#anyone who reads or comments: we shall have a summer wedding

[tanjir0se]

As the World Caves In, pt II

Pairings: Rengiyuu (Rengoku x Giyuu) Words: 5.4k (7.8k total) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everybody Lives AU Warnings: (full fic) Graphic depictions of canon-typical violence, medical procedures, blood, bodily injury

If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything, I swear. 

It was now or ever. And now he’d gotten so close to never, closer than he’d ever thought he’d get in all his wildest nightmares, that the unbridled fear of it now carried the words unspoken up his windpipe, threatening to burst. 

“K-Kyojuro,” Giyuu began. And Kyojuro looked at him with those stunning, earnest eyes--eye--and Giyuu’s next words fell from his mouth in a huff. “Damn it,”

This is part 2/2. Read the previous part here!

You can also read the full fic on AO3!!

“You ought to be more careful, my friend!” Kyojuro chided as he unbuttoned Giyuu’s uniform. “Look, you’ve ruined another uniform shirt!” He was referring to the large slash on the shoulder of Giyuu’s uniform, courtesy of the demon they’d just taken down together. Though they’d only known each other a few months at that point, Giyuu had learned that Kyojuro apparently preferred to dress his wounds himself despite Giyuu being fully capable, and he knew Kyojuro better than to try to argue. 

He said nothing while Kyojuro frowned at his bare and bloody chest, appraising the long but superficial wound that spanned across his pale skin, coming to a stop at the hollow of his throat. He did tilt his head slightly back to allow Kyojuro to inspect the full extent of the wound, his quiet way of thanking him. Kyojuro hummed to himself. His golden eyes suddenly flicked from Giyuu’s wound to his face, stealing away Giyuu’s breath in a surprised huff. 

“Does this hurt?” he asked, abruptly serious. Giyuu shook his head. Rengoku had a habit of making him lose his train of thought when he looked at him like that. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me. I would have been alright!”

Giyuu stared at him. The demon they’d been fighting had prepared one vicious strike right after another, while Rengoku had been finding his footing from the previous. Rather than allow the strike to land on the Flame Hashira, Giyuu had stepped in with dead calm, both sparing Kyojuro from the attack and causing it to fall on himself. 

To Giyuu, his actions made perfect sense. Kyojuro was obviously the superior Hashira. He felt it only natural to protect the greater asset to the demon slayer corps, even if it meant putting his life on the line. 

Kyojuro raised an eyebrow and cracked a small grin. “I know that look.” He said. It was the look Giyuu did when he was about to try to argue with him on something: brows slightly furrowed, gaze steady with heavy lids, lips parted. Realizing he was caught, Giyuu relaxed into a half smile and allowed Kyojuro to gently dab dirt and debris away from his wound. 

“You may be reckless,” Kyojuro began, “But I have to admit, that eleventh form is incredible! How on earth did you learn something like that? Ah, I bet I could practice for a hundred years and never even get close!” His gaze now focused on Giyuu’s wound, he didn’t notice how bright pink his friend’s face had become. Kyojuro spoke highly of everyone, but praise of his swordsmanship coming from someone as incredible as him was still a high compliment. 

Kyojuro continued. “Such fantastic work, I’m truly lucky to be on your good side!” He laughed and patted Giyuu’s chest with one hand and retrieved a first aid kit with a suture needle with the other. His hand was rough but warm against Giyuu’s permanently cold skin. 

“For now.” Giyuu joked back. Kyojuro blinked once, surprised and a little disbelieving that Giyuu had actually cracked a joke, but after noticing the tiny upward tilt of his lips, smiled even wider and laughed even harder. 

“I’d better toe the line then! Otherwise I’ll be the one needing stitches!” He laughed at his own joke while stitching his wound and Giyuu actually smiled along. Few could melt through his icy silences like Kyojuro could. Few understood what he was trying to say even when he was silent like Kyojuro did. “Ah, you always know how to make me laugh.” Kyojuro added with a sigh that made Giyuu’s heart ache. 

Kyojuro’s half-open eyes saw white, made hazy by tears clinging to his dark lashes. White drifted above him, and for a moment he drifted with it, unaware that he was even conscious, just floating. Once his mind returned to him he tried to blink to dispel the haze but found himself unable, paralyzed, flat on his back and floating through nothingness. For a few moments he believed himself to be dead. Until the pain struck him. 

He considered himself no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything else. His entire body felt shattered. Even something as simple as breathing was a battle, as if his lungs and the walls of his chest themselves were locked in combat against one another. If he was indeed dead, this must be hell. 

He thought so, until he heard a distant voice reaching to him from beyond the endless white oblivion around him. There were gentle hands on him, as if bringing him out of the haze and back into reality. 

Someone was cradling the back of his head, tilting it slightly upward as they removed bandages from the left side of his face. The light changed slightly as they did so, though nothing came into focus. Fingers brushed lightly over his left eye. Whoever the hands belonged to, whoever was nursing him, sighed. 

The bandages were replaced. A warm rag brushed against the aching skin of his arms. A hand rested lightly against his chest, directly over his heart, feeling it beating steadily. Kyojuro still couldn’t move or speak but whoever was tending to him apparently didn’t mind. The voice was silent while they worked but the silence was as gentle as their hands. That silence, its softness, the coolness of the hands on his body reminded him of something…

The haze slowly began to lift, as if his nurse’s gentle tending was pulling him back up out of the nothingness and into reality. As his mind cleared he groped for anything to anchor him back to the present; he remembered a cold wind, a column of flames. 

“Another letter from Tanjiro today.” His nurse said quietly over the rustle of papers. “And…one from Uzui.” 

Kyojuro would have leapt out of bed, if he could move. The kids! The train! The upper rank! I’ve got to get back there!  Kyojuro wanted to reach out, tell the speaker I don’t care about a bunch of letters when Tanjiro and the others could be in danger— 

A letter from Tanjiro? He’s alright?

“Uzui’s letter first, then?” The voice said. More rustling of paper. A clearing of the throat. “Dear Rengoku, I apologize for my absence, since this damn mission is taking longer than I expected, I’m absolutely certain you’re beside yourself with grief that yours truly isn’t there with you—” the speaker scoffed, and Kyojuro would have laughed too, if he could move. “Anyways, I’ll spare you the non-flashy details and regale you with the full story when I can see you again. Please get better soon, the mansion is too boring without you. Tengen.” 

In full earnest now, and with little else to do but lie there, Kyojuro tried to remember what had happened. The last image he could conjure was the electric flashing of blue and pink, a crazed laugh, and distantly, someone crying and calling his name. 

He assumed he was recovering in the butterfly mansion, but how long had it been since he’d fallen unconscious? Long enough that he was getting letters. He wondered if he’d gotten any from Senjuro. Or Giyuu. 

Giyuu. 

He’d just been dreaming about Giyuu. One of the first times he’d noticed Giyuu blushing at him, one of the many times Giyuu had made him laugh. That’s what the silence had reminded him of. With great difficulty, with everything he had, Kyojuro managed to grunt softly. 

Halfway through Tanjiro’s letter, the voice stopped. Even unable to see, Kyojuro could feel eyes on him, knew them to be deep and indigo and discerning. He sucked in a labored breath against the pain wrapping around his ribs, and this time managed a groan. 

“Kyojuro?” 

God I’d know that voice anywhere. 

Kyojuro’s eyes slid closed, then open once again, still heavy-lidded, still teary, but open. The fog around him lifting, the first thing he saw was his nurse, pale skin, a mess of raven black hair and a set of indigo eyes. 

In spite of everything, he smiled. “Giyuu,” he murmured. 

Giyuu felt his heart stop in his chest, his relief so intense it nearly paralyzed him. Kyojuro was looking at him. Kyojuro was alive. His world had crashed back into orbit again. He grabbed his friend by the arms and held him there tightly, desperate not to let him go again. 

“Kyo! God—” Thank god, thank god you’re alright! I was so worried, I was lost without you! His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe let alone speak. “You’re awake.” He managed stupidly after a moment. Kyojuro opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out for a moment. For once, Giyuu actually spoke instead. “Kyo…” he found himself saying again. 

Kyojuro lifted his head and tried to sit up, straining against the unbelievable pain that shook his entire body. He caught a glimpse of a large, blood-shadowed bandage over his abdomen before his forehead suddenly bumped into Giyuu. He must’ve been closer than he’d thought. The unexpected bump sent him back down against the bed with a groan. Giyuu still hadn’t taken his hands off of his arms. 

“Please don’t try to get up.” Giyuu murmured. “Your depth perception is probably quite off.” 

Kyojuro frowned at him and opened his mouth to ask why he’d say that, but another bright pulse of pain behind his left eye answered the question for him. Giyuu watched him with an expression Kyojuro had never seen him wear. His eyes were wide, tearful, endless. His pale lower lip trembled along with his hands, though he didn’t say anything.  There was about a million things Kyojuro could ask: What happened? Where are the kids? How long has it been? He decided on something different. 

“Kyo, huh?” He asked, his lips turning slightly upward into a smile. Giyuu stared. “Where’d that come from? I like it.”

Leave it to Kyojuro to say something like that at a time like this. That little smile on Kyojuro’s lips made Giyuu want to smile with him, to laugh and grab him tightly and never let him go. But he remembered the feeling of those lips against his, the taste of blood as he breathed for him, and the beginnings of his smile faltered. He came so close to never seeing that smile again. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on his shoulders so heavily that Giyuu dropped his head down and pressed his forehead against Kyojuro’s arm, as if in prayer. Overcome. 

Kyojuro watched him and his heart ached. He’d never seen Giyuu this upset, or at least he’d never shown it this plainly. It seemed like a fairly strong reaction to a simple battlefield injury…there must be something more to this situation he didn’t understand. He called Giyuu’s name softly and waited for him to look up. “I’m alright.” Kyojuro said, softly for once, his throat dry and raw. “It’s alright.”

Giyuu looked up. “No, Kyo, you’re not. You were dead.” His brows fell heavily over his eyes in apparent anger. “I had to beat your heart for you, I—I had to breathe for you!” His voice was low, tightly measured because if he spoke any louder or with any more ferocity he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep tears from falling. 

There was a brief silence while Kyojuro appeared to consider what he’d said. “And the train passengers? The kids?” 

Giyuu’s eyes briefly widened in shock, but his brows were quick to pull down again. “Are you not hearing me? You were dead. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you aren’t dead now!” Kyojuro looked at him, still waiting for his answer. Giyuu’s frown deepened but the quiver in his lower lip betrayed him. “Will you worry about yourself, just for one moment?” 

Though Giyuu had pulled away, Kyojuro still found an errant strand of his hair to curl between his fingers. “Why would I do that, when you do it so well?”

“Kyojuro, please.” Giyuu begged. “You—” he dropped his gaze again and struggled to conjure the words he meant. “You’ve been in a coma for more than three months. An upper rank had his arm through your solar plexus!” Kyojuro managed to look down at that shadowed bandage on his stomach, then back up at Giyuu as he continued.

“Kyo, you may never wield a sword again. You came very close to never breathing again! And I—” he snapped his mouth shut and averted his gaze from Kyojuro’s. 

Still fighting through shockwaves of pain, Kyojuro watched as Giyuu stared at the bandage on his stomach. “Giyuu.” He said gently, cautiously. He knew Giyuu to have a temper, but he was acting differently than Kyojuro had ever seen, like there was something he needed to say but couldn’t find the words. “If I would have died, I would have done so gladly! It’s the risk we take as demon slayers—” he fell into silence as Giyuu looked back up again, his eyes filled with tears. 

“Am I supposed to have been glad, too?” He asked bitterly. “You talk about yourself like your life is not worth anything! As if—” he stopped again. His breaths were coming faster and faster now. Giyuu did not continue, so Kyojuro did. 

“My life isn’t worth any more than anyone else’s…” he began. Apparently on a roll of surprising him, Giyuu cut him off. 

“Well it isn’t worth any less, either!” He exclaimed, not shouting, but with an intensity that rivaled Kyojuro’s. “God you remind me of Sabito!” He added in a huff. 

That stopped Kyojuro dead, all attempts at argument shut down. Giyuu never mentioned his family. Not even silently. He’d only learned he’d had a sister after they’d already known each other for more than a year. Sabito and Makomo he only learned of through Urokodaki. He watched Giyuu’s face and waited for him to continue. He did, though silently. 

Giyuu looked down and shook his head, his brow furrowed. You’re making this so difficult. Kyojuro watched his jaw clench and unclench, his mouth opening for a moment before clamping shut again. I need to tell you something. Fat, heavy tears fell from his eyes and onto the backs of his hands, which tightened themselves onto the blanket near Kyojuro’s forearm. It’s killing me. 

Looking down, head bowed, Giyuu was thinking of the bargain he’d made. If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything. He felt as overwhelmed as he was when he’d first come to the horrific scene at the train crash, his world spinning. His foolish and hopeful and frightened heart cracked deeper and deeper and threatened to come apart altogether as he tried to find the words to make Kyojuro understand.   

It was a long time before Giyuu spoke aloud again, and when he did, his voice shook. 

“Kyojuro.” he finally said. “You think to be brave is to be selfless. As if you have no regard at all for your own life. That isn’t bravery. It’s self destruction.” He remembered the feeling of Kyojuro’s ribs snapping beneath his hands. He remembered feeling Sabito’s, too. He couldn’t meet Kyojuro’s gaze, knowing without trying that the look he found there would burn his resolve away in an instant.

“You may think your life isn’t worth more than anyone else’s, but—” closing his eyes, Giyuu breathed out a sigh. “It is. To me.”

That was a surprise. Kyojuro stared at him, his shaking hands and the gaze that refused to meet his. He was even more surprised to find a faint pink blush spreading over Giyuu’s cheeks and nose. 

They fell into silence while Kyojuro watched Giyuu’s blush deepen. 

He’d always loved Giyuu the same way he loved anyone or anything else: loudly. My friend, how wonderful to see you! You always know how to make me laugh! Every compliment, every smile, Kyojuro was saying it over and over without ever saying it. I love you I love you I love you. 

But Giyuu had never been the type to do anything aloud. He loved quietly, privately, almost invisibly if someone wasn’t paying attention. Knowing his order at their udon cart without asking. Stepping in front of him to spare him a strike from a demon. Gripping onto the blankets of his cot, unwilling to meet his eye, unwilling to let go. I love you I love you I love you. 

Kyojuro was more than glad to allow their I love yous to remain unsaid, unspoken but still there, always there. He had become fluent in Giyuu’s body language, the soft silence that fell between them when they were together. 

But now the silence was uneasy with tension, as if there was something aching to be said. 

If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything, I swear. 

It was now or ever. And now he’d gotten so close to never, closer than he’d ever thought he’d get in all his wildest nightmares, that the unbridled fear of it now carried the words unspoken up his windpipe, threatening to burst. 

“K-Kyojuro,” Giyuu began. And Kyojuro looked at him with those stunning, earnest eyes--eye--and Giyuu’s next words fell from his mouth in a huff. “Damn it,” he cursed, moving as he spoke, finally releasing the blanket and grabbing instead onto Kyojuro’s arm. 

Before Kyojuro could ask what he needed to say, Giyuu had closed the distance between them, taken him gently but quickly by the sides of his face, and kissed him.

Kyojuro was so surprised he didn’t have time to move or react, just let Giyuu kiss him, his hands gripping tightly onto the sore sides of his bandaged face. Eyes wide open Kyojuro watched Giyuu’s brow pull up, his eyes tightly shut as if in great pain. 

And he was. Giyuu had never felt such agony, such elation, such horror at feeling Kyojuro’s lips on his again. It had never occurred to him until that moment that Kyojuro may not feel the same as he did, that his friend—could he call him a friend?—may be shocked, or worse, disgusted. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, now that Kyojuro’s lips didn’t taste like blood anymore. 

The ecstasy of finally letting out what had been clawing up the inside of his throat since the first moment he ever laid eyes on Kyojuro, bright and beautiful in the Master’s garden, and the fear of losing him, the trauma of coming very close, raged a battle in his chest that crashed through the rest of his body until he finally was forced to pull away, gasping. 

Kyojuro didn’t dare speak, just watched as Giyuu slowly let his breath out and leaned back. 

“I can’t lose anyone else I love.” Giyuu concluded. His voice was no louder than a whisper and yet it echoed through the room as if he’d shouted it. The fear eventually coming out on top in the battle raging in his aching heart, Giyuu tried to move fully away, to stand and brush off his haori and regain whatever dignity he had left. Once again Kyojuro’s hand came down on his wrist, stopping his escape. 

Kyojuro stared into his face until Giyuu looked at him, marveling at what he’d just done. Kyojuro had known for a long time that he loved Giyuu. And he’d known that in his own, quiet way, Giyuu loved him too. But now he’d said the quiet part out loud. What bravery it must’ve taken. Kyojuro looked at Giyuu’s lips, pale and thin and pressed into a hard, nervous line. He looked down and stared at Giyuu’s wrist in his hand. He released it, but captured Giyuu’s hand instead. 

He kissed the back of Giyuu’s hand, his fingers, the inside of his wrist, the back of his forearm, pulling him down and down again until their faces were inches from each other, indigo eyes meeting gold. All those times he’d watched Giyuu flush pink at something he’d said, all the tiny moments he’d noticed the tiny changes of expression on his face, and Kyojuro had never dreamed of kissing him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he’d accepted long ago that they would always share something unspoken, and that would be enough. 

They stared at one another, breathing heavy. Giyuu watched as Kyojuro’s eye traveled down his face and landed on his lips before Kyojuro pulled him down far enough to kiss him back. 

It was as if he’d never been injured in the first place. All the pain that had rattled his ribs just moments prior was gone and it was a hundred times worse. His chest no longer ached and it ached more intensely than ever before. In fact he’d never felt more aflame, Giyuu’s icy cold lips on his burned away any other thought besides Giyuu’s name. 

He felt Giyuu take a breath and relax against him. He felt his lips part slightly beneath his. And then in spite of himself, in spite of everything, Kyojuro smiled. 

Giyuu felt Kyojuro’s lips turn upwards against his, then felt him shake slightly as he began to laugh. Giyuu opened his eyes and found Kyojuro’s closed in joy, his head thrown back as far as he could manage while still lying in a cot, laughter beginning to peel from him like church bells. If it were anyone else, Giyuu would assume they were mocking him. But not Kyojuro. 

“What could you possibly be laughing at?” Giyuu murmured, resting his hand on Kyojuro’s cheek. Kyojuro tried to stifle his giggles and Giyuu realized how red his friend’s face had become. 

“All that time,” Kyojuro began with a sigh. “All that time I wanted to kiss you…Who knew I had to do was die!” He laughed again despite the pain in his stomach. Giyuu frowned at him, trying very hard to be serious. 

“That isn’t funny.” He chided. Kyojuro just laughed harder, louder, stronger, as if Giyuu’s kiss had healed him. Giyuu rolled his eyes, but for once he didn’t think about how close he’d come to never hearing that laugh again. He didn’t think about how Kyojuro’s eyes had been staring blankly up at nothing, how his golden skin had paled and his chest fallen still. That laugh was like the sun parting through clouds, and for once Giyuu just sighed and chuckled with him. The sound of his laughter made Kyojuro laugh even harder until they both devolved into giggles. 

Since Kyojuro’s laughter was both very distinctive and quite loud, it was bound to attract attention as other inhabitants of the butterfly mansion began to follow the sound. Giyuu leapt nearly a foot in the air when he heard a voice from behind him. 

“Mr. Rengoku?” Giyuu quickly moved back from Kyojuro, who released his hand, though both relaxed when they saw Tanjiro standing in the doorway, his eyes already filled with tears. “Mr. Rengoku!” Tanjiro shouted, and sprinted forward. 

“Young Kamado!” Kyojuro grinned at the way Giyuu moved back to allow Tanjiro in beside him. “Ah, how good to see you!” 

All Tanjiro managed to say was his name as his eyes welled with tears. Kyojuro put his hand on his head. “Don’t cry, I’m alright!” He said softly. “Besides, I don’t want you tearing that belly wound open again!” 

Tanjiro looked up, then at Giyuu, whose face was neutral and measured. “Mr. Rengoku, my stomach is all healed. It’s been three months.” 

“Ah. So it has.” Kyojuro shifted and tried to get a better look at the boy. Without speaking, or having been asked, Giyuu slid his arm beneath Kyojuro’s shoulders to help him sit up. 

Tanjiro couldn’t help but let out another sob. “I’m so glad you’re alright! Mr. Tomioka hasn’t left your side since you got here!” Though escaping Tanjiro’s notice, Giyuu went bright pink and set his jaw. Kyojuro grinned at him. 

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” He said softly, speaking to Tanjiro but looking at Giyuu as he helped him settle in the new, more upright position.  

Next to follow the sound was Shinobu herself, who was so surprised upon appearing in the doorway to find Kyojuro looking up adoringly at Giyuu, holding him by the shoulders, his face bright pink, that she actually froze for a moment. It did not take her long to realize what Giyuu had done, and she smiled, blinking away tears. Finally. 

Then she put her hands on her hips, blinked the tears away, and gave Giyuu the chiding of a lifetime for daring not to tell her that Kyojuro had awoken. Inosuke appeared next, already yelling, leaping onto the foot of Kyojuro’s bed and declaring Kyojuro the master of death itself. Zenitsu was quick to follow, carrying a half-awake and tiny Nezuko with him. Once her bright eyes fell onto Kyojuro’s she leapt from Zenitsu’s arms and joined Inosuke on the foot of Kyojuro’s bed, her delighted voice muffled by her muzzle but still clearly excited. 

Any Hashira who wasn’t on a mission joined them. Mitsuri’s bright—if shrill—sobs of joy briefly drowned out anyone else’s attempt at speech, Sanemi sternly but firmly put his hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, his jaw clenched tightly, Gyomei offered a prayer of gratitude. But the room stopped when Senjuro arrived. He stared at Kyojuro in the doorway for a long moment, as if disbelieving that he was really awake and breathing. It took both Shinobu and Giyuu to keep Kyojuro from leaping out of bed to greet him. Senjuro ended up sitting on the bed beside his brother, handing him letters that Giyuu had handed him and helping Kyojuro catch up on three months’ worth of missed correspondence. 

It was only then that Kyojuro’s attention was jarred enough from Giyuu to look around at the scene surrounding his sickbed. On a table behind Giyuu was a stack of letters, cards, and notes. Beside the letters were gifts, wrapped in colorful paper or fabric, stacks upon stacks of bento, boxes of candy, several vases of flowers, several more wilted bouquets of lying on the floor beside his table. All of it had been carefully organized; The notes had all been gently unfolded and stacked in chronological order, the bottom boxes of bento had been opened, likely emptied of their contents before they could spoil--it had been three months, after all--rinsed and replaced on the table. The flowers had clearly been traded out for fresh ones each time the previous bundle wilted. Kyojuro couldn’t help but smile even wider at Giyuu the more he noticed his work. There he was, saying it over and over without anybody but Kyojuro knowing. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Though typically Kyojuro never seemed to tire, he had just cheated death after all, and so much commotion from so many well-wishers was becoming difficult to keep up with. Shinobu was quick to pull rank even on other Hashira and clear the mansion out when she noticed his eyelids becoming heavy. Only Giyuu and Senjuro lingered while she caught Kyojuro up on his injuries. 

“I'm sure you’ve already noticed the injury to your left eye. It was ruptured. We treated it with medicinal ointments and managed to close the wound, but your pupil doesn’t react to light anymore…I’m afraid that eye will be permanently blind.” Kyojuro nodded slowly, remembering feeling Giyuu changing the bandages there before he was fully awake, remembering how he’d bumped into Giyuu’s head with his new lack of depth perception. 

Shinobu continued, though her voice became gentle and slow. “The wound to your solar plexus was the most severe. It went all the way through your torso and damaged your spinal cord.” She told Kyojuro. Senjuro and Giyuu had already heard this from her, but it hurt a little to watch Kyojuro’s reaction to the reality of his injuries. His eyes wandered down his own stomach, across the bandage, and toward his feet. “It caused damage to the nerves that control your left leg. So far it seems like it still moves, but I don’t know how strong it will ever be.”

You may never wield a sword again, Giyuu had told him. Kyojuro had breezed past the statement at first, just glad to be alive. Now, staring at his left foot and trying to wiggle his toes, finding with a strike of fear that he could only manage to move the foot a matter of millimeters, Kyojuro swallowed but set his jaw, stiff-lipped, trying to look strong in front of his brother. 

“I see.” He managed. 

Shinobu laid out an aggressive rehabilitation plan for him, to start as soon as he was ready, then parted with an oddly knowing look that made Giyuu squirm just a little. Nothing got past her. Senjuro lingered a bit longer, but as intuitive as he was, nothing really got past him either. He could see his brother’s head beginning to nod as exhaustion overtook him. And he could see the way it nodded toward Giyuu’s faithful and unwavering hand on his shoulder, his cheek falling against the back of Giyuu’s palm. Senjuro slid off of the bed and invented an excuse to leave, letting Kyojuro begin to drift. Before he left though, he met Giyuu’s eye. 

“Thank you, Mr. Tomioka.” He said quietly. Giyuu nodded silently at him; he’d been thanked by Senjuro several times before during the blur of these three months, once the boy learned how his brother had managed to survive the battlefield. Senjuro’s eyes were on Giyuu’s pale hand as Kyojuro’s cheek fell against it. “Thank you for saving my brother.” Senjuro continued in a whisper. 

Giyuu nodded again, though this time it was because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Senjuro left the two alone in the wing of the butterfly mansion, the light of evening turning gold around them. Giyuu nodded a third time, this time just to himself, because he couldn’t think of a way to say Kyojuro is the one who saved me aloud. 

