#and I wept like a lil bitch

[viiisenyas]

hello, hello, hello! I am a bit late (or early, depends how you look at it) but I finally began working on my next installment of this longfic.

Fresh from the press, the opening part of my next bit!

I was tagged by the amazing @psalacanthea, and I will tag with no pressure @imperatrixvini, @inquisimer @oxygenforthewicked, and whoever else would like to join in on sharing their wonderful tales!

Warnings: a bit of grief, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death

Hawke

The soft snores of his siblings sounded from beside him as Garrett lay awake with his gaze fixed on the night sky. So much has happened in a short span of time and the grief for his mother's death finally overcame him.

A weight settled on his chest, and Garrett’s breaths became erratic as tears slipped down his temples unnoticed. He shut his eyes for a moment, attempting to will his thoughts away from the image of her broken frame in the dirt, but to no avail.

I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to save you, Mother.

As he sniffled, Valeriana’s soft voice sounded from his left. “Hawke?”

His eyes cracked open, and he turned his head towards the Tevinter mage. She sat up, and placed her hand on her belly as she straightened her posture.

“What is it?” He muttered, sniffling again. Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He slowly sat up with her, and let his eyes meet hers.

“Are you… are you alright?” She tilted her head.

She shifted closer to him and he tensed when she placed her hand on his back, stroking gently. Hawke wasn’t used to receiving comfort from anyone but his mother, and even then, it’d been years ago before Malcolm died. His chest tightened and he drew a sharp breath. He averted her gaze and unconsciously relaxed into her comforting touch.

No.

“I’m fine.” His answer was much harsher than he intended, and he immediately regretted it as her expression fell. “Don’t worry about me, Valeriana.” His tone softened, and Garrett fixed his gaze on the dying light of the orbs that Flemeth summoned.

A long pause settled between them, and Hawke shivered involuntarily as Valeriana’s fingers trailed along his shoulder while she slowly retracted her hand. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and he spared her a glance before exhaling through his mouth.

“You should be resting. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“I know, but… I can’t sleep.” Valeriana replied.

He furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze to her, “Why not?”

“I…” She paused in thought, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s just what you said earlier, I suppose.” She turned her head towards the warrior, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “I can’t ask you to lie to your uncle about my—”

“I've already told you I'd protect you.” He interrupted. “My uncle is a bastard, and with Mother gone…” His throat tightened, and he closed his eyes as grief gripped him. “Andraste's arse.” He muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose as his chest tremored.

Valeriana gently placed her hand on his shoulder, and he felt a wave of calm washing over him. The anxiety dissipated, and he exhaled softly.

“Mother would have been able to convince Gamlen to let you and your child stay in the estate. With her gone… I’m not sure he’ll listen to us. If I tell him that I fathered your baby, it's the best chance you have against being thrown out.” He sighed.

“How do you know that?” Valeriana’s voice wavered, and she began to blink rapidly. “How do you know he won't cast my son and I out into the street, anyway?”

Many answers to her line of questions swirled in his mind, but they dissolved when he heard her final words.

“Your... your son?” Garrett’s brows shot up in surprise and he pursed his lips. “You know it’s a boy?”

She paused and averted his gaze. Hawke tilted his head curiously.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I had… a vision earlier.” She explained.

A vision?

“What did you see?”

“I was walking in a busy street and there was a child holding my hand. He looked up at me and…” She trailed off for a moment, wetting her lower lip with her tongue. “He had his father's eyes and dark red hair.”

Just like hers…

Silence settled between them, and he began to wonder what magic could grant her such abilities to see a possible future, though his contemplation was short-lived.

“Why are you helping me, Hawke?” Valeriana asked.

The question was rather sudden, and he swallowed. He’d been asked this before, barely a week ago, and he remembered his answer to his brother.

Why are you so intent on helping her anyhow? Every time I look at her, I see our sister. Bullshit… I know you, Garrett. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?

He thought back to the first time he’d seen her in Ostagar. Although he was distracted with bickering with his brother, he couldn’t help but spare her a glance or two. He’d never admit that he thought she was fair of face and form, and she seemed far too innocent to be amid the horrors of war.

He remembered how she helped the wounded in Cailan’s camp even after what she’d endured the night before. Even when Leandra nearly turned her away, Valeriana was willing to heal his mother from whatever illness she had. She was a kind soul, and he did not expect to encounter someone like her after he left home.

He turned his head to find her green gaze fixed on him as she waited for his answer, and his stomach fluttered. He hadn’t felt like that for years; not since he was a young and foolish boy, and Hawke’s expression fell when he realised that Carver was right.

Flames.

“Why not?” He answered, moving his eyes to the grass. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh...” She took a breath before she offered him an appreciative smile, “You have my gratitude, and I’m sorry I didn't trust you before.”

She moved her hand from his shoulder to his bicep, and his cheeks grew warm from the friendly touch. Valeriana gently patted his skin before she settled her hand in her lap. Her eyes fell to the grass, and he spared her a glance before his lips curved into a small smile.

“You should get some sleep, Val. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

[bucknastysbabe]

✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾

Therefore I present to you:

♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕

For u bb @fairysluna

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk

A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!

“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.

Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.

Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”

Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”

Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.

Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.

He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”

She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”

Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.

“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”

Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”

Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.

Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”

Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”

Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.

“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.

The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”

She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.

“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”

The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.

Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.

“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.

He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.

“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.

“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.

Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.

Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.

“Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.

Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.

“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.

Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”

The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.

“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”

“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.

Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”

Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”

Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.

Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”

Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.

The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”

Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.

Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”

He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.

He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.

Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.

“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”

She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”

She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.

Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”

Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”

“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.

Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.

Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”

[swugie]

15 questions for 15 mutuals!!!! Thank you so so much @miwwk for tagging meeeee!!!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

yeeesssss AND it’s also an homage to my father’s best friend <3

2. When was the last time you cried?

I actually cried sometime this week simply because I was so grateful for the time I spent with someone and the influence they had on my life. I felt so touched by every soul I had ever met and I wept asking god to keep everyone safe.

3. Do you have kids?

all dese bitches iz my sonsssss ^_^

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

nooooooooooo >;3c

5. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

their energy, tone of voice, how they’re treating themselves/other people/respecting shared space

6. What’s your eye color?

the color of amber and honey :3c

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Por que no los dos? :D

8. Any special talents?

i am a wonder of MANY talents ;3c

9. Where were you born?

i was birthed from sea foam uwu

10. What are your hobbies?

i actually have quite a few!!! i like to make bad collages, paintings, poetry and I’m committed to doing that at least once a week as I’ve kept a journal to watch over it for the past 20+ years of my life!!!!

i also like to make little movies and interview people at small events or just every day things hehe :3

11. Have any pets?

hehehe i do but i truly have no idea the actual number :0

12. What sports do you play?

i just like to play… like at the park ^3^ on da swingzzzzzz fr :3c or to have a picnic :D

I can be a lil sk8r grrrrl from time to time tho :p

13. How tall are you

4’11”

14. Favorite subject in school?

herstorrrryyyyy (history from the perspective of women :3c)

15. Dream Job?

workin wif my homies to ensure our basic needs are provided for by each other outside of our current systems fr :3c

I tag: @fuckinqnymphet @spooky-boogi3 @13lackh34rt @archidendron @cex @pieklo @thesadsaladclub @dilapislayted @pissmother @laserbitch @huskydragonking @contac @demiiwhiffin @gloomybitxh @incendavery

[riosnecktattoo]

Black Sails imma need you to not bless me with John Silver found family-ness and then put me through PAIN im a shipwreck

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary:   Uncle Red is always up for babysitting, but is pitting Red against baby Snow the wisest choice?

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Rescued Child, Babybones, First Time Parenthood, Idiots to Lovers

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

No matter what the boss thought, Red couldn't actually read anybody's mind. Not that he minded keeping up the illusion, nah, that was pretty fucking useful and back in Underfell, his bro wasn't the only person mostly convinced that Red was able to look right into the dirtiest corners of their mind and see what dust bunnies were lying around.

It was a perk he was gonna miss, at least for a little while. Shouldn’t be hard to get reestablished around these parts, hell, prolly a lot easier. His bro might be having some regrets about abandoning the old place, but Red was more’n happy to set up as a cuckoo in their shiny new nest. The rubes in this ‘verse were ripe for a little mystery and already the gossip was flying about the kid, where she was from and who played incubator. Smart money was on his bro as mama; word around town was that Stretch’s slutty ways took a downward trend a few months back and everyone was real damn interested in seeing who the local bird went cold turkey for.

Red gave ‘em a week before the locals started showing up with casseroles and curiosity. Never underestimate boredom and a hearty rumor mill when making plans. Red never did and he would bet good money he’d have the folks in this Snowdin watching him with awe and suspicion in no time.

Well, more than they already were.

Except Muffet but that didn't surprise him none. Multiverse theory could go hang, he figured she was gonna be a sharp slice of cheddar no matter what world she was from. ‘Least if this one was gonna suck you dry it only meant your wallet. Gal had an eye for talent, he’d give her that, hired him on right away, and Red was looking forward to a long, mutually benefitting relationship.

Anyway, mind reading, eh, not so much. What Red had was a carefully cultivated skill in knowing when people were carrying around a steaming load of bullshit. He'd been learning that knack since he was in short pants even if his pants only got wider over the years, not longer, and right now, there was a week-old baby bones trying to convince him her little soul was gonna break if she didn’t have her daddy close by to lug her around.

Kid was putting on a hell of a show. Lying on her back in a pile of blankets on the living room floor that was also Red’s part-time bedroom, feet kicking up a storm and her little hands clenched in fists that she waved like a prizefighter. Fat tears were rolling down her chunker cheekbones as she howled, awful loud for someone without a set of lungs. Kid was pissed, sure, but pissed ain’t hurt and Red might’ve been kinda impressed by her tenacity if it weren’t for the simple fact that his bro needed some rest. Here they were in marshmallow world with two extra bods helping foot the bill and his bro was still exhausting himself trying to do everything. Difference was, here Red had Stretch running interference and between the two of them, they’d shake the ants out of his brother’s pants.

‘Course, Stretch had a different way of doing it and there was a thought Red wasn’t gonna examine too close. His baby bro’s pants and Stretch could do whatever they wanted out of his line of sight.

Only problem was, the two of them were only upstairs. Kid was getting pretty loud and Red scooped her up into his lap, giving her a gentle bounce. “gonna have to do better than that, snowmonster,” Red told her. “i survived my bro and he’s an expert pain in the ass.”

The wails paused as his voice caught the baby’s attention. Snow goggled at him her mouth still open, and after a moment the cries began again, this time with an uncertain waver.

“nope, try again.” He propped his chin in his hand. "you got my bro fooled, but i ain't the gullible type. might try a little sweettalking, sweetheart.”

A short, shrill cry only got her a chuckle. "sorry, honey, it ain't gonna work on me."

The tears dried up pretty damn fast without someone to break down the dam. Kid hadn’t quite given up yet, Underfell tenacity must be built-in from creation. She gurgled out a pleading cry, her tiny hands reaching for Red’s face. He let her pat his cheekbones, wincing at a particularly firm little slap.

He took the offending hand and gave it a loud kiss, earning a smile for his troubles. "nah, your daddy bears are tired, kiddo, they need a nap. you got 'em both dancing like popcorn on a hot plate, not bad for your first trick."

Hm, daddy? Paps hadn't been too clear on that yet, and fuck them all anyway for renaming his little brother Edge, keerist, might as well name him Gloomy Ass Kissy Pants. Already took himself too fucking serious as it was.

Eh, that probably wasn’t gonna change, Red didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that; he’d been that way since he was about the size of this one, and someday he was gonna show Stretch the pics that were saved on his phone of his lil bro back when he was little. Might have to wait until they were more settled in for that, though.

He’d give it a week.

Red looked down at the baby in his arms, her wide, pale eye lights gazing back up at him. Always watching, this one, learning, figuring things out. When she learned how to crawl, she was gonna be an ever-fucking nightmare for his bro, exactly how Paps had been ever since the very instant he got mobile. Kid hadn’t stopped since.

Red couldn’t wait. Payback really was a bitch and this bitch was gonna slap it right on his little brother’s ass.

“tell you what,” Red told her, “let’s get you a snack, kiddo, and see what other toys the mutts brought over for you, how about that?”

Kid was clearly disgruntled, but she accepted the bottle when Red handed it over, suckling noisily. Red dug into the bag that was still in the corner. Blocks were well and good, but he’d bet there was something in all this junk that made some real noise.

~~*~~

Despite his brother's innuendo when he’d shooed the two of them upstairs for a nap before another night of baby-watching began, there was nothing sexual going on in the bedroom and for that, Edge was guiltily grateful. He would admit to being exhausted, his first day as a caretaker left him as weary as if he’d spent a day running the traplines, and if Stretch had given any indication at all that he was interested in sex, Edge would have been torn over his response.

