#i thought we'd done more threads with them than this. but maybe not.

[gotatext]

JUDE & JOSH — DAY THIRTY-FIVE.

location :   bedroom.

time :    jude bitches about the results of the heart raiser challenge.

featuring :   josh / @graftisms

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

josh walks into the bedroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, surprised to see the bedroom so empty, except for one person. the thought that he wouldn't be jude's favorite person right now because of the challenge isn't even on his mind, still tired from his night with naomi. if anything, maybe josh should be embarrassed that jenny had got his heart rate up the most, and he had been—but by now he assumes it's karma for getting away with punching dejan. so he's not thinking much about it, giving jude a nod as he heads over to his closet. "how was the bedroom last night?" he asks, rummaging through his clothes. "busy?" josh couldn't be the only one turned on by it all.    

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

there’s a crease between jude’s brow, deep as a valley, thumbs working overtime as he taps against the screen of his phone, stretched out across the bed he shares with jenny. he’s on the notes app of his phone, attempting to write down his feelings, not so much a poem as an attempt to better process his anger. his mother always said he struggled to articulate himself, that he should take a few breaths, figure out what he wanted to say. it’s kind of working, anger dissipating like a berocca in a tall glass of water, until josh strides in and it freshly bubbles to the surface, simmering just beneath his expression. “dunno,” jude responds, tone measured. “i went to sleep pretty early.” pretty early after a minor scrap with jenny which ended up the two of them sleeping back to back. “too much fuckin’ drama for one day.” and for jude, at least, jenny and josh are at the centre of it. “were you in the dog house?”

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

if jude feels some type of way about him, josh doesn't notice. he's too busy trying to pick between bathing suits, trying to remember which he had worn least recently. if any future islanders come to him for advice, he's going to tell them to pack more swimming trunks. "yeah?" he glances at jude from over his shoulder quickly, before shrugging. jenny's sex life is definitely not his business. neither is her drama, really, so josh hesitates when jude brings up drama, torn between tempted to ask about it and wanting to stay out of the couples' business. "me? oh, nah," he chuckles, grabbing a casual button-down from his closet. "i think both our results were equally fucked up, so we called a truce. it's just a challenge anyway, y'know? it's made to get us all pissed off." clearly it worked for some people. josh glances back at jude again, daring himself to ask, "you and jenny okay?"

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

it's just a challenge. it's made to get us pissed off.  josh isn't to know, but it's basically the same thing jenny had said, and hearing it again from the reason he's pissed is like waving a red rag before a bull. just because something's meant to piss them off, doesn't mean jenny should go directly out of her way to succeed in rattling him. had it not crossed her mind that maybe he wouldn't be cool with her grinding on her ex in front of him?  "obviously i get that, yeah, but there's like, a level of respect there, too. if i was chirpsing a girl and she started grinding on my mate in the club there's no way i'd give her the time of day. that's muggy." closing his notes app, he hits the button on the side of his phone to lock it and drop it into the mattress, leaning back against the pillows, hands folded behind his head. "i just think it's pretty bait that she went for you and dante when she could have picked literally anyone else." evidently, she did it to make herself feel good with little thought spared to how jude would take it. "it's selfish. it makes me look like a mug. d'you get where i'm coming from?" 

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

josh isn't really sure what he's supposed to do in this conversation. on the one hand, he relishes in the potential power he could have over jenny's new guy, testing just how much he likes the blonde with a remark or two that jude probably wouldn't appreciate. but on the other hand, josh still does feel a level of protectiveness over jenny. god knows he shouldn't, after everything she had done to him, but it's not like josh isn't aware that one of the reasons him and naomi are able to be as good as they are right now is because jenny is wrapped around this new guy of hers. so he holds back an eyeroll on jude's behalf, and speaks on jenny's. "listen, i'm gonna be honest with you," he says, turning to face jude better. "you can't compare this shit to the real world, because in no reality would anyone be in the position to dance on their ex or whatever you wanna call it. and calling her selfish is only going to ruin any chance you have with her, so i wouldn't advertise that shit. jenny and i are over," josh says, firmly. "naomi danced on kangaroo boy, and you don't see me whining about it, because i know that it's not serious. yeah, it sucks that all of us date each other and have to deal with watching them go onto different relationships or whatever, but i don't think anyone was taking shit seriously yesterday. it was just fun. i get where you're coming from, especially in something new, but i've done the whole jealous guy schtick, and trust me, it's only gonna push her away if you get pissed at every little thing that happens here," josh shrugs, going back to his closet. "your call, dude. but i'm not trying to fuck jenny again, if that's what you're worried about." maybe next time jude shouldn't wear makeup, and maybe he'd be ranking higher for jenny.

