imagine Bobby saying no.

“Stand with you?” Bobby asks after a moment.

“Mhm,” Buck confirms nervously. He still won’t look at Bobby. “Um, you know… We aren’t inviting my parents, and… And we won’t have a wedding party, I don’t think. But Eddie wanted Chris with him and I… I guess I just wanted you and Maddie.”

Bobby inhales. “I’d be honored, Buck.”

Buck finally looks at him. There’s a strange, almost teary expression in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Bobby nods.

“Thank you,” Buck smiles. “That… That really means a lot to me, Bobby.”

“And to me.”

Neither of them says any more on it than that. But Buck is fairly certain he understands. That they both understand.

“You should get back out there,” Bobby says. “You’re half of the whole point, you know.”

“Ah, come on. Eddie can entertain everyone himself. He loves that.”

“Go on,” Bobby insists. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” Buck nods. He puts down the plate he was scraping. “I’ll see you soon.”

As he’s walking out of the house, Buck is struck with the incredible difference between where he was a year ago, and where he is now. What the past looks like, versus what the future is looking to be. He feels incredibly warm.

---

Okay ^^^ that was 89, so close! This chapter will likely be fully published before this ask is answered haha.

153 for 🚨... Honestly this might finish this chapter too damn...:

---

IF YOU SAW THIS WITH ALL THE TAGS I AM SORRY I TAGGED THE WRONG THING AND POSTED IT TOO EARLY! I WILL ADD TO THIS! DON'T HAVE THREE TUMBLR TABS OPEN AND DRINK!

#daisies and briars writes #things we're all too young to know fic #evan buckley #buddie 911 #eddie x buck #eddie diaz #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 #buddie fanfic

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Let's spread some positivity! Tag some of your fellow content creators here and let them know why they are absolutely amazing!❤️

This is a really sweet idea. I'm going to put my list below a cut, because it will be long.

@em-writes-stuff-sometimes - honestly, Em's fan fiction is better than actual published books I've read. You should be doing this professionally, bub, not publishing it for free for us morons on Tumblr. I'm forever amazed that someone with your brain wants to pal around with an idiot like me.

@valeskafics - your tenacity and the sheer volume with which you are able to write will never cease to amaze me. You're a powerhouse, Babybel. You don't have a masterlist, you have a fucking library, it's incredible.

@barbiedragon - your modern Daemon has me in a chokehold. You're also one of the few writers flying the flag for Vizzy 3 and I gobble up everything you write for him like I'm a shark and you've put chum in the water. Can't wait for Kinktober to see what you create!

The rest of this list is just ordered by date of when I followed the person, and expresses no particular favourtism:

@flowerpotmage - not quite so active in fandom anymore, but they're one of the few writers giving gender neutral readers some much needed representation, and their Aemond and Daemon fics are amazing.

@paintb0x - an amazing artist - some of the best I have seen for Ewan and his characters.

@sapphire-writes - I love Jo's modern AUs and her ability to put my heart through the wringer!

@timetravelingpenguin1066 - Eli is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. An incredible gif maker and a great fic writer.

@aemondx - Sili's gifs are wonderful and the kindness she dedicates to this fandom by making icons and headers for people is admirable.

@alicentive - Killy's gifs are insane and I love that she writes for the characters that don't get as much attention from fandom.

@marthawrites - Midnight Passages, you will always be famous.

@exitpursuedbyavulcan - Studious, my beloved. UPDATE WHEN? (sorry)

@targaryenrealnessdarling - I would die for Liz. She's not just an insanely talented writer, but an all round amazing person too, she makes this fandom a much nicer place to be.

@st-eve-barnes - Eve is out here giving the Aegon girlies the content they desperately need. I love her Aemond fics too!

@bottlesandbarricades - one of the funniest fuckers I've ever had the pleasure of speaking too. Only has one fic, but it's a banger, and her edits are unmatched. I will never get over space buns Aemond.

@toms-cherry-trees - more content for Peaky Blinders than HotD, but the Aemond fic is gold.

@just-some-random-blogger - a Daemon girlie, we love to see it! If entertaining reblogs were an Olympic sport then Hani is taking home the gold. Her fics are bonkers, and I love them.

@humanpurposes - Gee's writing is top notch, some of the best Aemond fics I've ever read.

@assortedseaglass - Hilde is one of my favourite writers. Ever. She could write instructions on how to put together IKEA furniture and I'd eat it up, she's that good.

@oneeyedvisenya - another of my favourite Aemond writers. Education is one of my top five fics of all time. So well written.