The answer was a difficult one. On one hand, Stretch had been utterly appalled even a hint of the idea that Edge might pay some of the debt he owed the Swap brothers in that fashion, but on the other, Edge did feel some sense of obligation to Stretch that made him reluctant to beg off. Best not to say that aloud, it wasn't a difficult guess that the very notion would upset Stretch a great deal.

There was also the fact that they'd been sleeping together for some months now, anything at this point would have a diminished value.

Not that it mattered in this situation. Stretch didn’t give any indication that he was hoping for anything past a solid eight hours of putting the mattress to its more traditional use and barring that, at least a couple hours of decent rest.

Still, Edge couldn’t help teasing, “Are you sure you want to use our time to sleep? My brother seemed to think we could make other use of it.”

There was a tiny sprinkle of bright freckles across Stretch’s nasal nodule and Edge could privately admit that the way they scrunched together when his face twisted was rather adorable.

"baby, you know i'm always up for it," Stretch grimaced. "but i don't think i can get it up right now. unless you want to drive…?"

Tempting as the idea of being inside Stretch was, whatever desire the image managed to rouse was closer to a wet firecracker than a spark. "To be honest, I think I'd rather nap," Edge confessed. If he even could, through the closed door he could hear Snow’s wails and it was only his brother’s firm edict that they were not to come back downstairs for at least two hours that was keeping him in this room at all. The penalty for disobeying a direct order from Red was not usually a subtle revenge and Edge didn’t care to see what sort of creativity his brother might come up with in new surroundings.

"nap it is then." Stretch scrambled into the bed, sprawling across the mattress. He turned back to Edge, both arms spread wide, "since we ain’t taking off, you may as well come on in for a landing!"

Edge rolled his eye lights but crawled in with him. Stretch squawked as Edge firmly rolled him over on his side and snugged up behind him. He murmured against the smooth, sensitive bone at the base of Stretch’s skull. "I believe it's my turn to be the big spoon."

The way Stretch shifted against him nearly made him rethink his urge for sleep. Stretch laughed, a touch unsteadily, "sweetheart, you can handle my silverware anytime you like. after a nap."

After a nap, yes. The crying from downstairs had petered out and Edge pulled the blankets over them both and settled in. Napping was still unfamiliar to him and he didn't sleep so much as drift, resting in the fog of exhaustion. That alone was an unaccustomed pleasure and there was no telling how long he drifted before he resurfaced to unexpected movement.

The faint shudder of Stretch in his arms didn't wake him so much as nudge him from that fog and the loss left him disoriented and surly. Edge pushed up on an elbow, frowning down at the other skeleton and his irritation faded as he caught his breath at what he saw.

Stretch was crying. He was curled up on the mattress, still sleeping while tears seeped from his closed sockets and left wet trails down his cheekbones. His breath was clotted with the quiet sobs racking him and without the pressure of Edge’s arm holding him down, he curled up tighter into a fetal ball, his long legs drawn up against his skinny ribcage as he wept at whatever his dreams were showing him.

No amount of rest was worth this kind of pain and Edge gave him a gentle shake, saying softly, "Stretch? Stretch, wake up."

He did not anticipate Stretch lurching up and scrambling away from him, his joints lit with magic and his eye lights flaring wildly as he flung both hands out as if to ward him away, brilliant orange engulfing his fingertips like candle flames.

Edge kept still, waiting for the dregs of sleep to clear away. Long experience with his brother’s occasional bad turns at night had taught him that while his HP could easily survive an attack, the guilt that followed was always so much worse.

Sure enough, recognition slowly filled Stretch’s gaze, followed almost immediately by horror. Stretch sank back against the wall with a heartfelt groan, the flames of his magic extinguishing as he buried his face into his hands. "fuck, i am so sorry."

"If I don't need to thank you for all you’ve done, then you don't owe me any apologies for this. Come here?" Edge held his arms open in gentle offering and after a moment, Stretch did, crawling back into his arms. His bones were chilled, clacking against Edge's as he shivered, and Edge tucked the blankets back around them both.

"There we are," Edge said, as softly as he would have to Snow. He set his chin on the top of Stretch’s skull, careful not to let it dig in painfully. "Was it a bad dream?"

"more like a memory." Stretch shifted against him, his cheekbone pressed to Edge's sternum. He did not look up as he asked softly. "do you remember anything about the lab?"

"Only from recently,” Edge admitted, “not as a child. My brother doesn't talk about it much, but I do know I wasn't there for more than a couple days before he fled with me in tow."

"yeah." Stretch said nothing else, no commiseration, and Edge did not ask it of him. He didn't need to press for an unneeded explanation, not when the answer was so obvious. Memory dredged up by those numbers on one of Snow's fragile ribs, engraved too deeply to easily heal. He only held Stretch close, petting from the back of his skull down his cervical vertebra with gentle fingertips as those bone-deep shudders slowly eased.

Petting shifted to a careful massage, rubbing at the delicate cartilage between the spinal joints until all the tension wound through Stretch faded, leaving him as boneless against Edge as a skeleton could manage. He sighed, his warm breath gusting humidly over Edge’s collarbone, and his long limbs wound around Edge in a bony sort of cage, loosely holding on.

Edge was drowsing himself, his stroking gone idle, when Stretch spoke again in a low, barely audible mumble that Edge nevertheless heard very clearly, snapping awake as his soul began to pound in his ribcage. Couched on an exhale, three words that were so complex in their very simplicity.

“hnnnn,” Stretch sighed out, “i love you.”

There in the darkness, Edge lay with wide sockets staring up at the ceiling as every thought of sleep fled to the corners of his mind, leaving it utterly empty. Obviously, such a declaration required a response, and yet his thoughts were a panicked blank, his hands still on Stretch and surely he was already regretting saying such a thing, surely he was rethinking his choice as Edge only lay here like a useless fool, unable to reply.

“Stretch,” Edge choked out, faltering, and before he could manage to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth came an unexpected reply. A faint snore that rumbled through them both as Stretch snuggled in closer, his sockets closed in sleep.

Edge almost sagged in relief, letting out a slow, shaky breath. But he knew the reprieve was a brief one. That declaration would come again, he should have already been expecting it, and he would need a ready reply.

He wasn’t fool enough not to know what reply Stretch wanted. He just wasn’t sure it was one he was able to give and what consequences would come if he couldn’t? Their place here was so precarious despite what the Swap brothers said, they couldn’t be expected to stay here if there was resentment between them. Snow needed a safe home, free of arguments and snide verbal attacks and Edge meant to see she had one. No matter what it cost him.

tbc

[lumiereswig]

hey all so i just saw ‘hadestown’ and feel duty bound to tell you fools everything about it because i, too, remember what it is to be lonely and on the internet and too poor to see some snazzy broadway shit

there’s no fanfare or anything. the show opens with all the cast coming on—and obviously the audience is going buckwild, especially with amber gray. (u can tell there’s a lot of great comet fans in the audience.) only once everybody is settled does hermes really TAKE THE STAGE.

and boy does he take it. sassy lil shit knows he owns it and just stands there taking in his audience, before flipping his jacket back with dramatic flare (to show his SNAZZY-ASS SILVER THREADED VEST) and starting to sing. (cue noisy wah-wah trombone.)

the setting is p. clearly a bar; orpheus p. clearly works there. he’s like being artsy with the napkins and shit, blossoming them into roses. eurydice is a traveler; she carries with her, wrapped in brown silk, an alter candle that she lights. (after sassing hermes into giving her a match to light it with.) eurydice balances her candle with the paper rose orpheus later makes and gives to her.

orpheus is pretty childlike and dreaming in this version. (not the cocky boy from the off broadway production.) he comes off as kind of lanky and awkward and not quite there; naive is definitely a defining adjective for him. everything about him is soft and gentle and in a dreaming world.

eurydice is kind of a classic tough girl but she’s got a strand of helplessness to her. she puts on a show of not being impressed by orpheus until he sings her the song he’s working on, and manages to bring a rose into his palm.

environmental collapse is a HUGE theme thru this—bigger than i thought it would be. eurydice’s first lines are about how there’s no spring or autumn anymore; everything is winter or summer, too hot or cold to live. the fates sing of the winds—the fates sort of torment her throughout this—but climate change looms as a dread through the show. orpheus hopes his song will bring back summer, put the seasons back in tune.

anyway, everyone’s hanging out at a new orleans style bar. even hades and persephone are there, though above it all in a balcony of their own

did i mention bradley king is a god among lighting designers?

because that will come back a lot

anyway hermes is sort of an uncle figure to orpheus; he was friends with orpheus’s mother, a muse. as soon as orpheus sees eurydice he wants to talk to her, and hermes advices him not to ‘come on too strong’—

and well that plan goes immediately out the window : ‘come home with me!’ [eurydice: ’what?’]

orpheus is just intensely awkward. skinny pale child doesn’t know how to interact with the world

they have kind of an argumentative relationship from the start—they don’t face each other very often; there’s a push and pull as he longs for her and she, kneejerk tough girl, tries not to go for this. but the rose from his palm enchants her, and she holds on to it. ‘you have to finish your song.’

GODDDD AMBER GRAY IS JUST LIIIIIIIFE. her persephone is a total lush and frequently staggers through act 1. she also has a fabulous white coat that gradients to green at the sleeves. when she dances you can’t tell if she’s about to pass out or float up to the ceiling.

when orpheus gives the toast he’s just so awkward it’s appalling

(and everyone toasts except eurydice)

hades wears sunglasses when he comes to the world above to bring persephone back to the world below. he descends from his balcony to get her, and brings her to the center of the stage—and then, oh, SHIT, there’s a fucking perfect round trap door right where they’re standing, and they descend below. (amber gray looking up to the slowly disappearing sky with the face of a martyr who’s used to the gig.)

winter’s hard. eurydice has to bust back out her old ass coat (instead of the winsome black slip thing and brown vest thing she was wearing), and the Fates, bitches as they be, try to fuckin rip it off her. (and succeed. the choreography looks like wind! also chairs and tables looked like they were floating earlier but i forgot to mention that.)

eurydice is trying to get ORPHEUS’S FUCKIN ATTENTION bout the fact they got no food and, uh, three bitchy old ladies dressed all in gray just took her coat, but he’s submerged in writing his song to bring back the weather. and while this is all going on, hades and persephone are having their age-old argument about how hell is too hot and too loud and IT AIN’T RIGHT, IT AIN’T NATURAL.

because, get this, after descending to hell they descended /back up/ into it, and u can tell cuz the lighting is fuckin genius. i’ll explain later except i won’t.

orpheus is just OUT OF IT and not hearing anything at all eurydice is tryin to fuckin say. (the tune keeps going wrong.) hades is sick of persephone not being with his electric shiny no-good shittiness and lays his eyes on eurydice as easy prey.

he puts on his sunglasses again and u know it’s bad news.

he talks her over and gives her her ‘ticket’—two silver coins that she momentarily holds up over her eyes as she looks at us, letting us know that this is some death imagery. she holds both hades’ coins and orpheus’s flower—and, making up her mind, calls out orpheus’s name one last time and descends into the underworld through that same miraculous trap.

and then, fuck me, the trap comes back up but just the red flower is on it. fuuuuuck meeeeeeee i may have wept.

orpheus finishes his damn song and hermes lets him know that hE FUCKED UP HIS WHOLE DAMN LIFE SHE GONE, BITCH, and orpheus sees the flower on the trap door and then he’s weeping, too.

and then we get to ‘wait for me’ and holy shit, y’all, i never been so fully into something in my life? it was so physically intoxicating i almost wanted to throw up. like, wonder as a liquid beverage. tHE LIGHTING? ? i fuckin felt awe on this earth today, i saw god and he’s lit by bradley king.

because! hades’ workers bring on these industrial metal lamps, and they hook them to the wires in the ceiling, and they SEND THEM SWINGING OUT INTO THE FUCKIGN AUDIENCE. they fuckin—they—they they they!—they fucking did! that! sent them swinging out in perfect rhythm and time, fully lit, swinging around orpheus and into the audience. and tHEN! THE FUCKIN SET! BEGINS TO GROW!!!

remember the first time u saw the nutcracker as a child and the growing christmas tree fuckin ripped ur world apart? it’s like that except times ten thousand

like it felt like. like the fuckin world was coming apart. the bar set is slowly ripping open and golden light is just searing into your eyeballs and the golden lamps are still swinging around orpheus and it literally felt like god had opened up a cold one and was just singing something horrible into being. it was wonder. i want to see it again.

like. stagecraft, babyyy

and u think act 1 will end on that because why would it nOT but no, we get ‘why we build the wall,’ which is a sort of chilling propoganda thing where everybody is facing forward and just telling back to hades whatever he’s yelling about, and persephone is there and i’m not sure why (like does she believe this? is she the unwilling consort? what’s the deal?)