He felt Kyojuro sigh against him and looked down. Kyojuro’s good eye was open again, looking down at his own feet. “What’s going to happen?” He asked, mostly to himself, trying to move his defective left leg and frowning when he failed. After a moment he looked up to meet Giyuu’s gaze. 

“I don’t know.” Giyuu admitted. With a defunct left leg and no depth perception, it was quite clear Kyojuro wouldn’t be wielding a sword any time soon, perhaps ever again. He’d be forced to retire as a Hashira. He swallowed and watched Kyojuro, who seemed to be thinking very hard. 

He’d been born a Hashira, the blood was in him from the start. He’d always thought he’d die a Hashira, too. It wasn’t just the cornerstone of his identity but the very basis of it; everything else was built up from there. His entire concept of himself was going to crumble without his sword, without the flames curling from his lips as he wielded it. Without the knowledge, the certainty that he would eventually die in service of their cause. Now, Kyojuro didn’t know what he was going to die for. 

Kyojuro looked into Giyuu’s eyes and watched them carefully as they began to shine. His ivory skin was glowing in the dying evening light, his hand was cool and soft against his cheek. He looked past Giyuu at the stacks of gifts on the table, the letters Senjuro had read for him and left for him. And he smiled. And he kissed Giyuu’s hand again and he smiled even wider, lips still against his cool skin. 

“Me neither.” He said softly. 

He did know what he was going to live for. 

Evening fell into night with Giyuu by Kyojuro’s side, where he’d been all along and would be as long as he allowed him to remain. Their hands eventually entwined again, Kyojuro every so often kissing Giyuu’s as if in awe that he could. Each time Giyuu felt a little more faint. Each time he watched Kyojuro’s chest move up and down he relaxed a little more. By the time the sun had slipped down over the horizon Giyuu was practically asleep too, leaning against Kyojuro’s cot. 

Kyojuro watched the back of Giyuu’s head, tiredly carded his hand through Giyuu’s mess of black hair, couldn’t keep from smiling. 

“I love you.” He whispered aloud to Giyuu. Because he could just say it now, because he still had breath to whisper it into the dark room, because his heart had kept beating long enough to see Giyuu turn slightly to look at him, eyes heavy. 

“I love you too.” He whispered back, aloud. The words came as easily as breathing now. He settled his head back against Kyojuro’s cot, keeping his neck craned back so he could look at him for just a little long before sleep overtook them both. I love you too, he said, silently.

[natti-ice]

The Truth Will Set You Free- Tom Riddle.

Pairing: Tom riddle x fem!reader

Summary: a mysterious letter reveals Tom’s biggest secret.

Warnings: angst, written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

"YOU'RE MARRIED?!?" She yelled at him, watching the color drain from his face gave her the answer. Tom closed the book he had been reading peacefully as he lounged in a plush chair in his dorm room.

"What are you talking about, dear?" He swallowed, he saw Y/N holding a piece of paper in her hand, confusion and anger in her facial expressions. He had no idea how this could have got to her, barely anyone knew about this.

"I received this letter this morning" she started, showing him the paper she had been clutching onto for the past twenty minutes. "I don't know if this is some sick joke or if you've been lying to me this whole time. Tom, is it true?" She didn't know what to think, when she got the letter she thought it was someone trying to play with her. But as the letter went on it seemed too real

"Tom and I were wed the summer before his sixth year. Once he graduates we shall start a family together, I believe you deserve to know since there are talks of your attachment to him. Just know, this is how it has to be, he cannot be yours."

Reading this brought a sharp pain in her chest, she thought she knew the man she loved. She knew he had his secrets, but she wouldn't think he would withhold this from her. Her emotions were all jumbled into one, she didn't know what to feel.

"It's true," he said in a hushed tone, his head hung low like a dog being scolded. "You weren't supposed to find out this way"

"Like this? Or was I not supposed to find out at all?" Okay, it seems her anger has gotten the better of her

"Please let me explain, Y/N" Tom begged. His usual stoic demeanor had completely vanished, he had never let his emotions show this way, it made him feel weak.

"I don't know if I want to hear it, Tom. How could you do this to me?"

"I didn't do it to hurt you" he raised his voice as he became angry at himself "I figured if you knew, you would want nothing to do with me" he admitted

"You're probably right about that" she said sarcastically

"Y/N, please don't joke about this" he warned "if you'd let me, I'll explain to you everything that happened. Only the truth" his eyes met hers he could see the pain in them, that shattered his heart. When he met Y/N he knew he had found the only person in the world he could truly care for. She broke down every wall he tried to put up with ease, there was no way he could let her get away.

"Fine, go ahead" she whispered as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat

He sighed, calming his brain before proceeding to tell her about something that has eaten at him every day for the past two years. "At the end of my fifth year, my mother put me into an arranged marriage. I fought and fought to get out of it, but no matter what I said I couldn't get out. She paired me with some pure-blooded floozy who couldn't last a day without her father's money, the day of the ceremony was the worst day of my life. My mother expects me to have children with that girl and I honestly couldn't care less about that stupid girl." Talking about her put a bad taste in his mouth, he hated her with every ounce of his being.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me" Y/N said during Tom's pause

"I didn't tell you because it's a part of me that I hate. Having my name attached to someone who I will never love, isn't something I'm proud of. When I met you, it was like that terrible situation was in the past and you were my future. For years I have been trying to find a way out of this marriage. I plan to divorce her as soon as I'm done with school." He felt slight relief as he finally got this off his chest, it always weighed heavy on him.

Y/N stood a foot away from Tom, as he explained his story her heart broke more, she had never seen Tom in such pain before, and it definitely wasn't a good feeling to watch. "What about your mother?" She asked

"I don't care about that woman! She hasn't a motherly bone in her body, once I'm done with school I'll never see her again" His hatred for his mother ran deep, Y/N knew he never liked his mother. She understood why, if she was her mother she'd probably feel the exact same way.

"Y/N" Tom reached for her hand, wrapping both his hands around her, bringing it up to his mouth gently kissing the back. "I am very sorry I never told you about this, I've never been good at telling the truth but that's no excuse. I promise you, you are the only person I will ever love." This is the truest thing to ever leave Tom's mouth

God, he's so beautiful she thought, searching for any trace he was lying to her. Sometimes she felt foolish thinking about how much she loved him, his hold on her was so strong. But she wouldn't change a thing.

"I'm so conflicted right now" she admitted, "but I believe you, you swear you want nothing to do with her?"

"Cross my heart, I would never dream of being with her" he brought his hand up to Y/N's cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb. "You are the only person I want to marry" he whispered

"Good, because I don't think I'd like a life without you" she slightly grinned

"What if, when we're done at this tragic place, you and I run off together? We won't have to worry about anyone else, it'll just be us living our life together" Tom suggested

"That sounds like a very thought out plan, dear" she smirked "perhaps I might take you up on that offer" she leaned in, slightly pecking his lips

"You really have to get those papers signed, Tom. I am no one's mistress" she half-joked but he knew she was serious.

"Anything for you my dear"

Join a tag list!

[miracleonice87]

Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part Three

a/n: read part one here and part two here. Part four will be the wedding and probably also the wrap-up! again, please pardon any French errors — relying heavily on Google Translate and my singular conversational French class.

summary: rehearsal dinner with some sweet Sid and Mario.

warnings: mention of deceased father. social alcohol use. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

The rehearsal had thankfully gone off without a hitch and also without too many further comments from Nate and Mike, our personal peanut gallery. Even Geno, Tanger and Marc behaved themselves, and the kids were all champs. After two full walk-throughs of the ceremony, Sidney and I both felt comfortable enough with the flow to wrap things up and head back to Mario’s place for dinner and drinks with our wedding party and family.

When he and I arrived back at Mario’s, we walked hand in hand through the house and out the back door to the yard, where the tent was set up with all our tables and chairs for tomorrow, flowers and decor only along one long table in the center where our smaller group would be eating tonight. The fairy lights strung through the boxwood bushes lining the yard and also wrapped around the eucalyptus and peonies under the tent gave a soft, dreamy glow to the space. The decorators, under Nathalie’s careful direction, had made my vision come to life and far exceeded my expectations. Our guests themselves seemed to be enchanted by the decor as they pointed out different aspects of the set up, finding their way to their seats.

I stood still on the patio for several seconds in complete awe, my hand falling limp at my side when Sidney moved forward, expecting me to come along with him. He turned back toward me, then looked at the ethereal scene laid out in front of us. He chuckled as he grasped my hand once more.

“I take it you like what they’ve done with the place,” Sidney teased, kissing the side of my head. I simply nodded.

Nathalie emerged from the house just then and wrapped her hands around my shoulders.

“So... what do you think?” she asked, sounding a bit nervous.

“Tantine... (auntie)” I whispered, turning to face her. “This is so perfect. I couldn’t have pictured anything better! Thank you.” I hugged her tightly. She cradled my head as she returned my embrace.

“Oh, sweetheart, you deserve it,” she insisted, pulling back and kissing my cheek. “Only the best for our girl.” We both watched tears well in each others’ eyes as we held hands for a moment, Mario walking behind Nathalie and gently placing his hands on her hips as he smiled at both of us.

“Well, shall we? I have a few words I want to say before we eat,” Mario said. I inhaled dramatically, making Sidney and Nathalie laugh as the four of us made our way to the long candlelit table.

“I hope you brought that hankie I asked for, mon chérie, (my dear)” I told Sidney, squeezing his hand as I leaned my shoulder into Mario’s chest playfully. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

We four made our way to the center of the tent where the rest of our guests now sat, chatter and laughter floating through the night air. When we reached the table, Sidney pulled out my chair and tucked me into my seat, as Mario cleared his throat, a hush falling over our family and closest friends.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, just for a minute?” Mario asked gently, taking hold of the glass of champagne at his place setting that matched the other flutes dotting the glittering gold table runner. Sidney draped an arm easily across the back of my chair and I leaned back into him to look up at Mario beside me.

“I just wanted to say a few words ahead of our dinner this evening, but more importantly, ahead of tomorrow’s events. First of all, thank you all so much for being here. I’m really thrilled to be throwing this celebration for Juliette and Sidney, and you all are such an important part of this as the people who walk alongside them every day. I know it means so much to them to have you all here. I also... I just want to say how proud I am of Juliette and of the woman she has become. She is my only niece, and that has been special enough, but she has really been more of a daughter to me, to us.” Mario stopped to clear his throat and glanced down at the table, and I felt my chest tighten as I looked on.

“As those of you who are here tonight know... we lost Juliette’s father, my brother Robert, unexpectedly when she was twelve years old. Robert, he... he loved Juliette more than anything he ever loved his whole life.”

I felt tears fall from my lashes at last as Sidney pulled me closer to him, kissing my cheekbone softly. He tucked the aforementioned handkerchief into my palm with his free hand and I whispered my thanks as I dabbed at the corners of my eyes.

Mario’s voice was quivering as he continued.

“He would always say that she was his ‘cadeau le plus précieux’ — his most precious gift. And that’s what Juliette has been to us, too. A precious gift. And... I know that that’s what she is to Sidney as well. I see it in the way he treats her every day. He truly treasures her. I’ve known Sidney for a long time now, and I know what a remarkable man he is. I can tell you that Robert would be so pleased that Sidney has taken over as the most important man in his daughter’s life, the person who cares for her and protects her. It’s a big responsibility, and I truly cannot think of anyone more perfect for the role.”

I squeezed Sidney’s thigh as he dropped his head and sniffled. Mario smiled at us both, as did Sidney’s parents seated across from us. Trina reached for Sidney’s other hand and squeezed it once as he blinked back tears.

“Juliette, Sid — I can’t wait to watch the two of you continue to grow together, now as husband and wife. I’m so grateful, as we all are, to be able to bear witness to your love. So, let’s all raise our glasses,” he instructed. All of us at the table did as he requested, holding our flutes skyward.

“Cheers to Sidney and Juliette — two precious gifts — and the love they share. Love you guys,” Mario finished, a round of “salud” and applause sounding as I clinked my glass with Sidney’s, sharing a quick kiss with him before we both stood.

I threw my arms around Mario’s neck, hugging tightly and delighting in his fatherly embrace.

“I love you, oncle,” I whispered. “Thank you so much. For everything. You mean the world to me.” Mario breathed a solemn chuckle and replied, “Oh, ma petite princesse, I love you, too. You truly are a gift to me.” We held each other for another moment before pulling away with soft smiles and damp eyes, Sidney following by leaning in to hug and exchange words of gratitude with Mario.

Once we were all seated again, dinner and more drinks were served as we all fell into gleeful conversation, sharing stories from Sidney’s and my childhoods and also from our time as a couple. Our families and friends rotated retelling tales of the moments they each knew Sidney and I would be together forever, warming both of us and also occasionally making us blush. We talked of our Italian honeymoon itinerary and Sidney’s and the other hockey players’ plans for the remainder of the summer, and we reviewed once more the men’s and the women’s schedules for tomorrow.

Eventually, long after the plates had been cleared, our guests began to rise from their chairs, saying their goodbyes. Nate and Mike were staying at Mario’s with Sidney and of course Austin. Nathalie and her girls, along with Taylor, were coming back to my house with me for the night. Our couple friends with children had opted to head back to the hotel nearby where we had booked a block of rooms.

After hugging Troy and Trina and excitedly promising to see them tomorrow, I planned to make my way back inside and prepare to leave soon. Instead, Sidney grabbed my forearm gently, spinning me toward him as he smirked.

“Not so fast,” he giggled, the drinks in his system having turned his cheeks pink and his eyes sparkling.

“What are you doing, goofball?” I asked, noticing that Mario was the only other person left under the tent. He simply winked at me and carried his highball glass away with him, through the door and into the house.

“Well, the DJ’s all set up, but he has to do a sound check before he leaves... I thought maybe we could help him out,” Sidney suggested, smirking at me with his palms extended. I took hold of his hands and laughed, “What do you mean?”

Before I could say anything else, I heard the first strains of the song that Sidney and I had selected for our first dance at tomorrow’s reception. Only then did I notice the DJ at his booth at the back of the yard, past the walls of the tent. Sidney smiled warmly at me.

The first time we listened to the song together, it came on Sidney’s car radio during a road trip, and we couldn’t stop looking across the vehicle at each other as we realized how closely it reflected our relationship. Since then, we had danced to it many times alone in our home. It was the only song that seemed worthy of accompanying our first dance as husband and wife.

I met you in the dark

You lit me up

You made me feel as though

I was enough...

Shaking my head in disbelief at his thoughtfulness, I followed Sidney’s lead out to the empty dance floor.

“You set me up,” I joked, pushing a finger into his hard chest. “You’re good.” He chuckled.

Then you smiled over your shoulder

For a minute I was stone-cold sober

I pulled you closer to my chest...

“Just figured we could get in a practice run is all,” Sidney grinned, pulling my hips toward his as we moved slowly as one, my head resting on his chest, hands intertwined. “Not that you need one, but I do.” We both snickered and I hit his shoulder playfully.

I knew I loved you then

But you'd never know

'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go...

“God... can you believe this day is finally almost here?” I asked, feeling Sidney hum softly into my hair.

“I really can’t. It’s been a long time coming, love,” he spoke, kissing my forehead and breathing me in. I squeezed his hand as we continued to sway together.

I knew I needed you

But I never showed

But I wanna stay with you

Until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go...

“Yeah, it’s been coming since I was eighteen and you came over for that bonfire. You walked up and I was sitting with Lauren right over there,” I recalled, motioning to the brick patio nearby and making Sidney laugh against the top of my head.

“And I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were,” he told me. “And I really couldn’t believe that I was falling for Mario’s niece.” I giggled, fingers folding against his collar.

“I know it sounds crazy to everyone else, but we knew that night, didn’t we?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, baby,” I replied sincerely. “We did.”

I'll wake you up with some

Breakfast in bed

I'll bring you coffee

With a kiss on your head

And I'll take the kids to school

Wave them goodbye

And I'll thank my lucky stars

For that night...

“How are you doing... with everything?” I knew Sidney so well that even by the tone of his voice and the pause in his question, I understood what he was asking — how I was handling not having my parents around for this momentous weekend. I inhaled and picked up my head to look at him. I gave him a small smile as he eyed me attentively.

“I’m honestly doing okay,” I promised him. “I have my moments, you know? Especially just thinking about my dad. Mario looks so much like him and sometimes I—“

My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed thickly. I looked at Sidney with hesitance and shrugged slightly. He sighed softly and hugged his arm tighter around my hips as moisture coated my eyes.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute I forget that I'm older

I wanna dance with you right now, oh

And you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that every day you'll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

“I know, Juliette,” Sidney told me, lips close to my ear, sensing what my words had failed to convey. “I know this isn’t easy.”

After a deep breath I said, “No, it isn’t. But Mario and Nathalie, they just make everything so much better. That alone is so incredible. And then... your parents, and Taylor, and you.” I shook my head, looking up into his gaze. “That’s enough. You are more than enough. You’re my family.”

Sidney stood up a little straighter, becoming visibly emotional as I uttered the declaration. He leaned down to capture my lips in an ardent kiss, then rested his forehead against mine as we continued our dance.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you

Until we're grey and old...

“I’ll always be your family, Juliette,” Sidney assured in a low voice. “And someday we’ll have a family of our own.”

I grinned against him, head resting in the crook of his neck. He continued, and I allowed my eyes to fall closed, his promises soothing me.

“God, they’ll be so beautiful — our kids. And they’ll know just how much their mom and their dad both love them, and how much the rest of their family does, too,” Sidney said, kissing my hair. “They’ll never have to wonder. And you’ll never have to wonder how much you’re loved, too.”

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me

When I needed you most

I’m gonna love you ‘til my lungs give out

I promise, ‘til death we part

Like in our vows...

“I love you so much, Sidney,” I whispered, pushing myself up on my toes to take his face in both hands and kiss him firmly. His strong exterior melted palpably in my grasp.

“Say you won’t let go,” I murmured against his lips.

He shook his head.

“I’m never letting go of you, Jules.”

_____

After a lengthy and intimate goodbye in Mario’s driveway, with our respective bridal party members periodically calling our names trying to speed up the process, I finally attempted to pry myself out of Sidney’s hold. With one last heated kiss that made my lips tingle and toes curl, I smoothed my hands across his broad shoulders and sighed.

“Let’s leave on that note,” I suggested. “Because that right there... that’s gonna leave me wanting more,” I added in a whisper. He ghosted his fingers down my bare arms as he let out a soft moan.

“I wish I could take you now,” he growled, pulling me into himself once more. I laughed, holding him close then finally backing away, squeezing his hands in mine.

“One more day, handsome,” I promised. “Then I’m all yours... forever.” His eyes flashed with pride.

“Forever,” Sidney repeated, nodding once. He squeezed my hands with another sigh and said, “Okay, you better go now, because I’m just never gonna be ready to let you go.”

“Okay,” I whispered with a cutesy laugh. “I’m going.” I walked backwards slowly, drinking in his fit figure and biting down on my bottom lip. His eyes widened.

“Juliette!” he warned in a strained whine. “Please don’t do that.”

I tipped my head back in a slightly maniacal laugh. “You can punish me tomorrow,” I whispered with a wink. Sidney’s own head fell backward as he groaned.

“I love you, Sidney Crosby,” I told him, nearing Lauren’s Mercedes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you, Juliette,” he returned. “How ‘bout tomorrow I make you Mrs. Juliette Crosby?” My heart fluttered as I giggled like a schoolgirl.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” I told him earnestly.

I blew him a kiss as I got into Lauren’s passenger seat and was whisked away from Sidney, with him watching us pull down the driveway until we were out of sight.

On the ride home, Lauren and Stephanie teased me about the never-ending farewell between Sidney and me. All I could do was roll my eyes and smirk as they poked fun.

Alexa, ever my protective little sister, stepped in for the second time of the evening.

“You guys are mean! I find it adorable,” she announced. “We should all hope that we find someone who loves us as much as Sid loves Jules.” I turned in my seat and threw my youngest cousin a grateful grin.

“Thanks, Lex,” I said. “You always were my favorite.” Lauren and Stephanie, resigned to Alexa’s sentiments just a moment ago, now launched into hysterics once more as they fought over who was indeed my preferred cousin.

For the rest of the short drive, the nonsense had only morphed into giddy slap-happiness as we piled out of the SUV and made our way into Sidney’s and my house. We pushed the door open to find Nathalie already waiting for us inside, shaking her head at our antics.

“You girls! You’re never goofier than when you’re all together,” she laughed.

Stephanie hooked an arm around my neck and touched our heads together, her athletic frame towering over me.

“Together’s our favorite place to be,” Stephanie mused, causing us all to groan and needle her about her sappy statement as we made our way into the living room.

“Hey, Jules, why don’t you go put on some comfy clothes, then we can sit out back and have some wine?” Lauren suggested.

I nodded quickly. “Sounds perfect to me,” I replied, beaming. She mirrored my smile and I started up the grand staircase.

“Not too much wine!” Nathalie scolded from the kitchen. “No hangovers or puffy eyes for us tomorrow.” All of us younger girls giggled again amongst ourselves, though we knew that we would be best to follow her motherly advice, especially on this occasion.

As I reached our second story, my heart flickered with a distinct emptiness as I realized that Sidney wasn’t here, and wouldn’t be. The two of us spent so few summer nights apart that I could probably count them on only one hand each year. Since his in-season schedule was so strenuous, he made sure that he was home every summer afternoon or evening in plenty of time to catch up about our days, to have dinner together — whether at home or out — and to unwind with a cocktail or a beer. On those summer nights we spent in Pittsburgh and not Cole Harbour, we could often be found with drinks in hand on our bedroom balcony, watching the late evening sun set behind the trees.

I stepped out of my heels when I reached our master suite, flicking on the light switch before scooping up my shoes with two fingers. As I headed for my walk-in closet to change, I gasped at what was before my eyes — on the mirrored glass table in our sitting area sat a massive bouquet of red roses, in an enormous glass vase adorned with a white silk bow. Tucked into the ribbon was a folded piece of paper. My breath caught in my throat, and I scampered to the table on the balls of my feet.  

I pulled the letter from its resting place — “To My Bride,” the outer leaf read. I splayed my fingers across my chest as I began to get misty-eyed. The paper smelled faintly of Sid’s cologne. I pulled it open with shaking hands, eyes flickering over the familiar handwriting.

My dearest love,

Just think — by this time tomorrow, you and I will be husband and wife! What a journey it’s been so far. I can’t wait to travel this road with you for the rest of my days, and to fill this house for years to come with laughter, love, and lots of children with you.

My Juliette, never forget how intensely I adore you, how incredibly much I cherish you, how deeply you amaze me, or how proud I am to call you mine. Tomorrow is the first day of our forever. I can hardly stand the thought. I’ll see you at the altar, princess.

With all my love, for all my life,

S

P.S. Six dozen roses for the six years I’ve loved you. I’ll love you for an eternity more. XO.

I moved my hand from my mouth to wipe a few fallen tears that had dropped onto my cheeks, sniffling as I refolded the paper. Though I had promised my cousins that I would avoid talking to Sidney tonight, I knew in my heart that even they would allow an exception to the rule for a gesture as remarkable as this one.

I dug through my purse on the floor beneath me and found my phone, calling the most recent contact in my history. It rang only once before the line was picked up.

“Hi, princess,” I heard my groom say, the smile in his tone evident.

“You are incredible,” I remarked in a shaky voice, trying to swallow the evidence of my happy tears. “I just walked into our room and found your flowers. Thank you, baby.”

Sidney let out a hum, pleased with himself. “You’re welcome, love. Gotta hand the assist to Nate on that one — he dropped off the roses when you and I left for Mario’s earlier,” he told you.

“Love you, Jules!” you heard Nate exclaim in the background, followed by a couple of whoops from the other men. You laughed as their volume faded, guessing that Sidney had stepped into a more private location as he chuckled.

“Well, thank him for me, too,” I said into the phone. “I was just thinking of how much I already miss you. Normally on a night like tonight, we’d be together on the balcony or in the yard.” He let out a contemplative hum.

“I miss you too, Jules,” he admitted. “We don’t spend too many nights away from that porch this time of year, eh?” I breathed a laugh at how he seemed to be able to read my thoughts, and he continued. “Soon enough we’ll be sitting there together again, with rings on both our hands.” I smiled at the thought.

“Sounds perfect. Listen, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers, but mostly for the letter,” I told him. “I can’t wait to spend a lifetime with you, Sidney.”

He sighed contentedly into the phone. “Good news is we don’t have to wait much longer. I’m glad you enjoyed the surprise. Have a nice night with the girls and I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful. I love you so much,” Sidney said warmly.

“I love you, too,” I responded. “See you tomorrow, babe.” We both hesitated slightly to hang up the call but I finally did after we exchanged yet another set of goodbyes. I clutched my phone to my chest and stared at the bouquet once again.

“Forever,” I whispered airily.

[hvitserkmarcosource]

The Arrangement

Chapter Six: Little Bird

Warnings: None (Warnings will be updated with each chapter, so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Six Summary: Hvitserk is well enough to leave the Healer. Ivar wakes you from a peaceful dream.

Word Count: 2,306

A much lighter chapter! Contains Hvitserk fluff 😍 the best kind of fluff! Thank you all for your comments, likes, and reblogs 🥰 I hope you enjoy Chapter six!

Chapte Five

Chapter Seven - Coming Soon

................................................

He holds you, like the two of you are the last people on this earth. Like he needs you to breathe. And you let him, because right now you feel the same way. He keeps talking, mumbling words into your hair as he holds you. And if he’d let you, you would pull away to hear him properly, but he doesn’t. He just keeps mumbling and rocking you back and forth.

The two of you stay like that for a while, until you both have calmed down and the world slows. You pull away from him then and smile. “Are you okay?”

He nods “What did you do? How did you get Ivar to release me?”

