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allzelemonz · 6 months

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Kieran Duffy Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption Masterlist

For You

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘sir’, ‘mister’, ‘feller’, ‘boy’, ‘man’. Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, References to Sex Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Micah is an asshole, Kieran is repressed and shy, Kieran is injured, Micah actually likes his horse, Micah is injured, Baylock is injured, they’re all fine it’s okay, crime, death Summary: Kieran watches you from a distance, but things get bad when Micah notices and even worse when a job goes bad.

Rescue

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, Language Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, graphic wound, Clom O’Driscoll sucks, Dutch is questionable, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: Kieran finds out you were kidnapped by the O’Driscolls during a train robbery gone wrong and he goes with the gang to rescue you.

Loyal O’Driscoll (Part 1, Part 2)

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘mister’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, Language Warnings: O’Driscolls are their own warning, reader is an O’Driscoll, pre-cannon setting, bullying, kissing, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: O’Driscolls are never kind, but Kieran finds a bit of comfort in you.

Captured

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, Language Warnings: O’Driscolls are their own warning, reader is an O’Driscoll, Chapter 1 setting, kidnapping, beating/abuse, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: You’re captured along with Kieran when the Van Der Linde gang spot you by the river. Now you’re left laying in the stables until they tie you to the posts for interrogation later.

Clothes

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘son’ and ‘mister’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Dutch is questionable, arguing with Dutch, Dutch is a dad, standing up for Kieran, love confession, budding relationship, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: You’re fed up with the way the gang treats Kieran, so you do something about it.

Alone

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Non-Con elements, near sexual encounters Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, sexual assault, demeaning laguage, threats of violence, threats of sexual violence, beating, torture, blood, death, established relationship with Kieran Summary: In a job gone wrong, you and Kieran are taken by a group of O’Driscolls that are very interested in you.

Suitors

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘lad’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Sean is a bully, Bill is gay (cannon, literally just talk to him it’s so obvious), Kieran has game but he doesn’t know it, Reader and Bill are besties, this one is silly and messy but it’s fun Summary: Sean attempts to mess with Kieran by flirting with you, but you put him in his place with help from your best friend Bill.

Skill Difference

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘mister’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Kieran really likes fishing, Reader is not nearly as good as fishing, trope of teaching someone something and snuggling in the process, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: Kieran offers to help you catch a fish when he sees you struggling during a fishing trip.

The Army Didn’t Work Out

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘mister’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Homophobic laws and norms of the time, desertion of the army, pre-story cannon exploration, very fluffy Kieran Duffy Summary: Your fellow soldiers are starting to notice the closeness between you and Kieran. If they really figure things out it will be dangerous for you both, so you decide to leave together.

Sitting Still

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘lad’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: M/Implied sex, violence Warnings: Sean is an ass, implied anal sex, implied bottom reader and top Kieran, Kieran isn’t here, robbery Summary: The morning after still holds a lingering pain from an eventful night with Kieran, Sean notices and won’t let it go.

Found Alive

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: M/Violence, death Warnings: Reader commits murder three times, implied future murder, implied torture, kidnapping, beating, reference to the Night Folk, non-cannon compliant, Kieran lives, trauma and coping, the gang cares about Kieran Summary: Kieran disappears from Shady Bell. You’re not about to let him stay away, neither are a few others in the gang.

That Irish Bastard

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, language Warnings: Reader is the founding member of the Kieran Duffy protection squad, Sean is a bully, based off of a camp interaction, Kieran is timid but he just needs reassurance, Dutch is tired of his kids fighting and just wants to go to bed Summary: Sean hurts Kieran, you don’t take kindly to that.

He’s Warm

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Reader is friends with Micah, friendly banter and teasing, the gang is a family, people mistrust Kieran, cuddling, huddling for warmth, background relationships: Arthur/Charles, John/Abigail, mild Sean/Lenny Summary: Going back up North to hide makes the gang share a one room cabin with limited space. As a trusted member of the gang, you’re made to watch over the less trusted members.

Care and Perfection

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Drinking, top Reader and bottom Kieran, sober consent is important, clingy drunk, kissing, neck kissing, lap sitting, fluff, smut, anal fingering, anal sex Summary: Kieran is a clingy drunk and you want to make sure he’s well taken care of.

Horses

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘sir’, ‘mister’, and ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violent themes, language Warnings: Chapter 1 setting, kidnapping, very fluffy Kieran Duffy, Kieran loves horses, passing joke about bestiality, Reader is kind of an asshole Summary: You volunteered to watch the O’Driscoll prisoner and all he seems to want to talk about are the horses around him.

Sweet

Fictober Prompt: Day 10, Praise Kink Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Kisses, fluff, smut, outdoor sex, praise kink, self anal fingering, anal sex, top Reader and bottom Kieran, statements of love, established relationship Summary: A moment away from camp in which you notice Kieran reacts rather pleasantly to being praised.

Slow

Fictober Prompt: Day 24, Sounding Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Fluff, careful sex, sounding, safe sex for the time period, the fence has a spicy inventory you know he does, communication Summary: A new toy from the fence means testing it out with caution.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy x male reader

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cryptidwritings · 5 days

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Dark Water

Chapter 45 : Dignity

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cw: derogatory use of the word 'whore', heavily implied noncon, implied past noncon, convinced (not quite forced) to drink.

...

The storm was still alive as Reid dragged Isidro back to the dock. His feet slipped in the mud as the horses brayed behind him; frightened by the most recent crack of thunder.

“Ye couldn’t even answer what ye were!” Reid laughed through the rain, “My brother pegged ye for a whore. Now I know he was right!”

Isidro's bloodied lips curled in a snarl, “Your brother was a fu- gah!”

Before he could finish, Reid had his hair in a fist, pulling his head back with the other around the chain behind his back. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and he fell back into Reid’s chest.

“Best not speak ill of ye future mates, aye? Seein’ as how ye just lost ye only one.”

The pirate slammed Isidro face-first onto the table. His heart drummed against his chest in a panic, catching in his throat as lightning flashed. The rain kept on it’s onslaught, pummeling Isidro down into the table where his body shook from the cold; running down his aching body and to his frozen toes.

Then the rain settled, and Isidro felt a warmth on his back, and the singe of pressure on his hand. He dared to look, realizing with horror that Reid was draped over him—lips pressed to his ear.

“Ye old boss knew what ye were good for.”

His voice had danger dripping from his lips. Isidro stilled, suddenly not cold at all. Instead he was focused on the feeling of Reid’s body on his, and the way his leg had found it’s way between his own, kicking them wide as he pinned him down.

“Maybe I should follow suit. Let any pirate that comes ashore have their way with ye.” Reid’s breath fell on him. “While I take my time with Theodora.”

Isidro trembled. Reid’s hands gently trailed down his scarred back before lingering at his waistline.

“In fact, I think I’ll like the way ye scream just as much as her.”

The threat made him try and wiggle out from underneath, earning the sharpness of Reid’s elbow in the middle of his back.

“No, no,” his low laugh rolled into the Isidro's ear, which carried to his heart that beat against his chest like the fist of a man buried alive.

Suddenly, he was reeling through the past, wondering what he had done to provoke this. The questions, and their possible answers, ensnared him into a suffocated, panicked silence.

He drowned in the ceaseless rain, unable to keep his broken sobs from falling over his swollen tongue which quickly turned into screams of pain mixed with sounds of desperation—a siren of the war within his body.

Isidro grit his teeth and retreated, allowing the pirate’s mocks to fade into the background; instead tuning in to the rain on his skin, and the wind wicking across his bare back that ached from the cold and sent a deep chill down his exhausted spine.

When the pirate tossed his spent body back into the water-logged cell, he curled in on himself, letting the water wash away the lingering burn of Reid’s fingers indented into his skin.

“See ye tomorrow, fish bait.”

Isidro lie in a heap, unable to feel much except for the throbbing of his hand and the burning hollowness at his center. He blinked, and retreated further, breathing out with an exhausted groan as another shiver wracked his wearied muscles.

“Y-yes, sir.”

...

Reid slammed the door and kicked off his muddy boots. Moss hadn’t moved, though now his legs were splayed out in a V, and his back was fully against the bottom of the frame.

The pirate passed by, making it to his bed where he changed out of his sopping clothes; stopping at his shirt. Bright red streaks of blood were in the fibers where he had leaned over the sailor’s severed fingers. He traced his thumb over the stain, then balled up the shirt and tossed it in the back of the fire.

The lad didn’t stir even after his shackle was loosed. Reid left the other side there even though it really didn’t belong on his dead brother’s bed. Maybe it would serve as a neat little reminder. He might’ve promised Moss a semblance of freedom, but he never said it would last.

“Ye still hungry?”

Moss shook his head.

The pirate retreated with a tired sigh and swiped a half-full bottle from the table. He sat down in front of the fire and leaned back, warming his toes as he uncorked it with his teeth. It went down with a splash.

“Full belly, liquor, a roaring fire, and some rain.” He twisted around to peer at Moss from his chair. “Can’t ask for much else, can ye, lad?”

Moss still didn’t look up.

“C’mere. Drink with me.”

“I'm fine, thanks.”

The usual bitter bite in his tone was gone, replaced by the flat response. Reid smirked, then took a small sip, wiping the pleasure off his face along with the small dollop on the back of his hand.

“Sure ye are,” He held the bottle out. “Ye friend lies to ye and ye jus' fine, aye?”

There was a pause, filled by the rain and the crackling fire. Then there came a quiet shuffle, and Moss’ arm appeared, stretching toward the bottle from his hands and knees. Reid pulled it away slightly, looking into Moss’ eyes before flicking out a finger towards the only other chair.

“Take a seat, lad.”

He didn’t argue. No one in their right mind would argue against a chair and a bed, but friendship and all the other sentimental garbage that comes with it clouds even a sane person’s judgement. He’d seen it; experienced it himself. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

Moss crawled, his bad leg trailing behind him awkwardly like an injured dog. He lift himself into the chair, releasing a pained groan as he slowly settled back, then sighed. His body looked tense, with unsure eyes muddied by the orange flame as he massaged the muscles around his wound. Another roll of thunder came and went.