and at the end eurydice comes in, and sort of picks up on the gestures everybody is doing—in that way everyone does when they come into a room and they want to vaguely pass as with it so they try to sync in to the general vibe. ‘uhh sure everyone’s waving their hands and talkin about walls so i guess i will too’, that kind of thing

hades shows her up to his office (the balcony door) to sign the papers. as soon as he’s gone, amber gray whips round to face the audience. ‘anybody want a drink?’

it’s intermission and i’m still trying to catch up on all the gasp-crying i started during ‘wait for me’

we also get an overpriced hadestown cup cuz get while the getting’s good, right?

back in act 2 and it’s our lady of the underground, ie amber gray in her exact outfit from above except instead of lurid green it’s savage black. (and instead of a bouncy curly brown wig it’s a black sparkly snood.) she dances and pivots and rivets her way through it, introducing the band, being winsome savage bite-your-face-off-and-offer-to-share-it-with-you amber gray. she’s got a neat little ring-shaped silver flask that hangs from her hand like a purse, and i want one.

eurydice emerges from the office dressed in the same overalls as the other workers—though she looks sexy af in them, ngl—and sings ‘flowers,’ and talks about how nobody down here looks at her, and how it’s like they don’t even see her. the underworld is not what she thought it would be. she wants to go home but can’t. she can’t remember orpheus’s name.

uNTIL HE SHOWS UP! Punk ass bitch made it, somehow, and stumbles onto the stage with guitar in hand. she knows his name immediately. but she can’t leave, because she signed her soul away.

u knew all this. it’s classic myth. did i mention patrick page as hades sounds like the combined harmonics of every rumbling truck on the george washington bridge every time he decides to sing?

orpheus has A Moment™ where it’s like, if this is what the world is, if people sign their names up for shit and i can’t save them, i guess i’ll just go home. but he talks himself out of it (apparently his magic vocal cords work on him, too), and actually talks himself (and the stone workers of the underworld!) into activism.

amber gray and patrick page share a duet i’ve never heard before, and it’s fine, and i think it still needs fine tuning cuz im not sure exactly how persephone feels about hades in this bit. it’s fine. what matters is that at the end of it, hades is FUCKED because rebellion is brewing.

he gets orpheus to sing his song. and holy shit, is it a doozy. holy shit, but were we all crying. hooooolyyy shiiiiiit.

holy shit.

when hades sings the refrain at the end, amber gray looks like she’s experiencing the most visceral, exquisite, heartfelt, heartbroken pain of her life. she literally bends as if she’s felt this pain in her stomach—this pain, this anguish over the song she hasn’t heard for so long from this one man she loved so well.

and when a rose blossoms from hades’s palm, persephone is both crying and laughing. it’s like the old times have bloomed again.

and then they dance.

also, should have mentioned earlier, it’s implied it’s not an og song orpheus is singing; he’s actually stumbled on an ancient one, perhaps one hades used to sing, and THAT’S why it’s so devastating—not just his talent and voice, but the memory of it, the memories it brings back. it’s an ancient song, almost a spell, that can heal the seasons.

hades and persephone hold each other close, nuzzling almost, and eurydice faces orpheus, and for a second u think it’s going to be ok because eurydice is so joyful and persephone and hades have healed. o & e  think they’re gonna leave. they think everybody can leave.

but nope, hades can’t have that. damned if he does, damned if he don’t—so he sets the test for orpheus, but u really get the sense that he’s not doing it from a sense of cruelty any more. it almost pains him to do this shit. but the rivet of steel in his character won’t let himself become king of nothing.

hermes presents the challenge: ‘ive got good news, and bad.’ orpheus keeps asking hermes if it’s a trick; hermes keeps saying it’s a test, a trial. (it’s really a TRAGEDY.)

persephone is wooed by the fact that hades even let them try.

ugh, doubt comes in is. devastating. every single person in the audience audibly gasped—u FELT the air leave the room—when he turned around. we all genuinely believed it would end differently this time. we thought it would. i knew it was coming and i still was DEVASTATED.

eurydice is, too. she started as the doubter, and she had so much BELIEF they were gonna get out of this. ‘it’s you—it’s me—’ she says. she’s already sinking through the trap. fuckin hell, they were on the last few steps. i’m still fuckin emotional about it

orpheus just crashes to the edge of the trap, staring down into the abyss. hermes is singing, softly, about how it’s an old song—it’s an old tale—it’s a tragedy. and then he roars—in a way that cheers me up—WE’RE GONNA SING IT AGAIN.

because that’s the power of it! it happened, it was horrible, but we’re going to SING about it—and maybe change the ending this time—the way orpheus tried to, when he sang his way to hades and sang his way to the stones. it’s the singing of the event that matters, that might matter.

and eurydice is back at the bar, wanting matches—orpheus is back at the bar, seeing her for the first time across the room—and the story goes on, like the seasons .fuckin incredible. everybody in the auditiorium now is tear-stained.

APPLAUSE APPLAUSE APPLAUSE

lasted for like.....seven minutes?? it took ages and the actors were just soaking it up, looking exhausted, because DAMN it is exhausting to chart anguish and joy and victory and determination and love in two hours and 25 minutes

and then hermes shushes the house—because of course he does—and amber gray leads the final toast. it’s acoustic—it sounded to me like she wasn’t even using her microphone? it wasn’t brash at all, just raw—and a simple, honest, kind of homespun way to end the show. and it finally ended, and we cheered one last time, and then we went home sobbing and shaking and wanting to do the whole damn thing again

it was great and the stagecraft was some of the best i’ve ever seen and i’ve literally felt maybe only 3 productions like this, where this emotional shit is actually sitting in your lungs, and u should go, the end

[franklyshipping]

Scare The Bad Shit Away ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Soooo I've adapted a prompt from an anon AKA PROMPTS ANON so it fits with the SPOOPY SEASON! Lil warning, there are gonna be some angsty feelsies bUT IT WILL END UP FLOOFY AND GOOD I SWEAR! LET'S DO IT!

Chase Brody was laying in bed. No, he was not decorating the house with spooky decorations, no he was not out buying candy for the trick or treating children....and no, he was not teaching his own children how to carve pumpkins safely. He was being denied those rights, completely unnecessarily, because people can be selfish, stupid, and downright ignorant of other people's true feelings. Feelings that can make someone seem like they're uncaring, when in fact they're just so unbelievably drained that they are unable to express....anything. No matter how much effort you put in, sometimes the internal can just crush you. It's unpleasant as you can probably imagine.

Chase didn't have to imagine. This feeling, or lack of, was what he was becoming accustomed to because of tragedy after tragedy that he'd been subjected to. First, seeing his children less, then only seeing them in a supervised format....then not seeing them at all. Then there were the nightmares that embellished these events with more drama and turmoil than Chase could handle. He was afraid to close his eyes. He was afraid to sleep. He couldn't handle seeing them being taken away, them crying, him crying, him being stuck and gasping at his own chest as the pain built up....and he woke up choking on mucus and tears. People forget about a father's love, thanks for that society. So here he was, if he couldn't sleep he might as well find a state that was as least uncomfortable as possible; even if he was staring at the ceiling for hours on end, or going to the window to wish on a star.

If you think people were oblivious to Chase's feelings however, I must say that you are VERY wrong. But the septics were scared. Scared of being unable to help, scared of saying something wrong and making the situation even worse for the friend and dad that they loved and held dear. Now....I imagine that a lot of you may have a light-bulb moment, thinking that there's one person of that vivacious leprechaun bunch that DEFINATELY has no fear. And you'd be right. There's only one who's mad enough to risk everything bad in order to bring Chase out of that chasm of shit.

'BRODY BITCH HOW DO I LOOK?'

It somehow feels like deja vu writing Anti in this role, but lets face it, it's a very accurate representation of the glitch. He entered the room, did a twirl, and smirked brightly. He had his regular clothes on, but additionally donned a black swishy cape and some light-up devil horns on his head. It seemed he was going for a comically creepy Halloween look instead of spine-chillingly creepy, for today at least. Chase let out a sigh at the noise, only registering it as noise at first before realising it was a person. He looked at Anti briefly, and once his brain caught up with everything he mumbled.

'Mm, spooky.'

Chase wasn't smiling, in fact it rather looked like he didn't have the physical capability anymore with how slack his face and jaw had become. Anti tried to make sure he kept enthusiasm projected, because he knew that if Chase even saw an ounce of pity on his face then he'd just shut down and close him off. Chase hated being pitied. Seeing those sickening simpering looks on people's faces with head tilts and clasped hands in heir laps; the very image of someone doing that made him feel ill. So Anti made sure to keep as far away from that image as possible.

'Thanks bud, hey, mind if I perch?'

Anti gestured to Chase's bed, and Chase shrugged gently.

'Go ahead.'

Anti sat on the edge of Chase's bed and looked Chase up and down, and he did purse his lips for a moment, but then he regained his vigour. He gave Chase a grin as he rambled on vividly.

'So, right, listen, like, carving pumpkins is fun as hell right? I mean, heh, I should know...'

Anti waggled his eyebrows with a smirk before continuing.

'Well, turns out that if ya whack a naïve lil zombie in the mix then things just get WAY better! He just....won't stop eating the pumpkin innards! And he actually LIKES it?! We're filming it for later, but it's TOTALLY worth seeing him just stuff his face!'

Chase let out a little sigh through his nose as he looked up at Anti, watching him through his entire speech. He saw his eyes glint  and sparkle as he related his memories to Chase, and it made Chase think of only one thing. His own eyes would never look like that anymore. Any time that Chase went to look back on any old, happy memories, the nasty ones just took precedence. The good was pushed away to make way for the bad.

'Mmm, I'll prob'ly see it on insta later.' 

Chase's voice was soft, and weak, and sad, and it made Anti want to manifest Chase's bad feelings into a physical substance so he could beat them into a destroyed pulp of nothing. Yes, it would be plastered all over the internet later but that wasn't the point. They needed him, and he needed them. Anti tried to implore light-heartedly.

'But with Schneep manning the camera there's no one responsible to make sure Robbie doesn't start snorting the pumpkin seeds next! We need a dad for common sense and expertise-'

Ah.....perhaps not the best wording. At the mention of his fatherly role, Chase felt himself welling up. He tried to hold the tears back, but it's evil how one word can trigger so much nastiness. Chase was sobbing into his hands, which made Anti's corrupted heart break with guilt...but Chase accepted it when Anti hugged him tight to his chest. It wasn't a regular loving hug. It was a gripping hug, a grasping hug, a hug that reflected that this whole thing was a bunch of shit that needed to be suffocated away. Chase needed that hug. He hiccupped and wept into Anti's chest, but Anti's harsh grip on his shirt and shoulders kept him rooted to reality.

'Let it out, it's fine okay to let it all out, purge it the hell out.'

Chase had never cried harder or for longer than in this moment. That is because when we're alone, we have no one to tell us that it's okay to cry. We only have ourselves saying that it's weak, wrong, pathetic, gross, disgusting, look at you choking on air with mucus on your blotchy face you piece of broken nothing. I think we all need an Anti. Without an Anti, everything gets repressed and stuck, but with an Anti everything is thrust into the open, every gory inch in full view. Only then can any form of healing begin. Anti shakily exhaled as he felt Chase shake in his arms.

'A-Anti.....I....I-....s-s-sorry....'

'Don't you dare Brody, don't you even dare....'

Anti whispered before Chase could breathlessly stammer any more. Anti was patient as Chase continued to let out what he needed to let out, and it took quite a while, but that's more than okay. In fact it's GOOD. When Chase did regain his breath, when he did stop crying, when he did look back up at Anti, yes his face was blotchy and wet and his nose was streaming and he was clinging to Anti for dear life....but he felt so much less shitty.

'Look....we miss ya, a lot. And if ya come with me I promise that I'll throw pumpkin innards at ya instead of pity.'

Chase blinked a few times amidst his sniffles, he couldn't help but smile a bit. That unorthodox stuff always got him.

'Y-You n-needn't go to the trouble....'

Anti raised an eyebrow, he could sense that this was good, really good. He gave Chase a grin as he softly poked his chest.

'Oh I'm not, I WANT to throw pumpkin at'cha and make a mess of yer t-shirt, c'mon lemme be a dick here!'

Chase softly pushed at Anti's hand, and smiled just a fraction more. He looked up at Anti, and Anti's heart leapt when Chase subtly narrowed his eyes at him. There was that first glimmer, that glimmer of attitude that everyone adored.

'No way, this is m'favourite t-shirt....'

Anti narrowed his eyes now, and Chase knew that feral gaze very well, It was the sign that Anti was going to pounce. Yes, Chase was rather vulnerable and DEFINATELY feeling worse for wear....but seeing that look gave him chills down his spine that he had really, really missed.