You shake your head, still not wanting to tell him. “It was nothing, everything will be okay now.”

Hvitserk gives you a look then, a look that says ‘this isn’t over’ until that time comes you will ignore it. Not wanting anything to spoil this moment. “When can you leave?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

An elderly woman enters the room and answers the question for you. “The Prince can leave when he wishes, I can do no more for him. His body has to heal on its own now.” She must be the Healer.

Before she leaves you stop her “Can I speak to you for a second, please?” You turn to Hvitserk and whisper “I will be back, shortly.”

The Healer brings you into an empty room and smiles at you, it’s a sad smile, like she can feel what happened to you. Her fragile hands grip your shoulders and she looks at your head “That’s a bad wound Princess, let me clean you up.”

She sits you down next to a barrel of fresh water and soaks a cloth into it. Gently she rubs at your forehead “Is it not just a bruise?” You ask

“It will be, but right now there is a cut and you are bleeding… May I ask how you hurt yourself?”

“No, you may not.” You were harsh but you have to protect yourself, you have to protect Hvitserk. He can’t take anymore beatings. “I am sorry. It has been a long couple of days. I did not mean to be so abrasive.”

She hums in response and continues to clean and bandage your wound. “And what about the bruising on your neck Princess? Shall I not ask about those too?”

You furrow your brows and say “M-my neck?”

“Aye, you look like you’ve been mauled by a bear.”

A laugh escapes you. You are not sure why, none of this is funny, it was just too real not to laugh. “In a way I was” you say “Is there any way to help the bruises go away?”

Just as she’s about to speak you hear Hvitserk calling for you. “Prince Hvitserk is very fond of you.” The Healer states “He kept saying your name when they brought him in. He was asking for you all night, wanting to make sure that you were okay.” She lets out a puff of air that you take for a laugh, and continues “He kept jumping out of bed, trying to make his way to the castle. Prince Ubbe had to restrain him until he calmed down and realized he would see you today.”

“Prince Ubbe? There is another son of Ragnar here?” She nods her head towards Hvitserk’s room and says “He’s the one who escorted you here, dear.”

Good to know that not all of the Lothbrok sons are as evil and malicious as Ivar. Perhaps Ubbe can be another kind person you can talk to. “Hvitserk did not have time to introduce me to all of his brothers.” You explain “I-Is King Ivar umm how should I put this-“

“Cruel and mad. Yes Princess he is always those things. But he is a God so we tolerate it. The people either worship him, fear him, or hate him.”

A whimper leaves your lips as you stand to leave. The pain in between your legs still tormenting you. “Thank you for being honest with me. I will not speak of what you have just said. And thank you for taking care of Hvitserk… I know I’ve just arrived but I feel connected to him, you must think I’m silly,”

A quick smirk graces her wrinkly face and she whispers “I believe the Gods sent you to him, he needs someone to love, always has. And after that poor girl was burned for treason,” she sighs “The Prince’s heart was broken. I have faith that you will mend it.”

Another shout of your name echoes in the next room and you jump when the man from before opens the door “He’s asking for you” the man- Ubbe says. “Please come in here before I kill him.”

You giggle at the empty threat and walk into the room, turning to the healer before Ubbe shuts the door “Thank you, for everything.”

“You are welcome Princess.”

The next hour is spent with you desperately trying to avoid Hvitserk’s questions and Ubbe failing miserably to not look frustrated with the both of you. You just can’t tell him yet, you can’t tell him how you betrayed your home and sold out your own father. You can’t tell him that his brother is planning a war as you speak. You can’t tell him how pathetic you’ve been. You can’t.

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken away from me.” Hvitserk says, looking into your eyes so intently you think he can see into your soul “Before we wed, you will tell me what happened.”

Closing your eyes you bow your head “I will tell you, I never planned to keep this from you forever” you say softly “I only wanted to spend time with you before I make you hate me.”

He groans and shuffles in his bed “Why would I hate you?”

You sniffle back a sob and shake your head. Still not wanting to tell him. “Because no Princess should do what I have just done.”

Someone in the room clears their throat, making you jump, and move off of Hvitserk to see who it was. To your worst fear it is Ivar, smiling once again as he stares at you. You’re beginning to hate seeing him smile. He walks over to the two of you and puts a hand on your shoulder, to which you shake it off and move as far away from him as you can without actually leaving.

The King turns his attention to his brother and sits on his bed “You look well brother” he says

Hvitserk snarls “No thank to you Ivar”

He laughs “That is all in the past! I love you, you know I do. I only did what I did to make an example for the people of Kattegat. They need to know what will happen to them if they ever treat me as you did.”

“You were going to kill me to keep your people in line!?” He yells

“I would never kill you dear brother” Ivar says and looks at you once more. “I was only waiting for this one to give me the information I needed.”

Your heart does a flip inside of your chest. Ivar was playing you this entire time. He was never going to let Hvitserk die. He knew you would eventually betray your family. “You- yo-u bastar-“

Ivar stands and pushes you into a corner “Careful Princess, be very careful how you speak to me.” He backs away from you and takes his place back on Hvitserk’s bed “She is a feisty one brother, she made demands, screamed at me, argued even… Once you are healed be sure to remind her of her place, hmm? She is not Queen and she is barely a Princess.”

Ivar then points at you and says “You are lucky you are not my wife, very lucky.”

................................................

You are in a field of wildflowers, the stems bend lazily in the wind and you marvel at all of the vibrant colors. Each one is distinct and though different from the others, still perfect. You run your hand along the petals and look up to feel the warm light of the mid summer day. A sense of calm consumes you as you take a deep breath, the air smelling crisp and refreshing. Birds take flight in an almost cloudless sky. You start walking, trying to follow. The field seems to go on forever, leading you down a stone covered path and after a while of walking you see a white bird sitting on a fence post.

The closer you get you see that the white bird is a raven. And she’s beautiful. You feel drawn to her, like a force unbeknownst to you is pulling you towards the rare creature. When you reach her you hold out your hand, for some reason the raven isn’t afraid, and she nuzzles your palm. “Hello” you say quietly. She coos almost like a child.

And then you hear a noise that startles you… a cry. It doesn’t sound distraught, it sounds innocent and pure. Like it doesn’t belong in this cruel world. A strong feeling washes over you, a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. Love. You look down at the raven but instead catch a glimpse of your swollen belly.

This is the most joyful you’ve felt in years. And it only intensifies when a strong pair of hands wrap around you and rub your belly gently. “How are you feeling today my love?” It is Hvitserk’s voice

“I am well, we are well”

You feel him kiss the back of your head and then he shakes you “Wake up Princess… Wake up!”

Gasping and clutching the blanket to your chest, you wake up startled, and confused. The room is dark but you can see Hvitserk and he doesn’t look happy. “Wake up there is someone coming” he whispers. It has been a week since Hvitserk has left the Healer and all has been quiet in Kattegat. Ivar has left you alone and Hvitserk has been spending a lot of time teaching you about their Gods.

He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a dagger, a bright red jewel shines on the hilt. “This was supposed to be a gift,” He says handing the dagger to you “I know how much you love your red cloak so I had them add a ruby to the hilt to match.” You smile

“It is beautiful, thank you Hvitserk.” He leans in and places a kiss on your forehead

“You do know how to use it, right?”

You nod “Yes, pointy end stabs.”

He laughs at your small attempt at a joke. “Very good Princess”

The door to your chambers open with a clash, and you hold your dagger tighter. In the dark you can’t see anyone but you can hear them. Crawling?

“Ivar, what do you want?” Hvitserk groans and takes the dagger from you. “Couldn’t it wait until morning?”

Ivar gets up onto Hvitserk’s side of the bed and says “No, this could not wait. I had a vision”

Hvitserk looks at you out of the corner of his eye, like he is worried “A vision? Like father used to have?”

“Exactly, Odin has told me that you need to go to England. I want you to leave at first light, and while you are there you will meet her father and gain his trust-“

You sit up, ready to protest but Hvitserk’s arm reaches across your body and holds you down. “What if I don’t want to go, Ivar? I have a wedding soon and have certain duties here that have to be attended to. Have Ubbe go.”

”Let me worry about Kattegat dear brother, I will handle everything here. I am it’s King, am I not?”

Hvitserk nods but still doesn’t give up “Yes of course, however I don’t want to leave her alone.” You rest your hand on his arm that is caging you in and smile at him. He is starting to care for you more and more.

“The Princess will be fine, if you go” Ivar says, a hint of threat lacing his voice

Hvitserk grabs the dagger again and holds it up to Ivars throat digging it into his flesh enough to bleed. “Is that a threat Ivar?”

The king chuckles, amused by this entire situation. “Either you go, or I might just be occupied when a group of my men find her in the meadow alone… and so beautiful.” Hvitserk let’s Ivar push the blade away from his throat and Ivar says “Besides, this is the wish of Odin. You can not say no to Him Hvitserk.”

With a thud, Ivar gets back onto the floor and crawls out of the room. Leaving the two of you alone. Hvitserk’s arm lets you go and you immediately sit up “Isn’t there another way? Do you have to leave… and so soon?”

He takes your fidgeting hand in his and laces your fingers together “How fast can you get a letter to your father?”

You can see ideas sparking in his mind “If I write it now, probably a little after morning. Why?”

Hvitserk gets out of bed and hands you a piece of parchment and an ink quill. “Tell your father of my plans to visit. Tell him how you miss him and would request that he demands you come along.”

A rush of excitement soars through you as you write the letter. Your perfect handwriting suffers for it. “I'm going back to England” you say happily.

Hvitserk takes the note from your hands and places it in his coat pocket “Yes you are.”

Tag List: @alexhogh7137 @ivarthebloodyking @sfyri @curlyhairedhoseok @mavalenovaninagavi @lol-haha-joke @joebob15274 @itsharleyalb @mrsworldwide15

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 76 - Afflictions

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 1,754

Summary: The trio are in the wilderness and begin to feel the effects of Dark Magic

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Yukine swore at the tent peg he was hammering in. Whilst the weather was warm and the earth was soft, the reality of camping throughout the winter was beginning to set into Yato’s head with shadows of doubt.

They had apparated into a mossy forest. Hiyori mentioned that she had come there before with her family when she was younger but had quickly changed the subject by turfing out the tents from her bag and getting to work. Her soft chants filled the air around them.

‘Salvio Hexia, Muffliato, Protego, Finite, Obsapeo, Repello Inimicum,’ and finally, ‘Capaxo’. Protection spells, so that no one could see, hear, smell or touch them.

Yato felt for the horcrux around his neck and held it in his hand. His thumb rubbed the smooth stone, the beginning of a habit as he ignored the gravitational pull he felt towards it. They had one horcrux and another was destroyed, but the others were a mystery. At least if the Sorcerer did invade his memory, he wouldn’t have the faintest clue where they were.

The tent, thankfully, was bigger on the inside thanks to the Capaxo charm they had used at the Quidditch World Cup where the Sorcerer first attacked. How was that three years ago? Yato asked himself as he threw his backpack onto the floor and set about returning the camp beds to their normal sizes and riffling through Hiyori’s bag for the bedding.

He could hear the crackle of a radio station from outside, disembodied voices reaching him as Yukine turned the dial back and forth looking for a frequency.

By the time Yato had haphazardly threw the bedding onto the thin mattresses, he could hear the radio’s crackling voices grow nearer as Yukine and Hiyori came inside. Hiyori sat on the bed opposite Yato and Yukine placed the radio on the small bedside table, folding his arms to listen.

Yato recognised the voice, a woman who reported on the Wizarding Wireless Network, but he could tell there was something wrong. There was no report of the Ministry takeover, or the Sorcerer’s latest antics. Just pure drivel about the Muggle registration and so-called reports published by the Ministry of Magic that proved that ‘diluted blood impurified and weakened magic’. Nothing about Snatchers, compliance, or mandatory attendance of work and school. But the next words turned their hearts to ice.

“Undesirable Number One, Yaboku – also known as Yato –, is wanted in connection to the murder of Hogwarts Headmaster Professor Tenjin, and the illegal formation of a government resistance party,” the tinny voice rang out.

Yato felt his arm hair stand on end at the mention of his old name. He shot a look at Hiyori and Yukine as they continued.

“His accomplices, Yukine and Hiyori Iki, are also wanted in connection to the murder and for conspiring to depose the Minister of Magic.”

Their mouths hung open as the broadcast came to an end, leaving a quiet static noise to fill the tent.

“He’s openly hunting us,” Yukine grumbled. He dragged a hand over his face before resting his chin in his palm. “Maybe it’s a good thing we left Grimmauld Place; they’ve probably turned my house to dust by now.”

The comment made Yato prickle. He turned his gaze to Yukine. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Yukine looked at Yato, brow creased. “What’s what meant to mean?”

Yato pushed himself up with a growl, the camp bed squeaking under his force. “I’m so sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you by living in your house. Shall I call in and tell them how to find Grimmauld Place so they can blow it up too?!”

Yukine stared at him, mouth open. “I didn’t say –,”

“Shut your mouth,” Yato spat.

“Stop it.”

That cut Yato’s next insult off abruptly. Hiyori was standing, eyes narrowed at him, but the look stirred him up more. She crossed the few steps between them and held out her hand, eyes lowered to his chest.

“Take it off.”

Yato glared at her for a moment before ripping the locket off his neck. He dropped it into Hiyori’s hand after a second. He dropped back onto the bed and folded his arms over his chest.

An uneasy silence passed over the room as Hiyori crossed back to her own bed and sat down, placing the locket on the bed beside her. From underneath the bed, she pulled the Dark Arts book. It crossed Yato’s haze of fury that she probably had something to say about his attitude, but he would continue to sulk until he had Sakura’s locket back around his neck.

Hiyori flipped the pages, Yukine stood looking over her shoulder until she stopped on a certain page and began to read a passage.

“’Horcruxes, whilst contained within the vessel of the Dark Wizards, are able to move to people who become emotionally attached to the horcrux.’” Hiyori read. “’Whilst it may not possess you, the horcrux can amplify the holder’s negative feelings; such as hate, stubbornness, jealousy.’”

Hiyori looked up at Yato pointedly. He looked away towards the canvas wall. A prick of guilt stabbed through his sullenness. The anger came so easily, so naturally, yet it was not his own emotions at play: it was the Sorcerer’s influence.

“We’ll take turns carrying it, else we might just kill each other before we can destroy it,” Yukine broke the silence.

He took the locket from the bed and tucked it in his pocket.

Yato agreed reluctantly, as if he were giving up a missing part of himself. It certainly felt like he was. But perhaps Hiyori and Yukine wouldn’t feel the effects as much as he would as they weren’t particularly close with the object that plagued him for the best part of a year.

“Sorry,” Yato mumbled.

Yukine nodded, and that was the end of it.

~

It only took a few weeks for their supplies to dwindle. By that time, they had decided to risk stopping in a sleepy Muggle town, apparating a few miles outside of it and trekking in to avoid whatever detection had led to the café ambush.

After weeks of moving every few days, packing and unpacking the tents and beds repeatedly, and trekking across vast plains of country that began to feel like wastelands, Yato could feel the tension rising.

No visions would come to him, only dreamless sleep or the odd dream punctuated by a cacophony of sights and sounds that didn’t make sense. The Sword of Gryffindor would glitter at him mockingly, and then he would wake up to another day of disappointment.

They sat around the campfire they had made a short distance away from the tent, the shadows of summer sun long faded behind the treetops and sending a chill over them on the breeze. A pot was warming soup over the flames, a meal Yato swore he would never eat again when all of this was over, as the radio’s din washed over them.

They had no way of contacting Kofuku, or anyone else without detection, nor could they be contacted. The only voices they heard were theirs and the radio updates, which did nothing to help morale as they heard about the school year starting at Hogwarts. Anyone they could’ve turned to, the Order – if it still existed after the wedding attack – or friends, were well and truly out of reach.

The Undesirable notices continued to hound them and an ever-growing list of offenders, but when their names came once again, there was a new charge.

‘Hiyori Iki, wanted in connection to the murder of former Headmaster Tenjin, conspiring to depose the Minister of Magic, and failure to provide wizarding heritage’.

They knew it was coming but it still drove a knife into her heart to hear those words. Her magic, her life with Yato and Yukine and at Hogwarts, was called a deception.

The radio frequency crackled as Yukine spun the dial around, having heard enough of this annoying, brainwashed captives voice repeating the same mindless propaganda. When no station came, Yukine hit the radio with his wand with a soft curse.

A voice burst to life, louder than what it should have been. The three of them jumped to turn it down, aware of the fear that an unknown force in the woods would hear them. Yukine threw the dial in reverse and the sound cut out, and after a glance at Yato, turned it up to a less offending volume.

“…Bringing you the latest updates on the situation. The Chief Deatheater has…”

The voice crackled in and out of range, but there was no mistaking who it was.

“Is that Kazuma?” Yukine asked incredulously.

A stream of information came from the tinny speakers; new Ministry propaganda and listing the names of those who had been ‘snatched’ or killed by Deatheaters, but there was no mistaking that voice. ‘Chief Deatheater’ was repeated again, and they assumed was a codeword for the Sorcerer.

“We’ll be back tomorrow of frequency 501 with Bishamon for our Hogwarts Tales segment, who will be recanting her Quidditch victories against Yato. Once again, stay safe, and Yato, Hiyori, Yukine, if you’re listening, we’re right behind you.”

The radio cut off suddenly, leaving a dull fuzz of static to surround them.

“What the hell is he playing at?” Yato murmured.

“It looks like he’s reporting what the media won’t – can’t,” Yukine corrected himself, dropping down to his camp chair. “I can’t imagine the Wizarding Wireless Network or the Daily Prophet is reporting what the Ministry is actually doing – not that we have access to the latter anyway.”

Yato and Hiyori returned to their chairs, lost in thought. Kazuma’s words rang through their ears. Whilst the prospect of being snatched had been a world away, hearing about people – classmates or not – being snatched or murdered felt like a noose around their necks, waiting to be tightened.

“At least we have a way to find out what’s happening now,” Hiyori pointed out. Firelight flickered over her face, shadowing and highlights the curves and edges of her brow, nose and jaw. She had brought her knees up to her chest on her chair, a blanket pulled around herself.

Yato couldn’t deny that the autumn chill was getting more bitter every day. Soon enough the weather would turn wet and snowy, and they would be in a winter wilderness.

But with this prick of hope bleeding through the dark night, they had a chance to find out what was happening in the world.

[glamrockmonarch]

The Best Friend's Wedding

Present day!Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: The one in which R!Reader and Roger get married but it’s also a description of how R!Reader and B!Reader became friends.

Warnings: Slight angst at the beginning but then it is all fluff, I swear.

A/N: I kinda imagine B!Reader spends a lot of time in Scotland (we shall get more on that soon)... I am not a big fan of weddings for some reason, but I wanted to give R!Reader out there a beautiful story too! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! 

|  Guide to The Original Timeline  |

• 7 hours before the wedding

"Oh, come on!" The brunette smiled at her best friend, a coffee cup in her hand. 

“I am not making a fuss!” The young bride cried into the air throwing her head back. 

“It’s nothin’! A tiny pimple, no big deal really...” Her friend tapped the r. 

“Are you gonna talk like that from now on?” The annoyed blonde turned back to her friend from the image bothering her in the mirror. 

R!Reader bit back a smile and opened her eyes wide at the other woman in her hotel room. 

The two stood facing each other in their pajamas, staring as one made fun of the other first thing in the morning. 

“You don’t have to be mean about it.” She blushed, taking a step back and clearing her throat to remind herself of the usual way in which she spoke. “I spent almost an entire year working with Scots, something had to stick, right?” 

“History!” R!Reader stuck out her hip and brought her hand to her side. “You are the poshest little thing since Regattas!”  

“Ugh, that’s nonsense!” She shook her head much like her husband often did. “And such a rich comment coming from the one who spent her summer on a boat in Ibiza...”

B!Reader rolled her eyes and strolled around the suite until she could put her coffee down on the small table across the room.

“Roger likes boats, what can I say?” She shrugged. 

R!Reader looked back at herself in the mirror and returned to her primary concern of the morning. A pimple on the side of her jawline. A horrible surprise for her wedding day. She had pictured that everything would go as planned this day; with her hair and makeup getting done right before lunch she would have the chance to really get through her morning routine without any rush. She had invited B!Reader for dinner the night before, she came along with Lola and Rory, but the young Taylors left before it got too late, making sure they would then be in top shape for the long day ahead with being maids of honour and all... 

The only one who stayed behind was B!Reader. They probably should not have stayed up till late...but they did. They definitely did not have to eat crisps at 2 am either. And the opening of a bottle of sparkling white wine each was without a doubt uncalled for. 

“I knew the snacks were a bad idea!” The blonde grunted. 

“Ah, you’ll be fine!” 

While the blonde bride moaned about in the bathroom, B!Reader went back to the room and threw herself face-first into the bed. She was glad just then that R!Reader was not her friend when she got married to Brian, in that case, she would have for sure been sporting a hangover on her way down the aisle. For the time being, she knew she had to call Brian and let him know she was okay. If she knew him, he would have finished his morning routine on the bike by then. 

“Do you know those bastards from the Sun called me “a shameless golddigger with a little mind and not much to offer but a pretty face ”?” I am actually quoting it, they wrote that after we made the announcement.”

B!Reader turned around on the fluffy bedsheets and duvet and looked at her friend with a crinkled nose and low brow. 

There it was: the good reason for her insecurities. The press.

“They know nothing about you!” She sat up, pushing herself with her elbows and then straightening her spine. “Look at us, for instance! I wasn’t sure about you at first... and then when we started talking... I realised just how funny and smart you are! Clever too! R!Reader, you’ve done things I would never dare do... and now you’re here! Don’t let these people who don’t know you put you down - at least not today!” 

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. 

“You hated me,” She declared with certain disdain. 

“No, I didn’t hate you...” B!Reader explained shaking her head.

“You didn’t like me,” R!Reader nudged her friend and sat next to her while she agreed on that one. 

The two women looked at the clock on the bedside table reading almost noon. The curtains were drawn closed and the room was still except for the tray of breakfast foods across from the pair, a steaming cup of coffee sat there. Grey lines of warmth drew shapes in the air floating around the elegant china, the French press coffee waited right next to it. 

With a grin, R!Reader looked down at her left hand and had a look at her engagement ring. The large rock shinning in her finger was surrounded by other smaller and similarly glowing rocks. She turned her head and searched for B!Reader’s eyes. 

“What do you mean...things you would never do?” She tilted her head the side, eyes narrowing at her friend’s shock. 

The brunette’s face heated up with blush and she stuttered when she spoke again. 

“Well, what I mean...what I wanted to say is... I-” She cut herself and blinked a few times before sighing and starting over. “What I mean doesn’t sound nice... I would have never cheated.”

R!Reader looked away feeling the weight of disappointment on the pit of her stomach once again. It had been a familiar feeling to her for over a year, although sometimes it still caught her off guard. It was the knowledge that she had been the other woman, and she did not like it...but it was the way it was. Many would judge for sleeping with a married man, touch and be touched by a man whose hands should have already been bound to someone else. Many people thought of her as a nasty woman. A worthless human who hurt people just because. 

These people could not be further from the truth. That whole situation was killing R!Reader slowly. Being the other woman did not mean she would wait for Roger to swing by and fuck. They did get carried away more than occasionally, yet it was not the root of their relationship. They would always speak for hours, sometimes Roger would arrive at R!Reader’s a little bit earlier than they had agreed and he would watch her make dinner, helping the slightest and distracting her the entire time. Some days she would feel ill, or be in a mood and Roger would have to swing by and hold her for a while to soothe her. Some other times he would be the one having a rough day, and the younger one would then let him rest his head on her chest and read for him.  They could spend hours together and not even kiss... she knew that although for many that did not matter as much as the sex did, this need they had to be with each other was the actual cheating. The part that was wrong and that would hurt Roger’s wife. It made R!Reader’s stomach turn, and flip around inside her. She could feel her heart sink in her chest when Roger left in the evenings, leaving her to her quiet flat and empty bed. Her body always fell limp and her mouth went dry when her friends asked about her love life. “You are such a catch, why aren’t you seeing anyone?” Some would say. It hurt even worse when the comments came from Tigerlily or Rufus. She felt responsible, guilty. 

As responsible and guilty as she felt right sitting there next to B!Reader. A woman who fell for a man obviously too old for her and did not care. A woman her age who never cheated. 

“...I wanted to,” she admitted in a whisper, making the blonde’s neck snap back up, her eyes round in shock. “We probably had many chances... with Anita going on tour with her productions and me living on my own...” She shook her head and put her hand on R!Reader’s knee, “I was too scared. I loved him already. But what if he didn’t have the strength to leave his wife? I though... I didn’t want to push him to just- use me? I... don’t know. I figured Brian already had enough on his plate, didn’t need to add more guilt on top of everything.” They looked at each other, “I wasn’t brave enough. Strong enough.” 

“You did the best for Brian, though.” The blonde whispered. “He is such a softy your husband...” 

B!Reader broke into a smile and laughed, nodding with enthusiasm. “Yes, you can say that!” 

After a moment, the bride spoke again.

“You know... in great part, Roger and I didn’t even have sex all the time! People like that to shame me for being his mistress or whatever... but mostly, we did what you used to do with Brian!”

“Hang out,” B!Reader smiled, “have fun.”

“Forget about the world!” R!Reader smiled up at the ceiling.

Her friend giggled and narrowed her eyes at her. “There must have been a lot of touching still.”

The blonde laughed, looking back at B!Reader, she was already leaning forward to stand up. “You know us!”

With a snort, B!Reader rushed her friend so she got into the shower so they could have breakfast once she came out. For the best part of the morning, they chatted and sat back to let the professionals do their hair and makeup. All of Roger’s girls, except for Rory were there that morning too, the older one had decided she would get ready on her own and assist her brothers and father with their own wedding day preparations. 