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

“i’m not saying she’s selfish, i’m saying the action was selfish. she’s not an intrinsically selfish person.” look who’s swallowed a dictionary. “it is the real world though? stuff is different here, i get that, but, it’s still the real world.” maybe everything’s more intense in here, because it’s some weird horny echo chamber, but that doesn’t mean shit he wouldn’t permis on the outside’s allowed to fly in here. “okay. but when you say you’re over, are you serious about it? because i’m fuckin’ serious about her, man, and somehow we seem to keeping going in circles with the two of you. it’s like fuckin’ groundhog day and i hate that movie.” it’s not so much a warning as it is a desperate need to know the truth, paranoia up to his eyeballs when it comes to jenny and josh.  “she grinded on you, you’re squeezing her legs. can you see why that might piss me off?” sighing, he pushes up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair, and paces over to the wardrobe. irritatingly, before the whole firepit saga, he’d actually thought him and josh could be friends, but that’s gone out the window now. “what, so now you want a medal because you weren’t mad about her dancing with dylan?” honestly, this whole i’ve been you, buddy routine is kinda tired and fucking patronising, and it leaves jude with a sour taste in his mouth, wishing he’d never asked. “maybe we’re fuckin’ built different, bro. i can’t be arsed with this.” 

𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨.

"it's the same thing to girls, dude." calling someone selfish verses their action being selfish. potato, potahto. josh is taken aback a little at the candor in jude's tone, speaking about how serious he is about jenny. maybe it's because of the timing of jenny and jude getting together, or maybe it's the fact that after the way him and jenny imploded, it's hard to take her in a real relationship seriously. it does make him wonder whether she feels the same, a surprising stab of jealousy reach his chest that he hadn't expected to feel. part of him wants to point out that he's done far worse than just squeeze her legs before, but instead he just shakes his head. "i don't know what you're talking about, man. we're not some will-they-won't-they ross and rachel shit." that's him and naomi. "we tried it out, it didn't work. both of us are in other relationships now, and i can't speak for jenny, but i'm happy where i am. i think she is too," he admits, albeit begrudgingly. "what, do you want me to pinky swear i'm not gonna steal her from you? i pinky swear it." so much attitude from someone who josh is trying to help with unsolicited advice, jeez. "maybe we are, but we're both in the same place, and if you're gonna blow a gasket every time they make us do something like that, then you're on the wrong show. not trying to be a dick, but."  it's the truth.

[songbird-sunrise]

OOC: In light of Thes and Fiona announcing casinoroyale's hiatus, I just wanna take a moment and thank them both for helping us create this wonderful story. I've never met people more dedicated, caring, and talented. Some more rambling under the cut

To give you all a peek behind the curtain, without casinoroyale, I think we would've abandoned this blog. Given our circumstances, it was near impossible to find an opportunity to really give it our all in terms of writing. We didn't have a partner to bounce off of, and there was a brief time where I considered deactivating. But, in a sort of desperate decision, I asked Thes to be our Quackity, and thus kicked off a long, winding story that takes us to today

I never thought that bedrock!tnt would get this far. We didn't even think they'd be ROMANTIC at first. We were just having fun, seeing where it all took us, and I couldn't be happier with where we ended up. It's overwhelming how much people latched on to this silly thing we were doing together

To the people that read along, liveblogged threads, made art, etc.: thank you. You guys made this better than we could've ever imagined

And we'd like to thank Thes/Fiona for sticking along for this ride as long as they have. We couldn't have done any of this without them. You should follow them at @cquackity, by the way. They just posted a really good exile fic, and there's gonna be more amazing writing on the way. They're astonishingly cool, and awesome, and talented, and...yeah. Don't tell 'em I said that lol

As for us? I'm not sure. Maybe we'll keep posting on here occasionally, but. You know. A lot of the admins have been taking steps back, so I can't forsee us doing much. But, I can forsee some collaborative writing with Thes/Fiona in the future ;3. Don't count bedrock!tnt as over just yet. We did still have a lot of plans, after all

I think that's everything we wanted to say. Just...thank you all, again. The past two years of my life have been...a lot, for sure, but this all has been one of the highlights without a doubt <3

[baelpenrose]

Nihilus Rex 29: Confessions, Part I: The Priest and the Sinner

Nils confronts his grief about Jessie, and grapples with his fading faith. This chapter, along with two others threaded throughout the story, are meant as critical character studies of who Nils is as a person, and while they are part of the larger story, the chapters titled "confessions" also function as a micro story unto themselves.