'All the more reason to stain it to hell!'

Chase started to squirm to try and get away from Anti, but the glitch was a tenacious little shit as he started reaching under the duvet, trying to burrow under so he could grasp at Chase's t-shirt. It was a weak little half-wrestle, gentle playfulness, the kind that made Chase splutter and stutter as he felt Anti's fingers graze his ribcage.

'N-No b-bad Anti badbadbad! Anti noho!'

Anti let out a soft giggle, but then paused when he heard that soft, similar sound come from Chase. His fingertips were resting at Chase's ribs as Anti peeked out from under the duvet to look at him, he had to make sure that this was the indeed the right thing. Anti saw Chase's eyes, sparking with nervousness, lips trembling in anticipation....and limbs frozen, with no movement of resistance. This was definitely the right thing.

'Ohhh I think you mean Anti YES!'

Anti dove back under the covers like an otter slipping into water and clawed and rubbed at Chase's ribcage, which brought forth a magnificent cackle before laughter consumed Chase. Yeah, that's right, he was laughing. But that wasn't just it....Chase was LETTING this happen. Chase decided there was no point waiting around for laughter, he was going to let it come by playful force, Anti's playful force.

'NOHO AHAHAHA NONONO NAHAHAT THIHIS!'

Anti smirked like the devil as he found every gap in between Chase's ribs and rubbed the hell out of them, thus making Chase thrash wildly as Anti teased.

'Ohoho yeees this! I'd almost forgotten how ticklish you are, and we can't have that can we?'

Luckily Chase wasn't expected to answer that question, especially since his mind was too overcome with the tickle torture to be able to process much other than the fact that Anti was being teasy and evil and there was nothing Chase to do to derive mercy from him.

'PLEHEHEHEASE AHAHAHA IHIHI CAHAHAN'T!!'

Chase was already desperate and weak, which was just what Anti wanted. Start off with an energy-draining attack, then dim down to techniques that just slowly chip away at your victim's resolve until they're too flustered and blubbery to resist....and Chase's lack of proper resistance now was what assured Anti that this was something right and appropriate to do. Anti growled evilly.

'It's not like you can stop me, I could keep you here for hour after hour....'

Chase's eyes widened and he shook his head fearfully, whimpering and wailing when Anti's drilling fingers reached his topmost ribs.

'NOHOHOHOHO NONONONO!!!'

Anti fought an affectionate laugh at Chase's reply as he furrowed his brows in a mock expression of contemplation, whilst also slowing down his touch so Chase could breath. Chase nervously looked up at Anti as the glitch carefully mused.

'No? Hmmm, if only there was an alternate activity you could join....'

Chase's breath hitched in his throat when Anti's fingertips drifted up to his armpits, fluttering oh so softly as Anti smiled mischievously down at him. Chase tried to purse his lips in an attempt to tough it out, but by this point even the slightest swipe at his nerves would break him instantly.

'Ahahantihihiiii duhude c'mohohooon!'

Chase whined amidst jittery giggles, giving Anti a truly imploring expression, but Anti's resolve was as hard as granite. Anti leant down and nuzzled Chase's ear which a cheeky smile, his tone ever playful.

'You know you wanna play with us Chaseeeyyy.'

Despite his crimson cheeks and bouncing giggles, Chase did exhibit a little grimace. Of course he wanted to play with them and have fun, they were his family too after all....but he couldn't get it out of his head that he'd ruin it all. Destroy the mood, implicitly make things about him and his situation leading to an awkward silence as soon as he stepped in the room. Yeah. Anxiety is a piece of shit.

'Buhuhut Ihi kn-knohow Ihi'll b-be a buhurden!'

Anti halted.

'....take that back.'

Oh dear. Chase felt an ice cold chill down his spine. Anti was so sudden in his stopping, and now so still in form, no glitching or even a single flinch. Chase gulped when Anti looked at him....and Chase could feel emotions stirring in his chest when he saw the utter sincerity on Anti's face. All he could hear was their breathing, until Chase managed to find a glimmer of his voice again.

'But it's true, I'll destroy the good mood and-'

'I said....take it back.....or else.'

Anti cut him off in that same sudden manner. Chase was taken aback because of how Anti managed to look seriously emotional and yet be encased by mischief, Anti wasn't going to let this slide and he was doing it for profound reasons. Chase bowed his head and shook it....he couldn't take back a genuine opinion he had, not without good reason. Now, you may think that good reason was something that the ever radical Antisepticeye was not acquainted with, allow me to disabuse you of that delusion. Anti lived for reason. He was a man of purpose. He was a man with a list of reasons to counteract Chase's opinion, and he was going to get through that list even with Chase's hysterical laughter in the mix.

'Fine....you want reasons why you're wrong? Allow me.'

Anti shifted off his torso to sit on his thighs, where he swiftly placed his hands on Chase's hips and used his thumbs to rub circles deep into the bowels of his hips. Chase was squealing immediately.

'Reason one. You're so fucking kind that it's a sickeningly beautiful inspiration to everybody.'

Chase was giggling and yelping hysterically as he bucked and wriggled, hoping in vain to dislodge or dissuade his attacker. But he knew this was Anti's way of drilling his message in without causing more upset for Chase, so he couldn't stop it; Anti would make sure that there wouldn't be any tears of sadness....though, potentially a few streams of mirthful madness.

'AhahahANTIHI FUHUCK PLEASEPLEASE!'

Anti let himself smile affectionately as he watched Chase giggle so wildly and blush with such deeply rooted embarrassment. Compliments always got to Chase. Anti however, didn't see these words of his as compliments; after all, how can something be a compliment if it's undeniably true?

'Reason two: There are people who care about ya and would do anythin' for ya....'

Chase looked up at Anti through his fingers when he heard him trail off, still laughing his head off, but smiling bashfully at Anti's whisper.

'...me included.'

Chase almost felt like he could cry from joy....and he did, but Anti's words were not the cause. I think however, that Anti's digging into and scribbling at his inner thighs might have had something to do with Chase's new weeping and giddy shrieking.

'AHAHAHAHAAAHHH YOHOHOU CAHAHAN STAHAHAP NOHOHOW!!!'

Anti giggled as Chase tugged at his legs and tried whacking him, all of it useless since Anti quite literally had the upper hand. He smirked happily down at Chase, beyond satisfied that his tears weren't derived from unpleasantness for once. As he continued tickling he purred.

'But I haven't even got to the last reason yet, and it's a loooong one.'

Chase let out a wail as he used his forearms to cover his face, because of two reasons; one, to hide how flustered and bashful he was at the fact that Anti had lengthy reasoning for him, and two, to try and somehow block off the ticking sensations. As you can imagine, covering your face doesn't actually do anything to help. It doesn't stop us all from trying though.

'PLEHEHEASE NOHO MOHOHORE!! IHIHI'M GOHONNA DIHIHIIIIE!!!'

Anti let out a laugh, then replied indignantly.

'Not before I have my inspiring speech ya won't!'

Chase let out a gasp when he felt Anti finally relent on his thighs, but he was just a giggly mess. I don't think they even counted as residual giggles, it was just a legitimate embarrassed giggle fit that Chase was caught in as he tried to get his breath back. Anti watched him for a few moments, then folded his arms with a teasing, raised eyebrow.

'Are ya finished down there?'

Chase's eyes widened as he hurriedly covered his mouth, reigning in his giggles as he stuttered.

'S-Sohohorry sorrysorrehehee....'

Anti let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head, which made Chase snort, before he managed to actually contain himself. Now Chase's heart was pounding....what was Anti going to say next? Chase was in two minds, he wanted to hear what Anti had to say, but his mind was convincing him that that made him terrible and vain....but no. No. Wanting to hear nice things about yourself is NOT vain, or selfish, or egotistical. Wanting kindness does not make you a bad person, wanting to be cared for does not make you a bad person, needing reassurance does not make you a bad person. Chase looked up at Anti with bated breath, and the glitch cleared his throat....he had to get this right.

'Well uh....reason three. If you're such a burden....there how are you the only one whose singing can soothe Robbie? How are you the best at signing for Jamie? How can you predict exactly what strength of coffee the doc needs every individual morning to rid him of headaches? How can you remind Angus to take hot food out on hunting trips? How can you persuade Shawn to take breaks from his work with the right soft spoken words? How can you motivate Marvin when a spell doesn't work? How can you support Jackie when a mission goes wrong? And I'm sorry but how the FUCK are you a burden when you're able to make me actually wanna hang out with you because you're fun and safe to be around?'

Chase was welling up and used his hands to cover his mouth as Anti hugged him close hurriedly, desperately; it was what they both needed right there and then. Anti hadn't even finished speaking before he'd enveloped his friend. It's strange isn't it? When one person deems you unimportant it can make you convince yourself that that's how everybody else feels too. Well, to use the technical term, that's bullshit. I'm pleased to say that Chase was starting to see that now, and any start is a good start. They kept hugging, Anti wanting to give Chase as much time to recover and process what he'd said.....it was a lot. Anti had intended to keep his composure, but he couldn't stop himself from getting passionate; it's what happens when you really mean something. Chase was undeniably shaken, because Chase had never thought that any of those things he did were significant, he just thought they were decent and normal; it just goes to show how oblivious good people are in terms of how important they are to us. Chase wept, but didn't sob and wheeze, he just sniffled and smiled....really smiled. After a few moments of that meaningful healing, Anti's familiar, and frankly wonderful and strangely homely, chuckle reached Chase's ears.

'Ready to have pumpkin chucked at yer butt?'

Chase smiled into Anti's chest, and cheekily retorted in a little mumble....but his words had their own deep, implicit volume.

'Only if you are.'

Anti smirked as they retreated from the hug, and grinned ferally at Chase. There was that fire that he so loved. Yes it was a mere spark now, but Anti was going to work damn hard to coax it and fuel it until it was powerful enough to level a city.

'We'll see.'

Chase got out of bed then....and I'd just like to say that that in itself can be a huge achievement. I should make it clear that even if you're in such a slumped mind-set, the smallest thing is a victory. Getting out of bed, having a shower, managing small snacks at regular intervals, reading news; you don't have to have a grand social awakening in order to have a win. This is just how it has transpired on this one occasion. I'm happy to say that not one but TWO enthusiastic men left that room, both ready to take terror and pumpkins and kick this season's spoopy butt.

DONE WOOOO HOPE YOUS LIKE THIS AAAAAA LET ME KNOW IF YOU GUYS DO LIKE IT OKEY WOOP LUV YOUS XX

[yzareenxiv]

Vengeance

*So I did what I had to do to not starve.*

This is not a place she’s spent much time. It is hot and dry and dusty and the taste on her tongue is of sand and sweat and desperation. The good thing about this place- the *only* good thing about this place… is that no one ever looks up.

It’s an easy matter to perch on sun-warm stones in the dark and listen to them speak. For the first few bells it had been mind-numbing. Talk of piestes. Talk of women. Talk of the east. Talk of trade. The amalj’aa. Cursing the Brass blades. She’d remained crouched, shifting in tiny increments to keep her muscles from cramping and hindering her if she needed to spring away.

Finally their talk turned and a name was spoken, one she recognized.

“Theobalt’s boy’s talkin’ o’ joinin’ the Blades. Y’ believe that shite?”

“Pshht. Gods-damned bastard gettin’ high n’ mighty now. Figgers he’d start fishing fer more n’ scraps. Hear tell he’s got himself a nice cozy lil’ spot in Eastern Thanalan now. Runnin’ some kind o’ scam outta Highbridge. Got a nice house n’ fluffy bed while we’re out here rotting under the god’s damned sun.”

“Ain’t a lick o’ justice in the world.”

“Best we c’n do is hope he gets the crotch-rot from some Ul’dahni whore, eh?”

The two men laughed. Zareen ducked away, a fierce smile of satisfaction curling across her lips.

=====

*I begged. And they laughed in my face.*

It hadn’t been as difficult as she’d expected to find the ‘cozy lil’ spot’. A shack, really. But far and away better than scraping in the dirt in a cavern. She settled down into a spot where she could watch it without being seen. Learn the patterns. This was not a matter of a knife in the dark. This would be so very much more. It deserved her time. Her care. Her patience.

Living in the shack was a man- Highlander, dark tan, long dark hair, middle-aged, well-made but simple clothing. He’d leave in the mornings, come back at midday, leave again, and return in the evening- rarely alone. A succession of women, usually Hyuran. Some miqo’te. All of them left before dawn. A younger man visited often- not yet twenty years, certainly. Same tan skin. Lighter hair, cut short. Built on a large frame as was his sire. Theobalt called him Jesson.

A hand-span of days she spent just observing. Splitting her time between Doma and Thanalan. Going from one to the other was exhausting but she fell into bed each night with a warm satisfaction filling her chest and the arms of one of her mates around her. Her dreams were not nightmares, not exactly, but dreams where she was chasing something.