R!Reader had never been a quiet girl. From a young age, she would get in trouble constantly for being too honest and too vocal about her opinions. it... it took her a few years of practice to read the people around her before speaking up, but even then she knew how to get away with small talk. Everyone buzzing about in her hotel suite was aware of all of this, which made them all think it was odd how she was so quiet and calm today. 

She spent most of that time thinking while she was getting her hair and makeup done. She recalled her last conversation with Roger before his divorce. It had been nothing short of horrible. Their biggest argument yet. A full-on fight. She was desperate, clinging on to anything to stay afloat when it seemed that Roger was not going to go forward with ending his marriage...she felt dirty, broken and used. She called Roger “a disgusting piece of what used to be a man” because she was so hurt. He did not even defend himself, pursing his lips he let her blow like a bomb run out of time. That should have been the end of it; she thought when he left her place looking as mad as he had ever been, that there was no way they would see each other again. 

But Roger came back. 

After a moment, before she even finished calling him names and blaming him for their peculiar situation, Roger realised what the problem was. He saw her constantly closing her large sweater over her body, shielding her chest with her arms, found her eyes shining with tears and he knew. He knew those were not the result of anger but of pain. A pain he caused, there was no use in denying it like he would have done in his youth. So Roger took the verbal beating and left without saying a word. 

They met that same weekend, Roger had dropped the bomb on his wife, and it was not a pleasant thing to do...but at least it helped his relationship with R!Reader. Only a few months later his divorce was settled and the first thing he did was show up at her place with a big rock in his pocket and propose. 

• 3 hours before the wedding

“Earth to R!Reader!” Lola sang, moving her hand before her eyes. “You are so zen today!” 

“Are you okay?” One of her childhood friends said from the makeup chair where she was getting her hair braided. 

“I’m fine!” R!Reader rolled her eyes, “I’m just...” she licked her lips and sighed “overwhelmed.” 

“Aw, that’s alright!” Tigerlily came up behind her and leaned on the sofa to wrap her arms around her shoulders and put her chin on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s a big day!”

“I kinda wish we had eloped...” 

Her mother called her by her full name with a furrowed brow, making the rest of the women there laugh or giggle. 

B!Reader clapped her hands and turned to the bride’s mother. “I guess it’s time to get her dressed...” 

It was not the best day for a wedding, the weather was awful. Rain all day, clouds crowding the sky all afternoon. As R!Reader stepped into the car to get to the venue, she met her father at the door. She looked up for a second and smiled at her dad, shrugging like a child. 

The bright white Cadillac awaited, her father held her for a second and helped her in. With her eyes, at last, ignoring the sky she turned to talk to her dad. A short conversation that put them both in a good mood. From the first time, she told her father that she liked a boy when she was only 5 to highschool dates and the last of them when she brought Roger home and nobody in the family knew why in the world was she dating a man almost 50 years older than her.

“It’s a weird thing... but you were always brave. Always head first into it!” He patted his daughter’s hand. “But you always made sense. You had your way to go about things, still, do.” He paused and looked out the window, seeing the venue appearing ahead, meaning they would have to get out of the car soon. “I trust you know what you’re doing. You are old enough to.” 

R!Reader remained quiet for a moment and stretched out in the spacious car to wrap her arms around her father’s shoulders. 

“Thank you.” She whispered into their embrace. 

A moment later she stepped out of the car and stood at the end of a line with her father by her side. The walk down the aisle went by in a second to her. She watched as the guests sitting down turned their heads, necks stretching, to get a glimpse of her. The long veil covered her face and hands, going further down. She scanned through the big names, artists and famous people in the crowd. Roger could not help himself...the guest list seemed to be getting bigger and bigger every time they sat down to go over wedding details, in the end, they invited 800 people - somehow! 

Roger looked brilliant. In a three-piece burgundy suit, he was also quite happy when his young bride arrived at the temporary altar and winked at him. The two smiling at each other. Her father pulled the veil off of his daughter’s face and kissed her cheek before letting her take Roger’s tattooed hand. 

The wedding was beautiful, both Roger and R!Reader spent the entirety of the ceremony part giggling and stealing glances at each other. R!Reader at some point mouthed a “stop it!” at Rog when he winked at her and made her blush in front of one of the many cameras they had hired to film and photograph the event.  Once Felix stepped forward and brought them the rings, he rolled his eyes at the couple, trust his dad to be fooling around in the middle of his own wedding... although it made sense and bothered no one who realised it: the odd couple had waited for too long to be able to be public and the treatment R!Reader got from the media left a lot to be desired. Now they did not care, and they were paying no attention to anyone else but each other today. Felix was almost completely ignored by the groom and bride, who grabbed the rings and put them on each other’s fingers without taking their eyes from each other. Roger did not bother hiding his smile as he did so, and his bride struggled to contain her joy in a smile through tight lips and gleaming eyes. 

By the time the ceremony came to an end, R!Reader was sniffing, some tears had slipped but she wiped them quickly before turning to her husband. Oh, because they were now married. The knot was tied, and now they were free to not give a fuck about the press together. As it should have always been.  And not one person in the guests’ list was surprised when Roger wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close. 

She put her arms around his neck and let her right wrist fall on top of the left one as she smiled up at him, grinning in pure joy before he kissed her lips long and hard. People behind them cheered and clapped, and she giggled, pecking his lips to put her forehead against his. 

“I can’t believe it’s done...” She whispered. 

To which Roger replied by saying: “easy as that!” 

She cupped his cheek and pecked his lips again before the finally turned to their guests to walk outside to the smaller bar part of the venue so the planner and his crew could get the salon ready for the reception.  It was in this time that R!Reader and Roger took a chance to go to a different salon and have their pictures taken, first only the couple and then with the maids of honour, all three of Roger’s daughters and B!Reader; and the best men, both Felix and Rufus, plus Adam and Brian.  

The reception started a good fifteen minutes later with the couple being introduced as they came out to perform their first dance, the two stepped out to the piano playing the first few notes of the song the couple chose, the interpreters on stage, as a personal favour to Roger; Elton came through to play one song but not without giving R!Reader a small surprise by bringing his - almost - baby son Taron on stage to sing with him for them. 

“It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside...” Elton sang from the piano as Roger held R!Reader.

She had no idea Roger had arranged for the interpreters of the song to be something else than a good recording... She was over the moon, singing along and holding on to her husband.  The two would not stop singing to each other quietly. 

“I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world”  

The two kissed as the last notes played and their guests clapped around them in an echo they could barely hear.

...

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe: The Fantastic Mutants Chapter 1: Fantastically Uncanny (originally posted on January 1, 2020)

AN: After going back to the past to explore the history of Thanos, we finally jump back to the future with this latest and long-awaited installment of the Marvel Gems Universe in the all-new Heavy Metal Trilogy! I'm your darling author Lightyearpig, and we're finally back in business baby! Just as a disclaimer, this takes place a few weeks after Change your Mind which unfortunately means no references to the movie or Spinel. Tragic, I know. But without further ado, let the return of the Crystal Gems commence!

--

"So nice of you to take us in professor." Rose Quartz thanked a young Charles Xavier as they, along with Garnet, Amethyst & Pearl strolled through his mansion home in Westchester County, New York during the year 1963. "I empathize so deeply with your desires for harmony between humans and mutants. Both your kinds are just so intriguing to me." "And I find Gems a peculiar topic as well." Xavier remarked with a smile. "I have to admit, I find myself endearing to your plights against those Diamonds thousands of years ago. Do you believe they could strike again?" he asked. "I don't think so. Ever since the end of the rebellion, Earth has been in relative peace for millenniums." Garnet responded adjusting her shades. "However, they could strike again if any deeper knowledge of the Crystal Gems reach them." "So Xy, got any cool stuff to show us? Or are we just gonna keep walking around and talking about junk?" Amethyst asked casually. "Amethyst, be polite!" Pearl gently scolded the smaller Gem, but Charles laughed warmly. "No need to be so concerned Pearl." the professor stated. "But there is one thing I've been working on for the past few years. Please, follow me." Xavier lead the Gems to his office, where he pressed a button hidden inside a bust of Martin Luther King Jr. and opened a secret elevator hidden behind a bookshelf. "Right this way now girls." he commanded stepping into the elevator and the Gems followed. The lift slowly creeped down the passageway and then finally stopped at a sub-basement inhabited solely by a helmet and computer-like device, both connected to a large electronic brain hovering above them. "This is what I call Cerebro." Xavier explained. "It's still a work in progress, but one day I can use this to search for mutants around the world and take them in as both my students & future heroes." "Mind if you give us a demonstration?" Rose asked. "I never thought you'd ask." Charles proclaimed sitting down at the computer and putting on the helmet. -- Years later, a far older, wheelchair-bound Xavier took off the helmet in a more modern looking Cerebro room while Wolverine and Mister Fantastic stood by him. "You sure this is still the one Logan?" Professor X asked the Canadian mutant. "I'm sure of it Chuck." Logan replied. "Just say the word and we'll all be there in a jiff." "I would like to research this boy sometime." Reed Richards commented gazing at a video image of Steven Universe conjured up by Xavier's machine. With a press of his temple, the professor telepathically gave out his orders. "To me, my X-Men!"

-- "So what was that Universe child like Logan?" the field leader of the X-Men Scott Summers, aka Cyclops asked Wolverine while the mutant team flew out to Beach City on the Blackbird. "Real energetic little squirt who sees the good in a ton of people, even Thanos." Wolverine answered. "Got a bunch of crazy friends too, like this big square lady who's literally just a pair of tiny girlfriends in a trenchcoat, a purple midget with a whip, some bird woman who had the hots for his dead mom when she was alive, etc." "My stars and garters, what an interesting bunch." the beastly researcher Hank McCoy commented. "Heads up gang, we should be landing in Beach City any moment now." their current pilot Angel, aka Warren Worthington III, announced as the jet got closer. "Please keep arms and legs within your seats as we begin touchdown. Okay Wolvie, where to?" "Just be on the lookout for a beach house jammed into the big statue of a giant woman near the beach, that's all." Logan ordered sitting down in his seat and looking out the window. "See, there it is!" he exclaimed pointing at that very beach house in the distance, only it was very different from when he last saw it. Since he last departed Beach City after the battle with Thanos, the house now had a second floor in construction process connecting to a barely-finished crystal dome, larger windows at the front and two flags outside of it. When the X-Men touched down on the beach close to the beach house, he got a better look at the flags to discover that one of them symbolized Earth while the other was colored yellow, blue, white and pink. "Whew, talk about a chic place!" the cryokinetic Bobby Drake, better known as Iceman, whistled while gazing at the house. "You told us he was just some kid with crazy alien powers!" "Bob, there's so much you don't know about these Gems yet." Logan declared placing a hand on his comrade's cold shoulder when the door opened and out of it came Steven himself. "Hi Wolverine! We weren't expecting you to come back after helping us stop Thanos!" the half-Gem boy greeted the savage mutant. "And are those the X-Men?! Awesome!" "We just need to talk squirt!" Logan hollered back from below the front porch. "And also, WHAT THE F-" -- "You're just worried that I can survive that." Wolverine snarled while hand soap slowly dripped out his mouth. "So you were saying that your dead mom was secretly a space warlord who ditched her home planet for Earth because she was sick of the other Diamonds treating her like shit?" "That's basically it, yeah." Amethyst commented. Also since Wolverine first left Beach City, the Crystal Gems had changed in appearance as well. Garnet's visor had turned orange while the top part resembled a star, the bottom part of her torso was split between red & blue and had copper & tin wedding rings on her fingers. Amethyst now had a black top exposing her gemstone, jean shorts with black stars on them and her boots were white. And Pearl had gained a cyan blazer with shoulder-pads over a teal blue top, indigo leggings and pink flats. But it was the newer members of Crystal Gems that changed the most. Peridot's visor was now a larger butterfly shape, she proudly wore her stars on her chest & knees and her socks were now chartreuse yellow boots. Lapis had doffed a skirt entirely in favor of dark-blue sweatpants held up by a gold ribbon, her top had the upper portion of a star on it and she now had golden sandals on. And Bismuth was now clad in a black vest-like garment over a strapless red apron while her boots & pants remained unchanged. "Well, good to know." Cyclops stated standing at attention before Steven. "Greetings young Mr. Universe. I am Scott Summers, also known as X-Men leader Cyclops." Scott introduced himself. "My team and I have arrived at your homestead with an offer to better your skills under the tutelage of our superior Professor Charles Xavier." "Wait, you mean Chuck?!" Amethyst exclaimed. "Aw, it's been ages since we last saw him! How's he been?" she asked. "Since he last met you Crystal Gems, he took us in as his students before becoming paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair." Cyclops's lover & second in command Jean Grey responded. "I'm Jean Grey." she introduced herself as well. "These are the rest of our graduating class; Iceman, Angel and Beast. And I'm sure you're already familiar with Wolverine." "Anyone wanna tell me who this newbie is?" Logan asked standing next to a green one-eyed Gem with white hair and a pink diamond on her chest dressed in light green coattails. "Forgive me sir, my name is Nephrite." the new Gem introduced herself. "Honorary member of the Crystal Gems at your service!" "She was the first corrupted Gem we fought and as such, one of the first we fully healed." Garnet briefed Howlett. "She's here today because we're in the process of building a place for all former Gem monsters to call home, just like her." "So kind of like our headquarters, where we train mutants from across the globe to become the next generation of heroes." Jean stated. "Wait, there's more of you?" Bismuth asked the telepath quizzically. "I suppose you must've been unaware for some reason." the scarlet-locked mutant guessed correctly while using her mutant powers to read the blacksmith's mind. "Oh you bet I was!" Bismuth replied. "Just a simple case of being bubbled and stuck in a lion's mane due to...disagreements, shall we say." "You mean this creature?" Beast asked observing Lion as he sniffed his blue fur. "How can it be possible? Surely the mane of a normal lion cannot contain anything at maximum length!" Steven however answered Dr. McCoy's questions by sticking his hand inside the mane. "My word, I must learn more!" "Hey Steven, just came by today to help with construct-" Connie announced stepping into the beach house expecting the Gems to accept her help. They were present, but were too preoccupied by a group of mutants investigating them including a blue-furred man holding Lion by the sides. "Not even going to ask." "Am I the only one getting some weird deja vu?" Lapis pondered. "Oh you bet! All we need now is a black hole bomb made out of kitchen things!" Peridot replied with a snicker. "Oh hey Connie, I'd like you to meet the X-Men." Steven introduced his swordfighting friend to the merry mutants. "You must be the friend of Steven I've heard Logan talk about." Cyclops commented shaking the girl's hand. "I am Cyclops. Me and my teammates are here today to test Steven and see if he's got what it takes to be a student of Xavier." "Oh cool! Let me guess, you have a flying machine outside on the beach to take us to your HQ?" Connie asked. "That's how the last few superheroes came to see us." "You are very spot-on young lady." Beast declared opening the door for everyone to leave. "Come now, we have much to discuss in Westchester!" The Crystal Gems exited the beach house where the Blackbird awaited them on the sand outside. "Oh my gosh, your ship looks so cool!" Steven cried out in excitement. "Can I sit in the front?" "Surely. Anything Steven." Scott kindly accepted when they boarded the X-Men's jet and allowed the boy to take one of the front seats closest to the pilot's section while the other Crystal Gems, plus Lion, simply stood around. "Well aren't you just a lucky boy?" Amethyst quipped while leaning against Iceman's seat. "Getting to ride shotgun with the big cheese of the X-Men." "Though I'm not sure if we're ready to let Steven leave Beach City to better his powers." Pearl stated with concern when Beast put a hand on her shoulder. "Do not worry my dear, he's in good hands." Hank declared. "Or maybe not." Garnet announced adjusting her shades. "I fear something bad could happen to him while at your mansion." "Yeesh, Captain Ominous here. Am I right?" Angel snarked as the Blackbird finally took off, heading towards Westchester and zooming away from Beach City. Down below, Greg was ready to drive up to the Temple in his van when he saw the Blackbird flying overhead. "I wonder what bizarre adventures Steven is getting into this time?" he muttered as the jet vanished from sight. -- "And that, children, is how you land a fastball special." the metal-skinned Russian mutant Piotr Rasputin, aka Colossus, declared to a classroom full of young mutants in the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning for Gifted Youngsters. The school was established by the genius to better the skills of the young mutants, build them to be the next generation of heroes and inspire his motto of peace between humans & mutants within them. When the X-Men were not fighting the forces of evil, many of them spent time teaching classes, and Colossus, the leader of the Gold team of X-Men, was no different. "Now then, any questions?" Piotr asked his pupils when one of them raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Collins?" he stated. "Have you noticed that Kitty's head is poking out of the board?" Russell Collins asked, bringing attention to Rasputin's fellow X-Man Kitty Pryde popping her head out with her phasing abilities, inciting giggles from the class. "Bozhe moy!" Colossus exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't see you there Kitty! What brings you here?" "I came because Emma told me to tell you that Cyclops and the others are coming back." Kitty announced. "Uzhe?!" Piotr muttered before turning to his class. "My apologies students, I have other matters to attend to." he apologized to his pupils as he walked out the door. "Be sure to keep studying everyone!" -- In the foyer of the mansion, the X-Men assembled to welcome back their six famous teammates and gemlike guests. On one side were the Blue Team of mutants. Aside from Cyclops, Jean, Hank, Angel, Iceman & Wolverine, they included the weather-wielding Storm, power-stealing Southern belle Rogue, charming card-tosser Gambit, implike teleporting Nightcrawler, fireworks-tossing Jubilee, the disappearing Shadowcat & her pet dragon Lockheed and the tracker Warpath. On the other side was the Gold Team led by Colossus. By his side were the beautiful telepath Emma Frost, Wolverine's clone daughter X-23, Colossus's younger sister Magik, the fire-wielder Firestar, solar-powered Sunspot, pop singer Dazzler, wisecracking shapeshifter Morph, living rocket Cannonball, lava-generating Magma and the other teleporter Blink. Professor Xavier psychically lifted his wheelchair down the stairs and planted himself on the floor to look at the Crystal Gems. "Today my fellow mutants, we welcome some old friends of mine into our school." he announced. "I'd like to thank Logan here for pointing us in their direction." Wolverine simply rolled his eyes before lighting up a cigarette to smoke. "Without Wolverine, our eyes wouldn't have been opened to the potential of young Steven Universe here as both a student of my school and a potential X-Man as well." Xavier finished his speech with a grin. "Now then everyone, introduce yourselves." "Yo Chuck, it's been ages! How ya been?!" Amethyst excitedly greeted the professor. "Why Amethyst, so good to see you again too." Xavier replied tousling the smaller Gem's hair. "It seems that all three of you have changed quite a bit since we last met." he added looking at Garnet and Pearl. "Along with new additions to your ranks as well." "Astounding! Some humans can choose not to use their gravity connectors!" Peridot exclaimed gazing at the mutant's wheelchair. "And they can also choose to not have hair as well!" Xavier gave a warm chuckle and patted Peridot on her three-sided head. "Quite an observant one, isn't she?" "So what's up with the whole no-hair business?" Lapis asked Charles. "It's just old age my dear." the professor stated while gazing at Steven and Connie meeting the rest of the X-Men. "So you're basically Wolverine's clone?" Connie asked X-23. "Yeah, pretty much." Laura replied deadpan. "And I'm also sort of his daughter as well." "Whoa, you have a pet dragon?!" Steven gasped in amazement while Lockheed perched himself on his shoulder. "Well, Lockheed is more of a weird alien dragon, but you get the point." Kitty replied earnestly. "Which reminds me, can I get a look at your lion?" Without Steven even asking him to, Lion walked towards Kitty Pryde and stared at her for a few moments before bowing his head, allowing her to pet him. "Aw, he's a real cutie." she cooed at Lion. "When and where did you get him?" "It was when I was starting to go on missions with the Gems, I found him in a desert one time." Steven explained. "Ah, sometimes I miss the simpler days when I was just an excitable tagalong to them. Just a new monster with no drama related to my dead mom or other Gems in sight." "Kinda reminds me of when I started out as an X-Man." Kitty regaled. "I was just another student of theirs until I happened to save their lives from the Hellfire Club and that's how I became a full member with both Storm & Wolverine having my back." "Wow, you two are surprisingly pretty similar." Connie observed. "You mean like how we were once eager young sidekicks to more experienced heroes who soon grew into our own?" Kitty responded. "Yeah, that's basically it." Connie replied. "So what can all of you do?" "That's just what I needed to hear young lady." Professor X stated. "I want to see how skilled you and Steven are on the battlefield. Come now, to the Danger Room everyone! Reed and company should be down there waiting for us." "What's that?" Steven asked Wolverine. "It's what we call our training room. Able to simulate any situation that requires any of our abilities." Logan explained. "It's been rebuilt God knows how many times, but it's still the same old room through and through." As the Crystal Gems were led by the X-Men, a female student of the Academy watched them depart and her eyes turned yellow as she eyed Lapis in particular. "Ah, she seems easy to replace." she muttered to herself while her skin slowly turned blue. "Let the mission proceed." -- Happy New Year everyone! I sincerely hope 2020 and beyond brings us more fond memories together, and I also hope I don't procrastinate on every chapter like what happened towards the end of both Secret Wars & Gravity Soul. With that said, just who is that mysterious student and what does she want with Lapis Lazuli?! Well if you know your Marvel, then I suppose the yellow eyes and blue skin should give it away. Anyways, be sure to leave a review and I'll see you next time!

[bloodiedskirtts]

Reign | Chapter Two: Helpless

Summary: Prince Steve truly isn’t as bad as Y/N thought he would be, and she may actually be falling for him.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Fluff. Brief mention of sex

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it!

Gif is not mine credit to creator

Reign Masterlist

After tumbling into bed, her head filled with visions of Steve’s blue eyes, she was awoken by giggles at the bottom of her bed. The stunning blue dress that she had worn for less than an hour lay on the ground by her bed. She had shed it before falling face down in the soft down feather pillows and her body had instantly relaxed, letting sleep take over. Now she had three pairs of eyes baring down on her, asking her for every single detail about Prince Steven.

‘What did he say?’, ‘What was he like?’, ‘Did he try and kiss you? I bet he tried to kiss her!’

She shook her head, crawling down the bed to sit with her best friends. Peggy was her cousin, the daughter of her uncle on her mother’s side. The brunette was three years old than her, meaning she was well over due a husband. But she was so fiery that no man dared to ask for her hand in marriage. And her parents knew better than to try and outshine the princess before she was wed with a royal wedding. So Peggy accompanied her to Aira, where she would very quickly find a suitable husband. And Peggy would have followed her younger cousin to the ends of the earths. She was like a sister to her, as Peggy was an only child. She had always taken care of Y/N, and would continue to do so for as long as she could.

Natasha was the daughter of a wealthy Lord, who had long supported the King, on and off the battlefield for as long as anyone could remember. When his wife gave birth to yet another daughter, he was eager when the Queen suggested she come to court and be by Y/N’s side as a lady in waiting. Natasha loved court, she loved the whispers, the scandal and she loved how many of the men she was able to wrap around her finger. It would be no different in Aira, she had decided. Yes, she would find a husband, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t break a few hearts on the way!

Wanda was the youngest of the group and the only one who didn’t come from wealth. Her father had been a soldier who died fighting in one of the many battles that was waged against your kingdom in the last few years. Her mother had been pregnant when he was slaughtered, working as a maid for the Queen. When Wanda was still a young girl, her mother was also murdered during an attempted attack on the Queen whilst she was travelling to their summer castle. She was so overcome with guilt that she brought Wanda to live in the castle, her twin brother became a squire with a knight the other side of their kingdom. Wanda immediately became fast friends with the princess, and was honoured when she was asked to be one of her ladies in waiting.

And here they were ready to start a new life by her side, well until she married the prince, and they could begin to look for their own husbands.

‘Prince Steven, he is literally the most charming man I have ever met,’ she told the girls. ‘And he doesn’t have to be, he’s the crown prince! I mean, I have to marry him. He doesn’t have to be kind to me. And I already know he will be a great King. And I will be his Queen. And, oh my heart is honestly soaring!’

The girls giggled at her words, before Peggy stood up smoothing down her dress.

‘As much as I would love to sit and gossip all night, we have a banquet to get to and the princess has to get ready for her prince,’ she said, her voice stern but filled with joy.

The girls pulled Y/N to her feet, Natasha pulling at her underdress, pulling it over her head leaving her in just her slip. She shivered, pulling her hands over her bare chest although she was just in front of her best friends. The cool sea air blew in the open window, causing goosebumps to cover her bare chest.

‘My corset?’ she asked.

Nat shook her head, her auburn curls bouncing as she moved her head. She was going to break hearts at court.

‘What do you mean no?’ she asked.

Wanda was holding up another dress, this time it was red and the plunging neckline made the princess do a double take.

‘The prince won’t be able to take his eyes off you,’ Wanda told her, as she laid the dress on the bed.

‘Or his hands,’ Nat purred.

This pulled a laugh from the princess’ parted lips, as Peggy pulled the pins out of her hair. Her long locks fell down to her waist covering her breasts, and her back. She smiled, running her fingers through her long locks. She loved when her hair was down, she rarely was allowed to keep her hair down in court. Slowly Peggy began to braid her hair, making sure she could tie it up in a intricate knot at the top of her head. She took her time, speaking to the princess about the night, as Natasha and Wanda changed into their own gowns for the banquets.

‘Do you think you’ll find someone to dance with?’ Y/N asked, turning to Peggy when she finished her hair. It felt heavy on top of her head, she missed the feeling of it around her shoulders. The older woman laughed softly, stroking her cousin’s cheek.

‘I hope so, but if I don’t it doesn’t matter. I have plenty of time to find a husband after your wedding and after you are settled down.’