Beta-read and co-written by @canyouhearthelight.

For the life of me, I cannot remember

What made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise

For the life of me, I cannot believe

We'd ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen

The Verve Pipe “Freshmen Song”

Nils

I was troubled when I went home. After Lash and I split, we agreed to call the next day and talk through some stuff, but I had promised my parents I’d call. And…I still needed to check in on Jessie’s family. I had been missing my every-other-week checkin for a while. Maybe a long while. Between Lash and everything else I’d been doing, it almost felt like….

Oh god, I don’t know if I’d checked since the heist.

So I went by their house, after buying flowers and ready to make all apologies. I knocked, slowly. “Mrs. Parson, it’s Nils. I’m…” I felt a wash of guilt. Why should they let me in? I’d all but forgotten them in my own grief and the madness that had followed it. “I’m sorry I left for a while. I got caught up in something. And I’m sorry for everything else. I should have been here sooner. I should have been with Jessie more.” The door was still closed.

I knocked again. “I don’t know if you’re even home. But I want you to know I’m sorry. I should have kept coming, way longer than I did.”

The door opened, and Mrs. Parson stood before me. Despite being slightly younger than my mother, she looked older. Her chronic illness, the marks of longtime working-class life, and the grief of her daughter’s death had taken their toll. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

I felt the words like a slap, but I took them. And I suddenly felt a flash of anger that always preceded things that shouldn’t be said, things that couldn’t be taken back. Jessie wouldn’t have wanted me to say the things I was going to say. Jessie had forgiven these people, wanted to take care of these people, would have wanted me to take care of these people, would be angry that I had failed to check in. I had already failed to deal with the student debts in time.

But Jessie wasn’t here and I was going to fail her again. All the things that we’d told each other, about mental health breakdowns, about crises of faith, about problems with parents…

“Speaking of people who shouldn’t have come back. How’s the stepson?”

Mrs. Parsons blanched. She’d remarried not long after Jessie’s father had walked out on her to the anger of the church, and found a new guy whose wife had died some years before.  Jessie’s stepdad was actually a pretty standup guy - he’d fumbled once, in the immediate reaction of finding out about what his son had done, but even Jessie had believed in the aftermath that it was a matter of shock more than a matter of not believing her, and he had done more or less the right things once he’d gotten a chance to get his wits back. It didn’t change the fact that the initial failure, especially given that her mom had desperately been trying to play peacemaker, had definitely compounded the trauma. Her stepbrother, on the other hand, was an abusive jackass that Jessie had definitely been pressured to forgive a little too fast, and somewhere along my little revolution was going to be a bonus objective of ensuring he didn’t live to see the new world. 

“Jessie forgave him.” She sounded half like she was trying to convince herself. 

“Hm. Did she think she had a choice?” I knew the answer, I wondered if this woman did. Jessie thought she did, but that only forgiveness was the right one, because she had always believed, more fervently than I ever had, in the forgiveness of Christ.  I also knew that the dissonance of that hadn’t helped her, had rattled her, had convinced her she was falling short if she was still angry.

And I was ready to bite, especially when Mrs. Parsons then pivoted. “And you? You’ve had choices recently. What’s your new girl’s name? Elakshi? The one you went on air with at the hospital? You moved on fast.”

 I gaped. “Moving on fast…I mean, you want to talk about moving on, I probably shouldn’t have let it slide that you were so scared of your second husband moving on like the first at the first sign of trouble that you didn’t want Jessie talking about what your stepson was doing. Mind you, Mr. Parsons fucked up when he first found out, and as bad as it was even then he wound up doing the right thing once he’d taken a second. I can forgive shock a lot better than I can forgive forced martyrdom. Don’t talk to me about moving on from anything too fast when you weren’t willing to deal with something to begin with. You can call it the forgiveness of God all you want, but be real: you wanted to dodge the stigma of a second divorce. The fact that she dropped out of college to try to help you with your sickness is beyond me.” The snarl, the hate, the sudden surge of helpless rage I’d always felt at never quite being able to express what I’d wanted to to Jessie because she wouldn’t have heard it and it wouldn’t have helped, things I should have said but couldn’t, things I maybe should have said because they maybe could have helped, but now I’d never know…

She glared. “Jessie thought you loved her!” 