@lya-dustin - the speed with which Juli produces chapters is mindblowing. All Is Bliss is a great series.

I can only tag 20 accounts at a time, so I shall continue this in a reblog. I wasn't lying in previous ask, when I said my appreciation post would be phonebook sized.

#asked and answered

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Four.

Oh, look at that. It's surprise update time! I have noticed a few new readers making their way through the previous chapters, a warm welcome to you all :) Thank you to my regulars for your reads, reblogs lovely reviews, you make my heart happy <3 It would make me endlessly happy if I could hear back from a few of you who've remained silent so far, too. Remember, it takes less time to leave a comment and hit reblog than it does to actually read the chapter you just enjoyed :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,704

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

Deluge. Downpour. White blankets swathed the surroundings in every single direction as John carefully negotiated his Austin Twenty over the rapidly freezing roads, shuddering as he did. The temperature had dropped to a bitter minus five, but he wasn’t about to let a little thing like sub-zero temperatures and weather that bordered upon a blizzard stop him from reaching Little Aston. Besides, it had only taken such a severe turn once he was over halfway there.

At seeing the stone wall bearing the engraving ‘Georgian House’, he sighed with relief. Turning in, he was about to jump out and open up the gate when he saw a figure come trudging down the drive, a well-dressed man opening the high, iron structure and waving him through.

“Carry on straight up, Mr Shelby. Ma’am is awaiting you.”

“Bloody hell,” John muttered with a smirk as he continued up the drive, “her butler looks older than she is.” The drive was not long at all, John pulling the car alongside a beautiful, black Rolls Royce outside of what looked to be an old coach house, picking up the bottle of whiskey he’d brought with him. Tommy had advised him there, telling him it wasn’t polite to turn up to the home of a woman who appeared to be in such high standing empty handed.

“Allow me, sir.”

Pushing a hand past where he reached to rap the large, brass knocker upon the door, the butler let them into the house, pausing upon the other side of the heavy door. “May I take your coat and cap, sir?”

“Ta. Oh, mind ya fingers on the peak.”

The butler looked between the young man and the razorblade adorned cap a little distastefully, raising an eyebrow. “Sir.”

He aimed for non-judgmental, but it didn’t land at all, John’s smirk widening as he turned at the sound of a door creaking open, the only person within the walls of Georgian House whose opinion he gave a damn about walking towards him.

Taking her in, he gulped, seeing how incredibly beautiful she looked. Her hair tumbled in a cascade of curls, her peacock printed silk robe flowing with all the elegance she carried herself with. It was belted low, low enough to reveal that she wore no brassiere beneath. His heartbeat amped a few notches.

“I almost ventured out to see if you had become stuck along the way!” Reaching for him, she pressed a kiss to his lips, humming happily.

“Er, yeah. Sorry an’ all for being late. Fucking coming down in buckets out there, it is.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it truly is no bother. I anticipated as much. Oh, and you brought whiskey, how splendid. Now, cook has prepared dinner for us, but it shall keep. Let’s head to the sitting room and warm you up. You are colder than I am!”

He let her take his hand, John’s eyes everywhere as they walked to the right across the checkerboard tiled welcome hall of the homestead. Fine art hung upon the baroque embossed, black wallpaper, the ceilings white, a gigantic chandelier twinkling above them. He shuddered to think how many zeros its price carried.

The sitting room was equally as opulent, the hardwood beneath his boots almost black in colour, rich tones of claret and burgundy decorating the space, pops of brightness offered by the cream settee, mounted in gilt framework. He almost didn’t dare sit down, save making the place look somehow untidy. There was even a polar bear rug upon the floor, complete with head.

He nodded in the direction of the skinned beast, its teeth bared. “Imagine having to take that down when it was alive. Blimey.”

“There’s no imagining,” Bryn spoke, taking the whiskey from him and moving to the small bar area, pouring out two measures into cut crystal glasses. “I did take it down. Perhaps one of my finest hunting trophies. I feel there is a sense of pride to hunt for your own furnishings.”

Moving to sit beside him, she proffered the glass forth, resting her hand to his thigh. The feel of him beside her, his scent, oh. She had missed him. “I must add, though, it was not a merciless slaughter. The beast was stalking some human friends of mine who live on the northern island of Svalbard in Norway. I waited until nightfall for doing a little stalking of my own once it had returned to their cabin, intent on feeding upon them. We vampires are very proficient with the removal of predators who make a pest of themselves.”

He looked impressed, but his following question had nothing to do with the method to which Bryn had procured herself such a rug. “Was them people doing for you what Alfie’s men do when you’re in London, or like how you want us to do for you here? I’ve got news about that, by the way.”