‘Peggy, you need to put yourself first some time,’ she told her.

Peggy shook her head, a soft smile pulling at her lips, ‘Come on let’s get you dressed.’

When she entered the hall, Steve’s eyes locked onto her’s, his breath caught in his throat. He stood as he watched her walking through the door, he noted every man who stopped and stared at her. The simple red dress was covered by lace, which clung to her skin like it was a part of her. He thought that blue dress was bad, but this red dress had a plunging neckline that did little to distract from the curve of her breasts. He let out a whimper as he noticed how the soft flesh bounced as she moved, completely unaware of the fact every man in the room had their eyes on her. When he finally made it past her torso, he noticed her hair was tied up, away from her face, like it had been this morning.

He smiled as he made his way towards her, she curtsied before him, unbeknownst to her giving him an even better view at her exposed breasts. He could feel himself grow harder against his pants and he shifted uncomfortably. He gave her his hand, helping her stand.

‘You must stop this curtsying. You’re to be my wife, my equal,’ he told her, as he led her to the table where his parents sat.

‘A wife must still curtsy to her husband,’ she replied.

‘Not you,’ Steve whispered, before presenting her before his parents.

Again she curtsied low before them, head bowed as a sign of respect.

‘The fashion from Reann is a bit different than it is here,’ the Queen commented, as Y/N stood.

‘Well, it is warmer, Your Majesty,’ the princess replied with a sweet smile. ‘I’m not used to the chill from the sea. I think my wardrobe is completely inappropriate for my new home.’

She blushed softly as she realised that her neckline was much lower than any other woman there. Would she have to completely throw out every dress she owned to fit in at court with her future husband, and the rest of the royals.

‘I’m sorry if I’m causing offence,’ she whispered, as Steve showed her to her seat by his side. He didn’t let go of her hand even as he sat.

The Queen simply laughed, ‘Oh my darling girl, I am glad to see new fashion. And I think the only offence you will cause is to the seamstresses who will be under stress to recreate your look for every single woman in court.’

Another blush covered the princess’ cheek, Steve noted. He liked that. The King hadn’t said anything yet, he let his wife chat to the new girl. She was glad that the Queen liked her, or was at least sweet to her. She complemented her hair, the care that had been put in designing the dress that would be on every person’s lips for the rest of the month.

After food was served and wine was drank, people began to dance. This was the part that Steve had been looking forward to the most. He wanted an excuse to press her against his body in a way that would not be permitted else wise. The girl’s cheeks were flushed from the wine she had consumed.

‘Dance with me?’ he asked, his voice close to her ear.

She shivered softly, as she nodded, ‘I would love to, Steve.’

He pulled her out on to the floor, dancing to the song the musicians were filling the room with.

‘That dress is sinful,’ he breathed in her ear as they danced, twirling her away from him.

Of course, she blushed at his words. Clapping her hands before twirling back to him.

‘I should repent then?’ she teased, as she fell back into his arms.

He bit his lip at her words, she was so innocent but the words that come from her mouth are anything but.

‘I know my mother feels sorry for all the seamstresses. But I feel sorry for every woman at court,’ he breathed in her ear.

She narrowed her eyes in confusion.

‘No woman here will ever be as beautiful as you,’ he told her. ‘And every man here will be thinking of you when they lay with their wives for the rest of their lives.’

Her blush darkened, shocked at the words that spilled from his lips.

‘You are too bold, Your Highness,’ she teased, before she was grabbed by another partner.

Her eyes never left Steve’s as she was twirled from partner to partner. His eyes were devouring her, setting her whole body on fire from just a look alone. And when she finally fell back into his arms, she thought she would exploded from the touch of his hands on her skin. Jolts like lightening coursed through her body, a feeling pooling in her stomach that she had never felt before.

‘Steve,’ she breathed, looking up at him, finally back in his arms.

‘Shall we go for a walk?’ he whispered, so low only she could hear him.

She nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence, her whole body sparking under his touch and eyes.

He led you from the banquet hall, through the winding halls of the castle, out to the gardens.

‘Have you always liked the garden, Steve?’ she asked, noting how he kept a hold of her hand. She didn’t want him to let go of her, didn’t want to lose the feeling of his skin on hers.

He didn’t let her link her arm in his, which was the only way to walk with a man, instead he just intertwined their fingers. She smiled at this. It wasn’t exactly proper, but no one was around to tell them what was and wasn’t proper.

‘My mother would bring me here when I was younger, let me run through them,’ he said, his voice filled with nostalgia. ‘In between lessons on how to rule, how to fight, how to speak languages I don’t know even who speaks, politics, history, so many rules. I just wanted to be free. And everyone else seemed to be able to be free.’

‘I was so young the gardens felt like they went on forever and I could runaway from the idea of being King.’

His voice was barely more than a whisper now.

‘And now?’ she asked.

‘Now? Now, the idea of being King still terrifies me, but I know my father is strong. It will be years until I will be crowned King. So, I needn’t fret. I know I will be ready when the time comes. I will have to be. And I will have you by my side, won’t I?’

That damn blush again covered her cheeks and he stepped closer to her. So close her body was touching his. He could feel the heat radiating off her smaller frame through the tiny fabric she was wearing, through his tunic, to his chest. He wanted to pull that dress from her, right here for the whole court to see. He didn’t care, he wanted her so badly.

He wondered what her lips would feel like against his, what her sweet her moans would sound like when she was under him, what she would taste like. Oh, he was going to destroy her. Her head dipped down before her eyes met his, she noted that his pupils were blown out and she wrinkled her nose in confusion.

She shivered as the wind blew in from the sea, the salty scent filling her nose.

‘I’m not used to this wind,’ she told him, stepping away from the prince.

She turned her back to him looking over the garden, her eyes searching for something she couldn’t place her finger on. She couldn’t see the sea from the gardens but she could hear it crash against the rocks, she feel the breeze on her skin and the smell clung to her hair.

‘The sea isn’t close to our castle at home. So it takes some getting used to. The wind that comes with the tides. Perhaps we could go swimming some day, when the sun is out,’ she said.

Steve smiled at her, wondering at her innocence, how sweet the princess truly was.

‘Aren’t we a little old to go swimming in the sea?’ he asked.

‘One can never be too old to swim! What if you get thrown overboard! Shouldn’t you know how to swim?’ she threw back at him, a smirk on lips.

‘Well, if you think we’re too old for a swim, perhaps I’ll go with my ladies. We rarely ever get to swim. And I’m sure they would love to.’

Steve smiled at her, ‘I would be honoured to swim with you, my dear. Perhaps we could go riding in a few days, first. I have meetings and things to attend to for the next while. I am sorry, Y/N. But…’

‘But it’s you’re duty, Steve. That is fine,’ she responded, patting his arm. ‘It will give me some time to catch up on my sleep. And learn more about my new home, with my ladies. Perhaps they will catch the eye of some wealthy Lord.’

His words caused him to smile, ‘Did you not sleep well on the ship on your way here?’

She shook her head, ‘Not particularly. The rocking of the ship, the sound of waves on the side of the ship, drunken sailors and Wanda was sicksea most of the way. It was far from glamorous!’

Another gust of wind caused her to shiver, and Steve stepped forward.

‘Perhaps, Y/N, we should head back inside. It is late and you should get your rest if your journey was truly that terrible.’

She nodded, offering the prince her arm again, and this time he linked her arm through his. Instead of returning to the banquet hall, he walked her back to her chambers. A guard was standing watch outside her room, who quickly made himself scarce when the prince arrived. He smiled down at her.

‘Good night, Y/N,’ he whispered. ‘It has been a pleasure getting to spend time with you. I can’t wait to spend more of my time you.’

He brought her hand up to his lips, brushing his lips over her knuckles. The feeling sent shivers from her fingers, down to her toes.

‘Good night, Steve,’ she breathed, as he pulled away. He bowed to her before leaving her for the night.

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[littleredroseonthevalley]

Dejame

Summary: Wildest Dreams sequel. In the wake of Nathan’s wedding, Emily decided to pick up and leave the city. So many miles away, at a bar on a border town, will she find someone new?

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Here we are. Two-hundred followers, which is 199 more than I originally expected. Thanks to all of you, and a special thanks to @wickedgypsymoon, who joined the rank as my two-hundredth. Thank you!

Let’s get to business, shall we?

The inspiration for this fanfic is Dejame, from the Argentinean pop band Miranda! Yes, they style themselves with the exclamation. As this is a Latin American song, I placed a few references to the continent, and Argentina in particular, throughout the story. So, yeah, that’s where those are from.

Without further ado, enjoy.

It was sometime around three in the morning, in some lonely highway, right on the state line between New Hampshire and Maine. From the side of the road, it was possible to see the summer moon reflected on the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Emily was deadbeat tired, driving non-stop ever since she crossed the Martha’s Vineyard ferry. Her initial intent was to return to her shitty apartment in Boston, but when she got to the injunction, she just drove past, kept going north.

Finally, she reached Portsmouth, NH and ran out of gasoline. As the nearest station she could find already closed for the night, she decided to go over to a small pub that seemed to be open and running, still.

As she crosses into the threshold, she notices why: there was an ocean of men in navy blue Air Force suits, merrily shouting and singing drunken songs with long neck bottles of beer.

The thought of it being a private event did cross the redhead’s mind, but she dismissed it. She was much too tired, and depressed, to leave without even trying to argue a case favourable for her getting something to drink.

So the still-finely-dressed woman slithered her way through the heavy mountains of muscles that passed as soldiers, mostly inconspicuously. Reaching the bar, she raises a finger and the barman slugs tiredly over to her.

“A Bud, if you still have one.” She asks.

The middle-aged man bends down, places a bottle in front of her, and says, rather snotty: “There you go.”

“Thanks.” The woman gives him a weak smile, out of sympathy. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s the air base in town.” He says, gruff. “They’re going out on summer leave and come here for a last hurrah before heading home. Last call’s been hours ago and there’s nothing that gets them outta here! Anyways, if you need anything else, just call.”

“Thanks.” She smiles once more. “I’m sorry for all the rowdiness.”

He gives her an acknowledging nod and walks over to yet another customer demanding booze.

The clock goes on, while she admires the little bubbles and the cold fog on the muddy-coloured glass of the bottle. She does not know how long it been, until such time a man slides on the stool next to her.

“Hello.” He greets, amicably. He was tall and blond, as muscular as any of the men in the perimeter are, but with a naiveté of sorts on his light blue eyes, something that screamed boy-next-door.

“Hey.” She greets back.

“You’re not from around here.” He stated, clearly not meaning it as a question.

She smirks slightly with the question, amused. “What gave it away? The accent? The dress? Those stupid clasps on my head?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just that you’re kinda crashing our party, and the locals try to avoid the military people.”

The woman could not help but laugh softly. “Coulda fooled me. But, anyways, I’m from Michigan, originally, but I live in Boston these days.”

“The Great Mitten!” He exclaims, well humoured. “Detroit?”

“Grand Rapids.” She corrects, and then asks, “Yourself?”

“Not a local, either, but I’m closer to home than you.” His grin shines on the dim lighting of the bar. “I’m from Cherryfield, Maine. A stone throw from Canada.”

“Cool.” She responds, not really knowing what to say. “You got anyone waiting for you over there?”

“You mean, like a girlfriend or something?” The blond asks, capisciously. “No, I’m a single man. Though, my mom’s still up there. I’m going over there to see her in the morning.”

“And your dad? Out of the picture?” She asks, bluntly.

The man did not seem to mind. “Yeah. He walked on us when I was little. And how about you? What’s waiting for you in Michigan?”

“A mother, and a bunch of busybody aunts and their harlot daughters.” She responds with a grimace. “I also don’t have a dad, though mine died when I was little.”

“Only child?” He follows up.

She nods. “Yup. You?”

“Two siblings.” He responds, with some wear. “AJ’s at San Francisco. She’s a freelance visual novel artist. And there’s Kyle. He’s a surfer.”

“Aren’t you guys from Maine?” The redhead asks, legitimately confused how a surfer could rail from such a chilly place.

“He moved to Hawaii for college.” It was the simple answer. Trying, and failing, to disguise his discomfort, the man asks: “I’ve just realized we never introduced ourselves.”

“Then by all means.” She extended him her hand. “I’m Emily Harper.”

“I’m Christopher Powell, but you can call me Chris.” He took her hand in his much larger one. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise.” She checked the sleeves of his shirt and salutes him slop and mockingly. “Captain Powell.”

“At ease, Cadet Harper.” He responds, in equal humour. “So, what brings you to New Hampshire?”

“Aw, man.” Emily says, self-depreciating. “How long do you have?”

The dirty-blond-haired man looked at his watch. “My bus leaves at five, so I’d say about one hour and a half.”

“Let’s hope it’s time enough, right?” She winked and threw him a smirk.

He chuckles. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” The woman says, in all seriousness. “Well, it all began last New Year’s…”

And so, Emily told Chris everything that had happened between her fateful encounter with Nathan Sterling to her crashing his wedding earlier that night. The man listened patiently to her tale, making appropriate interruptions for comments and elucidations.

“Now I’m not sure what exactly I want to do with my life. I’m pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore. I don’t want to go back to Boston, never liked it, really, but I’m on the fence about Michigan, too. Perhaps I need somewhere new, to start fresh, you know?” She finishes the tale. Checking the clock, she cheerily says, “Looks like I wasted exactly one hour and fifteen minutes of your life.”

“I had fun.” He says, earnest. “Deployed life doesn’t allow for good conversation, and you’re a good storyteller. I’m hung up on every word.”

The redhead laughs, self-conscious. “Don’t flatter me.”

He raised his arms in rendition. “I’m telling the truth. In fact, I want to make you a deal.”

“Hm?” The woman nods for him to proceed.

“Cherryfield isn’t far. It’s a few hours on the U.S. 1. Why don’t you take me there on your car? I’ll pay for your gas, and you get to be somewhere you’ve never been before. If, by the time we arrive, you decide to go back to Boston or to Michigan, I’ll help you out, too.”

She let out a wide grin. “Let’s do it.”

It was a fair weather day in Maine. The sun shone, and people could walk the sinuous and forested streets of Cherryfield with sleeveless tops and open shoes, and most preferred such, so they would soak in the rare sunlight that shone on that part of the world.

Emily sat alone with a book on her lap on the lonely red brick house that served as that little New English town’s library.

Ever since the last librarian’s retirement, some six months earlier, the place had been closed. It was an understatement to say the town council had been only too glad to have a Northwestern English graduate like Emily to take the job.

The pay was not anything to be proud of, but it came with a small loft and utilities paid. As long as it paid for the food, clothing and a health insurance, it was more than good enough.

That afternoon had been quiet, as usual. The only visitors she had up so far was a couple of schoolchildren looking for help on their summer assignments and a lady after her book club’s weekly title.

It left her plenty of time for leisure reading, cleaning and organizing the dusty shelves of the library and, most importantly, for her poetry writing. It was the greatest progress she made ever since moving to Boston, and certainly her new material was of a higher quality than whatever she had written since college.

On that particular part of day, the redhead had put on some music on her phone while she cleaned and repaired a pair of shelves on the far back of the library, which held several volumes in Maine history, as much so as the books were mostly history themselves.

“Déjame que te comparta, todo que lo siento dentro de mi alma.” She sang along the lyrics when the front door’s bell rung, signalling the arrival of a patron.

It was Chris, and he held a salad bowl neatly wrapped. “Hey, Emily.” He greets with a wide smile. “Nice show you’re having there.”

She smirked. “Glad you like it.”

“What is it, though? Never heard it before.”

A sad smile ran through Emily’s features quickly, before she supresses it and responds: “It’s Argentinian pop music. I grew up on a minority neighbourhood in Grand Rapids.”

“Argentina, huh? That’s nice.” He attacks her from behind, placing his hands on her waist, turning her facing him dead in the eye and dipping her very low, on a quasi-90º angle. “Land of romance. And tango.”

She laughs and slaps his arm. “Let me go, Casanova! Sneakers and t-shirts are hardly tango-appropriate.”

The man lets his ‘dance partner’ stand up straight and, with a wicked turn of lips, says: “Well, I think the one thing we were short of was a rose.”

“Those are usually provided by the gentleman.” The girl makes a slight swirl with her hand on her red hair and then continues, “What brings Captain Powell to my humble establishment?”

He held up the bowl. “I come bearing gifts. I’m starting to think my mom likes you better than me.”

“You brought me into your home.” She shrugs. “You should’ve had thought it through beforehand. It was pretty clear I’d steal your family and murder you from day one.”

“Of course, a grave oversight on my part. Please be kind when chopping my body into pieces before dumping me into the river.”

“I’ll think about it.” She winks. “What’s on the menu?”

“It’s chicken alfredo. She’s been testing that cookbook you got her. I don’t know whether to thank you or damn you.” He taps his still-hard-rock stomach for emphasis.

The woman rolls her clear eyes. “If ya gaining weight, it’s you who is lazing around. Go for a run, for Christ’s sakes! The weather is mighty nice for it.”

“I would, but it’s oh, so boring on my own.” He complains. “Would you like to come with? You didn’t see anything on Maine yet except from the town hall, the library and my house.”

She fishes a piece of chicken and plops it into her mouth before responding: “I thought that was it.”

“Very funny, big city girl.” Chris teases. “Come on, tomorrow morning?”

“Fine, but if you rush ahead on your big, G.I. Joe calves, I am taking away your library card.” She points an accusing finger at him. “And I’ll have a mighty good time slashing it into pieces.”

Chris takes a deep breath, filling his expansive lungs with the clean air of the Northeast. Smiling with the placidity of the taiga forestry, he stops for a moment so he could enjoy the feeling of being home, a feeling yet not made redundant by the two weeks he already spent at Cherryfield.

He was thrown back into what he was presently doing when a strained, woman’s voice called from down the trail.

“Oh, God!” She complains. “How long did you say until we reach the top again?”

“We’re close. It’s just after those trees.” He points to a pair of pines a few steps in front of him. “C’mon, Emily, it’s just a teeny, tiny hill.”

“What does the military feed you?” The woman wonders, rather bitterly. “I can’t. I really can’t! If I take another step, my foot is going to fall off.”

“We’ve walked greater distances over the week.” The blond points out.

Emily huffs. “I remember I whined quite a lot in all of those occasions. Something on the lines of ‘how a man who spends most of his time piloting an aircraft isn’t a fat slob’, perhaps?”

The man chuckles. “Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Go, Chris, go on without me!” She dramatically plops on the overgrowth. “Finish your hike, walk away into the sunset! I’ll be fine here with my calluses for company.”

Chris rolled his eyes and walks over to the girl. He kneels down and says: “Hop on.”

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look.

“Hop on.” He repeats. “We’re so close, I’m not letting you give up now.”

“You can’t carry me!” Her pitch rises in disbelief.

“We’re going to have to see about that, ain’t we?” He grinned, cockily. “I’m not going to drop you. Scout’s honour.”

“Were you a scout?”

“Not really, but I’m on the Air Force. Big-ass jet planes should trump needlework and pinecone arts and crafts, right?”

She looked wearily at him once more, and finally complied wordlessly. Chris smirked and navigated through the last leg of the trail until the forest clears into a small cliff that overlooked Millbridge and Narraguagus Bay.

The late-morning sun shone on the ocean water, reflecting placidly on the dark azure wideness. The small town on the seaside was far from bustling, as it was Sunday, but the stillness made it seem like a model train station underneath a Christmas tree.

Chris places Emily down gently on a rock where she could sit up straight. The Midwestern woman, however, was marvelled with the scenery.

“Chris…” She breathes out. “This is so beautiful! How did you know it was here?”

He shrugs lightly. “This is a small town. When I was a teen, I didn’t have much to do on weekends besides hanging around the town square with the other kids, so I thought I ought to put the time into something productive, so I explored the trails on the woods around here.”

“And you never got lost?” The woman wonders.

“Nah, I had a map, and most trails are marked.” The blond man points to the path downhill. “It’s not much different from walking down a street.”

“What was like? To grow up here, I mean.”

He scoffs in good-nature. “What’s that about now?”

“I just noticed that I’ve told you all about my life back in the Midwest and all the Nathan crap but I don’t know much about your past.” She weighs. “Your mom wouldn’t show me a single embarrassing baby photo!”

“I don’t think she has any.” The man stated, a little unfazed by it all. “As for not telling you anything, I guess I don’t have many interesting stories. I never crashed a wedding, I haven’t dated a People magazine’s eligible bachelorette, nor have I moved across the country to pursue a writing career.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not interested on what you have to say.” The redhead counters.

Chris sighs. “Fair enough. What would you like to know?”

“Everything.” Emily says, rather excitably. “What was like when you were a child? What do you like to eat? Have you ever been in love? Why have you gone into the military? Have you ever robbed a bank?”

He shook his head. “Nope, never robbed a bank, sorry to disappoint.”

“How sad.” The girl laughs it off.

“As for my childhood, well, my dad was a truck driver. He worked for a shipping company here in Millbridge.” He pointed at the compound, on the other side of town. “He was on the road a lot, so it was mainly my mom and I.”

“What ‘bout your siblings?” She wonders.

“AJ and Kyle are close in age to each other, but I was eight when AJ was born. And, anyways, my dad bailed on us when Kyle was seven months old, so I guess it’s been mom and I for most of it.”

“How old were you when your dad left?” Emily asks, on a low, tactful voice.

“A little over ten.” He responds, grim.

“That’s rough.” She says with a sad smile on her face and a comforting hand on his arm. “My dad died while I was in college and it was hard enough. It must been terrible to lose yours so young.”

“Not really.” The blond says, chilly. “He was just this guy who would stop by once every two months. He was never there. I know this sounds rather terrible, but I didn’t miss him all that much when he was gone.”

The redhead woman smiles kindly at him. “You don’t have to feel sorry about that, you know? If your dad was lousy, then you’re not obliged to miss him. I wish your dad were a good man and that he stayed, but that’s because I wanted for you to have that experience, not that just because the man is your father, he’s any less of a dick.”

Chris gave her a thin, constrained smile in recognition. “Thanks, Emily. Anyways, where were we?”

“You were telling me about your rebellious years.” She shot him a lopsided smirk, full of mirth and wickedness.

The blond scoffed. “I had no such thing. High school and I was more of the dorky wallflower. The basement of the social totem, wallflower.”

“I have trouble believing that.” She states. “In fact, I see three pairs of muscle right about now further my point.”

He snorted. “That’s the work of the military. Well, that and a part-time I took junior year. Up until then, I was thin and scrawny.”

The redhead laughs and throws back her head. “Fine, whatever you say, Mr. Wet Dream.”

“I’m serious!” The Air Force official defended, his pitch a little high due to the stifling laughter that resonated through the otherwise silent forest.

“You also didn’t tell me anything juicy.” A thin, pale finger pokes him on the tip of the nose. “Tell me ‘bout your girlfriends, and make it saucy.”

“I only had one. Sorry to disappoint.” He responded.

“Tell me about her.” The librarian nudges.

He had a nostalgic smile on his face. “Her name was Nicole. She was the head cheerleader and my boss’ granddaughter.”

“The Geek and the Princess?” Emily scoffed. “How MTV-esque.”

“I have to admit it’s kind of a cliché, yeah.” He nods, slightly humoured. “We dated throughout our senior year. Come summer, though, she broke up with me. She was heading to Orono for college and I was to stay in Cherryfield, I was no football star or super genius to have a scholarship and I couldn’t afford tuition.

“She said college would be a new experience for her and she didn’t want to string me along.” He could not contain a pained grimace. “I know, though, that the truth is that she didn’t want to be with someone who was going nowhere in life. The following week, I enlisted on the Air Force, and that’s that.”

“What. A bitch.” Emily deadpanned. “Where’s her now? Please tell me she flunked out and has to flip burgers for a living.”

Chris shook his head. “Nothing like that. She met a guy from Presque Isle freshman year, really nice sort. Last I heard, they’re engaged to be married.”

“Twenty dollars say he’s gay.” Her eyes glinted on nastiness. “Nicole’s a beard, I’m sure of it.”

“You don’t even know the guy.” He points out.

She shrugs. “Don’t need to. If he’s willing to swear in front of the community, a minister and God to spend forever and then some with Nicole, either he’s retarded or gay.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirks at her. “Anyways, I’m starving. What you packed for lunch?”

“Oh, right! Pass me my backpack.” She said and the man complied. “Straight from Latin America, another devious concoction of mine to make you fat. Tres Leches cake!”

Emily stood in the middle of Augusta bus station with a tickle on the side of her clear right eye, the spot where a tear threatened to form and spill through her cheek.

The place was busy and loud, an expected scene on a summer Sunday, as people leave the vacationing bliss of Maine for their own grey, stressful lives in the south.

“Thanks again for driving me here, Emily.” Chris said, with the pitiful attempt of a cheerful smile. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

“No problem. I wanted to say goodbye here rather than back in Cherryfield.” She rubs her eye softly.

After a rather long leave, some twenty-something days, Chris was summoned again at the base in New Hampshire, and Emily drove him to Augusta, where the military had set up a bus, serving the enlisted from northern Maine. Having finished his pilot training the month before, he was to be sent into combat.

After a rather long moment of silence, Emily says: “God, I hate those things.”

“Goodbyes?” He asks, kindly.

She nods. “And geopolitics.”

“Geopolitics?” He asks, confused.

The young woman shrugs. “What I’m blaming over the fact you’re going to war.”

The blond chuckled softly. “I’m not going to war. I’m shuffling soldiers between Ramstein and Bagram. I won’t be seeing much action, it’s more like a very exclusive airline.”

The woman huffs. “Well, excuse me for worrying about you. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Chris let out a vociferous laughter. “Don’t be offended. I’m even a little flattered with your concern, but don’t waste energy on it. I’m going to be fine.”