Something she knew she was going to catch.

=======

*I’ve had to scrape and claw and fight for every little thing I’ve earned in life.*

Night was falling. Theobalt was sitting on his small porch, smoking a pipe. No woman tonight. Jesson was with him. They spoke pleasantly of the boy’s plans to join the Blades. Business matters. The Blood Sands. Theobalt’s ambitions to move to Ul’dah. More business- something about moving product. It filtered through Zareen’s mind like the buzzing of flies as she watched.

Waited.

An unfamiliar footstep crunching on the road made a thwarted fury rise in her chest until she saw the man that made it. Tall. Silvered dark hair. Dark skin. Somewhere in his fiftieth year. Theobalt and Jesson both reacted with pleased surprise and got up to embrace the man, invited him to sit. Three generations.

It was enough and would never be enough.

Gliding from her hiding place, the huntress crept on cat-like feet to the back of the house before pulling herself up onto the low roof silent as a shadow. There, she felt...something. Something in her head. Something that threatened to derail her plans- it hurt. She pressed her face into the sun-bleached boards of the roof and closed her eyes, panted silently, braced herself against the shooting pains. When it passed, she glanced up at the stars. She’d lost...perhaps a bell. Not so very much. Enough that the sounds of the men had moved from the porch into the house. The scents of richly spiced stew, some strong alcohol decanted, and fresh brown bread drifted on the breeze and spoke of ill-gotten luxuries hidden inside the unassuming little shack.

It made her smile- and the pain at her temples faded away to be replaced by something. Some...knowledge. Nothing so clear as an incantation or a design or really even a thought. But something. And this made her smile wider. Sharper. Hungrier. It gave her something to focus on as the men in the shack ate and drank. When their conversation became more boisterous, she rose to her feet and focused. Whispering through the cracks of the little hovel, a sleep spell drew each of the three men below her into deep, dreamless slumber.

====

Her feet were light when she landed on the deck. She could hear them breathing- if she focused hard she could almost feel their hearts beating (that wasn’t right, she shouldn’t be able to do this…). Calling her magic, it flowed through her in a whisper of air that blew her hair forward and caused the front door of the shack to explode inwards. Splinters shredded their way through the flesh of Jesson, bringing blood to stain the young man’s clothing before the miqo’te closed an outstretched fist and pulled- the aero reversed and the splinters were ripped out until she opened her hand and they fell to the floor of the shack.

Pulled from the sleeping magic by the pain, Jesson was too startled to speak as the miqo’te stepped through the shattered doorway in a smooth hunter’s glide that put one foot delicately in front of the other. His hands moved to his wounds and he looked down to find his palms candy-coated red. The scream was in his throat in the same moment she pressed a clawed fingertip to his lips.

“Shhhh.”

Wide blue eyes lifted to meet slit-pupiled gold.

“You have to help me. I’m hurt.”

“Don’t worreh. I’m heah to help.”

Her claws whispered down his tunic and he looked down to follow them. A visceral, fierce desire to *live* filled him in the same moment that her fingertips lifted. Blood flowed, hot and fast. He stared, he froze- an instinctive response in the presence of a predator. The Jaguar’s lips pressed gentle against his temple and she purred into his ear.

“If you tell me youah sins, boy, it will go easieh on you.”

He did. Every pettiness. Every lie. Every woman he pushed too far and every man he’d slandered. Everything he’d done to get ahead, to make his way as the son of a nobody in a city where one’s name carried near as much weight as gil. It was a pitiful accounting of crimes and the huntress could scarcely keep from sighing in disappointment. He cried. He wept as he bled. She kept him talking, kept his attention on her. Cradled his head to her breasts and purred soft sounds of comfort. When he grew too weak to speak, she released the air magic keeping him pinned to his chair and stood, lifting his chin as his eyes grew dim.

“The sins of the fathehs fall to theiah sons, boy. May you have betteh luck in the next life.”

Her claws ripped through his throat before he could react, offering him a swift and near-painless death. His body slumped to the floor in a pool of his lifeblood. The other two men, untouched, slumbered on.

====

The grandfather... She did not know his name. It didn’t matter. He woke face-down on a hard, lumpen bed. Nude. In the dark. Trying to push himself up he realized what had woken him. There was a weight on his back. The clatter of stone against stone when he shifted made it clear what the weight was in the same moment that he felt the weight increase. The bed creaked. The stones clattered. His ribs creaked and he let out a hoarse cry of pain.

Her voice cut through the darkness like a breath of sultry heat.

“The weight is tehhible, isn’t it?”

This man was made of sterner stuff and rather than fold as his grandson, he let out a low leonine roar and tried to shove himself up, to shake off the stones. The pressure lessened and his hand snapped out to the side in a vicious punch- only to withdraw with a scream of pain as it met something immovable that shredded skin and shattered bone. More stone. Shaken, he shouted.

“Who’re you?! What d’ye want?!”

“Vengeance.”

Even wounded, trapped, afraid, the old man laughed. “Ain’t no such thing, ye dumb bitch.” His unbroken hand moved, subtle, creeping to try and find one of the stones that had fallen from his back. Grasping it, he pulled it towards himself and taunted. “I got somethin’ better n’ that for ye. I got connections- Ul’dah, Ala Mhigo. I can get ye anything ye want.”

She sighed, soft and warm, her lips close to his ear. He struck out with the stone and felt the satisfying meaty feedback of striking something made of flesh and bone. There was no cry of pain yet in his rage he struck out again and again until there was a loud CRACK and he felt bones break beneath his assault.

She watched as he snarled, as he roared in triumph, as he tried to shove the stones off his back. She watched with impassive eyes as he dropped the rock in his hand and started to feel around to see what he’d hit. She watched as his fingertips found the boy’s face. As they traced their way down under his body. As he realized what the lumpen bed beneath him was. She watched as he screamed and screamed and screamed until the effort shredded his vocal chords and became nothing but whispered sounds of terror. Then, she lowered herself down into the sarcophagus of stone she’d called up around him and knelt next to his head. She purred softly, a soothing rise-and-fall of sound that filled the enclosed space until his frantic sounds ceased.

“Help me.”

“Tell me youah sins and I will set you free of this weight.”

They poured out of him in frothy bubbles of filth and blood. Secrets kept. Innocent children harmed. Men and women sold to the highest bidder if they couldn’t or wouldn’t pay the price. He babbled, choking on his own blood, and when he could not speak anymore he cried. He wept. And she brushed gentle fingertips along his cheek, leaned in to press her lips to his...

Then drove her claws into his eyes at the same moment she called upon her magic and the stone beneath him formed spikes. The weight of earth on his back him drove him down mercilessly. But not swiftly. The huntress jumped out of the grave, listening to the helpless, terrified sounds rise from within it until the silence was broken only by the clatter of rock against rock as they settled into place. Flicking gore from her fingertips, she turned to the final man.

=========

Theobalt.

He woke confused. There were lips moving down his chest. Fingertips trailing along his skin. Warmth. Panted breathing. A sharp feeling- a playful bite. He reached out to catch her, to pull her down to where he wanted her to be. Where his body felt such *need*. He was on fire. Every nerve, every instinct, every bit of his mind filled with heat.

His hands were bound.

Firelight bloomed in the dark, every candle he owned lighting up as fire and lightning rippled through the room in a ribbon that left him blind and confused. The curtain separating the kitchen and dining room was shut with some darkness behind it. He was seated. Hands and ankles tied to his chair. The dining table was gone- he sat in the center of a ring of candles.

And kneeling at his feet like a supplicant was her. Wide gold eyes gazing up at him, her skin adorned with red body paint in patterns he found himself longing to lick away, her breasts large, her waist small, her hips wide. Her hair streaked in red. Her lips candy-coated. As he watched, she rested her hands on his knees and rose between his spread thighs until her breasts pressed against his abs and her lips pressed to his skin just above his heart.

“Who’re you?”

“Youah rewahd.”

“Reward? Fer what?”

She was silent. Green-gold aether glowed along her fingertips. Something was wrong. Her lips, her tongue was moving across his chest and she was rising up. Something was wrong. Her breasts were pressed to his chest. Something was wrong. Her lips were pressed to his throat.

SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

The heat. It was the heat. He was on fire. He was burning. Fever flushed his skin. Made it hard to think. Made him see things in the flickering candle-light. Things in the shadows.

His voice shook.

“*What* are you?”

“Youah rewahd.”

“Fer what?”

Her lips pressed to the sensitive skin just below his ear. They were so cold. Why were her lips cold. Her breath whispered across his skin.

“Do you remembeh a boy, a son of two traitoahs? A boy you made suffeh? A man you laughed at?”

He couldn’t think. He was so hot. He was on fire. He was so cold. His teeth chattered so hard he bit his tongue and his blood felt like ice as it ran down his chin. She shifted on his lap, gold-green aether rising just in the corner of his eyes as she ran her fingertips along his shoulders. There was a sharp point of pain that moved across his collarbones then down the center of his chest. He felt as though the heat was escaping- it was such a comforting feeling. A relief. He tried to look down but she leaned in and kissed him and he forgot. Those moving shapes in the shadows seemed to be laughing at him and he closed his eyes. That sharp pain, that feeling of relief, it kept moving down his chest, down his stomach, down to his waist only to trail back and forth along the waist of his trousers.

She broke the kiss and he gazed up at her with half-blind eyes that were boiling in his head. Healing aether steadily raised his temperature- a gift somewhere like Coerthas but in the humid, oppressive heat of Thanalan it was a slow, torturous death. Cradling his jaw in one tender hand, the other continued it’s work- claws crafting a sunburst in his skin in lines of blood that her healing aether cauterized even as it left the skin sliced open. Leaning in, she gently pressed her lips to his ear and purred.

“Tell me youah sins, Theobalt. Tell me youah sins and I will stop the fiah.”

His sobs held no tears- the fever had burned them away. He spoke around a tongue that had grown thick in his parched mouth. His lips cracked and bled and the blood pattered down onto his chest as the Jaguar slowly opened his chest along that sunburst pattern, skinning him alive while her aether held him in a cocoon of healing magic that dulled his nerves and kept him from bleeding out faster than she wished.

The torrent that fell from his lips made her sick to her stomach; he spoke tales of refugees used as cattle, as fodder, as bargaining chips. Black market deals had poured gil into his coffers and blood into the Thanalanian dust. Children had been sacrificed to the worst kind of torments and bribes had been paid to keep mouths shut and eyes closed. By the time he was finished the huntress had flayed his chest open and his heart beat naked under the bones of his ribs. The fever had rendered him blind and trapped him in a darkness that was filled with hungry shadows. The effort of maintaining the healing spells she’d crafted was exhausting her and something was slithering in her mind, something hungry, something that whispered of madness. She pushed it away and focused on her prey.

Just a moment more.

“Theobalt.”

He lifted his head at the sound of her voice.

“I have heahd youah sins.”

His cracked lips split into a relieved smile at the gentleness of her voice. His expression openly pleading. She rose up with her hands pressed to his jawline, lifting his chin as she knelt on his thighs and kissed him deeply. Drawing a messy trail of kisses along his cheek, she rested her head against his before purring soft and sweet into his ear.

“You will have youah rewahd.”

In an instant she stepped back and when her skin ceased to press to his, her spell broke. The fever broke. The hallucinations from the heat ceased. And she stood back and watched as he screamed faster than he could draw breath as all the pain hit him in a rush. Her eyes fell half-lidded as the candles flickered while he threw himself side-to-side in the chair until he crashed over and hit the floor. She watched as his heart pounded frantically faster and faster. She watched, tears rolling down her cheeks to form the only clean lines on her bloodsoaked body. She watched until his heart ceased to beat and the flames of the candles found purchase in the curtains. Along the walls. Across the rugs. With the shack beginning to burn around her, the Jaguar knelt before her prey and reached delicately with clawed fingertips into his chest until she found what she was looking for. Something hard that glistened and shone. She could feel it in her hand. In her mind.

It was enough and would never be enough.

====

Standing in the road, the Jaguar’s jewelry gleamed in arcane symbols as she focused one more time. From the cloudy pre-dawn sky a lightning strike fell like a bolt of judgement upon the shack. Flames roared upwards and she vanished, teleporting away.

”I am a Sin Eateh, my love. Gods foahgive me, but that is what I am.”

[spooky-grunt]

Light a Candle

Okay so this was a piece I wrote a bit of a time ago, when @guzcast​ wrote the “He’s not just a thug” saga. This was left unfinished and I completely forgot about it until I was going thru my works. So enjoy, I hope. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated :) <3 

I lit a joint and leaned against the wall. It wasn’t often I felt fear, only the times when life spiraled out of control. The last time I felt like this was last year when I struggled to come to terms with my ex boyfriend’s caustic personality. My mother wasn’t a big help either, but she had her own issues.