“JESSIE AND I NEVER DATED!” I suddenly shouted. “NOT BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO BUT BECAUSE SHE SAID SHE THOUGHT WE WERE BETTER OFF AS FRIENDS! I WASN’T MOVING ON FROM HER! WE WERE NEVER TOGETHER!”

“SHE LIED!” I paused at that, and she kept going. “She lied, Nils. She lied, because she knew that you were the kind of person to go all the way to the wall for something, for someone, and she also knew that if you two ever got together, you could get her to go with you.” Her voice grew quiet, but carried on, determined, and I almost strained to hear the cold drumbeat of words that left me numb. “And she knew that you wanted to go places, that you didn’t want to be stuck dealing with her family, or yours, or the church you’ve always wobbled on but that she always believed in, and knew that you would care about her but probably never actually be happy with her without one of you changing the other too much to recognize.” A sigh, and she rubbed her arms with her hands. “So she lied, and you didn’t recognize it enough to realize that she reciprocated how you felt. I had to watch you two pining for each other from the time you were little and then I watched the boy who comforted my daughter through all sorts of awful things I fucked up with and can never forgive myself for drop off the map weeks after she died.” Her voice shook before she steadied and continued, steely. “And then you showed up on TV with your new girlfriend. So don’t tell me how she felt forced to do anything because you were never able to figure out her feelings well enough to guess how her beliefs and feelings impacted what she did.” 

She took the flowers from me while I was still reeling. “Thank you for the flowers. I’m sure Jessie would forgive you, and I have no doubt you’re doing something that would either thrill her or horrify her. That stunt at the hospital was enough of a hint. But I can’t forgive you for vanishing. And I understand if you can’t forgive how badly I did when she needed me. Don’t come by again.” 

I nodded. “I understand. Oh, and as long as we’re being honest? Your hunch is right. If you have any affection for your stepson at all? Tell him that he should try to make sure I’m never reminded he exists. Jessie forgave him. I don’t. God bless you for whatever that is worth.” 

I walked away, shaking, and took some breaths, slowly shaking, and the minute I was out of sight, around the corner, into my car, I closed the doors and started screaming. I pounded the steering wheel and howled for a second. 

She’d loved me and I’d never known. I’d fucked it up. I had…Fuck. Fuck FUCK!

I drove to the church. It had been a long time since my last confession, since the funeral, but I could stand to speak to Father Rivera. He was the only one who did confessions this late, and the only priest in the diocese that I respected anyway. He’d done Last Rites at the funeral of a suicide because he thought it was the right thing to do.  And…I had just made a deal with the devil.

First though. I called my mom. She’d always been the more devout of my parents.

“Hey mom. Confessional booth stuff is inadmissible in court of law, right?”

“That’s right, Nils, but…why?”

“Have some stuff I’d rather talk about with a priest.”

***

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been five months and two weeks since my last confession.”

“What do you have to repent of this time?” 

“Before I answer, Father, may I ask something and be answered?”

“Yes.” Father Rivera sounded confused. I’d already looked up the answer to this, and asked my mother this, just to be sure. I wanted to ensure I could trust Rivera, though I was pretty sure he wouldn’t squeak, it was good to know that it would mean nothing if he did.

“Is what I say in here protected by the Seal of Confession, and are you bound by the sanctity of the sacraments to reveal nothing of what I say to anyone?”

“I can say nothing of what is said here to anyone provided that you are confessing sins you have already committed. If you confess a sin you are currently planning to commit, and thus are unrepentant of, that is not within the Seal of Confession.”

I thought about that. A tacit warning and an admission.

“Okay. Then I will say this. I have slain nine men. Six by mistake, three in retribution. I have stolen - but profited nothing, and I do not count the theft among my sins, because I believe the word of Christ argues that my actions there were in fact holy in nature. I have lied, and brought shame to the name of my father, but in so doing brought safety to the sick. I have sinned, sexually, beyond what we spoke of the last…every confession I’ve been in, actually.”

Father Rivera’s voice came across. “Stop, stop. Nils, you confessed something very, very serious, followed by something that I want to question, followed by something I already suspected and the whole city got without context, followed by something that I already knew because of the girl you appeared on local TV with and that I know you aren’t remotely repentant about because you confess some new sexual sin every time you do this.” He took a breath. “Also, Nils. You forget I was a young man for years before I took Holy Orders. You aren’t confessing on that last one, because I know you too well to think you’re repentant. You’re bragging. Stop.” 

I took a breath. “Murder first, then?”

“Killing first. When you say you killed nine, six by mistake, three by retribution. How?”