The young redhead cannot help herself but to let out a sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He smiled confidently. “So much so, I’m willing to give you a keepsake, so that I’ll have to come back to get it.”

“Are we really going to do that? Because if you die anyway, I’m throwing whatever you give me in the river out of spite.” She nudges an accusing finger on his toned, stone-hard chest.

The blond smiles. “Yes, we are doing it, and please cooperate. You’re ruining the mood.”

He takes a step towards the young woman, places a calloused finger softly under her chin, and bobs her head upwards. With the shiny green on his eyes peering deep into hers, he closes the distance between their faces and gives her one of those toe-twirling kisses you see at the end of a romantic comedy movie.

However, it is fair to say, it was not the end of a movie. They usually end at a rekindling of a relationship, a meeting on a busy airport or at a ‘Happily Ever After’-kind of wedding.

This was nothing of that.

Much the opposite. This was a separation, and that tone peered from the edges of that kiss. Which, despite being very much pleasurable for both parties involved, lost a nickel of its glamour, its momentum.

Nevertheless, the two of them broke apart breathless. Chris seized the silent moment of his companion and says: “Emily, being with you this last month was one of the best times of my life. You make me feel like I could do anything, like I mattered more than anybody else in the world. I love that feeling, I love being with you, and I could very well see myself falling in love with you in the future.”

At a first moment, Emily’s lips were pressed together on a thin line of incredulity and appraisal. As he went on, it gradually dissolved into a smile, and finally, on a scandalous laughter.

It wasn’t the reaction Chris expected, and his face turned into a grimace. Then, the young woman pressed her hands on each side of his face and kissed him sloppily.

“Oh, God, that was so cheesy! I loved it!” She said and kissed him again. “I can see myself loving you in the future, too.”

He chuckled. “Good. But don’t laugh next time I tell you I like you. It’s not much of an ego boost.”

She smirked. “Duly noted, sweetheart.”

Afterwards, the joyful mood dissolved back into melancholy when Emily hugged the man’s broad frame as tight her puny arms could hold him.

“I’m going to miss you.” She whispered against his chest.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” He whispered back.

With that, they break apart and Chris walks over to his bus. As he boarded, he takes a last look behind and there she was, red hair and short stature, looking teary-eyed at his retreating frame.

She waves at him, which he responded with a small, rather depressive show of hands.

He will come back, of that much he was certain. What was still left to be undecided was how much it would pain him until he does.

The snow fell softly yet constantly over the small town of Cherryfield, Maine, forming a thick white carpet over the land and the houses.

It was Christmas night. Late enough for most children to be asleep, dreaming about the visit of Santa Claus, while parents spread the gifts under the tree and gorged on cookies and milk.

On a red brick house, near the school and the town hall, Emily sat alone, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. She gazed through the window, admiring the falling of snow from the sky.

She peered at her open laptop on her bed. She wanted to check and see if Chris had sent her something that night.

The two of them had been communicating via e-mail, mainly, ever since he was deployed overseas. But as of late, their exchange was spotty at best. The last message she received was about a week ago and it concerned her. She knew internet connection in Afghanistan was hardly worth mentioning, but the man had said that he would send word whenever he was in Germany.

That must not have been happening often as of late, must it?

She sighed one last time and reached for the computer to turn it off. There was nothing new in there, and it was depressing enough to spend Christmas alone, on the internet was sticking a little too far.

Her puny salary, even lower than what she made at the shipping company, was not enough for a plane ticket to Michigan. Some families in town had invited her to spend the night with them, but she did not want to impose on family time. She could pick on the leftovers in the morning.

As for Barbara Powell, her none-the-wiser mother-in-law, she went on a cross-country trip to San Francisco to see AJ and Kyle, last Emily heard.

She did not talk often with the older woman, funny enough. Mrs. Powell hardly ever came by the library, and Emily never seemed to find the woman at home when she swung by.

The redhead finished her tea and was about to cover herself for the night when she hears a loud banging noise coming from downstairs.

Cherryfield was as tranquil as one can expect from such a town, but Emily was from a rather rough neighbourhood in Grand Rapids and was wary of urban violence. A stint in Roxbury did not help, either. Not to mention, for a girl alone at night, any loud noise was enough to throw reason out the window.

She picked up a curtain rod she swore she would be putting up for weeks now and starts making her way downstairs, careful not to make any sound. Skipping the creaking last step, she sees him.

A large, dark figure was by the wide-open backdoor. He had a considerable amount of melting snow pooled on the floor by his boots and was fumbling with the door, having his back against Emily.

Thinking it to be her chance, she runs forward to hit him with the rod, all in the while shouting, “GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PERVERT!”

“What the hell!” He winces in pain, trying to protect the injured ear with one hand while turning on the lights using the other.

Emily drops the rod. “Oh my God, Chris! What are you doing?!”

“Trying to make a romantic surprise, that’s what!” He complains, between groans of pain. “Why did you hit me with a stick?”

“I thought you were a burglar or something!” She shouts back, still high on the adrenaline.

“What kind of person tries to rob a library, Emily?!”

“I don’t know! I panicked, I’m sorry!” She walks over him and checks his wound by moving his hand away from his ear. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I should have known better. Looking back, it does sound pretty stupid to break into a single girl’s apartment.”

She smiled, in spite of the situation. “But I’m not single.”

“You’re not?” The blond’s voice raises a pitch.

“Nope.” The girl shook her head emphatically. “I have a very handsome, very kind boyfriend who’s kinda slow sometimes, but I’m very glad to see him, nonetheless.”

Chris grinned, wide enough for one to wonder if his face was going to crack. “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s very happy to see you, too.”

“Good.” Emily kissed his cheek. “Now let’s get you to bed, you feel too cold.”

He swept her off her feet. “Lead the way.”

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @choicesfannatalie; @emerald-bijou; @kennaxval; @liam-rhys; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @radiantrosemary; @topsyturvy-dream

[stopforamoment]

Part Ten: Wisconsin Girl (Series 14, Part 10 of 15)

Series Fourteen: Halloween Hijinks (15 Parts)

Part Ten: Wisconsin Girl (Series 14, Part 10 of 15)

Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 2,288 (sorry--this got really long!) Rating: M for Language Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. The character Merida is from Disney’s Pixar Studios. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3​ for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova​ @silviasutton1989 @bobasheebaby for still being a part of the journey!

Series Summary: It’s Halloween! Bastien and Rinda are settling into their relationship, and Queen Riley enlists Rinda’s help to plan a Halloween Festival at her duchy.

Chapter Summary: Neville and Duchess Olivia challenge Rinda to demonstrate her archery skills.

Part Ten: Wisconsin Girl (Series 14, Part 10 of 15)

Bastien was still training his replacement, and Rinda understood that Bastien wanted to work for part of the night until he felt comfortable with the evening’s security. She was helping during the first part of the festival, and the boys were old enough to be off on their own. They’d all meet up when Bastien was ready. Later in the evening Bastien and Rinda were holding hands, walking around with the boys and enjoying the festival. Rinda stopped wearing her wedding ring at work awhile ago, and most families knew through the rumor mill that she and Bastien were dating. There were children and families who stopped to say “hi” to Bastien and Rinda, and some offered their congratulations or other comments on how happy they were for the two of them. Really, they were the perfect couple. Rinda was blushing and becoming flustered, but Bastien chuckled and kissed her hand. “What did you tell me once, Tria? Sometimes it sucks to be loved.” . . . . .

Bastien felt Rinda’s hand tighten in his. “Fuck. It’s Neville and he made eye contact. And now he’s walking this way.” Bastien gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want me to kick his ass for you?” he deadpanned as he started to roll up his sleeves. Rinda threw back her head and laughed. His delivery was perfect—he looked so serious. But now Neville was in front of them, smiling at Rinda. “Mrs. Parks. I see you’re trying to be a princess for the night.” Rinda gave him an even stare. “Queen Riley asked that teachers and staff dress as Disney princes and princesses. I think Queen Kenna or Queen Val would have suited me much better.” Duchess Olivia Nevrakis walked over when she saw Neville approaching, smirking at Rinda’s comment that she’d rather be queen. “Well, both of them were warrior queens Mrs. Parks. You don’t have a sword, but you do have a bow and quiver of arrows. Princess Merida was an archer, but how are your archery skills, Mrs. Parks? That’s something every noble has practiced and mastered, right Neville?” Olivia was dressed as Zenobia, and Rinda sighed with jealousy that Olivia could be such a strong historical character for Halloween. Well, at least Merida didn’t take anyone’s shit—just like Rinda wasn’t going to. “The arrows aren’t real, Duchess Olivia. Not even blunts. It was a safety concern. But if there’s an archery range nearby, you can judge for yourself.” Olivia raised her brow. “There’s one just a short distance from here. Perhaps Queen Riley can provide you and Lord Neville with bows and . . . real arrows.” Neville smirked. “Duchess, I would enjoy that . . . very much.” Olivia deliberately looked Rinda over before she turned and sauntered off to find Riley. Bastien looked at Rinda with concern and bent over to whisper in her ear. “Tria . . . let me talk to Riley. Olivia hates Neville, but she has no right to bring you into it like this.” Before Rinda had a chance to respond, Henry was tugging on his mom’s arm. “Mom, Duchess Olivia is waving to us. We should go over there.” Rinda smiled and tousled his hair before turning to Neville. “Lord Neville, shall we?” . . . . . The target was 20 yards away, and Neville went first. He quickly notched the arrow, drew back the bow, and shot. The arrow landed just left of the bullseye. “Nicely done, Lord Neville!” Even though Rinda was praising him for the shot, she internally shook her head at how quickly he went. She had been taught differently—to take your time and focus on form—and she hoped she didn’t have to move that quickly. She knew she wouldn’t do very well if she did.

Henry wanted to be a part of the competition and he was supposed to go next, but he scrunched his nose. “So, I just have stand still and hit the paper target? Nothing else, right?” Rinda nodded. “Yup. According to Lord Neville that’s how the nobles do it.” Henry shrugged. He pulled back the bow and slowly started counting to 30, careful to maintain his form. Neville rolled his eyes. “Are you going to shoot?” Rinda glared at Neville. “Lord Neville, in Wisconsin we take bow hunting very seriously. Please be patient while he works on his arm strength and form as we get started. I thought this was supposed to be a fun way for you to show us how the nobility hone their archery skills?” Henry was ignoring them the entire time, focused on his target. He released the bow and it easily hit the center of the target. Bastien was beaming with pride. “Henry, great job!” Rinda was also bursting with pride, but she tried not to show it. “You did a great job with your form, Henry. I’m proud of you.” And you beat Neville’s ass. Fuck yeah, that’s my son! Henry gave both of them a smile and a thumb’s up. Now it was Rinda’s turn, and she took the bow in her left hand and drew back with her right. She held her form for 30 seconds, calmly focusing on her target. Bastien could see that she closed her left eye and focused on the target but then she opened both eyes, trying to maintain her aim. She closed her left eye one more time and made a slight adjustment before she released the arrow. It pierced the target next to Henry’s arrow. Bastien glanced at Rinda, who was ignoring him, and then Olivia, who was obviously hiding a smirk. Olivia calmly turned to Neville. “Why don’t we up the stakes. Let’s say 30 yards?” When the target was ready, Henry went first. He looked at the target for a few seconds, getting used to how small the bullseye looked in comparison. Rinda knelt down by him. “Just focus on your form and counting. It’s the same target, but just a little further away. Duchess Olivia wants to challenge us, and that’s a good thing. We’re just having fun, right?” Henry smiled and nodded. He drew back the bow and silently counted, just like his grandpa and dad taught him to do when they practiced. It was important to get your muscles used to holding back the bow for so long, because you never knew how long you might have to do that when you were actually hunting, waiting for the deer to get close enough. He released the arrow and it whistled through the air, landing just above the bullseye. Bastien grinned and walked over to tousle his hair. “Nicely done. How do you usually practice back home?” Henry smiled, obviously loving Bastien’s praise. “We usually do a 3-D deer, and you can tell if you have a lung or heart shot. We also practice from our tree stands, blind spots, kneeling down. Stuff like that. Sometimes we play follow the leader with my uncles and mom’s cousins. That’s when the person in charge tells you what to shoot at, and you have to use the same pose as the leader. But we use blunts because we start practicing in summer, before the season starts.” Henry puffed out his chest with pride. “I’ve already hit a pine cone at 20 yards. And we have a friend who actually bow fishes. She’s really hard core and awesome.” Olivia arched a brow and knelt down by Henry. “I can tell you have the heart of a Nevrakis. You are always welcome at Lythikos to practice. I’d also like you and your mom to join us for a hunt. But do you know how to field dress a large animal?” Henry scrunched his nose. “Do you mean ‘field gutting’?” Olivia nodded, and Henry smiled. “Yes, of course! In our family you aren’t allowed to go hunting unless you can do that. And we always save the deer hearts because our schools use them for science classes—dissecting them. We butcher and package the meat, and I help with that too. And I know a lot of ways to cook venison.” Olivia nodded with approval. “Then we will do all of that. I can even teach you to shoot a flaming arrow. How does that sound?” Henry grinned. “Pretty bad ass. That would be awesome.” Rinda looked at her son with pride, knowing Duchess Olivia only gave her praise to the people who truly earned it. Neville went next and again he quickly aimed, this time his arrow landing below the entire target. Henry gave Lord Neville an encouraging smile. “You did a really good job, Lord Neville. The first time I tried shooting from so far away my arrow didn’t even go far enough. Maybe instead of using recurve bows we could do compound bows? I think those are a lot easier to aim. Or maybe there’s another bow with more tension? That helps me with longer distances.” Bastien and Rinda locked eyes and smiled at how funny it was that Henry was politely trying to help Neville. When it was Rinda’s turn she took a deep breath and pulled back, counting for sixty seconds. This time she kept her left eye closed the entire time, and she hit the bull’s eye again, secretly breathing a sigh of relief when she realized the arrow hit its mark. Rinda looked over to Olivia, who discreetly nodded and then commanded the targets to be moved. “40 yards.” Rinda looked over at Henry. “Do you want to try it again, just to see how it goes?” Henry nodded. He notched his arrow, focused on his form, and released the arrow. It was several inches to the upper right of the bulls eye, but it did land within the target. Rinda gave him a high five. “That’s really good, Bug. That’s twice the distance of the first target and the arrow got all the way there.” Bastien hugged Henry and whispered that he would take them to Lythikos for more practice. He didn’t realize how good Henry was at archery. Neville went next, but his form was becoming even sloppier. The arrow didn’t even fly far enough to reach the target, and he threw down the bow in frustration. Olivia arched her brow. “Lord Neville, would you prefer a different bow?” Neville snorted with disgust, but Rinda looked over to Olivia. “Actually, may I use a different one?” Olivia nodded and motioned for Rinda to pick one. A left-handed one. And now Rinda held the bow in her right hand and drew back with her left, holding the pose for 30 seconds. And this time she was able to keep both eyes open, focused on the target. When she released the arrow it landed in the bullseye, and Bastien whistled under his breath. Rinda turned to Olivia with a playful grin. “I may not be from Lythikos, but Wisconsin girls can hold their own.” Olivia smiled. “I never doubted you.”   Bastien was looking in shock at the two ladies, and Rinda explained. “I actually borrowed the bow and arrows from Duchess Olivia. She refused to loan me any Nevrakis weapons until I proved myself. When she realized I knew the difference between a recurve and compound bow I began telling her about my hunting experiences growing up, and somehow we got to talking about Neville, and then we sort of had this planned in case he started being an ass to me. I was practicing a few days ago, so I could figure out the sights with this right-handed bow. But the Duchess promised that she’d also have a left-handed bow for me today.” Rinda grinned at Olivia. “Thanks for that, by the way. I wouldn’t have made the 40-yard target if I did it right-handed.” Bastien was just shaking his head. His Tria was a force to be reckoned with. Olivia smiled at two of them and then she began explaining to Henry how the children in Lythikos practiced their hunting skills. And when Rinda turned to Bastien he was looking at her with pride. “Tria, you’re ambidextrous?” Rinda blushed. “Only with shooting a bow and shotgun. My dad is left-handed, and he’s the one who taught me. I’m also left-eye dominant, so it made sense for me to start left-handed. But Jameson is the one who taught me to fire a handgun, so that I do right-handed. But I’m not that great because I always want to close my left eye to help me aim. That’s a big reason I’m so afraid of amateurs with guns. I’m nowhere close to having the control necessary even for basic concealed carry. If I were armed, I’d do more harm than good in an active shooter scenario.” “Would you like me to practice with you? I can help you with cross-dominant shooting.” Rinda’s face lit up. “I’d love that--thank you! But just so you know, I haven’t fired a handgun since Jameson died. I’ve done a couple active shooter scenarios with props, but not the real thing. So it’s perfect that you’d be the one to help me because you’re so patient with everything. I think I need to start by just holding an unloaded gun for awhile, to be honest.” Bastien gave Rinda a tender smile as he cupped her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “You’ll be fine. And yes, I promise to be patient and help you through it.” Rinda briefly closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, before she slowly opened them again. Bastien was grinning at her. “You’re a spitfire, Tria. And I love you for it.” Then he leaned down to kiss her.

[missbrightsky]

Chasing Tails

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6: Feyre

I rubbed my temples, hoping to dispel the headache that was forming there. Another afternoon, another excruciatingly long lunch with a new family.

Georgiana Russel and her brother, James, had been perfectly polite, but so terribly shallow. It was painful to try and keep up the conversation with them. They had asked questions about my contest, but my perfunctory answers had them soon falling silent, forcing me to fill the silence. I had asked about the shops in town so many times, I suspected that I could draw the map of them from memory.

At least tonight I could enjoy a quiet dinner at my estate, maybe even join the servants in the kitchen instead of being alone in the dining room. It was nice when I had guests, but the room was too empty with just me in it. The servants were all hand-picked by me, loyal and pleasant to talk to, making dinners enjoyable with them.

It was another gorgeous summer day, too nice for me to not be out in it. I had taken my carriage to lunch at the Russel’s but sent it home, stating that I could walk afterwards.

The Russel’s lived on the far end of town, opposite the road that leads to my estate. By walking, I could learn the town on foot, even with my now too familiar knowledge with all the establishments that resided here.

Velaris was a pretty, country town, rich with history and beauty. Even the lower-class homes had an air of cared for dignity, brightly whitewashed and in good repair, unlike the city slums I had seen.

I enjoyed the fresh air and warm sun, the smell of fresh bread wafting from homes and bakeries. The people I passed on the way gave polite nods but started up gossip as soon as my back was turned. Everyone in town now knew who I was, which wouldn’t have been a bad thing if they hadn’t been so vocal about their opinions of me coming to town.

Wasn’t she seen coming out of Mr. Whittle’s dress shop? You know he specializes in wedding dresses.

_My friend said that his friend knew her in the city, and that’s she’s some kind of witch. _

_She’s so nice though. _

I heard she already accepted a proposal of marriage from Tamlin O’Toole, and the two of them are laughing about everyone chasing after the cat.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tamlin strutted down the street towards her, as if summoned by the gossip. His eyes lit upon my face, an attempt at a charming smile twisting his lips into something nasty.

“Miss Archeron, how fortunate to run into you,” he said, bowing slightly at the waist. He took my gloved hand in his, his lips lingering at my knuckles as our eyes met.

“Mr. O’Toole,” was all I said in greeting, gently pulling my hand back to my side.

“What brings you to town on this fine day?”

“I just finished lunch at the Russel’s.”

His nose crinkled slightly in distaste. “Yes, the Russel’s. Miss Georgiana is nice enough,” he said with a slight leer, “but her brother leaves one wanting,” an obvious stab.

My temper flared at his blatant criticism. “I found them to be perfectly lovely people,” unlike those in front of me. A tiny, partial white lie but I didn’t like how easily he insulted people for his own perceived gain.

“Ah, of course. Well,” shaking off my comment, “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight?”

“No, I’m sorry, I have other plans,” I lied, ready to leave his presence.

“Then how about another night this week?” he pressed.

“I have other engagements,” I said.

“Then how about afternoon tea right now? I know a lovely place near the town square.”

He is not going to give up until I say yes. “Why not, I have some time before dinner,” I agreed, lightly taking the arm he offered.

We chatted of simple, inane things on the way to the tea shop. Most of it was spent of me delicately maneuvering around his barbed comments of other families and members of the society.

The tea shop was quite nice, if not a bit stuffy. Somewhere I would not have chosen on my own. It was a place to be seen, not to enjoy. We sat on the front patio, shaded by pastel umbrellas.

Tamlin did all the ordering, assuring me that he knew what was best at the place. The wait staff clearly recognized him, obvious in their polite smiles and too stiff backs. My eyes narrowed slightly, watching the interaction. He gave direct orders to what we (he) wanted and did not thank the waitress, his eyes lingering a bit too long on her retreating form.

Their tea and pastries soon appeared in front of them. Green tea and raspberry scones, her least favorites.

Thirty minutes, endure this for thirty minutes and then escape.

It was all I could do to politely take small sips of the bitter tea and tiny bites of the scones. At least I could use the excuse that I had already eaten.

Tamlin dominated the conversation, barely pausing for my opinion on anything, because “I was new to town and couldn’t possibly understand the long-standing politics.”

“The Night family has been causing problems for generations,” Tamlin scowled, finally catching my full attention.

“Oh?” I straightened slightly. Tamlin saw the shift in my demeanor, interpreting it as interest in his black words.

“Yes, they always think they’re too good for everyone else,” he continued, “they don’t even have any noble blood in them, unlike my family.”

“Yes, you never fail to bring it up,” a new voice cut in, “Was it your great or great-great-grandfather who was a baron, Mr. O’Toole, before your family fell from grace?”

Tamlin flushed an ugly shade of red, glaring up at the person who had appeared at my shoulder. I twisted to meet their gaze, already knowing who it was.

“Mr. Night, we were just talking about you,” I greeted smoothly, adding a bit of humor to my voice.

“Oh?” he asked, returned my mischievous tone.

“All good things, of course,” I added, continuing our private joke while Tamlin continued to turn different colors. “What brings you to town?”

“I was checking in on my employees, making sure the store is running smoothly.”

“And is it?” not caring that I was excluding Tamlin from the conversation while he floundered to cut in.

“Yes, even with you causing quite a stir in my inventory,” he chuckled.

“Then I wholeheartedly apologize,” I said, laying a hand over my heart. We held each other’s eyes, taking in the other’s amusement.

“Miss Archeron—,” Tamlin tried to cut in.

“Miss Archeron, I also carry a message from Morrigan, may I walk you out of town and deliver it?” he asked. “I’m sure Mr. O’Toole doesn’t mind as it is of the most urgent matter,” Rhys said, cutting a glare to my unsavory tea partner.

“I—no, I don’t,” he gritted through his teeth, “I hope all is well.”

Rhys offered his arm to me and I let him lead me away.

As an afterthought, I half-turned around to call out, “Thank you for the tea, Mr. O’Toole, have a pleasant rest of your day.”

We continued on, weaving through the square until we were well out of earshot.

“I figured I would return the favor from the ball; it did not look like you were enjoying yourself with Mr. O’Toole.”

“You would be quite right, Mr. Night, and for that, I must thank you. So there is no matter pertaining to Miss Night?”

“Other than the usual bickering with Cassian and wishing to have you over again,” he said, glancing out of the corner of his eye for my reaction.

“We shall have to remedy that; I would like to invite you and your family to dine with me tomorrow for dinner. I have a blissful evening off.”

“Please don’t allow us to disrupt your peace, I’m sure you need some time to recover from your introduction to society,” he scrambled to say, obviously not sure if I was being polite or truly enjoyed their company.

It being the latter, I reassured him that it would be most refreshing to have company that didn’t form pounding headaches for me.

He laughed at that, a deep, rich sound. “Give Mor and Cassian enough time in your presence and your opinion will change.”

I joined in on his laugh, the sounds mixing pleasantly in the afternoon air. We had reached the edge of town at this point and its noise faded behind us. Birdsong filled the space around up, wind rustled the leaves above us.

We both paused, knowing that he would need to go left to return to his house while I continued forward. My reluctancy to leave him was reflected in his face, us not wanting the walk to end.

The sun filtered down, highlighting the silver flecks in his eyes. Like stars trapped from the heavens, I mused. My fingers itched to put them onto paper, to invite him to my home, and have him sit for hours just so I could render them perfectly. And enjoy his easy company. I flushed slightly, hoping that he couldn’t read my thoughts with his intense gaze.

Rhys gently grasped my hand, looking for any indication that his attention may be unwanted. He broke our gaze to study my lace-covered palm as if it was the pinnacle of his world.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips on my wrist, his eyes flicking up to meet mine again.

“I will see you at dinner tomorrow, Miss Archeron,” he nearly purred. I barely suppressed a shiver down my spine at his velvet voice.

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Night,” I breathed, slipping my hand from his before anyone saw the elicit exchange. I turned away and carried on down the road, his gaze burning into my back, creating an unprecedented warmth in my chest.

Next Chapter

[wwwnewunificationchurchcom]

(via The Sufic Foundation for Global Unification: the Legend of the Druse and the Rise of Korea: the 7 Levels of the Design of Providence | Measure 144 ~ Salvation Rose #9)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

===========================================

———- Forwarded message ———-

From: christopher diamant <st.christopherthelast@yahoo.com> Date: Thu, Feb 9, 2012 at 7:37 PM

Subject: New Contact: Comments or Suggestions on familyfed.org

To: info@familyfed.orgFeb 21, 2012 

Dear Tossa Cromwell; 

I  know that you and the members of the Unification Church do not want to hear anything that challenges their beliefs or views about a man they say is ‘God’ and the ‘Messiah’; even as he prepares to die and be interred in a huge tomb; from which there shall be no resurrection.  