Reid took a swig, then handed it over. Moss grabbed it and put it under his nose; coughing after he took a whiff. Then he drank, coughing again.

“More.”

He shook his head. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to.”

“Ye sure?”

Reid didn’t bother looking at him again, instead focusing on the fire, tossing in the memories of a moment ago as the remnants of his shirt were wicked up by the flames—carried up the chimney in a plume of black smoke.

The lad drank again. Then again.

Before long, Moss’ cheeks were painted with a bit of color stretching across his nose. His eyelids drooped, and his body settled into the chair.

Giving the lad a double dose of the powder was enough to knock him out hard enough to allow Reid to re-dress his wound. It was red and swollen, with swamp algae clinging around and inside it. He flushed it out, and Moss barely responded. If a little powder did that, he couldn’t wait to see what the liquor would do.

“Still not hungry?”

Another shake of the head, and the bottle dropped to the ground.

“Ye feel hurt.” Reid sighed, rocking with a bit of contemplation. “Can’t help that. Everyone has somethin’ to hide. ‘Specially the likes of him.”

Moss grunt. “Tha’s not what bothered me.”

“Oh?”

The lad shook his head. “I’m gonna lie down...” his eye flashed over to Reid, then back to the fire. “If that’s okay.”

Reid smiled. “Aye, lad. Just fine.”

He used the chair to stand, then limped away. His right foot hit the floor with almost his entire weight, making it only a few steps before he resolved to crawl again.

The door shut, and Reid pushed himself out of the chair and towards the small cupboard where another five full bottles were nestled, safe. He opened another and took a drink, letting it fill him out and lift him over to his bed just a few paces away.

The whole ordeal made him almost optimistic. He lie down, setting the bottle on the ground and smirked, not even bothering to lock the door before falling asleep.

...

taglist: @sparrowsage @kixngiggles @honey-is-mesi @annablogsposts @sunshiline-writes

#pirate whump #two whumpees #whump series #captivity whump #tw restraining #manhandling tw #tw implied noncon #drinking tw

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childhoodmeetsfromsoft · 2 years

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Radahn

To the tune of “Gaston” from “Beauty and the Beast”

(We open at Redmane Castle, where RADAHN is nursing his wounds after his stalemale fight against Malenia, with JERREN by his side)

RADAHN (spoken) Who does she think she is? That girl has tangled with the wrong God! No one stalemates Radahn! JERREN (spoken) Darn right! RADAHN Dismissed. Infected. Publicly humiliated. It’s more than I can bear! JERREN More boluses? RADAHN What for? Nothing helps. I’m disgraced. JERREN Who you? Never! Radahn, you’ve got to pull yourself together. (sung) Gosh it disturbs me to see you, Radahn Eaten inside by the rot Every guy here’d love to be you, Radahn Even that guy who’s a pot There’s no general as admired as you No matter if you’re hurting now Even the stars were retired by you And it’s not very hard to see how No one grows like Radahn Loves the bros like Radahn No one uses aimbot on arrows like Radahn For there’s no God whose powers are more hot Not even old Radagon You can ask even Mohgwyn and Morgott And they’ll tell you whose team they prefer to be on REDMANE SOLDIERS No one spins like Radahn Beats his kin like Radahn No one slowly goes crazy like Gwyn like Radahn RADAHN As a Starscourge, I’m constantly constellating! JERREN God with a bod, that’s Radahn! Stand up and cheer Radahn the red You will win again Until Leon- Ard drops dead!

REDMANE SOLDIERS None use force like Radahn Stays the course like Radahn No one holds himself up on his horse like Radahn JERREN For there’s no one as terribly tragic RADAHN Well, except for my poor horse’s spine JERREN He’s a master of gravity magic! RADAHN That’s right! How else would I carry Rennala’s bloodline? REDMANE SOLDIERS No one tries like Radahn, Is a prize like Radahn No one freaks out and howls at the skies like Radahn RADAHN I made sure that Malenia’s hibernating! Bitch! She lost to Radahn! When I was a lad, I would lift up my horse Every morning to help me get strong And now that I’m grown, I lift me off my horse And I don’t care if folks say it’s wrong! REDMANE SOLDIERS None have brawn like Radahn None go on like Radahn No one’s wits from the rot are long gone like Radahn RADAHN All the other Gods sit around masturbating JERREN God, with a bod: ALL RADAHN! (Abrupt cut, and we see that all this is a hallucination from the rot as RADAHN gorges himself on a corpse. Later, the real JERREN walks out into the sands at a moment of lucidity, and RADAHN sings to him) RADAHN Castellan, I fear I’ve been thinking JERREN A dangerous pastime RADAHN I know. But this rot is consuming my body, And my sanity’s only so-so As the rot is so quickly progressing, I grow more like a dog than a man. Still, I promised myself I would die on my feet And so now I’m evolving a plan... (spoken) If I... JERREN Yes? RADAHN Then we... JERREN (spoken) That could be... RADAHN A mess? JERREN But I get it! Let’s go! (sung) No one’s cross like Radahn, Took a loss like Radahn, And will go out as someone’s raid boss like Radahn! RADAHN And my memory all will be venerating... JERREN God, with a bod... ALL Radahn!

#radahn #starscourge radahn #elden ring #disney #gaston #fromsoft

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elfyourmother · 2 years

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What is your beef with The Aitiascope? Only if you don't mind me asking.

Really a couple of things.

From a design standpoint it’s just wack and boring af. I mean basically every dungeon from the Dragonsong patches on is essentially a tunnel on rails but the better ones do a bit better of a job of obfuscating that and Aitiascope didn’t even try. Here is the magic wall, pull to it. Here is another wall. In an area that is supposed to be vast and boundless it stuck out for all the wrong reasons. The bosses are so damn forgettable I legit had to look up who they were because I deadass didn't remember them at all aside from Amon and I couldn’t tell you any of the mechanics

I could forgive all of that if the storytelling there was good but that’s really my biggest beef with it, from a meta standpoint I hate that dungeon because it’s probably the most blatant example of Endwalker’s biggest weakness to me, which is the clumsy and ham fisted attempts at manipulation of player emotions. It’s something this game generally avoids doing, which is why it sticks out so badly to me the rare times it does. And AS really genuinely felt like the writers looking me dead in my face and saying, “okay, I know we have not treated the deaths of these other characters with the same importance as Haurchefant, so here is their spotlight moment and please forgive us"

The thing is, I’m the type of person who is very stubborn and defiant when it comes to the perception of folk trying to manipulate my feelings and when I feel writers trying to hook puppet strings on me it has the entire opposite effect. I emotionally check out and start looking at my watch waiting for the shit to just end.

Ysayle showing up at the end as Shiva was downright tone deaf to the point I found it insulting. Sure I get what they were going for, “oh look, how clever, she’s recreating the ice boulder mech from Syrcus Tower’s Amon fight so we can hide. because you know she’s Ice themed” but all of that (quite bizarrely!) forgets that “Shiva” the Primal was a construct born of Ysayle’s self-aggrandizement-as-coping mechanism, something that was really a product of trauma more than anything, and imo it retroactively makes a mockery of her Azys Lla moment to have her just pop into that form in the Aetherial Sea like it’s nbd. That she willingly took that form again to save WoL et al, despite knowing it was basically a manifestation of self-delusion--that meant something. To have her just randomly do it again out of nowhere. And vaguely dehumanizing if I’m honest. After the shitshow of E8 back in ShB there is literally nothing I want to hear from this game about Ysayle anymore.

In short the whole damn thing just served as a reminder of why I’m an Everybody Lives kind of writer. I didn’t hate this dungeon because of that, ftr. I hated it because it really felt like they were beating it into the ground to the point it was tragedy porn, it was peak “look how sad it is your faves died. so sad. are you sad again yet?” writing. Like I said, when I sense that it has the opposite effect. I don’t feel grief, I just feel anger at them literally beating dead horses. (Between this shit and garbage ass DSR I sincerely just want the game to keep Haurche’s name out of its mouth at this point.) We didn’t even need this shit either, is the craziest thing to me about it. Every last one of those characters had a genuinely touching reference/moment elsewhere in the course of the story. Estinien and Alphinaud talking about Ysayle’s dream after Vrtra revealed himself to his people was like the one time this game has done right by her since Azys Lla. Even that scene with the Fortemps lads was fine. Please, if you have to keep going to this well (and you really really can stop now, game), can we just allow these quiet moments of dignity to stand on their own? We don’t need magic buffs and ghosts in the afterlife. Jesus H.

The trial at the end is really what saved that segment of the story for me but the funny thing is it was the canary in the coal mine to me for Ultima Thule, which has all the problems of this place but even worse. Because it’s a whole damn zone of it combined with the most gobshite pacing since the trolley nonsense in ShB and writing so hamfisted I was literally cringing in secondhand embarrassment for most of it. And just like AS it was the trial that saved it.

tbh AS just confirmed my preference for characters surviving and growing and healing, even stumbling and taking steps backward at times, instead of being tied up like forgotten loose ends or shoved onto buses for Teh Dramaz, with extreme prejudice even. AS illustrates to me why killing characters off should absolutely be the last resort, and why it has to be done with care. Because it’s very rare that stories can handle the aftermath properly, it’s a very tricky thing to get right. Eventually, even in stories that initially do, the temptation to make the player/reader/viewer wallow in it for cheap emotional hits inevitably becomes too much to resist.

#looks like it’s ranting time tonight lmao #y’all done got me started #character death cw #negativity cw #bisho has opinions #anonymous #ask bisho

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Untitled Poem # 8868

But now it seems they cut off your spirit better looking low in love. To see what harmonica line dancing with his will I die; here live: against my power, debased by subtle thing, and peace in the hogs. Light—only three-score; such

Consummation sounds, ascend the curve of her honoured to say if she hies, but would be the Splendour. Some pleasures dead, with tender if he country ring of moods: not, happy maidenly thread no such an alabaster of this

obedience, looking blow. Sits upon Design upon life that I am: as Virgins, may not Bay braunches, who bore the sun shall not seems, are prettily bedabbled so, her linnens, and show how it thy music play’st, upon the heauen.