“Not exactly,” she began, leaning back against the comfortable assortment of cushions padding out the settee. “My friends in Norway offer a different type of exchange, blood for protection. I do not feed upon Alfie’s men. The Jews consider this an unholy alliance, so my relationship with them is merely that of daylight protection for monetary recompense. Since vampires have existed, there have been families of humans to know about us, secret keepers as they are known.

“We feed upon them for the exchange of protection. Gypsies commonly do this, of course your blood being so very beautiful in palette to us. You know of that already, though. Your family were not the only ones to give us up to the Rasmussen’s, though. This is another reason why we are becoming so few in number these days. Because out of feeding preference, many of us aligned ourselves to gypsies, since their betrayal of our kind our food source has become scarce.”

“And that’s affected you too, right?” he asked, Bryn shaking her head.

“Not for me personally, no. The people who work on my staff are from a long line of secret keepers whom I aligned myself with centuries ago. My butler, Albert is the grandfather of the family, my cook, Bettie is his wife, and my housekeeper, Elsie is one of their granddaughters.

“Their grandson, Luke, he also works for me, but on the side of my business. He just telephoned to say he has taken lodgings at a hotel within the city centre as the roads are becoming perilous. He is currently assisting me in helping curate a number of new exhibitions at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery. This is the reason why I came to Birmingham in the first place.” Sipping her whiskey, it then dawned on her. “Gods above, here I am, prattling away! You said you had news?”

He shrugged lightly. “No bother. I like hearing all about your life. So, I told our Tommy and me aunt Pol, tried to with Arthur an’ all but he buggered off and wouldn't listen. Tommy says he wants to meet you, I suppose to get an opinion on you before he decides either way. Is that alright?”

“Absolutely, we shall head back there tomorrow evening, if you intend on spending the night?” Oh, he intended on it, and his face showed it. That cheeky grin. “The smile is telling me yes very clearly.”

He leaned in close, kissing her cheek. “As it should. Besides, I doubt I’d be able to get the car out again unless that snow stops.” They kissed one another with longing, John resting a hand to her leg, running it up her thigh slowly. No stockings. A little higher as she virtually purred against his tongue, his fingers reaching her hip. No knickers.

And she wasn’t slapping his cheek and accusing him of being a letch. Or telling him he had to wait.

Before he could find himself too lost within the hazy mist of eroticism, a small noise of someone clearing their throat sounded over the noises of their kissing. “Ma’am, do forgive me for interrupting you and your gentleman friend, but the dinner shall not keep much longer, lest the lamb chops dry up.”

While Bryn thanked Bettie and stood up, all John could do was sit there lost in a daze of his own arousal. No brassiere, no stockings, no knickers.

Did they have to eat dinner?

Upon taking the first mouthful of the succulent lamb, though, cooked with tomatoes and mint, paired with baby potatoes and green beans, he very much wanted to fill his stomach. “Blimey, this is fancy.” Nodding to her meagre portion, he raised an eyebrow. “Not much of an appetite?”

“I only eat for the pleasure of the flavours, remember.” Of course. He immediately felt like a clod for forgetting that. A short silence, followed, John wrestling with the correct way to ask her the question he had wondered over.

“Right, so if you’re dead, then how do ya digest the food?”

She laughed softly through her nose, reaching for her wine. John Shelby; he just had to know how everything worked. “Truth is, I have absolutely no idea. Something about the magic of what I am, I suppose. My body just absorbs it somehow, like it does with the blood, for I haven’t had the need to use a lavatory since I was human.”

“Well, that’s good I suppose. You’d hate the one at our house,” he began, shovelling a potato into his mouth. “Outside loo, bloody froze me balls off going for a shit this morning.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. It perhaps was not the politest of dinner conversation. When Bryn virtually barked out a laugh, he relaxed, though.

“Oh, John. You know nothing of taking a shit in the cold! Wait until you’ve hovered your bare bottom over a latrine in minus twenty, as I had to in winters as a human.”

“Minus twenty?” he exclaimed, Bryn widening her eyes.

“Yes, it is bitter in Norway.”

“Tell me more about it,” he asked, spearing a piece of tomato with his fork. “I bet it was so different to anything I know, when you lived as a human.”

As he enjoyed every mouthful of his food, a very generously infused fruit and rum cake to follow, John learned all about the Viking age from Bryn’s perspective. Her life had been a hard toil, farming the land and raiding in the summer months with Bjorn, her then-husband, the man she had loved and sadly lost to battle.