In my book “A City Not Forsaken: My Generation and the Revelation of Salvation” I point out Three Basic Great Errors Rev. Moon made in the book “Divine Principle”; and also where he “stumbled” and then at the end when he “fainted”. 

Please read this and then; with your grasp of the Principle; answer me: as if you indeed stood in the Presence of the Lamb and the 12 Apostles; the Judge and the Jury, if you will. 

In truth you already are standing in judgment: because I am not what I appear to be; and you can believe that or not; but I suggest you do, as later you won’t be able to say you never heard of me: you have; and I know whereof I speak. 

Here are some excerpts. 

Thus the First Stumbling Rev. Moon made in 1960 is that he did not Marry a Black American Woman who symbolizes the Soul of America in the Position of Sheba as the queen of the South; thus leaving her as the Widow of Israel, Rev. Moon could have done what Elijah once appeared to do for the previous Widow of Israel in Zarepta.       

To substantially symbolize what mixing the soil of Korea with that of our Nation really could really been, having laid “the Foundation of Salvation” here in America could of happened if only Re. Moon had “marched” or “walked” with our “spiritual king” of non-violence; Dr Martin Luther King; but Moon was too busy with J.Edgar Hoover branding Dr. King as “pro-Communist”, another accusation of the Devil Rev. Moon propagated due to his jealousy of the Third Israel as the Black Christian Race in the West and especially it’s black Moses.  

Because Rev. Moon never “arrived” as our “Joshua” is the reason why so many of the children of all the tribes of Israel  died; both Rev. Moon’s own family members and those of My Generation.          

The First Great Mistake in the book “Divine Principle” is that Rev. Moon said that my Father Jesus did not arise in the flesh; and bone; as of the Resurrection; as even Doubting Thomas had to admit; thus Rev. Moon lost his “wedding garment” as having “sold” it to buy the double-edged sword his book “”Divine Principle” really became; but it could have been a Scepter of Resurrection had he said he was Elijah !!!! 

But Rev. Moon did not even rise to the standard of the least of the Apostle’s that Thomas really was: no faith; no progress on the Path of the Just.              

The Second Great Mistake Rev. Moon made in turning his book “Divine Principle” into a discarnate object of “good and evil” was in saying that the Holy Spirit is a “female spirit“; when the Seal ( had he reached it )  would have shown him that the Holy Spirit of God is Jehovah Himself; and this cannot be known until one has the Seal as I was given; to Seal the 144,000 that Rev. Moon Married when he was to Seal them instead; which would have been the Baptism of Fire where the Hate seen by the Arabs and the Jews in 1967 at the 144 hours of War and Hatred became seen opposed the the Summer of Love and Peace; yea! 

Love as Haight Street became our Jordan: he missed this at the Visitation of God, to begin to raise the 144,000 Virgins from My Generation: the Children of the Resurrection who do not marry nor are they to be given in marriage; which Rev. Moon ignored. 

Yet these virgins are the Clouds themselves who first rise: dead in Christ, faithful into Death.              

It is We who are the Clouds; the Virgins unto God and the Lamb; and I speak for them as the least: for we stand for the Bride my City really is: a City Not Forsaken it shall be called.         

The Third Great Mistake Rev. Moon made was in then “Marrying” the Lamb to the Holy Spirit as his “Bride”; being as how the Holy Spirit is that of Jehovah Himself, as all of they called to the Table of Justice know. 

Here Rev. Moon allowed Love and Truth as the 2 Witnesses to be invaded by Satan as they symbolized the Bride and the Bridegroom; the Bride being she who was to abide in Love and thus God to “prepare herself” for the Bridegroom; what happened instead is that SODOM arose by Rev. Moon marrying 2 “male entities” of the Son and the Shepherd; which is who the Holy Spirit really is. 

This was a misidentification that allowed “Isis”  who is “Mystery” as the “queen” of Egypt to invade his life and his book:  a complete disaster. The men of Sodom are now trying to take America: state by state. 

They already invaded the Catholic Church due to Moon’s blunder, where men as “false father’s” rape  their own spiritual “sons” as in the ‘marrying’ of ‘Jesus the Son’ to his ‘Father the Holy Spirit who is Jehovah’ actually produced: the Abomination of Desolation.

And where Rev. Moon Fainted completely is where he decided that he would consciously speak the Accusation that John the Baptist dared not even admit to himself: but because he secretly feared it was true Satan invaded him and he died: the Accusation that his father Zacharias had committed an act of Adultery with Mary by which Jesus was conceived: and this is what “killed” the Unification Church: the deadly Error of John that was the “beam” in his “eye”; the “delusion” of his “mind”; and THIS ALONE is the “deadly wound” of our own “John the Baptist”; Reverend Sun Myung Moon. 

In closing I can only hope you will want to respond to what I have written here point by point with a “principled” point of view and not childish recriminations or attempts to simply brush me off. 

Does Rev. Moon or you or anyone on the earth really think they can stop what is written in the Revelation of Jesus Christ to not be revealed as what it truly is: The Book of Life of the Lamb. ??? 

That is what Rev. Moon was SUPPOSED to have done. But he declared the Revelation to be a “fairytale; whose imagery and language were to awaken men of a much lower standard and understanding” Really?  

The angel standing at my shoulder has a far different point of view; and the billions Rev. Moon has are going to keep him from entering the Kingdom; that I can promise you: and him. 

Peace; and Love; from the God of Love and Peace in whose Name the Real Messiah comes: this time. 

Salvation Rose

The Bride; the Lamb’s Wife 

[cookieswriting]

I’m Willing to Wait for It (SSC One-Shot)

“Play the game, nephew.  And cheer up! Remember: you’re in love.”

With a heavy sigh, Benvolio settled himself at the table he so often claimed with his brothers.  He could not stop the day’s events from replaying in his mind, and he’d desperately needed to escape the suffocating air of his uncle’s house.  Being used as target practice was not particularly unusual; he’d learned agility the hard way several times over the years...but he’d crossed a line with his bitter comment about Romeo and Juliet, and had been certain for a moment that Damiano would finally put him out of his misery.  One thing was certain: had the blacksmith not been present, his uncle would have absolutely made sure Benvolio answered for daring to speak against his Lord...especially about such a sensitive topic.

“Sullen is not a look that befits you, brother.”

Grief washed over Benvolio, and it took a moment for him to gather the strength to look up into the faces he’d been missing so.  Romeo sat beside him, Mercutio across from him...both appeared solid enough that Benvolio ached to reach out and touch them, though he knew they were but spectres.  He opened his mouth to speak, but could not form words around the tightness of his throat.

“He grieves the loss of his freedom to a Capulet,” Mercutio teased.  “After bemoaning your wedding to Juliet, he has been forced into one of his own. A bit ironic, is it not?”

In spite of himself, Benvolio could not help a grin.  For a fleeting moment, he could imagine his world had been righted...that his cousin and best friend were actually with him, rather than simply shades...that he hadn’t been abandoned by the only two people left to care about him.  “At least I have some worth to my uncle once more,” Benvolio replied wryly.

Romeo was suddenly somber and reached out as if he too had forgotten that he could no longer touch his cousin. Both Montagues watched as his hand fell back to his side. “You will be free from his House soon enough, cousin.  Be strong...have faith.  You are not so alone as you believe.”  Benvolio huffed a disbelieving, bitter laugh, and looked up to his cousin’s ghostly face.  The sincerity he read in those painfully familiar eyes left him unsettled, but still he shook his head.

“We must go, Ben.  But we are with you, brother...always,” Mercutio murmured.  Before his eyes they both faded, leaving Benvolio with an ache in his chest deeper than before they’d visited.  He dropped his head, and his eyes were drawn to the etching of their names from many moons ago.  Trembling fingers reached out to trace over Mercutio’s name, then Romeo’s.  He drew his dagger to deepen the carvings, but as he worked on his own name he was overwhelmed with self-loathing.  

How dare he think himself worthy to be considered alongside his cousin and best friend, who showed their honor and compassion even in death?  What had he to show for his own worth without them?  With a grimace, Benvolio scratched his name out until it was unrecognizable.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”  Drunken laughter left Benvolio’s skin crawling, and he looked up to see the worthless cad Truchio waving his goblet around dramatically.  “So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, I’ll take the Capulet whore for free!” The memory of how close he’d come to doing just that stoked flames of anger in Benvolio’s chest, and he took a deep breath to try to calm himself before he did something rash.

“I want no more trouble from you, Truchio.  And you should want no more from me.”  

Truchio laughed in arrogant amusement, and made his way towards Benvolio.  “Who knew Lord Montague’s nephew had such a sweet tongue,” he taunted.  “Are you going to use it on your very own Capulet harlot, or was it only the traitor Romeo who got to taste the forbidden Capulet fruit?”

Where the insult to his betrothed had ignited his rage, the fact that Truchio dared sully the name of his deceased cousin brought forth wrath so consuming that Benvolio saw red; when asked later to describe what happened from there, the Montague would remember the rest of the evening as a blur.

Following the chaos of the betrothal ceremony, Benvolio found himself restless and unsettled.  He could not stop thinking over Truchio’s words, his betrayal.  He could not stop thinking over his interaction with Rosaline before they parted ways...how he’d actually enjoyed her company.  Nothing seemed to make sense in his life anymore, and he felt painfully lost.

“Benvolio…”

The Montague halted, pain twisting in his chest.  “Must you torture me so?”

The spectre of Romeo stood before him, eyes sorrowful.  “Forgive me, cousin.  I wish not to cause you pain...I-”

“Not cause me pain?  From the day you abandoned me to this hell alone, I have had to fight to survive each day.  You left the city to crumble...and you left me to bear the weight as it falls!  Your father already cursed my existence, but now?  Not even the presence of his blacksmith kept him from using me as target practice!  I have no one to turn to! I never wanted any of this...you and your wife could have saved us all from so much loss and bloodshed...but you did not heed my words, you acted rashly, and you left me behind with no one left alive who loves me.”

By the time he finished, Benvolio’s chest was heaving, and shock and guilt quickly replaced his anger.  He stumbled backwards until he was pressed against a wall.  He’d never lashed out at his cousin before...he’d also not allowed himself to dwell on the anger he’d felt towards Romeo for choosing to leave him.  No matter how much he told himself that his cousin’s choice had been about so much more than Benvolio, the sting of betrayal still lingered.

“I pray that one day you will be able to forgive me.  I...I had been blinded by my grief, and could not bring myself to consider the pain it would bring to my loved ones...to you in particular.”  He stood before Benvolio, drawing his best friend’s tear-filled eyes.  “I am deeply sorry, Benvolio.  You were a true friend always, to my last day.  But hear me, cousin: you are still loved.”

Benvolio scoffed.  “By whom, Romeo?  The only family I have left cannot stand the sight of me, and likely would have killed me by now were I not his only remaining heir.  Even my betrothed has shown more emotion for the man who attacked her and killed dozens of innocent people than she would ever show for me.”  Exhausted, the young lord slid down to sitting and buried his head in his hands.  “Why am I the one still alive, when anyone that ever loved me has died?  What was I the one to survive, the expendable one?”

“You have never been expendable,” Romeo hissed vehemently.  “Perhaps bloodlines and titles are all that matter to my father, but that is not the reason that you are the one still breathing.  Your purpose is one that you cannot yet see, dear cousin...but you will.  And when you do, you will understand that you have never truly been alone.”  

Benvolio searched his cousin’s face, and only became more confused when Romeo gave him a knowing smile.  “What do you mean by that?”

“You will understand soon enough.  Remain strong against my father and against those wishing to destroy Verona.  Goodbye, Ben.”

Before Benvolio could respond, the shade vanished, and he could only shake his head in disbelief.  If his cousin’s ghost had spoken truth, there was much he did not yet understand.  Lord, if there truly is some greater purpose for my life, I ask your will be done.  I will press on to honor the memories of Romeo and Mercutio, and continue to defend this great city to my last breath.  If there is a reason I’m still alive, when everyone who loves me has died...I’m willing to wait for it.  He gave himself a moment to regain his wits before pushing to his feet and turning home.  He needed rest, after all, if he were to keep up with the likes of Rosaline Capulet in their search for the true mastermind behind the day’s tragedy.

[lotrspnfangirl]

Gishwhes 2017 - CultofCaffeine

This years Gish was just as much fun as previous years! I think I had the most fun this year being able to gish with my best friends (Alex and @cassondrawinchester​) as well as a lot of the girls I did it last year with! We had an excellent team, and I made a few new friends, and we got up to some crazy stuff.

I think the highlight this year was getting to scare the crap out of my dad and despite some questionable 'cult like' behavior, we weren't arrested. So, win on that one! And meeting @pherryt​ at the Gish get together!!! 

Now, the reason you're all actually here... Here is our team's submissions!

#2  There was a hobby or talent that you used to do when you were younger that you stopped doing for whatever reason. Do it again. Now.

#4  As anyone who reads “Cosmopolitan” magazine knows, bohemian eco-chic weddings are all the rage. Let’s see a wedding dress made from recycled office paper.

#6 Re-enact the experience of your birth, using (only) shadow puppets.

#8  The year is 2021. Of all the unique and amazing human specimens on Earth, it was hard for the aliens to choose which ones to collect, but your team stood out as being excessively weird & worth “analysis". Your entire team was abducted and put into an alien specimen box. In grid form, show each member of your team along with a card explaining where they got you (city, country) and a word stating what special characteristic makes you unique.

#9 I can assure you, THAT has never been frozen in jello before! How did you manage to do that?!

#10  Pizza was invented in Italy in 997 AD to honor the Queen Consort, Queen Margherita. The next significant event in Italian history was the start of the Renaissance Period in the 14th century, which spawned a revival in art, architecture, science and learning. Let’s celebrate these two seminal moments in Italian history. Bake a Pizza decorated as a Renaissance painting that would make the Old Masters proud.

#12  Many of us have lost pets in our lifetime. As a memorial to a loved pet that is now frolicking in the clouds chasing or sniffing whatever it was that pet liked to chase/sniff, write a poem or haiku about that loved one, or create a small shrine in nature comprised of items the pet loved and a photo of him or her.

#13 (Side by side) A child drawing of their idea of happiness. Then, make it happen.

Stormy misses her grandma who lives in Kentucky and what would make her happiest is if she was able to come to visit her!

#14 Over the years gishwhes has always been a supporter of first responders (firemen, paramedics, ER medics, nurses, police, etc.). Let’s give them one last treatment of a proper gishwhes “THANK YOU!” Find your nearest and dearest first responders and bring them The Most Epic Cookies or Pastries the World Has Ever Seen (MECOPWHES).

#15 Groucho Marx a piece of fruit. No, we don’t know what this means either, but we’re excited to see what you come up with.

#17 Spicy Art! Using the spices you have in your spice cupboard, make a picture of your favorite (1) comic book cover, or (2) cartoon character. Either submit it alone, or as a side-by-side image comparison.

#19 (Side-by-side image) A photo of your pet and a photo of the portrait of your pet that you have made from their own food and treats.

#20 This family’s toys get into sweet, crazy escapades at night while the kids are sleeping. Your family’s toys make that family’s toys look like do-gooders. Let’s see what happened with your family’s toys while you slept last night.

#22 We finally have a confirmed sighting of a mythical beast from urban legends (Bigfoot, Nessie, Yeti, etc.) suffering the effects of climate change.

#23 This morning, my daughter, Maison reported having seen a “moon fairy” while I was sleeping last night. As you know, the rarely-seen moon fairies are mischievous, nocturnal creatures who participate in synchronized, representational flight. Using a long exposure and flashlights (or other movable light sources) photograph these elusive beasts.

#24 She wore a raspberry beret… Wear a beret made out of raspberries as you shop in a second-hand store.

#26 (Create an old-school STOP MOTION film - up to 1 minute.) A Romeo and Juliet story... Two young virile socks (unmatched) meeting, falling in love, being kept apart and finally ending tragically.

#29 It is either winter or summer where you are. (If it is not, please contact our support so we can send NASA to find you.) There’s something you love to do outdoors in the winter or summer where you live. Do the activity you love to do in the opposite season that you are in.

#30 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! NEW LEASH ON LIFE USA adopts otherwise unadoptable dogs and sends them through a unique training program. Shelter pets rarely get any attention and millions are put down each year. Many times this can be avoided if people on the Interwebs (who would like and could responsibly own a pet) were to see how cute, available, lonely and cuddly they are. Let’s save a pet or two (or thousands). Grab a friend or two and visit a shelter. Spend some time with one or more of the pets there. Post a selfie of your favorite pet looking for a “forever home” on Twitter (tagging @NewLeashUSA) or Instagram (tagging @NewLeashOnLifeUSA), using hashtag #adoptmeplease, and the social media handle or name of the shelter (so people can contact them). Submit the image you take on our site, but provide the link to your social media post link in the comment field of the submit page.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BXtiZY5ADuC/

#34 As this is likely the last year of gishwhes we should probably do something to memorialize it. A lot of folks have been saying, “Save gishwhes!” But we say, “Shave “gishwhes”... into the back of your head.” Try to match the amazing logo that Olivia Desianti formed way back when - which we still use today. Bonus points if you include the current or a former gishwhes hybrid mascot in your masterpiece. The same design shaved into a thick matt of back or chest hair would be an acceptable substitute.  A little red lipstick makes this pop!

#35 Hand a bouquet of flowers (or a single flower) to a person leaving a house of worship that is not your religion. For example, if you are a Christian, you could hand a bouquet of flowers to someone leaving a mosque. If you’re Jewish, hand flowers to someone at a Christian church, etc. With the flowers, attach a note saying something in your own words, but to the effect of: “I may not worship in the same building as you, and I may not pray to the same prophets, but I am grateful to be sharing this planet with you in peace.”

#36 The dewey decimal system has long been responsible for keeping good books apart— books that clearly deserve to spend a life together on library shelves. For that matter, it seems so many libraries go out of their way to keep perfectly good literary companions apart as they separate fact from fiction, biography from archaeology, science fiction from politics. Be the matchmaker literature needs and get creative at your local library or bookstore. Show the spines of at least six books together in a library or bookstore (the more titles the better) the titles of which create the perfect oxymoronic sentence or phrase. - Monica Duff Teacher says, When you reach me this dark endeavor revealed first lights glow.

#37 No one talks about the fact that the destruction of the Death Star put thousands of Stormtroopers out of work. Luckily the Empire has a pretty robust social safety net and most of them have been retrained and placed in new jobs, the majority of which have been in the transportation sector. Let’s see a stormtrooper driving/flying a large passenger vehicle. Must be for mass transit, not just a car or a van. A subway, train, bus, ferry, plane, etc.

#38 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! Pick a celebrity social media image post (or an advertisement) and recreate it with a subtle twist like like Celeste Barber does here. Tweet, Instagram or FB post your image side-by-side with the original image, “#embracereality @gishwhes” and your team name. (You may also tag or mention the celebrity or brand you are satirizing.) Submit the image you take side-by-side with the original one, but provide the link to your social media post in the comment field of the submit page.

https://twitter.com/courie969/status/896455455656075265

#41 Show us your own personal “Stairway to Heaven” -Dylan Cacador

#42 You ever heard of “pond dipping”? “river bugging”? Neither have we - but let’s not let that stop us. Invent and show off your own *SAFE* summer wet, wild and messy activity and caption it with a clever name.

#43 Never judge a book by its cover… or bread by its shape. Bake bread or cookies into the shape of something you would DEFINITELY not want to eat. (We hate to have to say this every year, but pornographic pastries will result in docked points.)

#46 THE FINAL “KALE” ART. (Please note that per Commandment #4 of the 2017 Hunt, this word and material as a Hunt item is not permitted. We are aware of this. That being said, we do not care. You still may not use the word “kale”. Henceforth, it shall be called [REDACTED] BUT you may use it as a material for this item.) Therefore, take a SINGLE glorious piece of [REDACTED] and, using whatever adornments or other decoratives, clipping patterns, etc., create a stunning, museum worthy piece of art that shall then be showcased (and submitted as such) as an ornamental headpiece on you.

#48 As most people know, roosters enjoy a good sunrise. But other farm animals enjoy sunrises and sunsets, too. Let's see a photo of you, some friends or companions (such as your dog), and a sheep, horse, cow, or other non-rooster barnyard animal, watching the sun rise or set together. Bonus points if the spectacular skies are reflected in water in front of you.

#49 There’s something important that your local or national politicians are not attending to properly. Stand in front of something that represents the issue/right/minority group/etc. that you care about and that your politicians are not adequately protecting and hold a large, hand-written sign with a message to the powers that be. Tweet this image to an elected official with the power to do something to help tagged “#gishwhesrights”. Submit the image and a link to your tweet in the comments.

https://twitter.com/casschindler/status/895052460682878976

#51 Anyone who serves in the military is risking their life to serve their nation. Being respectful to not trespass on military grounds, stand in front of a large military craft, ship, tank, or plane with an inclusive sign of thanks to every service member of every kind. You may post this image on social media prior to the end of the hunt, if you choose. Submit the image with a link to your post in the comment section (if you chose to post it). https://twitter.com/casschindler/status/895053091153874945

#52 (Time-lapse up to 30 seconds.) Paint a dignified portrait of a President, Prime Minister, King, or Queen. But we don’t want you to waste canvas or paper! Paint this on a loved one’s bare back or abdomen. (use skin safe paints or edible “paint-like” food products!)  (ignore my side boob...) 

#53 Write something in frosting on a cake that you’ve always wanted to say to someone, and deliver it to them.

#54 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! Listen to this and be scared: http://www.radiolab.org/story/nukes/. But this bill has been introduced to try to solve this global risk. Let’s get it approved! Tweet ALL of your reps to pass the legislation to make congressional approval for first nuclear strike US law. Submit a screenshot of your post. Provide a link to the tweet in the comment field of the submit page. https://twitter.com/lotrspnfangirl/status/894801114641649665

#56 Sometimes things are just too comfy to leave, but you’re prepared for this! Let’s see you in your “Hammock Self-Containment Unit”. This, of course, would be you in a hammock with everything you need to live for one week, including all life preserving items, sanitation supplies and, of course, entertainment (live or otherwise). Make sure it’s clean, well organized, and designed for easy access to everything.

#62 Honeybees are a “keystone” species just like sharks. If they’re gone, we’re in big trouble. Unfortunately, there are currently “Colony Collapse Disorders” happening with honeybees throughout the world. This is when the majority of worker bees in a colony disappear, leaving the queen and immature bees to fend for themselves (most colonies completely die). This has major global food crop implications, as honeybees perform the magic of pollination of agricultural crops. If bees go by the wayside, we will have to find alternative pollination solutions, and that ain’t gonna be easy. But, let’s roll up our sleeves and give it a shot: Plant something in your garden (or plant a garden if you don’t have one) that is bee friendly (even if it’s just one plant in one pot on a patio). Spring - lilacs, penstemon, lavender, sage, verbena, and wisteria. Summer – Mint, cosmos, squash, tomatoes, pumpkins, sunflowers, oregano, rosemary, poppies, black-eyed Susan, passion flower vine, honeysuckle. Fall – Fuschia, mint, bush sunflower, sage, verbena, toadflax. Take a picture of yourself wearing some sort of bee-attire doing your part to pollinate your newly planted plant.

#66 Personify your favorite movie title. Include a caption on your image of the title of the movie in quotes. - Tanya Best

#67 Banana Hammock. This year’s summer fashion elitists are all wearing the latest rage: Banana Bikini or Banana Briefs. Join them!

#68 You finally have a use for all the naked bananas you now have sitting around! Bake as much banana bread as you can with “gishwhes” spelled out in bananas on the top & distribute it to your local nursing home.

#73 Visit a local laundromat. Place decorated envelopes with enough money (in coins or bills, depending on the machines) for one load of washing and one load of drying on at least one machine with the note: “We swim together, we tumble together. Love, Gishwhes.” 

#75 They told me I couldn’t, so I did. Pose in front of a sign declaring a rule. Break that rule. A few notes: It must be safe (what you are doing), and it MUST NOT be a law or illegal where you are. It must only be a “rule”. For example, you might find a sign that says, “collared shirts only.” You would pose in front of that sign wearing a tank top. - Inspired by Emily Shulman

#75 Personify or embody your team name. Caption your image with your team name. - Shannon

#81 Sometimes it feels like your boss expects you to be in more than one place at more than one time, but you’re a gisher so you know how to deliver. Using the panoramic photo function on your phone, insert yourself at least three times in the same picture in different positions and/or wardrobe to show yourself as you “multitask”. You may NOT Photoshop yourself into the image. (Hint: you have to run around the person taking the picture each time they pass you in the frame.)

#82 In honour of Canada's 150th birthday, even though you may not be Canadian, you and a friend should clearly cover yourself in maple syrup and go roll in some maple leaves. - Jessica G.

#83 Lets see your interpretation of fireworks using vegetables and spaghetti as mixed media. - Saty381

#84 (Two Images side-by-side.) The first image is a photo of an illustrated page from a children’s book. The second image is your reenactment of that illustration in 3 dimensions. - Inspired by Sarah Trumbley

#85 Let’s see LABSWHES. The Largest Awesome Balloon Sculpture the World Has Ever Seen. The themes this year are “insect” or “space”—or both. You must be in the middle of this structure.

#86 Everyone thinks unicorns are beautiful, magical, gentle creatures. You know better. Prove it to the world! You may use any media you like, including Photoshop. - Traci Akierman  (( this is everything to me )) 

#89 Apply lipstick while jumping on a trampoline. - Emily Schulman

#91 Leave a Yelp review of gishwhes after you deliver food to the homeless or to a homeless shelter.

#101 As I'm sure you’ve seen, over the years we have marketed gishwhes relentlessly and shamelessly (because we really want everyone to do it). This is the last gishwhes, so now it’s your turn to go ahead and show us how we should’ve marketed it. Create a gishwhes ad that no one would be able to resist. Note: you may make false or misleading claims if you so choose, but because we’re curious, you could even take a stab at a legit one.