Am I in labour is done, warning eyes my crime? Proof surmise accumulate; bring Coronet, with sport invaded with a slighted breathe ouercame my sight. My Friends her with officer they are, insteed of merit, and loved my soft

the night Looking they relation in this my day; since their cause no faces were vain; love the drunken pleas are thine hearts; and heaving nought for you, when Damsines I gether—that is mind, tossed by Milton thrive bonie lad that life prove as

statuesque urge&urgency boo Bear, the vanquished seem to tell the single Almond packt. That least shone, perhaps with his fool is lord though Nature’s sighes breath. In life’s small bird in your morall not find the pony’s heart and grass above, can make

a better halloo! Mine eye awake; mine of pricks because of chilling to my sight, that jealousy? Moments hackneyed speech,—nor ever cup, no penance his couple puts together— that was a marriage-bed. That say Good-bye; and eke yours

to travellers here arms, with thy sweet spell o’ witches that might’s baith mine, while they thus did every side, is laid, and wae on thee, of what you are a concordance lies, a film of him? Then up she saw his staff, stood singer time you me that

Love is soul ill sorted will protestant war the heathen they knew them selves that this is the daunce euen? But, as this cigarette cradles, or near the chiel maun guides, bordred with the sky and her loves; but thee; there change of clouds, were his own

undoing; oh me! Cockpit of your bones, arms, neck, her repose. If human love. The Polish Rider occasionally and perhaps you that is this crowned. That beats your face may her Johnny’s left his food, how you were flowers, with thy music was

port; there’s a gift, and weep for to say. Thought to find a Remedy but one descence and tossing, head is on the immortal mixture breeze in the sun your beauty’s rose only spak, the lang day. Moment, like an odor because a

sultan? Like horse, that right eyes, and sleep one creed’s a task grown, by his horsemanship, oh! Tamed by Milton appearance lies, all losses are drizzling roses gone for her present store; thus for pity me thinkes I have deserve the shrills. These

poor the door wag, that, passion, and says in heart is hardly sung the grave! Of such suits tower of knights to this pony had heart! Aye, all day, till Spring in me beauty lack, her eye; what harvest read how roughly he is Syrinx daughter

so that recorder not more ways of a virgin face. New pay as if not purchast all keep a heart, the brides, invades my heart is lost and love a nest anybody’s future blind and without lovers close of past the fool enlight lies

with a woman is nowhere, the approach of me. Swim somewhat shine some had press thread, though my complished dame. Bled from heaven blacked-out cockpit of the moon. Ormond, the tribe of your Faith head the savage race. He shore: but now if e’er you

have frequent before you beware of thine, and alone. For more, that dwell in from the very bestow their hospitable champaign with puffing, patches unto memory clings to them, trying sun in war a weak footing stand you are, till

singing, Die, oh! Way, and be cleare eyes are at all keep a heaven. And she can. That Spring he has gotten, and succeeds door, and so more pitty. When not be sought that thou have to innocent, so stremes the distant memory to

true friend he weigh, then winter’s hands, she heau’nly harmonies; and vows in vain, grace, that euer he hectic stings! Slumber-drunk an Arab arch of day. As the last have not till may looking the lily, at lengthen of the sturdy Cymon could

adopt your tost, all Night he led me to my lost perhaps yourself, without her fear nothing longed in your happy hours, the captive shore of death, a flower made the stage beneath this father’d creatures who love is confusion of only.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #189 texts #ballad

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akemansimblog · 2 years

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Alkha Vinat took in her hands the upbringing and education of four girls who were to become concubines for Ahmet, the future listener. Two of them were twin sisters, Belgin and Beyhan Elmaz. An angry, disheveled maiden and a quiet girl. Their appearance and character have always differed, but once Beyhan became the favorite of the alkha, it got worse. Belgin began beating her sister. When the alkha wasn't looking, she pounced on her and beat her and dragged her by the hair. It was as if Belgin was mad at the thought of her sister - at least theoretically - becoming Ahmet's favorite. Alkha thought the girls were at a difficult age, childish rivalries, and that it was better not to interfere. Otherwise they would not learn to solve their problems by themselves. Besides, she had to look after Maiden Bedil and Maiden Mariam. So she pretended as best she could that everything was all right. At first it was. The pupils drew, taught logic, cooking, and dancing. But then… Belgin's dead body was discovered in the backyard. The bony hand of the Lord of Death was swinging a scythe as Beihan cried out and began to wring her hands. Someone had plunged a sharp knife into Belgin's chest; there was no way to save her. Alha looked at the girls carefully and said bitterly:

I do not know which one of you did it. But I am the only one who will bear the punishment.

On a dark autumn evening Beihan was fourteen years old. She sat at her desk, bent over an old textbook of ancient phial, in the dim light of four white candles. But the terrible figure of the Lord of Death loomed before her eyes, and it gave the girl a large shiver. Everyone had already gone to bed. A door creaked open, and a young lad entered the house on tiptoe with a sack and began to put things in it. Beihan did not remember how the jumped up alkha jumped at the young man, how he pushed her, how she screamed, calling to the guards. Beihan did not remember how she begged the thief to take her, the noble Elmaz, with him. But Beyhan remembered that the thief's name was Anthony Salsen, and that he had the world's most beautiful blue eyes. Together the two of them rode away, on a stolen horse, to the northwest of Fialam, where they joined the Sillivans. Thus a small band of outlaws was formed. The girl changed her clothes and cut her hair short. Beihan also vividly remembered the sharp knife stuck through the hilt into the chest of her twin sister. The same knife that Belgin had once promised to stick in Beyhan while she slept. She remembered that she had no choice.

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iviarellereads · 2 months

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The Eye of the World, Chapter 35 - Caemlyn

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one!)

(White Lion of Andor icon)(1) In which I get to explain another meme.

Rand thought he knew what a great city would look like, after Shadar Logoth, but it's even better than he imagined. Whitebridge could fit here twenty times with room to spare, and the city wall is fifty feet high, everything is majestic and beautiful. And there are so many PEOPLE! Mat wonders how they can hide with so many people around. Rand points out that there are so many people to look through, they must be safe, as long as Mat can watch his fool mouth.

Bunt advises that if Rand's holding the sword Holdwin told him about, he should hide it, stop wearing it, sell it, anything to not be seen with it. It'll draw more attention than he wants. Then he takes off and Rand loses sight of him in the crowd.(2)

Rand tries to focus, to figure out where to go next, now that they're in Caemlyn. He can't quite grasp the flame and void, but he tells himself aloud that their friends are alive. He remembers that Thom told them to find an inn called the Queen's Blessing, they should go there first. Mat gets paranoid again, more than ever, with all the people around, and Rand has to give him a pep talk about they won't give in now, or it was all for nothing. They aren't caught yet. Mat apologizes and they go find directions to the inn.

One man they ask, with a white armband and a white cockade on his hat, says they've come too late. Confused, they keep looking. Along the way, there are many shops offering relics, scraps of the False Dragon's cloak and fragments of his sword, as if they could all be real.

Rand knows someone will notice that he's hiding something with his cloak on one side, but he can't stop wearing his sword, his one link to Tam. He sees that many men are wearing swords, some bound with white and some with red, in such a way as nobody would be able to see heron-marks. Rand notes that red wrapping cloth is cheaper than white, though he sees no difference in quality, so he buys the red and wraps his sword in an alley so he can stop looking quite so suspicious.(3) Besides, adopting a local fashion will make them stand out a little less. Mat's just paranoid that they got cheated on the price anyway, and they'll get beat up and robbed and… Rand basically ignores him.

Eventually, they really do find the Queen's Blessing, and introduce themselves to Basil Gill, the innkeeper,(4) as friends of Thom's. His smile slips a bit, and he pulls them aside.

Gill asks what's in the flute case, and Rand opens it. Thom would part with his arm as soon as that flute, so what's happened? Rand says he's dead, protecting them. Gill says he'll believe Thom's dead when he sees a corpse, and not before.(5) He's harder to kill than you'd think, old Thom Merrilin. He believes they saw what they say, but he doesn't think Thom's seen his end yet.

“Coming to Caemlyn, you say?” The innkeeper shook his head. “This is the last place on earth I’d expect Thom to come, excepting maybe it was Tar Valon.” He waited for a stableman to pass, leading a horse, and even then he lowered his voice. “You’ve trouble with the Aes Sedai, I take it.” “Yes,” Mat grumbled at the same time that Rand said, “What makes you think that?” Master Gill chuckled dryly. “I know the man, that’s what. He’d jump into that kind of trouble, especially to help a couple of lads about the age of you. . . .” The reminiscence in his eyes flickered out, and he stood up straight with a chary look. “Now . . . ah . . . I’m not making any accusations, mind, but . . . ah . . . I take it neither of you can . . . ah . . . what I’m getting at is . . . ah . . . what exactly is the nature of your trouble with Tar Valon, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rand’s skin prickled as he realized what the man was suggesting. The One Power. “No, no, nothing like that. I swear. There was even an Aes Sedai helping us. Moiraine was. . . .” He bit his tongue, but the innkeeper’s expression never changed.

Gill is relieved, he means no offence, but better to be in with Aes Sedai than… the other thing.(6) He can offer them beds, not good ones, and a bit to eat. Thom's a good friend, he can help a friend of Thom's. Just don't go talking about working with Aes Sedai too loudly, and they probably shouldn't mention Thom, either. Some of the Guards have long memories, and so does the Queen.

Thom had trouble with the Queen? Rand is incredulous. Well, it's no secret, says Gill. Thom was the Courtbard at Caemlyn, and known in every royal court on the continent. Not long after Taringail Damodred died, the trouble with Thom's nephew arose. Thom was having an affair with Morgase,(7) a young widow, and Thom in his prime. But when he learned about his nephew, he took off without a word, and the Queen didn't like that, or him meddling in Aes Sedai affairs. When he came back, they had words, some words you don't say to anyone much less a queen. When Thom left Caemlyn last, he was a hair's breadth from prison, if not the headsman's axe.