“I manipulated people into situations where they’d be killed. Six of those were not deliberate - my design was not for them to die. Three, I deliberately got killed because they were involved in something that killed friends of mine.”

“You weren’t the one who killed them, though?”

“Not directly, but I can’t, philosophically, say politicians commit murder whether or not their hands are ever touched by blood and then deny my actions here were the same. Hands at the direction of my mind pulled the triggers, whether those hands were connected, physically, to my brain by my own nerves or simply by words and minds willing to trust me doesn’t absolve me, it just stains the people I used as catspaws - my guilt is increased, not decreased, at that point. I will confess to being a murderer, but not a hypocrite or a pharisee.” 

“No, and that is honest - as you’ve always been, in your way. Do you repent of the killings?”

“Yes.”

“All of them? I know you, Nils. I didn’t have to ask for reasons beyond the ritual if you regretted and repented the ones you’d done accidentally, but I mean the people you got killed on purpose.”

“Yes, I do.” I lied. “I believed it was necessary, but it was wrong, and I rushed to it in wrath.”  An advantage - now, Rivera would feel obligated not to tell anyone, even if he wound up being suspicious. 

“I’m curious - what led to your belief it was necessary?”

“The three I did on purpose were the ones behind the firebombing of the cafe. I figured that out through deceptive means, ones that wouldn’t hold up in court, but ones that involved manipulating their allies into turning on them. There were friends of mine in the cafe. Ones who didn’t make it out.” 

Rivera sighed. “Nils. It wasn’t yours to decide who should live and who should die.”

“I know. As I said, I was angry.”

“And the other six?”

“That ties into the theft. The one I don’t know was a sin.”

The voice took on an amused note. “Now I’m curious. Almost morbidly.”

“Is usury not still a sin? Did Christ not demand that debts be forgiven every seven years?”

A tone of comprehension crept into his voice. “Nils…are you saying…”

“I want it noted this time I am bragging less of the act itself than the skill it took to accomplish it.”

“I will take you at your word that that is not inconsiderable. I am still…Nils, my son. I want to confirm. The banks.”

“Yes.” A note of pride crept into my voice.

“Your actions with your father’s hospital were doing a good thing in a bad way, for Christ did heal the sick without indebting them. Your deceptions were sinful means - thou shalt not bear false witness. Your actions with the debts were forgery and theft on a massive scale, and yet they saved thousands of families, and it is…hard to proclaim that you have not, once again, done holy work by sinful means. The Jesuits would be impressed. I am not a Jesuit, I believe that the actions of flawed men that take the will of God into their own hands will often lead to dark places - the Church’s most harsh critics, not without reason, point to the Inquisition, the Crusades, the Residential Schools, all people who did what they thought was ‘God’s Will’ by evil means.” 

“And yet, should the ends themselves not be considered? Should saving people in the here and now not weigh heavier than the imagined ideals of ‘God’s Will’ by people so corrupt they believed they were right to rape? To torture children? What was it Christ said of those who took to brutalizing children in his presence? Something about millstones and swimming? He took a whip to moneychangers, He never took a rod to a child, that was a Proverb - and not quoted from His word.” 

“Of course, and the Proverb was supposed to refer to a shepherd's crook rather than a whipping rod anyway. And yet, the Great Commission - a point on which you and I have gone around a few times in your studies of history and philosophy - was from His word, and was how the worst of those justified their acts. But you’re too clever not to realize what you’re doing - your ends may be noble, but your means make use of the devil’s tools and those who do that will, by degrees, find themselves among his vassals before they realize they’ve lost their way.”

I didn’t agree with that, and wasn’t entirely certain my allegiance was to any particular higher power rather than an alliance of convenience with whichever one countenanced a victory over the horror I saw in this world. Then I remembered this was supposed to be a confession, and figured I should stop arguing - my goal was mostly to get things off my chest and keep from drawing too deep.

“As you say. Means aside, I believe that in the process of all that, I may have made something of a deal with a devil. There’s an associate of mine who I don’t like and don’t trust that I’ve been forced to work with, and I fear that much of my most important work will be stained by working with him. But…it was necessary to help those people.”

“Define ‘devil.”

“His every aspect is vile and his views on the world almost diametrically opposed to mine. What he calls justice, I call horror and what I call justice he would call perversion of nature.”

“How did you convince this man to collaborate with you?”

“For a day, we shared a common enemy.” 

“Ah. Many such partnerships corrupt good men. And you say your means have no risk of corrupting what you intend?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have the doubts I do.” 