          I shook my head, the ganja embracing my body to the point I stopped crying, at least.

          “Goddammit...” I whispered in the darkness, flicking the ash from my smoke. Only the light of the cherry remained.

          The boss was shot twice by an unknown woman near the mansion. Apparently, she thought Guzma stole her kids and attacked out of nowhere.

          What the hell?! He’s not just a thug!

          The waterworks started again.

          It was Lil Grunt and Guzma who saved me from a lifetime of depression and a unhappy marriage.

          –

          I told him. Finally, after weeks of holding it in, I told him. We were standing in his driveway. My night was fucked but at least my conscience was clear. It should’ve been easy: tell him, grab my things and get the fuck out. He wouldn’t put up any worth of a fight, the old bastard.

          “How long have you known him?” Mason asked me, silent tension cutting through his tone.

          “That doesn’t matter anymore,” I muttered, walking inside to grab my things.

          I was leaving Mason for the Team Skull life, and away from his abuse. My chat with Team Skull’s Boss, Guzma earlier this week opened my eyes to things. I broke down in front of him and told him my story, and the advice he gave me was priceless.

          “The only thing you can do is leave, ya know? If he loved you he wouldn’t be treatin’ ya like a pile of shit,”

          So that’s what I intended to do.  Leave.

          “How dare you! How dare you think you can leave me!” Mason shouted, following me. I didn’t feel comfortable being with him alone, but I had no other choice that night.

          He grabbed my wrist and turned me to face him. “You are nothing without me!”

          I tried my best to not show the pain. “Let go of me,” I said calmly.

          “All this time-”

          “Let go of me!” I said, just a little bit louder.

          “I helped you-”

          I snapped. With my free hand, and grabbed the front of his shirt so we were nose-to-nose.

          “I. Said. Let. Go.” I hissed out. I took sick satisfaction in the widening of his eyes. He’s never seen me like this before in our three years of being together.

          He let go of my wrist and I promptly went to our room to grab my essentials.

          “You’ll regret this you little bitch!” He shouted from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and filled my duffel bag with clothes and my pokeballs.

          Mason took the fight outside as I waited for my friend, Artemis. Finally, I got fed up and grabbed my Chandelure pokeball.

          “Shut up and fight me!” I yelled. The sun was going down and the streetlamps were turning on one, by, one.

          He just stood there, flustered. I continued.

          “Either shut up and fight me and settle this once and for all, or go inside and shut up! I’m not dealing with you anymore! I’m sorry but I didn’t want it to end like this!” I yelled, tears freely flowing down my cheeks. My stomach was churning more than Poseidon’s wrath upon the seas.

          He smirked, and revealed a pokeball of his own. He didn’t have any pockets, and his hands weren’t occupied.

          “Go ahead. Throw your pokemon.” He said.

          I scowled. “Fuck you!” I tossed my Chandelure pokeball onto the ground… nothing.

          No flash, no Chandelure, just… nothing. It was empty! Where was it?!

          I dipped in my duffel bag and chucked pokeball after pokeball and found that every single one of them were EMPTY.

          “Wha…. This… this can’t be!”

          “Looking for your pokemon? Good luck with that,” He said, juggling his pokeball in one hand.

          “What did you do with them?” I yelled, tears stinging my eyes. The horror to think they were sold, captured or worse.

          He seemed to be a completely different person at this point. Everything was happening so fast I felt like I was stretching headfirst into a blackhole.

          Suddenly he knocked me over and pinned me down. I struggled but he was too strong. I felt his breath against my ear as he whispered, “I know how much you like your soaps… those pretty pink soaps that make your skin feel so nice,” He lightly kissed my neck, making me wanna puke. I kept struggling but once again he overpowered me. “Pokemon serve different uses. They make great fighters in the arena, they make make great food… but killing a pokemon has to be more… creative. So, I turned yours into your favorite soap.”

          I froze.

          I stared.

          I wept.

          Successfully I fought Mason off and ran. Fuck the rest of my stuff, I just wanted to get away from there. I didn’t get too far, though. I ran to the end of the block when nausea overcame me, and I hurled. I couldn’t have been more horrified than at that moment.

          That’s when I heard, “Get her haunter!”

          There’s nothing worse than having a haunter paralyze you. You’re defenseless.

          –

          I woke in my room in a cold sweat. I was sitting, leaning against a wall, a dead joint in my left hand. Smoke lingered in an herbal haze as my ears attuned to my laptop playing Shot in the Dark by Within Temptation. So fitting.

          I attempted to light my joint up again when someone knocked on the pull-down attic door. It startled me, almost causing me to drop my lighter.

          “Jesus Christ...” I muttered, sparking it up.

          “It’s me,” said Big Grunt.

          “Come in,” I said, blowing smoke through my nose.

          The big guy could hardly fit in the door. “Hi Spooky,” He gave me his best bear-hug.

          I snuggled in his warmth, feeling Big Grunt reaching for my joint.

          “Are you doing alright?” He asked.

          “Just nightmares. It’s a’ight,” I stretched, feeling my back pop in multiple places.

          “What kind of nightmares?”

          “About Mason. I was thinking about the night I left him and joined Team Skull.”

          “Flashbacks, huh? A lot of us are doing that. Boss has touched all of us. If he left us there wouldn’t be a Team Skull anymore.” He passed what was left of my joint back to me and exhaled. “Would you feel better if you told me your dream?”

          “I would like that very much.” I used my black mask to dry my eyes. Big Grunt laid on my bed and motioned me to come over. I brought a fluffy blanket and snuggled in his arms…

[anxiousauthor89]

The Circle Of Saving Lives

The barrel of the gun was right in Trinity’s face. Knowing it was her time she silently said a quick prayer for her daughter and closed her eyes. “Mama don’t look.” She whimpered. Feeling something shove her to the side while Judith let out a scream the gun went off. Using her arms to slide up from the fall on her hip, Trinity sat up to see her mother face down in a pool of blood gasping for air. Dropping the gun Azury screamed in regret. “She pushed you! I was supposed to shoot you, that wasn’t meant for her! The order from Big Daddy was to shoot you I didn’t mean to shoot her!” Trinity wept as she held her mothers head and watched her eyes roll and close as the last breath of air left her body. Kissing her face Trinity held her mothers body and rocked. “Fuck dat baby she should have stayed out the way get me to the car we gotta go.” Obeying orders Azury got behind the wheelchair, pushed hard, and ran for the door. “You got me so fucked up pussy hoe.” Trinity gritted from her teeth. Leaving her mothers body lifeless and limp, and feeling a rage only the devil could create, Trinity picked up the gun, aimed and shot. A single bullet to the back of Azury’s head stopped the push of Shawn’s wheelchair. Her body leaned forward and fell across Shawn’s shoulder. “Baby! Zury!!  Awww no no no nooo!!! Baby come on get up we gotta go man you gotta fuckin push me! Get off me and push!” Shawn pleaded in panic with the corpse bleeding all over him. Walking around to the front of the wheelchair Trinity heard police sirens near by. “Its over Shawn. This is the end.” She said as she looked deep into his terrified face. “Trin come on now....I got money we can leave together all you gotta do is get this dead bitch off my shoulder and push me to the car its half a mill in the back seat, hell it might be more! The perfect amount for us to just start over baby!” He breathed heavily as he could hear the sirens getting closer. “The doors are open baby come on we aint gotta let me go to jail like this! Them niggas gon kill me in there!” Shawn begged as he began to cry. Trinity stared at him, realizing Shawn was right. Jail is not what he deserved. “Fuck!” she mumbled.” You right! Ok, Hold on baby. Let me get the money.” Feeling elated, Shawn smiled. “Yeeeaaaaaa that's my lil bad bitch! Hurry up! Them mufukkas bout to be here!” She quickly ran to his car, and saw the camaflauge duffle bag. She knew the money was there. He had been using that same bag as a stash since she met him. Yanking the bag from the back seat and slamming the door she sprinted back to the hospital. Time was ticking. His time was ticking. The sirens were getting closer. The voices in her head would not be silent. She pleaded with herself. “Don’t do this Trin it would be so fucked up.” But a rage of revenge overtook her as she had to see her mothers body lying there getting cold. This was not fucked up. This was right. And she had to do it even if nobody understood why. She put the bag on her back and walked back to the lobby where Shawn was sitting stuck. “Okay baby good girl! I knew you aint want me in jail! Come on lets go!” He smiled thinking he was free. Shaking her head at him in disgust, Trinity looked over at her mothers body one last time. “I love you mama and I am so so sorry. Thank you for saving me. I know I will see you again.” Before she could give it another second thought, she quickly turned back to Shawn, aimed at his face, and pulled the trigger twice. He died instantly, his head flying back as blood shot out of his mouth staining his gold teeth. Dropping the gun, Trinity ran outside to the curb, spotted her father and daughter in the car and gave him the bag. Seeing her covered in blood and noticing Judith was not there Elijah jumped out. “What is wrong?! Where’s mama?!” He grabbed her searching her eyes for answers. “Daddy, take this bag and my purse with the birth certificate and go. Now! You gotta take care of Myricle now, you and Melodie. What's in this bag is a good head start for you, ok?  You hear me? Be strong daddy! I will explain everything soon but right now I need you to go! Now!” Trinity pleaded. Trying to take in the information Elijah realized his wife wasn't coming home. And neither was Trinity. He hugged her so tight she couldn't breathe. “I got Myricle.” he kissed her cheek and forehead. “I promise.” After he let her go she leaned in the back seat and kissed her daughter. “Papa got you pretty girl. Be good for him.” Seeing the police cars down the street Trinity waved to her daddy and blew him kisses as he drove away. “I love you” she mouthed making a heart shape with her hands. Nodding his head with tears in his eyes he mouthed back “Love you more.” Patting his chest and making the peace sign, he hit the gas, making a left as the police made a right just seconds after he was gone. Trinity walked back to the front door where she had committed her crimes and sat down Indian style with her hands up. The sirens she heard blaring were finally flashing their lights in her face as she surrendered.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              That was 17 almost 18 years ago. I was just a  newborn baby then. I only know the story because my Papa told it to me before he died. He always wanted to make sure I knew how special I was. I saw my mama twice a week. We had a good relationship. She had people in the jail draw me stuff. And always made sure she was good so her visits with me were never cut short. She loved me so much and told me a hundred times. But that jail changed her. Year after year I could see it. That place made her hard, and cold. I guess because she had to be tough. By the time she was killed in a fight at the prison, she didn’t have that special glow anymore. It was long gone. We had to get her cremated because we didn’t have money to bury her. I never even got to see her body. I know she would be proud of me though. Sometimes I think I can feel her around me. Now I am a mama and its just me and my kids. I got pregnant at 14, and just had one 9 months ago. Auntie Melodie is around but she's so out of her mind from medications, she's like my third baby. I take care of her. Grocery store in the day time and dancing in the club at night. Its not the best but its the best I can do. When I get older I’m going to doctor school. I’m gonna give my babies a life they can only see on TV. Dr. Myricle Sharee Steeples. Sound good don’t it? I’ll be right where I need to be. God saved me and my mama. A few times. My grandma saved my mama. Then my mama saved me and my Papa. Then Papa saved me. So if I become a doctor, that’s a good way of paying it forward like Papa taught me. And my girls Joy and Harmony gon do the same. Hopefully I start school in a year or so, then I can move on and I can finally play my role in the circle of saving lives. 

[a-skyfull-of-starz]

Thane’s death in Mass Effect 3 (and why I’m not over it)

So, this post requires a bit of backstory...

I got into gaming when I was nineteen, which I believe is pretty late, especially for the more hardcore gamers.  The first game I played was Dragon Age Origins (still a top five favourite, I love that game), and I was immediately hooked...on Dragon Age Origins that is.  My younger brother said to me something along the lines of: “Ok, well, you’ve conquered Dragon Age Origins, it’s time for you to try Mass Effect 2.”  (Because we didn’t own Mass Effect the first one at the time and we couldn’t really find it in any of the gaming stores in South Africa, nor do we have a WiFi connection).  So I tried out the first hour of Mass Effect 2 and went, “Nah, the gameplay is too difficult, and besides the story isn’t really grabbing me, let me return to replaying Dragon Age Origins a million times.”  (I am still ashamed of this harsh criticism).

Time went on, we purchased Dragon Age 2, and whilst disappointing (a story for another blog), I loved the rich world and lore enough to replay that a million times as well.  Lil Bro the Snail eventually lost his temper with me and said, “Listen Charlie, I will disown you if you don’t give Mass Effect 2 another try.”  By this stage, Mass Effect 3 had come out and he was desperate for me to play that and give him my opinion.