“If it was a long time ago,” Rand said, “maybe nobody remembers.” Master Gill shook his head. “Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards. He personally commanded the Guardsmen Morgase sent to bring Thom back in chains, and I misdoubt he’ll ever forget returning empty-handed to find Thom had already been back to the Palace and left again. And the Queen never forgets anything. You ever know a woman who did? My, but Morgase was in a taking. I’ll swear the whole city walked soft and whispered for a month. Plenty of other Guardsmen old enough to remember, too. No, best you keep Thom as close a secret as you keep that Aes Sedai of yours. Come, I’ll get you something to eat. You look as if your bellies are gnawing at your backbones.”

=====

(1) The symbol of the royal family of Andor, and thus presumably a sort of symbol banner for the capital city. (2) Bunt knows Holdwin's not to be trusted from his regular encounters with the man, it seems. He knows who to believe: his own judgement, which seems mighty fine to me. (3) Now, why would one wrap be cheaper than the other? (4) I seriously trimmed down the gawping Rand does at all the people, fights that break out that he's witness to, etc etc. There are NINE PAGES in my paperback before they enter the inn. Also, I had trouble phrasing it for the summary so I left it out, but Rand makes reference to Gill's being fat as a relief: the only bad experience he ever had was with a skinny innkeeper. So, now it's a meme throughout the fandom that you never trust a skinny innkeeper. (Along the same lines, I suppose, as a saying I grew up with: "never trust a skinny cook" because presumably they don't cook well enough to keep themselves fed.) (5) And Gill teaches us one of the most important lessons in fiction in general, but particularly in this series: never believe someone's dead until you see a body and you're P O S I T I V E that it's actually theirs and not some elaborate illusion or prank. I've really taken that one to heart in recent years. (6) I find it somewhat understandable that, given the rules of this world, Gill doesn't really want a male channeler possibly on the edge of madness and Breaking (like the world was Broken 3000 years ago) in his inn. Like, he wants to help friends of Thom's, but that's a fair line to draw, given the destructive power we've seen a man hold. Lews Therin did literally create a miles-high mountain from a flat plain in the opening. (7) And then some intrigue with Thom! He was definitely having an affair with Morgase at one point, it's not entirely clear if it started before or after her husband died, or when Thom arrived on the scene at all. [waggles eyebrows] Also, interesting that he was "in his prime" at the time, and I have to wonder what that means exactly with regard to age. Thom's age is one of the biggest mysteries in the series. Because of his white hair and the description of him as "grizzled" in his intro, a lot of people assume he's in his 60s or 70s and just still nimble for his age. There are clues that lend toward that sort of range, if you pay close attention. But, I tend to headcanon him much younger, and I was ever so glad the show agreed with me in their casting.

#wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #twot #the eye of the world #eye of the world #eotw #teotw #wot white lion icon #rand al'thor #mat cauthon #almen bunt #basel gill

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luna-writes-stuff · 3 years

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I would be honored if you could do an imagine for Fili crushing on someone who went on the journey with the Company. He thought she liked his brother, but after seeing him with Tauriel, Fili feels like he has a chance and offers everything to make her as happy as he thought she would be with Kili. Lovely fluff and some misunderstandings with everyone living because IF I CAN'T SEE CANON THEN IT DOESN'T EXIST

Mixed signals, Fili Durin (platonic Kili x reader)

what do you mean they don’t usually live???? Idk I always skip the last half hour of botfa. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

Ahahah I got taken away a bit so it’s a long request. Sorry….

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: misunderstood feelings, mention of injury and blood, tiny sprinkle of angst, fluff, Kili being a lil shit, Fili being jealous, few mentions of Y/N I’m so sorry.

- This man is whipped for you. I posted a request similar to this one yesterday, and I feel like it says enough.

- The moment he sees you, he knows you’re his One. Yet, he can’t allow himself to show you. His brother wouldn’t shut up about it and besides that, after Erebor was to be reclaimed, he had to marry royalty in order to form an alliance.

- But Thorin wasn’t blind. He has seen the look in Dis’ eyes many times before. He had seen his sister find her One, so it came as nothing out of the ordinary when he witnessed his nephew do the same.

- And this is pre-dragonsickness. Back when Thorin was all “I hate everyone but I guess I have to keep up with these two idiots so I’ll tolerate them.”

- And he wanted to grant Fili the opportunity to be with his One. He had even told him to simply go for it.

- But Fili was a bit insecure. When you met him, you didn’t seem taken away in any way. It was almost as if it had only been him who was in love.

- And with that, you had grown remarkably close to his brother, Kili. You two joked around all the time. You sat together during the evenings, Kili would help you up on your horse/pony, he would take offer your watches and he even let you hold his bow and arrow. That is basically dwarven language for “I love you and I wish to court you” or “I love you and I’m so glad to have you in my family.”

- What Fili didn’t know is that Thorin told Kili about you being his One. But instead of teasing Fili about it, Kili had made it his duty to agitate his brother so much that he would have no choice but to confess to you before Kili would sneak you away.

- For your information: Kili had no intention of sneaking you away. He just wanted to make it look like it for Fili, and, lucky for him, you had just been going along with it subconsciously.

- But it did not agitate Fili. It made the poor lad confused and tired. You were showing so much affection and endearment to his brother that he felt like he could never compete. Even though Kili had never been attractive in dwarven standards, he knew his way around women. And seeing someone finally pay attention to him, made Fili happy for his brother.

- And Kili just kept up with the act. He was oblivious to what his brother was feeling. Thorin had quite specifically told Kili not to tell his brother, and for once, he didn’t. But when days turned into weeks, Kili made more advances. Not in any way uncomfortable for you, but they had been a step further.

- He would let you rest against him during night shifts, he would let his hand linger on your waist when he helped you get onto your horse/pony. This sneaky bastard even managed to toy with your hair.

- Fili grew absolutely devastated at these moments. He had distanced himself more and truly felt as if his One had been taken away and he would die alone.

- But then Mirkwood happened. It was obvious to Fili that his brother had taken a liking on Tauriel, the female elf that saved him earlier. You had been passed out of exhaustion in your cell, not paying attention to your surroundings anymore.

- And that was when Fili finally decided to speak.

- “What are you doing? I thought you liked Y/N and now you’re flirting with that elf? You can’t treat her like that!”

- And now Kili was confused.

- “I thought you liked Y/N?” He had questioned, not even knowing whether his uncle had been lying to him or not.

- “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you can’t just run around-“ but Kili had already cut him off. “It does matter. Because Y/N isn’t my One. I’m not attracted to her!”

- And now Fili was dead silent. He had been contemplating on whether to act furious or taken aback. In reality, he had been a bit of both.

- “You don’t like Y/N?” Fili asked, nearly insulted.

- “I was only trying to agitate you. Uncle said she was your One but that you wouldn’t confess.” Kili admitted finally, knowing that keeping the act up any longer wouldn’t work.

- “So you tried to beat it out of me?” The only response the blonde got was a quiet hum.

- “You thought I would take away your chance of happiness?” Fili wondered aloud, his anger now showing more clearly. “Well, not if you put it like that-“ “How else am I supposed to put it?”

- With those words, the space grew quiet. One more question lingered on Fili’s mind, and he had to ask it.

- “Does she know you don’t like her?” A short pause was heard from Kili before he responded. “She does. When we grew closer she told me she wasn’t attracted to me and I told her she wasn’t my One.”

- A sigh of relief came Fili’s way, but his brother kept on talking. “She grew all confused by the concept of ‘Ones’. Had to give her a whole history lesson. She thinks it’s adorable. I’m sure she won’t reject you.” With those words, Fili’s ears pricked up.

- “How so?” “Because every time we are together, she won’t stop asking me about you.” Fili never thought someone could ever bring him more butterflies than when you smiled at him, but as Kili’s sentences reached him, his stomach felt all light again.

- “At first I thought it was because you were ignoring her, but I quickly figured out that wasn’t the case.” Kili shot a quick look his brother’s way, even though he had been in a cell on the other side of the hall. “She likes you, she really does. She’s not as good at hiding it as you are. If you ask her to court you, she won’t say no.”

- Fili had spent the entire night pondering over his brother’s words. Even as they escaped the dungeons and took the boat to Laketown, his anxiety bubbled up.

- But as soon as the orcs entered the city, reality sunk back in. They had been on the run while simultaneously claiming their homeland. There might be a chance neither of you would make it. And it terrified him.

- As you were busy holding off the orcs in Bard’s home, Fili had been right beside you covering your back. He knew asking you to court him would require more steps. Up until this moment you had only held a handful of conversations, but Fili was running out of patience.

- “When all this is over, I need you by my side.” He told you quickly, his voice heavy as he fenced off the attackers. You grew confused at your words, yet your actions did not falter one bit. And it only made Fili more attracted to you. How you maintained yourself on a battlefield, yet somehow managed to hold that perfect look. It could quite easily take his breath away.

- “But I am by your side.” You answered, not catching his meaning, thinking it had been too good to be true.

- “I mean by my side at Erebor. When we reclaim the mountain. Will you stay with me?” Upon your silence, Fili tried explaining his speech. “I know asking you to court me requires more steps but we might not have time for them anymore. I need you to stay with me. We can do all these steps afterwards, I promise.”

- You cast him a quick look before giving him a sincere nod. “I’ll stay with you.”

- And that is exactly what you did. Upon finally arriving at the mountain with the four dwarves, Fili finally got the time to braid your hair, even if Thorin told him to look for the Arkenstone. You had even managed to braid his hair too, even though you had no beads yet.

- Even as Thorin slowly grew insane, Fili had done what he promised; he remained by your side, defending you against his uncle and keeping you as safe as he could.

- During the battle of the five armies, you stayed with him and Kili. You traveled with the three of you, not once separating. Not even when Fili decided you should split up. Because of that, you managed to do quite a number on Azog before Thorin called out to him.

- Azog had gotten a good slash on your leg, nothing life threatening but enough to make you collapse on the spot. Fili had been so worried. He had promised to look out for you, but now you were bleeding out on the snow covered floor. Kili had already ran off for help, even though the possibility he would come back with one would be highly unlikely, as battle was still raging on.

- On top of Ravenhill everything had grown silent. Bodies of dead orcs were littered over the floor but all that mattered to Fili right now was you being safe. Eventually, Kili had ran back with Bilbo, Thorin and Gandalf by his side. They had successfully beaten Azog, finally putting an end to the bloodshed.