“Losing him was terrible, but our son, Sigurd, he thrived. He travelled far and wide to trade, made me so very proud as a mother, even though I could only ever watch him live as an adult from the shadows. He was fifteen when I was made vampire, with a wife of his own and a child on the way. It saddens me that I was not able to truly be there to witness it.”

“Why not?” he asked, thanking her when she topped up his wine. He wasn’t a wine drinker at all, but the red she decanted from the crystal bottle was very palatable, he had to admit.

Lacing her fingers together, she leaned forward a fraction, a sad sigh falling from her pretty, pink lips. “Baby vampires must go with their creator, they are much too volatile in nature to remain with their human family, mores the pity. It is for their safety, and so we may learn how to be what we are, also. My creator was a vampire named Olaf, an ancient being I had the pleasure of being raised by. He was wonderful, but alas is no longer with us.”

“Wasn’t the fucking Rasmussen’s, was it?”

“No,” she said, reaching for her wine. “The decision was his. He was old and tired, nearly two thousand, nine hundred when he decided to kiss his vampire children goodbye and meet the dawn sun. We of course felt sadness, but it was his choice and we respected it.”

“And your siblings?”

“Two remain out of fifteen. There is my brother, Siddiq, who I cannot bear. He resides in a small village not far from his birthplace of Morocco, settling there about two hundred years ago after much travelling around and inflicting himself upon others with his narrow-minded views and oafish behaviour. Then there is my sister, Annabelle, and I love her dearly. She resides in New Zealand, where she and her husband run a nightclub in Christchurch, the perfect venture for a couple of vampires. We write one another often. The other ten met their final death through conflict, and the other three chose to meet the sun also.”

“Have you got any offspring?”

“Two,” she confirmed, smiling a little sadly as she thought of her children. “Alexander and Joy. I do not allow them to reside within England. Too dangerous, it is, for them to place themselves close to me, especially considering it is Rasmussen turf. I have flitted around from place to place for a long time, in order to remain a step ahead of them. My children do the same. The only thing that brings me here right now is my work.”

John listened intently but found himself stuck upon one detail. It was greatly surprising to him, how these creatures were blessed with a life eternal, yet chose willingly to leave it behind. He then supposed that living lifetimes longer than anybody should, some would likely tire of it, having to say goodbye to humans they’d become close with, over and over again as the decades and eventually centuries passed them by.

“You are wondering if I have ever considered such a decision,” she stated, John’s eyebrows rising a fraction. He doubted he’d get used to that, the way she could seemingly read exactly what was on his mind purely by facial expressions alone.

“It crossed my mind,” he confessed, pulling a cigar from his pocket, raising his eyebrows questioningly. She vanished, returning after a second with an ashtray she placed before him. Lighting up, the intoxicating scent of tobacco filled the air, John continuing, “I can’t even imagine it, being on this earth for so fucking long. How’d you do it, live so many lives and never get tired of it all?”

“I sometimes wonder at my tenacity, but you must understand that being vampire made me a very different creature for a long, long time. Once we are made what we are, our humanity is mostly gone. We are no longer human. We are predators, shadow walkers, as your kin called us, bound to the darkness we must forever live within.

“When our bodies die, so do our human values and morals. It takes many hundreds or years to gain a little of it back. As I am now, I am much more human in nature than I was at two, three, four hundred years old. Older vampires, while we possess a power that is virtually limitless, are much gentler than our younger counterparts.

“This is how we cope with living these many lives you mention. Our driving force much different to that of a human. Feed, fuck, survive, repeat. Then, you see, there is the certainty over all you shall bear witness to, everything you shall see in your extended time.”

Taking a pull on the cigar in his hand, he leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me, about the things you’ve seen.”

Oh, where to begin? Bryn’s mind truly was like an encyclopaedia, so many lives, so many sights emblazoned vividly upon a memory that would never forget even the scantest detail of the life and death she had lived. “Oh, gods above, John. I barely know where to begin. I have watched empires rise and fall, been at the side of kings as they have conquered, watched regimes topple and oppressors burn.” His curiosity did not diminish. “You wish for specifics, if I am correct?”

“You are,” he confirmed, watching as she emptied the contents of the wine decanter into their glasses.

Clutching her glass, she stood from the table. “Then let us retire to the sitting room, and I shall tell you some of my more memorable stories.” They left the room, crossing the hallway, Bryn pushing the heavy door open and sweeping her hand, all of the candles within the opulent space lighting, the fire suddenly springing into life. “More of my vampiric magic. I seem to harness fire and energy, hence why my predatory energy made all of the streetlights upon Watery Lane shatter when I was hunting your adversaries.”