So I gave Mass Effect 2 another whirl and boy did I take back every criticism I had for it the first time around.  It became an all time favourite, and is still the best game I have ever played.  But anyway, my love for Mass Effect 2 could fill several blog posts, and that’s not why I’m here.

Having fallen deeply in love with Alistair in Dragon Age Origins, I asked my brother if there were any romance options in Mass Effect.  He responded that there were, pushing me towards the Shakarian option.  I was like, well, he seems like a cool character.  I like his voice a lot.  Why not?

Romances are only queued to start after loyalty missions, and I decided to leave those for last, after I had recruited everyone, so obviously my wooing of Garrus had to wait for quite a while.  I was excited though.  Romancing was my favourite part of the games after all.  

And then I met Thane, and all thoughts of Garrus’ voice left my head.  See, my favourite trope in books, movies, games, TV shows, music, anything really, is the “persevering despite the obvious chances of failure” one.  I love a dark storyline, the darker the better in fact, because it’s in time of crisis when you can see someone’s true character.  That’s when you realise why you hate the character or why you love him/her/them.  Anyone who has read JSWM, my other tumblr posts and will hopefully read the Winners knows that I put my characters through hell, because I want to see how they will grow and develop.  Basically, I like torturing myself emotionally.  And the Shrios romance hit that dark trope perfectly.

Shepard knew that Thane was going to die, from the very moment that they met, and she chose to love him anyway.  She knew that, if they were to survive the suicide mission, the chances were strong that he would die before her, and she knew it would hurt.  And yet she chose to love him anyway, in spite of this.  Persevering despite the obvious chance of failure.  When this shit goes south, I thought to myself, as it inevitably will, if BioWare continues their stellar storytelling, it is going to impact my Shepard in a very strong way.  This is going to lead to character growth.  At the very least, it’s going to lead to some interesting interactions with the other second and third-tier characters.

Only it didn’t.

Oh, the death scene was super emotional (full disclosure, I wept like a little girl).  The email Thane sent was super emotional (no tears this time, although I silently applauded the person who had penned it).  Alright, I thought to myself.  Time to see what the others have to say about this tragedy.  

No one said anything.  People were bemoaning Cerberus, people either bemoaned or welcomed Kaidan back, people bemoaned Udina.  No one said anything about Thane.  “He sacrificed himself to save the salarian Councilor,” I wanted to scream at the computer screen.  “Mordin faked his death, and you were all like, what a hero, good old insane Mordin, but Thane, my Shepard’s lover, gets his death glossed over?” (Remember, I hadn’t played Mass Effect the first, Wrex was a dead krogan in my world).

Now, people might say that Thane was reclusive, didn’t really make friends with the other crew, and his death didn’t really affect them that much.  Only I don’t really buy that at all.  Judging from the Citadel DLC (another tearjerker if ever there was one), people did have a relationship with Thane.  He was clearly important to a number of crew, maybe not as a confidant, but as a source of inspiration.  And even if that was not enough, the entire franchise centres around Shepard’s relationship with her crew, and her hurt would matter to them.

Throughout the game, this bothered my, the fact that no one seemed to care that Shepard must be hurting from the loss of the man she loved, even if she wasn’t showing it (you know, if she were an actual person, and not made up of a bunch of ones and zeros and a pretty texture).  I imagined how alone she must have felt, how much pain she must be in (ironically, this too hits my sweet spot of an emotionally dark storyline).

I don’t know, it’s a game, maybe I’m expecting too much of it.  Except both Mass Effect and Dragon Age put a lot of value on relationships.  I felt like my friends had let me down.  It still rankles me sometimes to be honest.  At least we got one badass line out of it though.

“That was for Thane, you son of a bitch.”

[db5ks-archive]

let me tell you, when i said i sobbed in endgame i meant i straight up wept like a lil bitch

[usuallyrics-blog]

She Bad

New Lyrics has been published on usuallyrics.com https://usuallyrics.com/lyrics/she-bad/

She Bad

“She Bad” (feat. YG)

[YG:] 4Hunnid! Mustard on the beat ho

Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Fendi bag Prada bag, Louis bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag Birkin bag, she in the bag, she drip, she swag Never mad, she glad, Louis bag, she in the bag

[Cardi B:] Look, look Momma needs some mill money (cash) Prada bag and heel money See my ex, he still love me (ha) New nigga ‘gon kill for me (yeah) All my chains got diamonds in it (bling) My account got commas in it (cash) Damn daddy, you fine as hell I hope your wallet got condoms in it I’m up, she mad, I’m first, she’s last (yeah) Rob who? Take what? Click-clack, ski-mask I’m a boss in a skirt, I’m a dog, I’m a flirt Write a verse while I twerk, I wear Off-White at church Prolly make the preacher sweat, read the Bible, Jesus wept Bitch say that she gon’ try me, how come I haven’t seen it yet? Give it to him so good that his eyes roll back (huh?) Shorty said it’s all hers, why her thighs don’t match?

[YG:] Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Fendi bag Prada bag, Louis bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag Birkin bag, she in the bag, she drip, she swag Never mad, she glad, Louis bag, she in the bag She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad

[Cardi B:] Weed blowin’, pussy boss, suck his dick through his drawers Lick the balls just because, lil bitch, I eat balls I’m a monsta, mouth open wide like opera Face down, ass up, I got perfect posture (woo) It’s lit like a lamp, lick you like a stamp (yuh) Beat this pussy up (yuh) I take it like a champ (woo) Balenciaga momma, I know you heard about her Spoil me in Prada, I’m worth every dollar (cash) The one you made, could keep ’em (yeah) I need Chrissy Teigen Know a bad bitch when I see one (yeah, woo) Tell Rih-Rih I need a threesome I’m his favorite type of chick, boujee, bad, and thick (uh) I could buy designer, but this Fashion Nova fit All that ass (woo, woo, woo, woo)

[YG:] Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Fendi bag Prada bag, Louis bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag Birkin bag, she in the bag, she drip, she swag Never mad, she glad, Louis bag, she in the bag She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad

She bad, in the bag, move slow, hit it fast She ride me ’til I crash, 400 minutes, I last She compliment my swag, all you niggas harass All them bitches wanna be her friend now, she laugh (hey now) Uh, uh, she buy her man a Bentley coupe Uh, uh, she got niggas and bitches, too Uh, uh, she wear off-white to church, ooh Uh, only Birkin, not Dooney & Burke, woo Birkin bag, fuck a tag, fuck me, and she fuck me bad Whispered in her ear, “You got these bitches beat, they runnin’ laps” You know you something special, you figured it out, you from the traps Step out wearin’ that dress, showin’ that ass and it’s a fuckin’ wrap

Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag, Fendi bag Prada bag, Louis bag, Gucci bag, Gucci bag Birkin bag, she in the bag, she drip, she swag Never mad, she glad, Louis bag, she in the bag She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad She bad, she bad, she bad, she bad

Who is Cardi B

Belcalis Almanzarr was born October 11, 1992 and is known under the pseudonym of Cardi B, an American rapper. Cardi B, born in Bronx, New York, began to undress at age 19 and made a name for himself on social networks.

[mooncookee]

QUIVER

You see the soul drips low down where the dirt holds and lip licks upside trees and rubs it's scent up in the leaves so every bee passin' flags its tale. In frets and waggles, tails a kites lets                                                     or a dragonfly drags, they sing out in trails of Halle-lu-jah stretches up, up to heaven' but the land; sees it. Land, it never forgets. No, see? The land never forgets.

It breathes in frequencies sometimes only wolves can bear. Now and then a cat or two might howl but hounds, they just too house broke, cozy, may a' bit too lazy for caring. Some ground just stares; some rumbles like mountain claws strummin' on drum skins. Some been rubbed too much.

 I'm told it growls like that at Shiloh and Antietam, And Vietnam's a locomotive hauling coal down where they stokin' Hell. So they tell. Well it's that kinda hum across the tracks as Quiver Lane backs up to Bayou Self.

Once it crossed there but Betsy or Audrey washed it out; maybe was a hurricane

way 'fore storms got names. No one cared to build it back or cared not to. True that.                                                                        

When Emmalite Petit came to name it Quivers for the way the silver willows shiver in the silver light of night everything changed.

Tragedy and Misery, ain't they so the loudest, overstaying cousins? And seems we never see the sunshine when they visit.   Poor Lita (her prayer given greeting) lived beneath a concrete cloud of loud and overstayin' cousins. They raved a regular hoedown, throw-down, hootenanny, fais do do with a neon rainbow and a disco ball. And I mean cousins, uncles et al. Damn Murder, Curser, Fever and Famine fired it up and washed it blue down there with Deluge.                                                                                        

First her Baby, gone. Her Daddy then her ‘nother Baby, husband, husband, baby, Mama; all lost quick as windblown sand.

 Some say Curser was first to sup. Before Choctaw pushed the Houmas through, before people were more than The People, angels and demons had drama there. In that, I'm told, can't be a winner. Seems Quiver Lane began to quiver long fore Lil’ Lita came for dinner or every time.                                                              

She came like plagues o' Moses. "Note-he-damn-us" speculated they's a Moses lain in every sack of sins.

So said, Lita lived as one or all those "Horsemen," well “Horse-folk,” that head banger gang, jammin' down till the World chokes, spokes broke in sections docking the earth in kinda pocky way clips. Cousin, you catch my crazy pills; lauded Lord seen the Devil’s daughter in a bonnet livin’ as the Mistress of the Quivers. I can't say. Maybe she's the lucky millionth shopper

straggled up, she, falling out the sack; register ding, clang and drawer slip, clap; balloons fell, politicians kissing black beauty baby hexes like bubble blowers whistling.

lucky Medusa, heaving chest, epistles of perdition Panavision in her sweat.                                                          

 Y’all know evil needs a witness, accepting victims’ just objects, directly. God knows Narcissus always came as the main idea. Ain't nobody plays that sorrow fiddle like him.

Maybe Emmalite's his sister?

 Lil' Lita came from Texas by the Sabine Pass. Her folk ran a trawl fleet, had plenty grass for cattle and passe blanc, they say. No verifiable pedigree, a Gypsy privateer, a Mescalita bruja here and here. Clearly an Andalusian heiress in that tree, more than half Moor-ish. She was Venus, trapper by trade so they say.

  (II)

 Down from Paradis a way the Old Spanish Trail snakes through the Texaco Woods. Inertia notwithstanding, curves are angular where that old road bends by the tracks and bends back a time or four. Man, DAMN, that was one alive drive. No, don't try those moves at Big Bear, no. Ask me how I know?

 So, the first knee coming from Paradis, Lita’s mausoleum gloats 'neath an oak grove.

Mère Brigit de Saint Asile, splayed in headstones, snaggle-toothed from the shiny rails, with a ditch mote, a throat bouquet of cattails and poison ivy commanded, a dead man's curve from any poet's axis. A swamp hugged close, old road to tracks that smacked blood wet, stains sustained since skirmishes of Yank incursions shucked, ghost rehearsals from Boutte to Des Allemands.

Older ground, this mound raised by the hand of man, built by bodies gone to mulch, a human humus mushed under hundreds on hundreds of autumn's silts. Floods sipped slippin' the baser stones to tilt in neglect, 'cept lichen love. Yet seldom did molesters linger. Centuries of cypress centurions, elders, priests and voodoiennes spit blasted blasphemous echoes and imminent offenders bent on infecting this umbilical age where souls are directed, selected and nakedly effected and tweaked past sec by the Conscious Constant Conscience Collective till they caress the nexus of perfection. Poor Lita‘s cache was stashed in a crypt like only city seen. Marble Venus reigning supreme over meager crosses, slaves and Cajun tenants, protestants, names scratched unless a body was a veteran.

 The black top ridge the bridge to Quiver Lane crossed tracks at are maintained by Santa Fe Railways on the civil side. The bayou banks can't be tamed. To its own travail, alone it wanes. It assimilates, ate by relentless quest of the prevailing Green to digest, jail and swallow every life, not sailing pass a snail's pace past the veil of tales.

 Some places birth a craving for belonging. I belong there. I learned to swear there,                                                                

was snared by the noose tobacco set. My first drunken crash there after Uncle read me Lovecraft there. I woke wet. We skipped for crawfishing on pretty new spring days, lunch meat and Bunny Bread, that pink mayo pickle spread, four finger bag of weed and a six o’ Dixie. What a day made; laying nets in a knee deep maze up to the first grave. Voo was a swamp "Fred Astaire." I was a true Scooby Doo.

 I felt connected. My first love was laid there.                                                        

We buried my Colinda in the Mom Brigit's breast. No other love tested more than a genuflecting peasant maid weighing fragrances passed in wake of her Queen's carriage. Stressing, up she peeked, a speck in shadows of divinity. That old road led me out on, a life of asphalt sped, gone, minstrel vagabond so long it's all I ever did since I turned back on this compost heap, love's keep, womb of every torch song.