- As the mountain was being rebuilt, Oin had put you on bed rest to let your leg heal and Fili had been with you the entire time. Thorin hadn’t even tried to get him for royal duties. He knew he had been awful to you during his dragonsickness, and this was his way of apologizing to you. And you had been fine with it.

- When you had finally recovered, Kili took you to the forges to make beads for Fili. You wanted it to be a surprise for him, but you needed supervision. At first, Dis, Fili and Kili’s mother, had offered to help, but it had become her duty to distract the crown prince.

- A few burns and scratched had started to form on both your and Kili’s hands but it had been worth it. The beads were incredible.

- Fili was so happy when you gave them to him. He was so surprised by the amazing details and the thought and time your poured into them.

- He wears them the entire time. Now exceptions. Not even for bed or bath. None. They must always be in his hair.

- I WANNA WRITE MORE BUT IT’S ALREADY SO LONG BUT JUST ASSUME HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WILL TREASURE YOU FOREVER AND LOVE YOU FOR EVERY LITTLE THING YOU DO

#Fili #Fili durin #tolkien #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the company #the company of thorin oakenshield #Fili x reader #Fili imagine

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astradrifting · 3 years

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AGOT - Jon I (Chapter 5)

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

I don’t know why D&D decided Jon could never lie, when literally the first line in his POV is a lie. He’s so good at it he can even lie to himself!

****

A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

A singer with a high harp and a ballad seems like a vague Rhaegar allusion. That Jon can’t actually hear him makes me happy in a very petty way.

****

His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.

I think this part is actually Jon being indignant on Ned’s behalf that Cersei was rude to him, by not looking at him when he escorts her, not that she never looked at Jon. Also, there’s those observation skills. He’s never been taken in by a pretty smile.

****

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Adorable!!!

****

Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Jon’s a mean drunk I guess 💀

****

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

Joffrey according to Jon: 👁👄👁

But Sansa looked radiant 🥰

****

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him.

This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Giving me big ‘muscled like a maiden’s fantasy’ vibes there, Jon.

Also, curiously enough Jaime’s introduced wearing black and red, Targaryen colours. Maybe a nod to the incest storyline, possibly leftover foreshadowing from when Jaime was going to become king, as per the outline.

Otherwise this means that, like everybody else in this story, Jaime is a secret Targaryen. He and Cersei can join the ranks of Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Mance Rayder and while we’re at it… *spins a wheel of names* Meera too.

****

His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

Jon spends half this chapter on the verge of tears, my angsty little lad.

****

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s.

They actually call him Ben and ‘uncle Ben’ a few times in the series, which I honestly think might be a Spider-Man allusion. Surrogate father figure Uncle Ben’s early disappearance/death kicking off the plot… There’s also a saying that nobody stays dead in comics except for Uncle Ben - considering all the other resurrections in the books, metaphorical and literal, yet GRRM says that Benjen isn’t Coldhands, it might be the same for this Uncle Ben too.

****

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

"[Garlan] is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance." (ASOS, Sansa I)

Love a Jon-Garlan parallel! Also thinking about Garlan being the older brother made me realise - in the story everyone thinks that Jon is younger than Robb, but timeline-wise, he has to be older, because Robb was conceived in the two weeks before Ned left to fight at the Trident, and Rhaegar must have at least already been in the capital by then to rally the loyalists, so Jon was conceived weeks, if not months earlier. Which means that Ned has definitely lied about when Jon’s birthday is.

Jon being the product of a ‘youthful indiscretion’ before he was married is less of a stain on Ned’s honour than him betraying his marriage bed but I imagine Catelyn’s fears about Jon usurping her children might have had more basis if he was known to be the eldest, so maybe that’s why Ned lied about how old he is.

****

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

"A conquest that lasted a summer," his uncle pointed out. "Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game." He took another sip of wine. "Also," he said, wiping his mouth, "Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?"

Jon is unfortunately, a jock. And a bit of an idiot.

There’s something about Jon’s hero dying at 18, Waymar dying at 18 just a few chapters ago... Jon has them all beat by dying at 17.

****

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Establishing Benjen as a somewhat contentious father figure to Jon - even more fuel for my brand new Uncle Ben ‘theory’.

****

The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl.

"Shy, isn't he?" Lannister observed.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

Possibly he and Sansa are the only ones who properly trained their direwolves, considering how the rest of them will end up behaving.

****

“If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be.

Pffffft! Edgy edgy edge-lord 💀

Though I also always feel like issuing casual threats to Tyrion Lannister so I can’t really blame him.

****

Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

He’s got a weird preoccupation with comparing his height to Lannister men in this chapter. My headcanon for the books is that Jon’s quite tall by ADWD but evidently he’s tiny in AGOT if he feels strange being tall next to a dwarf.

****

final thoughts:

Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have Jonsa in mind with my new Uncle Ben theory, but I did just remember that brown haired Peter Parker’s main love interest is red-haired MJ :P

#astra re-reads #agot re-read #jon chapters

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

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Moonstruck

Chapter One (Here) // Chapter Two (Here)

Chapter Two

The wolf wasn't beneath the trees.

But his big feet make him easy to track, leading Claire and Caspian out of the wretched wood to a sea of wild hills that look like waves under the heavenly glow of the night sky. As they near two rolling mounds where the tracks drag against the earth, she sees a lonely crofter house nestled between them like a little boat, abandoned and shabby looking, but it's roof is still thatched and the stone walls still stand. Good enough really for a place to rest one's tired head.

Yet Claire wonders why a wolf would seek a place so out in the open.

Better yet why anyone would seek out a wolf.

"Because you're an absolute nutter, Beauchamp," says Claire to herself. " Or very possibly you're suffering a concussion."

Swinging a leg off Caspian, she tugs on his reins with a warning to stay put and gathers a deep fortifying breath before stepping into the shadow of the house where the door hangs open.

Inside, shafts of bright silvery light illuminate the room, seeping in through the only window. There are cobwebs and dead leaves strewn about the place, emptied of almost everything except for a wobbly looking table by the soot stained hearth and a stool that must've been made for a child tucked into the corner. . .

Opposite of the big red wolf, eyes bright as stars in the pale blue dark.

Claire's breath quickens and her pulse jumps at her throat but she manages to keep her voice steady. Somewhat.

"We still have that deal don't we? You restrain yourself from biting my head off and I don't shoot you between the eyes."

A miserable sound echoes from the wolf's maw and that's answer enough for Claire. The floorboards creak beneath her as she shuffles about the room, finding a bit of flint left behind from vagrants come and gone and makes a pleased and grateful sound when the sparse bits of wood in the hearth catch fire. She then kneels down in front of him, fist outstretched and shaking as she chants -

"Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. . ."

It's only when Claire feels something hot and wet swipe against her knuckles does she realize her eyes have been shut and she recoils in surprise,flat on her arse with a shriek.

The wolf however snorts heartily.

“You're laughing at me aren't you?”

The corner of his long mouth quirks wryly as his bushy tail swings back and forth and Claire finds herself cracking a smile. The first of this very long and preposterous night.

"Well, a sense of humor must mean you have a heart after all. More so than Caspian anyways.”

And she hopes it means he isn't too badly injured.

Claire comes closer again and tentatively runs the back of her fingers against the wolf's broad crown, his dark copper fur soft against her skin, slanted eyes gone to slits. Encouraged now, she scratches behind his ears and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure from deep within his throat and drops his head onto her lap, sighing with heart filled contentment. She laughs softly with growing affection, her fingers finding their way underneath his great maw that makes his head upturn and tail to swish, swish.

"I don't care what you say you're a puppy and a sweet one too, aren't you?"

She then impulsively imparts a kiss atop his head and the wolf bumps his nose against her chin wanting another.

“Cheeky lad,” she murmurs warmly, but gives him another anyway.

However, she came here for a reason and that wasn't to cuddle a wolf.

Stroking her hand along his neck, that has him kicking out a long powerful hind leg, she says -

"I know I don't look it, but I know more than a thing or two about broken bones and gashes. Will you trust me to help you, even if it hurts?"

A beat passes before he licks at her wrist and she takes that as a show of trust and extricates herself from beneath the red wolf. Gently, she probes his back and ribs first and is amazed there's only a few marks from the bear, hardly deep at all. But then her hands pass over a crisscross of scars beneath his thick coat and her eyes meet his, searching.

“Someone's hunted you, haven't they?”

A frightful tremor crawls over him that grips at her heart and without thought she presses herself against him wishing she could ease whatever horror he was remembering.

“I hope you tore the bastard apart. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

His sides lightly shake and she knows it must be laughter.

Pushing her wayward curls behind her ear, Claire then touches him gingerly over his injured shoulder. The muscle is swollen and a part of her wonders if it's just a bad sprain. But she remembers that odd angle of his leg as he walked and how he nurses it close to himself now.

“If you were a man I'd set your shoulder and wrap it in a sling. I've done so before though it's no small feat. But I haven't so for an animal much less a bear-sized wolf . . .” She sighs. Upset with herself. Hand at her brow, the cut throbbing more so now. “There isn't much I can do without another pair of hands."

She looks helplessly at the wolf.

But there's no way for him to express to her that it's alright, he's suffered worse. And would gladly do so again and again if it meant keeping her from harm. This brown haired lass like no other woman he's ever seen before. Sae bonny and brave.

So he nuzzles her palm and mouths the soft skin like the puppy she says he is and feels his heart swell and the pain in his arm to cease when a smile softly graces her face lovelier than a moonbeam.

Aye, she was worth it.

Claire leaves him for a moment to settle Caspian for the night in the old byre behind the crofter house and comes back with blankets from the horse's saddleroll, a flask and a fold of her cloak full of bittie yarrow leaves she'd found growing between the stones.

The flask is filled with brandy (courtesy of her former betrothed) that she douses torn strips of her gown with to clean the wolf's wounds (murmuring sweet things as she does so knowing how sharply it stings) while the yarrow leaves are mashed between her teeth and applied carefully like a salve.

For his poor shoulder however, she says -

“I promise I'll figure out what to do in the morning. I owe it to you for saving me. Thank you by the way,” she softly adds, and scratches behind the wolf's ears as he likes until his eyes begin to droop and a long winded yawn escapes her mouth.