#102 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! During the First Annual and Last Ever 2017 gishwhes Tea Party, we identified gishers based on their right-brush or left-brush toothbrushing statuses. Conduct a massive poll on your social networks for the gishwhes Institute of Vital Statistics to prove conclusively whether people brush their teeth starting on the same side of their mouth as their dominant hand or the opposite side. Because this is solid science, your sample size must have a minimum of 400 respondents. Submit a visually-compelling graph of your poll data and the number of votes and the winner. Use the hashtag #gishwhesteeth. Submit a screenshot of your post. Provide the link to your social media post in the comment field of the submit page. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSflbQIfXAgyMfW0lpqMRT9UdReh7v1T2Iec-RYyLg-WK68LzQ/viewform

#105 We know a little girl that makes a different kind of Advent Calendar. As she marks off each day on the calendar, she gives something away. Make your own version of a reverse Advent calendar. On the first day of gishwhes, create a decorated Advent calendar whereby, for each day on the calendar, you depict something you’re going to give away. Then, each day of the Hunt, take a picture of you fulfilling your calendar item. Submit 7 pictures in a grid (or a video slideshow) showing what you’ve done. Then, continue on through the calendar period. (Yes, this will continue after the Hunt is over, but though gishwhes as we know it may be ending, its spirit will live on in you!) -Keegan Connor Tracy’s 10-year old daughter

#109 (Up to 22 seconds.) Wonder Woman being “Superman-splained” to.

#119 Trump l’oeil. (This is not a typo.)

#123 As all gishers know, Saturday, August 12 is “Meet Another Gisher Day.” Meet up in front of the largest art museum in your town at 10:00 AM (of whatever timezone you’re in). It’s a pot-luck coleslaw brunch this year, so bring your favorite family recipe of coleslaw… and as much sidewalk chalk as you can. After brunch, decorate the pavement with a collaborative message to the world. In order for a meet-up to count you need to have representatives of at least 5 teams present, so this will require some organizing. Gishwhes is all about coming together, so teams may collaborate (gasp!) on this one, but your team’s image or video must still be all your own.

#124 Be someone’s “rock” to get them through the hard times. Hand-paint small rocks with a message of kindness & leave them in areas that need a pick-me-up. (On the underside, please write “Pass it on.”) You must paint & hide at least one rock for each member of your team.

https://youtu.be/LmptxuKay6o 

((it wont let me add more videos))  #125 (Time-lapse under 20 seconds.) All good things must come to an end, and so it is with the Hunt. Create a “sand” mandala featuring images that symbolize the hunt to you… all using pixie sticks as your chakpur and sand. When it’s done, show us your masterwork and then, just like the Buddhist monks, sweep it away and get ready for what’s next.

#130 A tactometer used to measure tact.

#131 Make a collage that features things only locals from your town would know about. Display it prominently in a public space in your town.

https://youtu.be/Qt_zCMi71M4

#134 My wife is so trend-forward, she recently took a “goat yoga class” (it’s real; you can google it.) Without hurting, upsetting, or endangering ANY animal, show us the next trend in animal-infused yoga that she should get on board with.

https://youtu.be/N3BF22b1ghs

#135 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! (Up to 30 seconds.) Freeze frame on a picture of you (like they do at the end of movies) and then roll a credit sequence for your own life. Include a "here’s what happens to you in the future" sentence or two and then a listing of the people that have helped you get where you are now or where you are going and what their “titles” are. Post this on the social media channel of your choice with the hashtags #gishwhes #mylife. Submit the video, and in the comment field provide the link to the post.

#143 Sure, most Stormtroopers toed the line, but back in the 1960s there were a few draft-dodging peacenik Stormtroopers. Find a famous vintage photo of a peace sit-in or Woodstock-level love-in and flawlessly photoshop in one or more Stormtroopers. We must think it’s the real thing. As an alternative, you can stage your own “peace” picture and submit an “aged” stormtrooper sit-in image. YES, YOU MAY PHOTOSHOP THIS ITEM!

#152 Decorate the exterior of your home like the Pan House, using whatever object speaks to you.

#157 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! NASA is soliciting tweets to send to Voyager 1. Tweet your suggestion with #gishwhes. I suggest it be the following theme: Voyager 1 ran to the store and you are texting to remind it to pick something up at the store. But we will permit messages of any type so let your imaginations run wild. Submit a screenshot of your post. Provide a link to the tweet in the comment field of the submit page. 

#158 Thanks to “reactions” we can now communicate our feelings more clearly to one another! But Facebook limits us to just 6 reactions and we at gishwhes HQ believe that this limitation constraints our ability to express nuanced emotions to one another. Let’s see an updated version of the Facebook “reactions” with feelings like “silently judging you”, “reacting positively to your face but planning to gossip about this later”, and “I’m just not sure how to feel about this” and other more subtle emotions. You may photoshop this item.

#164 Get a bonafide zillow listing for property on Mars.

#165 https://twitter.com/zenxv/status/845474882607632384

https://youtu.be/3rXlzYEtP4k

#167 (Time-lapse up to 20 seconds.) There are two things that science has proven unequivocally: 1) global warming is happening and 2) sucking the melting ice cream from a tiny hole in the bottom of a sugar cone is the greatest possible pleasure in life. (Minimum 5 rounded scoops on top and you must suck all the ice cream through the tiny hole.)

#169 Write "Ass butt" (in non-toxic kids finger paint or chalk!) on the hindquarters of an Ass. (This should go without saying, but be careful & safe. Approach from the side, never stand directly behind it, and try to keep the donkey happy so you don't get injured.)

#172 Now that this may be the last gishwhes-as-we-know-it ever, it’s time to reflect on missed opportunities. Let’s see the Item List Misha SHOULD have made all these years. Give us your team’s ideal gishwhes Item List with a minimum of 10 Items. If the majority of the items you create look like no thought was put into them (and you were just quickly writing down items to get the points), you will receive zero points.

#173 Complete one of the more challenging items on your team’s homemade gishwhes Item List. 

https://youtu.be/mH2Hghjq6uc

#179 (Up to 45 seconds edited.) Share an audio dream diary of your first thoughts as you wake up every morning of the Hunt (so you cannot submit this until the last day of the Hunt!). It must be the first thing you do before you get out of bed.

#181 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! Let’s see a (SFW) 2,000 word essay published on twitter in 140 character bursts. (no attachments, etc.) about the best way to get pregnant for the 10th time. (I’m sorry, but I promised someone this would be an item.) Submit an image of the first post and then a link to this post in the COMMENT field of the submit page so we can check to make sure you “published” the whole thing.

https://twitter.com/lotrspnfangirl/status/896606741143724033

#182 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! Seamlessly modify using photoshop (or other digital altering software), a well-know oil painting by adding in an anachronistic element. For example, if it were a Monet, you might put one of the ladies under a parasol holding an ipad. YES, YOU MAY DIGITALLY ALTER THE IMAGE YOU ARE SUBMITTING… with a catch. The anachronistic element must be rendered seamlessly into the image in the style of the original painter or creator. It must look like a part of the original composition; we should not be able to tell it was added in later. Post the image on FB and/or Pinterest. Submit the image you take on our site, but provide the link to your social media post in the comment field of the submit page. #gishwhesModernMasterpiece

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/490892428124114391/

#183 You are all soon going to be a part of a sinister plot to take over the world… in a unique way. But we need your help. Here’s the first thing you have to do: Decide what your favorite point of interest, historical site or national landmark is in your town or city and enter its address here: http://qrickit.com/qrickit_apps/qrickit_qrcode_creator_geo.php . Below the map on that webpage you’ll see an “optional text” field. Enter “Taken by CFG”. Then click “Qcreate” at the bottom. Download the QR code and submit it as your item. Stay tuned for what comes next...

#186 One of the biggest problems astronauts will face when they travel to Mars will be figuring out how to bring enough food for the three year journey. Porcupanda has offered the idea of making their spacecraft out of food. Show them how. Build an edible spacecraft using anything except “space ice cream” (Per our resident Director of Intergalactic Space Exploration, that stuff tastes like strawberry Styrofoam: “Bleecht!” as he so eloquently put it.)

#187 Every year, the scientists at the NASA Jet Propulsion Lab make spectacular pumpkin carvings that put our humble Halloween jack-o-lanterns to shame (see https://www.wired.com/2016/10/watch-nasas-high-tech-pumpkins-action/). Whatever. What’s a rocket scientist got that you don’t have? Let’s see you out-do them! Show us your best and most outlandish WATERMELON-O-LANTERN carving. - Dave Lavery

#188 For many years, military aircraft sported spectacular “nose art”— artistic homages to people, places, and ideas important to the aircraft crew. As aesthetically appealing as aircraft nose art may have been, we think they botched it on the choice of canvas. Show us your best nose art - but this time, get it right! All art must be on, around, or incorporate, your nose.

https://youtu.be/N82SzhOV24k

#189 The World’s Worst Lawyer.

https://youtu.be/UwJtIh80M7I

#192 (Time lapse up to 25 seconds). In our busy world, people sometimes forget to slow down and see the beauty around them. Perform a task at work extremely slowly while everyone around you carries on at normal speed. When this is played back in in time lapse, you’re performing at normal speed and it’s the world around you that’s going too fast.

#196 THIS ITEM MUST BE POSTED ON SOCIAL MEDIA PRIOR TO THE END OF THE HUNT! THIS IS A TOP SECRET ITEM! DO NOT SHARE ITS CONTENT ON SOCIAL MEDIA UNTIL DIRECTED OR YOU WILL RUIN THE SURPRISE AND BE DELUGED WITH BAD KARMA. By now, most of you may know our friend Giles Duley. If not, watch the video at the top of this page. Then, watch here to see what he did with us recently: https://youtu.be/-tOt9LfZF9w ...and he’s doing something amazing with us again with us this year (which we’ll be announcing VERY soon). Giles inspires us and we want to thank him for all of his hard (and often thankless) work. So, we’re going to thank him... BUT WE’RE GOING TO SURPRISE HIM! SO PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT POST ABOUT THIS UNTIL THE DESIGNATED TIME: On Friday, August 11th, at EXACTLY 9am PDT, we are going to give him a “thunderclap” of thanks on the Internet. Because Giles thinks EVERYONE can make a difference no matter their circumstances (and he’s a living embodiment of that), we’re going to prove it. Here’s your job: before the 11th, go out and do an act of kindness. But not just any act of kindness... Giles works hard to help refugee families and landmine victims, so your act of kindness should focus on expanding his work exponentially through the power of gishwhes and gishers. Do something that makes a meaningful, material difference in the life of either a refugee or someone who has been directly impacted by war. If you’re at a loss of how to do this, here are some suggestions: bring a care package to new refugees in your neighborhood, go to a refugee center and volunteer, bring a warm meal to a homeless veteran on the streets, volunteer at a soup kitchen where you know there are war veterans, make a donation to an organization that helps with reconstructive surgery and prosthetics for war victims, or sponsor a child made homeless by the war with a one-time or recurring donation. If you can’t manage to find or coordinate any of the above (but please try!), simply carry out a random act of kindness for another human being on the planet who could legitimately use some kindness. Dig deep on this one, guys. The goal is to cause a ripple effect from the work Giles is doing and expand it worldwide. Let's do this. Capture an image or video of this act. At 9am PDT on Friday, August 11th, post the image or video on Facebook with a detailed description of what you did and crosspost to Twitter. Be sure to mention Giles in the post. (For Facebook, tag @GilesDuleyPhotography and on Twitter, tag @gilesduley with #thanksGiles as the hashtag.) Submit the image or video you take on our site, but provide the link to your social media post link in the comment field of the submit page.

#202 A gisher wrote me recently stating, “I started gishwhes in 2015 myself and my children all joined in and had the best week of our lives, so much fun, so much love, so much laughter. In December 2015 I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer… But I didn't let it beat me. We signed up for gishwhes 2016 and made beautiful art together and performed many acts of kindness to those around us and in need, my children now 10 & 8 have those lessons in their hearts now, to spread kindness and love to all around them! Unfortunately I am too sick to participate this year, but hope to still be here to see all the wonderful creations everyone makes, and if I'm not still here when gishwhes starts I will be watching down on you all, cheering everyone on.” Obviously, I cried when I read that. We emailed her back, but haven’t heard back… So this one's for you, S. (and your kids), with love from me & everyone in the gishwhes family: Find a local hospital or cancer center and coordinate with them to deliver a comfort bag(s) to a patient. Fill a cheerfully decorated canvas or cloth bag with items to provide palliative relief and comfort to a cancer patient: soft eye masks, scarves, a soft blanket, socks, ginger tea or candy, unscented natural lip balm, sudoku or coloring books, puzzles, poems, etc. Include a note of support or encouragement if you wish. (Please don't say "get well soon.” Phrasing like, "we're sending you our love" is better.) Please do not take a picture with the recipient... Just the bag. We trust you to deliver.

#204 Escape Gishwhes! https://www.gishwhes.com/escape-room/. If you manage to break out of this wild ride of mystery and mayhem, you’ll be prompted to enter your Team Name to document your success via an online form. BEFORE YOU HIT THE SUBMIT BUTTON, take a screenshot showing your team name in the Text Input Field and save the image, THEN hit the SUBMIT button. Your submission will be uploading the screenshot on our item list (backed up by what the online form sends gishbot).

#206 We got this letter to our support gnomes:Name: [REDACTED]Message : Hello Gishpeople. I want to question why there are so many specific-locations-that-aren't-Sweden only items, and no Sweden only items. I speak for all Swedes when we say that we find this very saddening. We don't understand how you could miss out on an opportunity like this, since Sweden is a very beautiful country, containting great things such as Dalahästar.We, as a nation, expect a formal apology for this, of course.All our love, and some sad wonders,[REDACTED]Sweden, you're absolutely right! You are a beautiful country and it's time we stopped overlooking you. You deserve a formal apology as requested and so in the interest of international diplomacy, it's our duty to deliver and rectify this egregious oversight. With that in mind, (I hope you'll forgive me but this is a location-specific image to appease Sweden, guys): Take a picture of yourself in front of the biggest landmark or point of interest in your town while holding a beautiful hand-lettered sign that reads, "We Are Sorry, Sweden". This is a location-based item, so you may do this anywhere in the world... except Sweden.

@cassondrawinchester

[redheadedkb]

Katie Babs - It’s Over Now. Babblings About Books, and More is...

By the summer of 2008, I had found a voice online, or rather I should say I had become more vocal. Not only was I co-blogging on another blog, but I was reviewing 2-3 books a week on other sites, including using a somewhat new social media platform called Twitter (I had been on Twitter since the beginning), and blogging and posting on a very popular social site that was known as Myspace (can you believe My space was once more popular than Facebook?).

One particular person who once had their own blog, and who became the first blogger I really connected with, followed me on Myspace. She would read my “ramblings”, or as I call them “babblings”, and enjoyed them. She recommended I start my own blog. I never thought I would have my own blog or a platform because I was more comfortable leaving comments on other blogs. My worry was not having anything to say or I would end up speaking to an empty space, as in I would perform on a stage and no one is sitting in the audience to watch me perform. But I did love the romance blogging community where there were people like me who enjoyed talking about romance novels. Outside the online blogging world, or message boards, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about the books I had read, especially romance novels. So in September 2008 I started Babblings about Books, and More (originally on Blogspot and then moved to Wordpress).

Since September 2008, around 5 million people stopped by to read what I have said from book and movie reviews, musing both silly and serious, and welcoming my honest opinions and ideas. Because of my blog I found the voice I never thought I had. I have interacted with so many people, and met some off line. To this day I still talk with some bloggers and those who have commented on my blog, and others over the years. We still share opinions and debate without any judgment. Talking to these people make my day much brighter, and I hope the same goes for them.

One of the biggest honors I had was a blogger, who has become a rock star blogger in the romance online world tell me they started their own blog because of mine. They thought of me as their blogging mentor, a.k.a their blogging mommy (started in 2009, and still going strong). I’ve had countless authors and other bloggers thank me for standing up on the virtual stage, never knowing if anyone was in the audience to hear me speak. Because of my blog, I gained insight and courage I never thought I had. Because of my blog I became an author- KT Grant. I went from Kate (to some Katie), to KB (initials from Katiebabs) to KT Grant the author.

On Wednesday something horrendous happened, especially to a long-time blogger. I wasn’t able to update posts or add any because of a database issue. I thought I could fix it myself, and when I did, I made a huge error. Every post I had since September 2008 disappeared. I erased my virtual footprint. The horror of what I had done consumed me for a good 10 minutes, but then after a calmness settled in, and finally resignation. I had decided this was the end of Babblings.

I was really trying to make it to my tenth anniversary of my blog, and then would close up shop. I almost decided to close last year because of other more important responsibilities I had to concentrate on. A few reasons for this decision involved the changing of the blogging community. The blogging community I stumbled into way back in 2006 had drastically changed by 2013, mainly in part of the rise of Twitter. Blogs I had come to enjoy were disappearing, or others I had interacted with left or disappeared. I was changing too. I decided to make my dream a reality and become a published author. I published my first book in May 2010. I’ve been a published author for 7 years with 35 titles to my name. The entire time I published, I kept blogging. In the 9 years of blogging and 7 years as a published author, I’ve written millions upon millions of words. The word “word” is one of my favorite words in the spoken language.

Changes are a part of life. So is the case of my professional and personal life. My blog was there for me during a time I needed it. It gave me strength during a difficult time back in 2010, that came in second to when I was thirteen-years old, and thought I would live past fourteen because of the dark thoughts consuming me daily. I had a crisis of faith in 2010 because of something that had hit me hard in my personal life. But then something or someone, perhaps a higher power spoke to me. In the fall of 2010, I was invited to Hawaii for a wedding. It was a sudden request, one I almost didn’t accept because I was in such a dark place in my mind. I didn’t think the beauty of an island, like the island of Maui could help me. But since the trip was paid for, which was beyond generous, I accepted. At least this vacation could help me forget my sad life for a while. This trip saved me because of one tiny miniscule thing so many take for granted. I’ll never forget it. I was sitting on the balcony in my room just staring at nothing. And then it happened. The sun started to set. A sun set. A Hawaiian sunset is a thing of beauty. Watching that sunset in Maui on a hotel room balcony gave me a feeling of such peace and self-worth. In that small moment the dark thoughts that had consumed me for almost a year vanished. I felt reborn. I can’t explain it but something made it possible for me to be at that exact moment in Maui to watch the sun set to help me move forward, specifically to walk out of the darkness and embrace that light.

Now seven years later I’m still here, stronger than ever in mind, body and spirit. It hasn’t always been easy but since that sunset I’ve had my shares of ups and down, but have always overcome. Just like watching a sunset in Maui, it was like something or someone was telling me it would be okay, and to move forward and carry on with the case of my blog going *poof*. It was time to move on.

So now I’m moving forward. I’m still very much here, nothing much will change other than not having a personal blog. I have a bad Twitter addiction, so you’ll find me there every day. I have my Facebook page, and my Pinterest (Not giving up posting WTF books and their covers). I’m not giving up writing anytime soon, so you bet you’ll see more KT Grant titles from me.

The memories of my time blogging will not be forgotten because the posts I’ve written and the interactions I’ve had made me smile more times than I can count. Why would I ever forget that?

Babbling About Books, and More had a theme song. I never shared it with anyone until now. For some reason the song “Music of the Night” from my favorite Broadway musical- The Phantom of the Opera became my theme song because the words I wrote, the posts I created, were my music of the night. Music of the Night is a lullaby to me, comparable to a sunset that shows why the world is so beautiful.

I leave you with the lyrics to Music of the Night and the music. I leave behind my blog, but not my babblings. Never my babblings, my words that set me free….

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation Darkness wakes and stirs imagination Silently the senses abandon their defenses Helpless to resist the notes I write For I compose the music of the night Slowly, gently night unfurls it's splendor Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender Hearing is beliving, music is deceiving, Hard as lightening, soft, as candle light, Dare you trust the music of the night Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth, And the truth isn't what you want to see, In the dark it is easy to pretend, But the truth is what it ought to be Softly, deftly, Music shall caress you, Hear it, feel it, Secretly possess you Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, In this darkness which you know you can not fight.

https://www.facebook.com/babblingaboutbooks/posts/10155785020617834

[hobbitsetal]

all the colors!

@mohawk-yeshua and @ambers-elf, HERE YA GO

Purple: 10 facts about my room: 1. it was my older sister’s until she moved out. 2. i repainted it like a month ago, from blue to green! 3. there are two white birds painted on different walls. 4. there’s a small decorative fake tree on a different wall. 5. i need a new bedspread, the old one’s still blue... 6. i don’t share it with anybody...unless my niblings are over, in which case my room becomes Grand Central Station. 7. i have two bookcases that don’t match and are mostly filled with books. 8. there’s a glass dragon on the white bookcase and his name is Cinaed, which means “born of fire”. 9. there’s an outrageous amount of junk on the floor because i haven’t bothered to clean properly in a couple months... 10. all my important papers accumulate on my brown bookcase because i am colossally unorganized. here’s hoping i can find my tax returns!

Blue: 9 facts about my family: 1. there’s a lot of us. a lot. 2. my parents have been married for 38 years! 3. my dad is a doctor of theology, a retired Navy captain, and active in Civil Air Patrol, which means i get to call him “Captain Doctor Lieutenant Colonel Chaplain Roy” and watch people look awed and faintly horrified. 4. my queen mother is brilliant and theologically profound and homeschooled her ten children and took up piano...and cannot understand why my friends are sometimes intimidated by her. 5. my queen mother is one of the liveliest, most down-to-earth people you’ll ever meet, and she genuinely enjoys people. 6. my older sister has made all the wedding cakes for the weddings in my family to date...including her own. 7. two of my brothers once took a 6 month motorcycle trip through South America. only one of them knew any Spanish when they started. (they both survived, for the record.) 8. we all love the beach. one of our major holidays is Memorial Day Weekend, when as many of us as possible meet up in Florida. 9. for being a huge crazy family, we’re surprisingly introvert friendly.

Green: 8 facts about appearance: 1. big brown eyes. 2. smile just about as big. 3. i’m of average height and pretty darn skinny, which means people assume i a) don’t eat much) and b) should not lift heavy things. (they’re wrong on both counts. i am an altoid: small, white, and curiously strong.) 4. my hair is usually in a ponytail during the week (for work) and in a messy bun on the weekend (because i am a messy soul.) 5. i’ve gotten fairly decent at winged eyeliner! 6. my fashion sense is impeccable because i let my sister-in-law tell me what to wear. 7. i’ve got my father’s schnoz: beaky and on the bigger side. 8. i have a talent for weird faces.

Yellow: 7 facts about my childhood: 1. we moved around a lot, since my dad was Navy. 2. beach summers. 3. in California, my mom wouldn’t let us go outside till after 3 so CPS wouldn’t pick us up for not being in public school. 4. we’ve got an array of terrible stories about the things we did to each other. we like to trot them out at family get-togethers and watch my poor queen mother’s expressions. 5. my parents had Bible studies with us most nights; usually we read through Proverbs and took turns reading a couple verses each. however. Proverbs 30:17 belonged to my dad: no matter whose turn it was to read, he was the one to read out with verve, “the eye that mocks his father and scorns his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pluck it out!!” (thanks, pa.) 6. in CA, there was an amusement park that did military discounts in November. being homeschooled, we’d go during the week when literally nobody else was there. it was AWESOME. 7. we always had so much fun with each other. always.

Orange: 6 facts about my home town: i’m claiming my current town, since it’s the place i’ve lived the longest. 1. we’ve got a very decent local theater! 2. it’s a growing town, y’all. it’s pretty cool. 3. close to New Orleans, which is fun. 4. there’s this little nature park near the movie theater that doesn’t seem to be super well-known, but is completely awesome. 5. there are neighborhoods that never flood, and neighborhoods that always flood. choose wisely. 6. we uphold the proud Louisiana tradition of CRAPPY ROADS.

Red: 5 facts about my best friend: okay, of my four besties, i’m picking my sister: 1. she’s hilarious, quick-witted, and quotable. 2. she’s such a vivacious soul, she’s always got guys flocking to her. she never wants them. 3. she’s majoring in Biblical counseling. 4. she’s got a brilliant plan for working with my dad’s international teaching organization to create videos for them--she’s the ideas chick, our younger sister is the videographer chick. 5. she’s a lot like my mother: a deep thinker, a people-lover, fast-paced, slightly crazy, ridiculously adventurous, and super cool.

Pink: 4 facts about my parents: oh. well then. 1. they’re the most incredible team?? my mother comes up with ideas, my dad executes them. like the Murphy bed my mother wanted, the kind that folds up into the wall. my mother designed it, my dad built it. he’d never done anything like that before, but it LOOKS SO GOOD. 2. they’re so in love. they flirt, they tease, they sit and watch the other person with little smiles and it’s so cute. 3. people get intimidated by their accomplishments, but i’ve never met anyone who didn’t love them and feel super comfortable with them after hanging out with my folks. 4. they love talking about God: with each other, with other people, with God Himself.

White: 3 facts about my personality: 1. i am distressingly good at faking peppiness, especially at work. 2. i’m not usually in a bad mood (to the point where people have commented on how cheerful i always am), but when i am, it’s memorable and it is not good. 3. the amount of sugar/caffeine i have had directly affects my personality.

Grey: 2 facts about my favorite things: 1. a good book opens worlds, changes my thinking, gives me turns of phrases to consider, can do everything from affect how i think about God to make me forget where i am for minutes at a time. 2. sleep makes me a better human.

Black: 1 fact about the person I like: this is gonna be platonic and self-centered, but i have the most supportive friends

thanks, man!