He had wondered.

Sitting with her, he felt as if he needed to shake himself into reality. This woman, this earth bound, but magically created, femme fatale creature of the night was testing the very realms of his imagination, of what he considered reality. How was this happening to him? How was John Shelby from Small Heath sitting on a settee next to a vampire, a woman of boundless life and power, about to tell him of the sights she had seen in her thousand plus years?

How?

“As his lover, I sat upon the council of Mehmed the Conqueror during his second reign of the Ottoman empire, advising his proposed attack upon Constantinople. I revealed to you my status as shieldmaiden, but what I did not tell you was that before my turning vampire, I was considered by the standards at the time as a warlord. I led an army of Vikings to conquer upon many a raid after Bjorn’s passing, taking on the position of a Jarl. Mehmed trusted my intuition and experience, as well as my ruthless nature as a four-hundred-year-old vampire.”

His eyes bulged. He hadn’t heard of the man she referred to, most of her explanation being lost upon him, but it sounded very important. “So, you vampires do reveal yourselves to humans, then? I mean, situations like the one between you and me, the secret keepers and gypsies aside?”

“If an alliance proves beneficial to us, then yes, we do.” Reaching for his cigar, she took a little puff upon it, savouring the rich flavour of the smoke before placing it in the ashtray, moving herself to sit astride him. “I think I tire of talking for now.”

Her mouth met his in a slow tease, tongue rolling against his as her hands braced to his chest. He kissed her back with slow heat, fingertips teasing the edge of her robe. “I’m glad you do, cos’ I’ve been wondering how many more tattoos I get to find on this beautiful body.”

Her lips curled into a wide grin of pleasure. “Allow me to reveal myself, so you may count them.” Sliding from his lap onto her feet, she hooked her fingers beneath the clasp belting the flowing silk around her form, unclipping it and letting the robe fall to the floor. Her nakedness was even more exquisite than he could have ever imagined, those tattoos decorating beneath her breasts, across her hips, the designs snaking over the sides of her thighs.

“One,” he spoke, placing a kiss to her sternum. “Two.” Another kiss pressed upon the opposing side of her body, his arms encircling her waist, hands stroking the small of her back. “Three.” His lips met her hip, tongue tracing along the long ago etched black lines, those kisses scattering over from one side of her body to the other. “Four.” The aroused scent drifting from her womanhood evoked a crush of teeth upon the soft skin covering her hip, Bryn letting her head tip back as she grasped his shoulders, purring with delight.

Bracketing her hips, he turned her around, his pupils inking to see the rounded swell of her bum right before him, each orb also decorated with the swirls of two ancient, Nordic dragon tails that ended there, beginning up at her shoulders. Pressing his tongue to the groove of her lower back, he ran a long, slow lick up her spine, his hand sweeping away the curtain of dark curls as he rose to his feet slowly, mouth pressing to her neck while his hands kneaded her breasts, his want spiralling beyond any means of control.

She let herself get lost in him, leaning against his chest as her hand reached back, nails trailing over the shortly shaven hair at the back of his head, her insides beginning to glimmer. “Take me to bed. Now.”

While Bryn might have been the one of illimitable strength, she allowed herself to be lifted, John picking her up and carrying her from the room, up the grand staircase, and following her instruction, into her bedroom. There, she found herself thrown onto her bed, a flick of her hand illuminating all the candles as well as the fireplace within the room, set upon thereafter by a man who did nothing to hide his carnal hunger for her.

Pushing him back to his feet, she had to stop herself from shredding his finely tailored suit with her nails in haste to reveal his nakedness, stripping him of his clothes in a flurry of action, her pupils dilating as she took in the pale splendour of his body.

He was divinity in human form. Flawless skin only marked by the speckling of freckles, lithe muscles, and, well…

“Gods above, I think this is the most perfect cock I’ve seen in centuries,” she purred, her hand curling to grasp it, that and the lick she placed upon the crease of his hip evoking a shudder to run right through him.

“Yeah,” he breathed, lifting her chin, his thumb stroking the bow of her lip. “Just you wait until it’s inside ya.”

The feel of his warmth against her as she pulled him down between her legs sent a thrill of anticipation through her, fingers coming through his hair as their tongues entwined. Their hands pawed one another, all that pent up sexual longing amping, bliss charging over neurones as they indulged in the delight of one another.

It was only the very beginning of a night where fever and passions would soar beyond comprehension.

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