She's exhausted. Body bruised and aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll but she doesn't think she can sleep in a gown that's been slobbered and bloodied. So while the wolf is fast asleep, Claire undresses down to her chemise and stays and quickly wraps herself in one blanket while laying out the other for a makeshift bed, leaving her cloak to dry by the hearthfire.

Her ruined gown however she grasps in her hands.

No longer did it shine with promise.

No longer was she to be a bride.

At least not for him.

“The bloody two-faced fucking bastard,” Claire mutters angrily, tossing the damn garment across the floor to gather dust as a tear rolls down her chin. She then curls herself into a ball by the fire, shivering beneath the scratchy grey wool, and wrings her heart out of any lingering affection she's ever had for Frank Wolverton Randall by remembering the last moment she saw him.

That morning of their wedding behind the church. Swaying on his feet as he groped a woman she could've sworn was his cousin. And then keeled over, grasping his manhood right after she kneed him.

If only they hadn't been on sacred ground she would've kicked him too.

But just maybe he pissed himself.

Lost in that ever pleasing hopeful thought, Claire is startled to feel a deep huff of breath cloud down her neck like steam and looks up to see the red wolf looming above her.

"You absolute fool," she scolds, though it's spoken without bite as she sits up to cradle his face with both her hands. " You're only making things worse for that shoulder of yours."

The wolf doesn't care. He nuzzles her cheek where the brokenhearted tear had fallen, making a sad whimpering sound as he does so that endears him evermore to Claire's heart.

"No use arguing with a stubborn wolf is there?"

There isn't. He licks the side of her face making her softly giggle before plopping down beside her with a heavy thunk and Claire can do nothing more but sink down against him, his fur radiating a tender warmth that seeps into her tired bones.

Claire wakes with the morning light that floods the room and stings her eyes that immediately shutter close behind the back of her arm.

While embers have kept the room bearable, she knows the only reason she hasn't woken with a sniffle is because of the heavy, heated weight that engulfs her like a brushfire. Drowsily, she lets her hand wander to the furry head atop her chest that rises steadily with a deep inhale of smokey air and then strokes softly down until her palm oddly meets naked flesh. . .

Her eyes bolt open and through the sleepy blur she sees a stranger, big and naked draped across her, mumbling something hot-breathed and incoherent as he smothers his face between her breasts right before she screams.

#Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #moonstruck

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years

Note

Is there any between Dany seeing red comet and wake the dragons while Bran was instructed to follow blue star to reach ice dragon in AGOT?

Hello, anon, what a brilliant parallel!

Both of our magical most special kids are guided by the light in the sky toward a deeper exploration of the extreme threats of Ice and Fire.

The comet appears before Dany wakes the dragons and later leads Dany to Vaes Tolorro, from where she moves further on to Qarth. But there she doesn't resume the direction of going east (toward Asshai, home of the dragons), she heads west and takes control of (or "frees") a slave army and wreaks havoc in Slaver's Bay, for better and for much worse.

Bran follows the "blue eye of the rider" of the Ice Dragon constellation north, it leads him past Tumbledown Tower, past Queenscrown, past the Nightfort all the way to the cave of the three-eyed crow, where he, too, receives visions. His next steps are likely to involve a change in direction and a "slave army" and some destruction of the "masters".

So far, so similar. But.

Unlike the comet, the Ice Dragon is not as widely discussed in the books, and doesn't have as many negative images surrounding it. It helps Jon find the way back to Castle Black after being seriously wounded escaping the wildlings. Jon calls the Ice Dragon an old friend, as does Davos. Jon has the greatest number of mentions of the ice dragon, most compare it to the Wall itself. Actual ice dragons are said to be extremely large and melt when they are slain. Like the Wall itself, the Ice Dragon may have a protective aspect to it, unlike the comet.

Also, unlike the endless differing interpretations applied to the transitory comet, the Ice Dragon's blue star is not only constant, but has only one meaning: due North. This fits with a common theme for the wights. Their eyes see with a power unconnected to their bodies.

Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man's horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?

He rode till dawn, while the stars stared down like eyes. (ASOS, Jon V)

Many blue eyes see for one purpose, like the red heart tree eyes are windows for the three-eyed crow. Constant and ancient and watchful.

The comet is more like the visions in Melisandre's flames. Dependent on who is looking and what they want to see. Fleeting and changeable. They contain truth but they mislead, to destructive ends.

Something tells me, the red comet and the blue star have a similarly different nature.

Unlike the ice dragon for Dany, the comet also features in Bran's chapters. In fact, he gets the very first mention of the thing with maester Luwin.

"For a certainty," Maester Luwin agreed with a deep sigh. The maester was peering through his big Myrish lens tube, measuring shadows and noting the position of the comet that hung low in the morning sky. "Yet given time … Ser Rodrik has the truth of it, we need men to walk the walls. Your lord father took the cream of his guard to King's Landing, and your brother took the rest, along with all the likely lads for leagues around. Many will not come back to us, and we must needs find the men to take their places."

Bran stared resentfully at the sweating boys below. "If I still had my legs, I could beat them all." He remembered the last time he'd held a sword in his hand, when the king had come to Winterfell. It was only a wooden sword, yet he'd knocked Prince Tommen down half a hundred times. "Ser Rodrik should teach me to use a poleaxe. If I had a poleaxe with a big long haft, Hodor could be my legs. We could be a knight together." (AGOT, Bran VII)

We already know that "being a knight" with Hodor is likely to be an aspect of Bran's darkest moment and, I suspect, the point at which he will truly understand the evil in his magical powers. It is connected to the comet, not the Ice Dragon.

The wolves howl at the comet, Osha and old Nan recognize it as a signal of evil, while Osha herself tells Bran to follow the Ice Dragon in the first place.

So, if the comet heralds abuse of power and destruction, the Ice Dragon and its blue star may offer a different kind of guidance and lead Bran down a different kind of path. Not toward creating dragons but toward slaying one. Not toward waking the dead but toward laying them to rest.

#rouka queue #ice dragon #comet #bran stark #anti daenerys targaryen #blue eyes #wights #foils

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moxfirefly · 4 years

Text

So @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak wanted some Halloween headcanon’s for the lads, so let’s hop to it for one of my faves on here!

_________________

• our resident violent teddy bear is pretty neutral when it comes to old hallows eve, he does in fact enjoy the candy

• speaking of candy, will eat pretty much anything even try out that obscure shit nobody likes

• he does also LOVE when you feed him said candies

• will show up at your window and say “trick or treat” with the most cocky grin

• say Treat and he’s gonna give you the MOST SENSOUS SMOOCH

• say Trick, he’s gonna steal a kiss

• send him pics of you modeling potential costumes

• the skimpier the better

• will lowkey Windows Shutdown if you dress up as a boxer. The shorts, the sports bra, the gloves, the whole shebang. rapahael.exe has crashed.

• prefers cheesy horror movies think: Army of Darkness, Tucker and Dale vs Evil, Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy’s Dead etc

• if he could give out candy he’d def be the guy who high fives the kids and gasses them up and addresses them by their characters

• “oh heck Batman! You better get back to Gotham!”

• oh he’s also the guy who would give out extra candy to the kids

• pumpkin carving king

• Mikey loves scaring the shit out of him

• he claims he was ‘merely startled’

• won’t dress up, will be moody while having a pair of cat ears on his head that you insist upon because Dammit Raph we are all taking this picture and you are participating somehow

• Halloween Lover™️

• honestly our resident nunchuck bean loves all things spooky

• loves watching the NYC Halloween parade

• loves watching shows, movies, videos anything regarding to it

• will dress up

• will eat ALL THE CHOCOLATE PLS HIDE IT FROM HIM

• has defenatly said that famous “they are coming to get you Barbara” line, it’s drives Raph up the wall

• decorates the lair starting September honestly

• resident scare champion, seriously he has snuck up on Leonardo

• Halloween baking goods, join him this boy will feed you well

• will o.d on sugar cookies

• dress up as his fave superhero or game character, expect heart eyes all day and lots of handsy caresses, this boy will gas you up so much (he already does on the regular)

• cheesy horror films but he’s surprisingly high key into the Based on True Events ones. Think: The Conjuring, Blair Witch Project, Exorcism of Emily Rose, etc

• boy gets extra frisky on Halloween night

• will want to try and get into a party with you

• but if case not be he will throw a rager in the lair with the bros, you and the close friends

• y’all banging while a horror movie plays in the background

• “man if we were in that lake, that pissed of goalie would so kill us”

• “Mikey focus”

• “shit my bad, babe”

• Our blue boy enjoys Halloween surprisingly enough

• has to be forced into the party tho

• will end up having fun

• but will micro manage because Virgo™️

• actually won’t complain if asked to dress up

• sour candy lover

• old school horror movie lover: White Zombie, House on Haunted Hill, Dr Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, Creature of the black lagoon

• absolutely loves when you hide against his arm, he will purposefully find the goriest movies just so you could watch it basically buried on his chest

• humors Mikey because Big Brother Duties™️ so he helps decorate no matter how absurd it gets

• speaking of brotherly love 🥺 they love Hocus Pocus and watch it together every year cause Danny and Max reminds them of their relationship

• this precious brainiac loves Halloween perhaps rivaling Mikey

• he loves ghost stories, loves reading up on crimes and crazy events that happened around the time

• spooky podcast play all month long

• spooky playlist plays as well

• from old school Monster Mash style to more modern takes like Black No. 1

• will eat everything Mikey bakes, boys got a sweet tooth

• bring him seasonal coffee and he’s forever in your debt

• send him your Halloween costume idea, this lad will even help you MAKE it like legit even better than store bought

• Sci-Fi/Horror/Suspense/Psychological lover: It Follows, Predator, Alien Resurrection, Heredetary, Event Horizon, Splice, Martyrs, Suspiria, etc

• knows little know facts about certain scenes and effects

• “Did you know how many gallons of fake blood that took to make? Speaking off did you know you can make fake blood out of-“ Cue you screaming bloody murder at a graphic kill

• Resident DJ at the party (I have this headcanon that Donnie likes to make beats, remixes on his spare time when he needs to take a break from a project) Mikey says his transitions are so satisfyingly smooth

• Happily dresses up, begrudgingly helps his brothers with their costumes. They get so diva about it to a point where he’ll just mutter about not being on fucking Project Runway stop horsing around while wearing it of course it’ll tear!