 My class of '81 summoned, thirty-five years running but for them I come. I wonder why, true though, I never could deny our passion. When we took life in shots, chased with pitchers at Tolano’s. We had a world to make.

 Me, I just careened from ditch to ditch like it's me buried by the Quivers. No I deliver as I wither juke to honkey tonk, useless bitch of windy whispers. Till I listed, sunk and sprawled, depraved raving “kinda been” kissing the base of my true love’s grave. I bowed my gaze prostrate so to evade her name engraved by chisel. A blitz of banshees pulling train, crumbled by the strain, I crawled scratching three X's by the gate on Lita's marble vault pleading she would put me down, already nothing wasting air, better fare prepared as mushroom food or maybe that's too good.

 I should… I would but once I promised not to "should" myself. Still, shame laid lame, gasping breaths between grass roots. I wept. "Why me's" pelted till my ears burned red. I quivered in prayers to who knows who.

 "Madame Petit accept my humble suffering as sacrifice. By gluttony, greed and lust, I'm pinned by sin, an empty wraith in waiting, a soulless puppet painted live. I pray my worthless carcass lay a worthy crust to feed the inevitable Green lacing the gates of your Everlasting After.”

 Shotguns slam on Heaven's tin walls, clap of Atlas shaking this world off. Tossed by the blast wave reality whiplashed!

 Peace of the morning, peace of the dawn, peace of the dusk, trust is cruel quiet.

 I wasn't crying anymore, standing more or less, I smelled the musk of Bayou Self.

An ass drawn wagon crossed the bridge carrying six oyster sacks, a six pack of field hands

and six kindling stacks of dried fig twigs. A sickly girl’s grey pony led three chomping keen colts: a big red, an ice white and onyx black sweat gleaming fiery beast. Two tuniced, kilted dudes duked; blue steels, shields whacking, shrieks of deep dread jolts “blue screen” hacked my psyche. Pangs of fresh grief vigorously split me.

 A jug of berry sherry beckoned swig. My sweet Colinda, cherry plucker lolled, bent butt against the trestle rail. My first kiss again conjured up in home sewed halter and faded cutoffs

baring all I knew of truth. I sighed. Honey haired, hazel eyed, mine, giggling on the Quivers side. I knew I had died and raced embracing her with no step took, track jumped or cross tie straddled.

My Colinda, swarthy now calico long dress in bonnet, brunette, black eyes, pupils fire.

Love as always a puny liar.

           "Allons danser." Lil Lita grabbed me. We two stepped. A death of quiet                                                                        

only broke by creaking wood and creosote stink.

 Come to think, I never two stepped. Pickers never learn to dance. Sixties Cajun kids were forbidden, so I was not blessed to know her French addresses. Fancy me this dead man's chance.

We parleyed and danced and dance.

 Bless you; Ma'am Petit you be? Life for me was tired and old. If I’d be so bold

Please bestow me once more to hold my Colinda? Then to dust or mold or as you'd have me.

 "Chere," she said. "Colinda's me. No simple peace and death’s not free

Chere, we have scores and prophecies. A thousand first loves you and me span.

I was Lilith to your Adam.

 A hundred thousand maids you ruined. Who could ever love as I do? Spun out countless loves found tombs, dead in the womb as I sang lullabies. I brewed my fear beer. Stirred you here

Through waste and wander savoring every maid you plundered. Hate begets a viral Eden. Evil needs no truth to seed. Fear and hunger, pain and greed ripened drips in misery.

 Hero here alas you settle, finally, quite a hefty debt. Here you left, Colinda bled, red washed dress on a slave girl grave. Sweating fatherhood for fame let your name escape her blame. At last my final pica’s set my Casanova minstrel, convinced, sorry victim in your head, sped millennia and parried any collar, cross or retiarius’ net.

 But see this land, it never forgets. It pressed a bed of want in you that blooms like sumac in the rain. You came. Your only bet was plain. But here the game is mine, you swine

and markers called. You’re out of time. I'd feed a million trillion flies on your flesh and spread your soul like chewy tricks as treats on chilly demon children’s Halloween.

 But see, my pride, I got to ride. These fine three anxious steeded knights and I have deals to seal and seals to peel while you here feel the pain of every death since you've eluded me.” She chuckled, eyes blazing licked her lips. “But that too was your dream I guess. You always were my favorite pet and here see, this land don't forget."  

                                                                     (III)

Black is white to where she left me. Agony a soothing choice. Infinity times three;

tormenting claws and jaws forever stripping, split my atoms, sip and spit me. Buckets left to catch my wet screams. Seamless, moving troubadour’s tool ghoul re-jeweled to phantom’s whispering shrill banzai Mojave dry.

 Sorry now I'm such a bummer. I'm just a strummer not your savior but if you care for your creator make your peace cause Lita's coming.  

https://www.reverbnation.com/dwaynestromain/song/30163760-quiver-rvbntn

[anxiousauthor89]

Life Support

Groggy, head pounding, and feeling sick and ashamed, Trinity slowly opened her eyes. She noticed was in a different room. And she was just waking up from what felt like the deepest sleep. The medicine had knocked her out. She let her eye sight adjust and rubbed her temples. She took a sip of water, and laid back as she swallowed. Realizing how parched she was she reached for more water, took a few more sips almost choked. "Fuck!" Her heart began to pound. "The damn baby!" She frantically looked around the room and saw nothing. "Oh my God...it must have worked!" She smiled. "But wait...am I going to jail? Shit what the fuck am I gon tell my mama?!  Ok think Trin...think hard...use your brain bitch....shit...I cant remember shit! Ok...ok...ok...." she took deep breaths looking up to the sky...ok...I was pushing...And..." Congratulations mommy! You're finally awake! How ya feeling?" The blue eyed nurse from earlier was back and she was beaming with joy. Trinity instantly felt dizzy. "Wait...congratulations to who?" she whispered confused about the nurses excitement. "Aaaw sweetheart. Im sorry, you're just waking up and we have to update you on everything. Its been about 2 hours, but that's alright we got baby girl all bundled up in the NICU." the nurse grabbed her shoulder in reassurance. "NICU?" Trinity asked in more confusion. "Baby girl?" she sat up in the bed. "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME IT LIVED?! WHAT THE FUCK?!" she screamed unable to hide her surprising disappointment. Shocked and alarmed the nurse stood back and nervously giggled "honey...uumm...I think the medicine has you a little out of it. Apparently you were ready to push and we didn't know. The head doctor of the delivery department came in to introduce himself to you, and saw the baby falling. He dropped everything and caught her by her ankle. Its broken...baby girl is so tiny shes only 3 pounds... he was just trying to save her...it was an accident..." "Hold up." Trinity put up her index finger. Trying to process everything the nurse was saying, she just had to ask one more time. "So...the baby lived...." she looked zoned out. She was in disbelief. Why the fuck do her plans keep failing? "Yes. You pushed so hard you passed out. We gave you medicine to help with pain. Shes beautiful. Do you want to see her? I can take you to where she is after the counselor speaks with you." the nurse said. Feeling her heart drop to her feet she shot her eyes at the nurse "Counselor? What a counselor want with me?" she started to feel concerned still unsure of how she would explain herself. "Just to ask you a few questions. We have the baby in the NICU because shes going through detox. There are drugs in her system. And right now shes doing ok...got a bad case of the shakes...but shes ok." the nurse said with sympathy in her eyes. "You wanna talk about how those drugs got in her system? We can get you some help." All of a sudden her memory flashed back to Junior and the party. The mornings and afternoons she spent driving over there to get more. The day she stopped and said no more. But it must have been too late. Thinking about her mother crying, her possibly going to jail, the thought that she may never live a normal life, she tried to think of a way out. She needed to blame somebody else there was no way she was going to tell anybody the truth. This will go to her grave. Brainstorming and silently freaking out all at once, she blurted out "Shawn! His name is Shawn! And he stays over on Basey Drive! I was with him a few nights ago and he must have drugged me. I told him I felt funny! That's probably why I went into labor early! God! Oh my God!" she covered her face and fake sobbed playing the role of a hurt mother. "Thank Heavens you remembered! Im gonna let the sheriff know right away!" the nurse ran out aiming for her telephone at her desk. Waiting until the room was all hers again she slowly uncovered her face. She laid back, shaking her head, in awe at her performance, and the recent choices that landed her here. "Giiirl you done fucked up now. But they finna get Shawn ass and that's good for him." she smirked as the thoughts ran over her mind. "Hope he rot in fuckin jail. And when its time for me to testify im just gonna leave town I aint sittin up in them crackas faces fuck that." She rolled over on her side but had to quickly lay back straight as a sharp pain hit her vagina. Then she remembered again....."dammit...the fuckin baby.." she slapped her forehead. "Ugghhhhh what am I gonna dooo Trinity you fucked uuuup giiirl my goodness!" she scolded herself. "Alright." she sighed. "No time for that think of a plan." She sat there for what seemed like at least an hour. She was falling back asleep when a young lady in pink scrubs came in. "Hello Mommy congratulations!" the cheerful caregiver jumped up and down. Trinity opened her eyes and rolled them. She was already sick of the nurses calling her mommy. "Whats up?" she said with attitude. "Well uhmm.." the young lady lost her smile. "The counselor is sick so you can see the baby until her replacement arrives. Your wheelchair is outside. You ready?" she started to smile again. Not knowing what to say she sat quiet for a moment. Staring at the floor she saw images of her as a child, and pictures of Shawn as a child that he had shown her. She tried to imagine if the baby looked like her, or just like him. Did the baby have her eyes? The only way to find out was to see her. But she wasn't ready. "No." she simply replied as she got back under the blanket putting it over her head in shame. "No??" the nurse asked in amazement. "Really? Why not? Shes beautiful shes just small but.." "I said no!" Trinity screamed at the young lady. Without another word the nurse walked out slamming the door behind her. Finally tired of handling things alone she found her phone and dialed the only number that always answered. "Heeeyyyy daddy baby!" her father chuckled on the other end. "What you doing over there besides lettin ya head weigh ya down eeh?" she couldn't help but giggle. He was so silly. But it was time to get serious. "You so crazy daddy, but not right now. I need you and Mama on the line together." her voice trembling. "Oh Lord something is wrong I hear it in your voice." he softly said. Give ya mama a minute shes on her cell with somebody she been talkin bout 10 minutes...im gonna pray while we wait." "Thanks daddy that may help cuz Im...." "Ooooh Jesus NOOO! Oh Lord spare him God please hes just a young boy!" Her conversation was cut off by screams from her mother. "Judith calm down whats the matter? What happened?" Her father yelled with worry. "Is that my baby on the phone? Is that..Trin!! Give it here! Trinity baby!" Her mother cried. "Yea..mama its me..why you..stop crying..whats wrong?" Now she was starting to worry. "Baby...baby somebody sent the police to the house you shared with Shawn on Basey Drive..." Rolling her eyes and smacking her teeth she flopped back down on the pillow " Oh mama good grief who cares! Look I know you love Shawn cuz ya thought that was gon be your son in law cuz my silly behind thought he was my prince charming and bla bla bla" she waved her hand in a dismissive motion. "but its over with me and him so relax don't waste the prayers he alright. He may need a lil jail time maybe he'll get a real job" She shrugged her shoulders in satisfaction knowing she was the one who sent the police. "May he rot in that mothafucka." she silently thought. "Trinity. You don't understand. Hes not in jail baby." her mother wept. "Maaaan I don't have time for this!" she snapped. She already hated to hear her mom cry and the fact that it was about this idiot just angered her. "Jesus Christ so where is he mama?!" she asked growing annoyed. "There was a shooting. An undercover approached him and Shawn knew immediately it was a set up, so he pulled his gun on the man. The room began to spin as her mothers words shot through her ears and caused a shock to her soul. "There were officers near by...her mom continued..."and as soon as Shawn pulled his gun out they came out of hiding. Shawn never got to shoot. They shot him baby. Three to the body. One to the neck. And one in each leg." her mother spoke through tears. Waiting for a response. After feeling her breath leave her body and slowly return, she collapsed to the floor unable to stand on shaking legs. She asked in a sobbing whisper "Is he ok?" Holding her chest she began to sob loud. Nothing mattered now. Not the fights. Not him cheating. Not his wife. Nothing. She wanted revenge, but she cant see him in a casket. She cant kiss a dead man. She uncontrollably cried louder, wishing she could take back what she had caused. "Mama you got to tell me he is ok. Please just say he is some how...miraculously ok...please say it mama!" The line was silent. "You not saying it! Tell me hes ok!" she screamed. She was getting hysterical. Her mother cleared her throat, which made Trinity tone it down a bit. "I cant tell you hes okay baby. Hes not. He lost a lot of blood." Her mother paused and took a deep breath. "And when they took him away he was already dieing. God has the final say. But for now...hes on life support."