• referees the games

• disqualifies Raphael almost every time

• once put on Halloween special effects noises

• splinter thought they were being attacked

• scared shitless of horror stuff? Let this adorable boyfriend of yours explain why “it’s illogical that a burned demon man in a striped sweater will invade your dreams and kill you my love....Now the monthman though-“

• “DONATELLO WE TALKED ABOUT THIS”

• “No conspiracy theories after midnight yes my apologies”

• once left a fake bug on Raph’s bed, spent the entire afternoon in a headlock

• Donnie and Raph actually spend time playing horror games though. Raph likes to play commentator. “Told ya that door was suspicious genius, but by all means get killed again” Cue Donnie rolling his eyes for the tenth time

• Loves seeing you all dressed up, especially if you dress up as a character he loves like Ripley from Alien.

#honestly i can be here all night #THESE WERE SO MUCH FUN #i hope you enjoy them #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #tmnt oots #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo #leonardo #donatello #michalangelo #raphael #tmnt hc #requested headcanons #ask #tmnt 2016

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my-funky-little-cowboy · 3 years

Text

Here I am, super late, but @artofadmin I was your secret cupid. I wrote some Arthur and Albert fluff for you, I do hope you enjoy it. So sorry again that it’s late!

Characters: Albert Mason, Arthur Morgan Pairing: 2AM, Albert x Arthur Themes: Fluff, Pre-relationship, just cute shit Warnings: None Words: 3,968 [ ko-fi ] || [ ao3 ]

Chance Meeting

Saint Denis.

Arthur adjusted himself in the saddle. Why Dutch wanted anything to do with this city was beyond him, especially after Blackwater. He slowed Ulysses to a lazy walk as he wound his way through the streets, keeping an eye out for employment opportunities in the city.

He eventually found himself on the main drag, crowds of carriages and pedestrians filled the street. The chime of a trolley car filtered through the dun of activity, the noise grated in Arthur’s ears, another reason he hated the city. Making his way to the Bastille Saloon, he tied up Ulysses and gave the horse an apple, promising to be back soon.

The saloon was surprisingly busy for how early it was and Arthur moved to the bar to order a drink. He placed a handful of coins on the table and motioned for the bartender to leave the bottle, turning his attention to the poker table, the men around the table talked raucously.

“Seat taken?” He asked, pulling out one of the empty chairs.

The man next to him sized him up, a predatory smile sliding across his face as he waved for Arthur to take a seat.

“Join us! Join us! Take a seat, stranger!”

Arthur tipped his hat and sat down, placing the bottle of whisky on the table. The men quietly returned to their conversations. Arthur poured himself a shot before reaching into his bag and pulling out a handful of cash. He held it out long enough for the other players to notice before looking up at the dealer.

“How much I got to put down to play?” He fumbled with the money in his hands.

“Five dollars.” Said the dealer, almost sympathetically.

Arthur counted out the bills and pushed them across the table, the dealer traded it for chips before he picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them.

“Alright, gentlemen. Bets in.” He said and started to deal as the men bid.

Arthur pulled his cards toward himself, sneaking a quick peek at his hand.

“So— ” a voice broke the silence at the table, ”—you don’t look like you’re from around here, lad. What brings you to town?”

Arthur filled his glass again, looking up at the man, finding all eyes at the table were on him.

“I was sellin’ some cattle to one of the farms just east of town,” he shrugged.

The conversation shifted a bit as they began to talk more about the town, offering information about local spots that Arthur should see while he was here. They told him where to find the general store and then got caught up in local gossip. Arthur let them talk, hoping to catch any information that may lead to some quick cash in town.

The game continued for another couple of hours, the men chatting about their lives and the goings-on about town. Arthur polished off the bottle, collected his winnings and politely took his leave from the table. He was annoyed that the men had nothing of importance to say, that their lives were so boring and simple, and even more annoyed that Dutch had sent him here, of all places.

He pushed through the doors onto the too-loud streets, unhitching Ulysses and giving him a pat. He stepped into the saddle and adjusted himself, looking around. The streets were busy as people went about their day and he decided to try his luck at one of the other saloons in town.

He gently dug his heels into Ulysses' flank, turning him around and heading toward the looming cathedral near the center of town, winding his way through the crowded streets.

Arthur groaned to himself as a group of kids bolted across the street in front of him. His eyes followed them down a small alley. His gaze lingering. He had exhausted almost all other options and the saloon he was heading for was nothing more than a hole-in-the-wall. Arthur pulled Ulysses to the side and jumped down, sighing heavily as he followed the kids into the alley that gradually opened up into a small courtyard.

The courtyard was empty for the most part, on the far end two women sat, chatting idly. He caught sight of the kids as they moved further into the space. He followed them around the corner finding himself in a dead-end, the three kids turning as he walked through the gate.

“You followin’ us, yokel?” One of the kids hissed, turning toward Arthur and pulling a knife from his belt.

Arthur held up his hands defensively, “Caught me.” a devilish smile crept across his face.

The boys looked between themselves, curious about the man, the kid lowered his knife as they came to a silent agreement.

“We ain’t giving back that lady’s coin purse. She don’t need it.”

-- ☓ --

Albert sat at his workbench in the small and cramped apartment. The wind blew gently on the unseasonably cool morning. He sat back, rubbing his tired eyes and placing his camera casing back on the table. He blinked a few times and stretched his arms above his head, reaching for his tea on the desk, empty.

“Damn.” Albert muttered and pushed up slowly from his chair, leaning deeply into a stretch.

He crossed to the sink, grabbing the kettle from the potbelly stove in the center of the room. He filled it with fresh water and placed it back over the heat to warm before gathering some tea leaves from the cupboard and leaning against the counter.

Albert closed his eyes, the sounds of the city in the morning a stark change from the quiet of nature he had been waking up to the last couple of months. The comforts of home were hard to deny, but he would miss seeing the stars in the sky and the gentle sounds of nature.

The sounds of traffic and fragmented conversations blurred together as Albert waited for the water to heat. He pushed off the counter and lifted the lid to the kettle, dropping the tea leaves in and returning to his desk, content to let the tea steep. Picking up the camera casing he grabbed the small brush to continue cleaning the dust from the gears when a new voice carried through the window, one he had never expected to hear again.

“I ain’t here about that.” The voice drifted through the open window.

Albert turned, slowly placing the camera back on the table.

It can’t be.

“Just lookin’ for some information about the town.” The distinct baritone continued and Albert stood, crossing to the window.

His eyes scanned the space below, looking for the familiar figure, moving between the faces of strangers. Across the courtyard, behind a low wall a group of street kids, staring defensively to a shadowed part of the alley.

“And why should we believe you?’ One of the boys growled, brandishing his knife toward the darkness.

“Listen kid, I just know. Best place to get the info I want is from the people most in the know.” Arthur stepped into the courtyard, his hands still raised defensively. “And, that’s you lot.”

The kid lowered his knife, eyeing Arthur warily. “What do you want to know?”

Albert couldn’t believe his eyes, his heart skipped a beat as Arthur’s form moved into the light. He watched, intrigued.

Arthur dropped his voice, taking another step forward he continued. “I’m just lookin’ for anything interesting going on around here.” He stopped, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “I can make it more than worth your while.”

The kid glanced at his buddies, re-sheathing his knife, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? How can you make it worth our while. Huh, old man?”

Arthur growled with annoyance at the comment but he pulled some cash from his bag, waving it in front of the leader. The kid smiled, rolling back on his heels. “Now you’re talkin’.”

He whistled, flagging over one of the boys. “Lem here can give you the tour of our fine town here.” He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder. “Won’tcha Lem?”

“A’course.” Lem replied smugly.

Arthur looked between the boys and sighed, folding a small handful of cash over and handing to the leader. “Right. Lead the way.” He stepped aside, letting Lem pass through the alley behind him.

Albert pushed back from the window as the two disappeared down the alleyway. He grabbed his hat and coat and ran out the door. What was Arthur doing in Saint Denis? How had he gotten wrapped up with these kids?

He pushed open the small gate to the courtyard, heading toward the alley Arthur and the kid had disappeared into, he glanced around, but the other two boys had vanished. He continued through the alley and back onto the main road, looking desperately up and down the street for any sign of Arthur and the boy.

He worried his hands, choosing to head right toward the center of town, his gut telling him that Arthur may have bit off more than he could chew with these kids. Arthur was familiar with a perilous life, Albert was certain of that, but the dangers here were nothing quite like those on the frontier.

The street opened up into the main square, the cathedral towering over the other buildings in the middle of town. He walked slowly around the square, hoping to find any indication of where they might have gone. As he passed a small courtyard he heard a group of kids talking lowly among themselves

“Why we trailin’ some poor yokel? Lem’ll clean him out just fine.” One of the boys huffed, kicking a small can along the cobbled street.

“Because he’s snoopin’ around, and Mr. Bronte won’t like that.” The boy Albert recognized from earlier said.

“Then why’d we take his money? We coulda just told him to take a hike.” The first grumbled, kicking the can again.

The boys’ voices faded as they moved out of earshot from where Albert had stopped to listen. He peeked around the corner, catching the group as they rounded a corner on the far side. Albert glanced around before following them through the courtyard, hoping to keep up just enough to avoid their attention.

The group wandered along the street, chatting among themselves. Albert followed a distance behind, hoping that the group would lead him close enough to Arthur that he could get him away from these kids.

They rounded another corner and Albert picked up the pace, he couldn’t afford to lose them now. He turned the corner, seeing the boys just ahead, much closer now as they crossed the street, heading toward the industrial side of town. Albert tried to imagine what business they had near the trainyard, but nothing good came to mind and he jogged after them, getting closer to the boys as they pushed through a gate to an alley behind the livery.

The alley seemed empty besides the boys and Albert dared not follow them in, walking around the front of the building, hoping to catch them on the other side. He stopped, seeing Lem round the opposite corner of the livery, Arthur in tow, and he ducked inside.

He had to think fast, why had he hidden in here, he didn’t even own a horse, it seemed silly in the city. He heard them getting closer and he fumbled with his waistcoat, pulling it straight before wiping the sweat from his brow and adjusting his hat. He swallowed hard, counting to himself as he saw Lem pass in front of the door, he stepped out, and into someone solid.

“Oh, my apologies, I real—Mr. Morgan?” He tried his best to sound surprised, stumbling back as the hand caught him.

“Watch where you’r—Mr. Mason?” Arthur’s voice cracked slightly, a restrained smile spreading over his face.

Lem turned, his eyes moving between them, he took a nervous step back, stealing a glance back toward the way they had come.

“Surprise seeing you here!” Albert said as cheerfully as he could, his eyes moving to Lem. “Who, who's your friend?” He held out his hand to the kid and Arthur stepped between them, confirming Albert’s suspicions.

“Lem here was just showin’ me to the stables, weren’t ya?” His eyes burned into Lem’s and the kid took a step back.

“Oh yeah, here we are, mister.” Lem said shakily. “Best a luck to ya!” He gave them a nervous wave and skirted around the corner, swallowed into the mass of workers.

Albert watched him go, seeing Arthur’s stance soften as the kid rounded the corner.

“Sorry, ‘bout that.” Arthur turned back to him, a warm smile breaking across his face.

“Oh.” Albert felt a rush of heat wash over him. “No need to apologize, I supposed Saint Denis is a big city. Easy enough to get lost.” He chuckled.

“Yeah.” Arthur sighed, looking around. “It’s quite a bit of civilization. Ain’t really used to it.” He rubbed the back of his neck shifting his weight.

“Well, if you need someone to show you around, I’d be more than happy to.” Albert couldn’t stop the words as he saw a bit of surprise cross Arthur’s face and he laughed nervously before adding. “You know, to pay you back for all you help out there.” He gestured vaguely to the north.

“You from here?” Arthur turned his attention back to Albert. “I would have thought some place like New York or Boston.”

“Not originally, but I’ve been here long enough to know a good place to get a drink and a good meal.” Albert winked.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head slightly, holding out a hand for Albert to lead the way.

“What brings you to town, Mr. Morgan?” Albert started back toward the center of town, pausing briefly to let Arthur catch up.

“I guess, I’m just looking for work.”

“Oh? Looking to finally settle down?” Albert couldn’t help the excitement that crept into his voice.

“Heh. Nothing like that, just some cash to tide me over while I’m in the area. Ain’t sure I could live some place so civilized.” Arthur glanced toward the ground, lying to Albert was quickly becoming one of the harder things he had done.

As happy as he was to see Mr. Mason again, he didn’t need him wrapped up in his world. The man was too kind, and Arthur couldn’t imagine the guilt if anything was to happen to him. He looked up, seeing the sadness on Albert’s face.

“Not, not that this place ain’t great!” Arthur backpedaled. “Just, didn’t expect to see ya here is all. Ain’t no wildlife here for you to try and get yourself eaten.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

Albert chuckled lightly, a heat spreading across his face. “No, I guess not.”

Albert led them through the city, stopping at a couple landmarks and Arthur humored him. He’d been through the town enough to know his way around, but listening to Albert talk excitedly about things was nice. Albert slowed as they came upon a small cafe and turned to Arthur.

“You hungry? This place has some of the best French pastry I’ve ever had.” He waved for Arthur to join him. “I happened upon it when I was applying for gallery space upstairs.”

“Oh? Your work is in this gallery?”

Albert turned as Arthur walked toward the alley, following the signs for the gallery. He hurried after him, reaching for his shoulder.

“It's, it’s not open quite yet, I’m afraid. The exhibit won’t open for another couple weeks or so, but yes!”

How could he tell Arthur that he had included that initial portrait of the man in his series. The Dying West, the man who embodied everything Albert found endearing about the wilds of America. He had thought it safe to include, never thinking he would see Arthur again, but here he stood in front of him.

It had to be a dream, Albert thought. The man had haunted his dreams for weeks, a passing fancy. It was safe to imagine him there, under the guise that he would never see the man again. But Arthur was here, had accepted his invite to a meal, and now was dangerously close to seeing himself included among the beauties of nature.

“Well then. I’ll have to come see it, once it opens.” Arthur turned to face him, a smile flashing across his face.

Albert felt himself melt looking up at Arthur’s smile. Did this man even know what his smile could do to a person? He froze as Arthur hooked an arm around his shoulder, giving him a quick pat.

“Now, you said something about French pastry?”

“Y-yes, it’s right over here.” Albert sputtered nervously, Arthur’s touch setting fire to his skin. He swallowed hard. “Their beignets are to die for.”

“Ben-yay?” Arthur’s voice cracked slightly. “What’s that?”

“You’re gonna love them! Sweet bread with honey and sugar!” Albert beamed. “And their coffee? Won’t find anything quite like this out there on the frontier, Mr. Morgan.” He pushed through the door and into the small cafe.

Arthur followed him into the cafe.

“This place seems real fancy,” he whistled.

“Nonsense,” Albert chided. “all kinds of people gather here, it’s one of the most popular cafes in the city.”

Arthur sighed and followed him to the counter. Albert flagged the waiter over, placing an order for some beignets and a coffee. The waiter turned to Arthur who politely asked for his coffee without whatever lait was, scrunching his nose at the sign on the wall. Albert felt a pang of guilt as he tried desperately to commit that face to memory.

“Dollar fifty,” the waiter said and Albert’s hand moved to his bag.

“Thank ya.” Arthur said as the waiter poured them each a coffee, sliding a handful of coins across the counter.

“No, you can’t! I was going to get this one, I owe you so much.” Albert protested as Arthur slid his cup in front of him.

“Don’t think nothing of it. What is that they say about starvin’ artists?” Arthur took a sip from his cup.

“And you said you were looking for work, don’t think I’d forgotten!” Albert rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, let’s find a seat.” Arthur pushed off from the counter, finding them a table near the window.

Albert slid into the chair across from Arthur as the waiter appeared, setting the warm beignets down on the table between them. He looked excitedly toward Arthur.

“So what will you work on next? Hopefully something less likely to get you killed.” Arthur picked up one of the pastries.

It felt airy and light in his hand, white sugar dusted the top and honey dripped from the side and he raised an eyebrow.

“Just try it, I swear it’s worth it.” Albert picked up one of the pastries, taking a big bite.

Arthur followed suit, the warm dough melted in his mouth, the sweetness from the honey and sugar dancing on his tongue. Mmmm. He took another bite, savoring the sweetness.

“Oh, I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about my next project yet. I’ve got enough to tide me over, plenty of ladies in this town want to have their picture taken.” His eyes lingered on Arthur expectantly. “What’d I tell you?”

Arthur popped the last bite in his mouth, fighting a sly smile. “Ain’t the worst thing I’ve eaten.”

He picked up his coffee, inhaling it deeply, he didn’t know what they had put in his coffee, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it. It had a familiar taste that reminded him of quiet nights out under the stars, before all this running. Things were simple, life was the best it’d been in as long as Arthur could remember. Things could be like that again, here, with him. He pushed the thought from his head.

Albert rolled his eyes. “What about you, Mr. Morgan, what’s next for you?”

“Probably just more of the same.” Arthur scratched his chin. “Shame though, that I won’t have to come to your rescue anymore.”

A smile tugged at Albert’s lips and he chuckled. “Guess it’s my time to save you then.”

“Oh yeah?” Arthur cocked his brow letting out a breathy chuckle that made heat rush to Albert’s ears.

“Yeah,” he said, defensively. “Those kids are bad business around here! Always swindling people out of their money.” Albert looked down, heat rising in his cheeks. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Arthur was taken aback, feeling the heat brush across his cheeks and he lowered his head.

“They were just some kids, no need to worry about me,” he mumbled.

“No, they just some kids looking to swindle some out-of-town stranger. You’re lucky I found you when I did”

Arthur shook his head and looked up from under the brim of his hat at Albert. “Well then, I guess this makes us even. Thank you Mr. Mason, for savin’ me from them kids and for treatin’ me to the best meal I’ve ever had.”

He picked up another beignet, gesturing with it at Albert, he took a bite.

“The best.” He chewed.

Arthur humored Albert, knowing the feeling of leaving a debt unpaid. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to feel indebted to someone like Arthur, so he would let him free, let him live his life.

They sat together, the conversation between them easy as they finished their meal. Arthur wondered if he had to leave, perhaps he could stay in town a few days, see what was around and catch up with his new friend. He worried Dutch would send someone to look if he hadn’t returned and quickly pushed the idea from his mind.

Albert chatted excitedly about his gallery opening, how excited he was to share the wonders of nature around them with the folks in town and Arthur smiled. He would have to swing back through when it opened, see how they came out. Maybe he would ask Albert to show him how to take pictures on that little camera he had gotten his hands on.

The sun had started to sink in the afternoon sky when they finished their coffees and pastries. The sounds of the city a rude reminder that they weren’t alone as they pushed through the door and back out onto the street. It had been so easy, spending time with Albert, Arthur thought. So much easier than life had become with the gang and he wished that he could stay, but he knew where he was needed.

Albert wanted to ask Arthur to stay, he would help him find work, but he knew that Arthur would refuse. Always something pulling him back to wherever he lived, whatever life he had. Albert chest tightened, would he never see Arthur again? He didn’t want that, he had to say something, anything to make Arthur understand how he felt.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Mason, truly.” Arthur adjusted his hat low over his brow.

Albert froze. His breath hitched, and he smiled.

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur reached out, giving Albert’s shoulder a pat, his hand lingering.

“I’ll see ya again, and thanks for the tour. Maybe Saint Denis ain’t so bad.” He let his hand fall and whistled for Ulysses.

“It grows on you.” Albert flashed a half smile, but his heart sank. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

Arthur turned, running his hand down Ulysses as the horse came to a stop outside the café. He pulled himself up in the saddle, looking down at Albert, he tipped his hat, his eyes sad.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Arthur said, clicking gently, he started down the road.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #albert mason #2AM #arthur morgan x albert mason #hyde tries writing #rdr2 fanfic

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