I could hear Rivera folding his hands. “I see.” 

I could feel Mrs. Parsons’ words weighing on me. 

“And…” The words tumbled out. “I failed Jessie. I should have listened more carefully. She died because I didn’t pay close enough attention. It was my fault…”

“No. That I will not absolve you for, because that wasn’t. You didn’t know everything on her heart. She came to me regularly. That was not on you. There are others who should seek God’s forgiveness for that, and you have your sins to bear and repent, but that, Nils, THAT truly is not one of them.”

“Had I acted sooner, she wouldn’t have been crushed under so much debt.”

“And even if it was your responsibility to shatter the entire banking system to save a life, which it categorically is not, I will say that is NOT what pushed her over the edge. Not from everything she told me. That failure was more mine than yours. Nils.” His voice was strained. “Jessie’s death was not your fault. And if your war against the world’s economy is some act of penitent crusade because you believed you should have acted sooner, you should stop now, because all wars lead to men riding with demons, and yours is not necessary.”

I froze. Then I spoke. “I would like to repent now, Father. I’m done confessing for the day. Thank you for your guidance.”

“The forgiveness prayer, and then a full score Pater Nostrum and a dozen Ave Marias. The Rite of Penance again, the last one over the candle.” That last was unusual for Rivera, but I supposed I had just confessed to nine murders. 

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen.”

He finished at the same time I did, then I went to the pews and silently spoke the other, ritual repetitions. Then, I headed to the altar, placed my hand over the candle, and silently chanted out the prayer of Penance, trying to ignore the pain, and slowly pulled my hand out of the heat as I finished. It had driven my anxiety up, and I hadn’t realized the impact it would have, to do that, after the fire in the cafe. 

As I walked out of the church, I called my mother. “Yeah, Mom. I saw your other text. I probably should have…should have talked to you guys about her sooner. But yeah, uh…her and I are working together great. We met in class, but we’re kinda working together, on and off, on outside projects.”

“When do you want her to meet us, like formally?”

I froze. “Uh…I’ll talk to her, but I think she might be open to it? I had to meet hers, after all.”

“I’ll be there, Nils. Relax.”

I took a breath. “Okay.”

[ioannemos]

had some more dreams™️ the other night, less "guess i'm not handling that as well as i thought" and more plot-adjacent

​one was like a reboot of knight rider or something (which is funny to me bc i've never seen the original - all i know is dude had a really smart car). the protag was a black guy whose life got upended when his rich gf thought he was cheating on her (he wasn't), threw him out, took the keys to his nice car, etc. he was a hard worker but in a really cutthroat workplace. so he's homeless and needs a car, so he goes to an honest john's dealership and ends up with k.i.t.t. (like the gal in bumblebee with, well, bumblebee). didn't actually get to the fun part in this one, just the lead-up. the guy was living in this out-of-the-way corner near a highway overpass with the support of like two friends (a couple, i think; no idea why he couldn't crash on their couch). ngl there was one very funny bit, a scene where the ex-gf was ranting to a friend like "now i know he's cheating! i was starting to re-think it but then i saw him buying all these sun dresses. why else would he be buying them??" followed by a hard cut to the dude wrapping one around his waist after taking a camp shower. don't ask me why he was using sun dresses instead of towels, maybe they were cheaper at the thrift store??

the other notable one involved time traveling shenanigans to solve a series of puzzles in what i think was a buddhist temple. one puzzle solution was finding an elongated plastic fork and spoon and using them to pick up sacred objects that otherwise couldn't be reached; another had something to do with a bell, i think? and another involved stratigically killing oneself (don't ask me now how this helped bc i don't remember). there were multiple versions of people trying to solve the puzzles who sometimes killed themselves or other versions of themselves (which was confusing for me and the people in the dream). there were also visions of the future and the past, causing more chaos. the evil guy responsible for the puzzles never showed up in person but his wife was there, or rather the enchanted object that was as close as one could get. she was basically a golem with the original wife's hair or something stuffed in her, and the more she lost the more confused she got and the less human she looked, which is an intriguing concept... me and the other person trying to solve the puzzles (i honestly don't even remember the gender of the person) were driving past the temple when someone killed the engine of our car from a distance, which i noticed but pretended i didn't. we went inside, picked up a few 'something's not right' clues, and then i got tired of the slow build-up and went into the main room and said something to the effect of "okay i'm done pretending, let's get on with it" and the puzzles kicked into gear

as a side note, this latter dream helped me figure out a key quality of some of my dreams lately: they're like improv theater. i've never done improv, mind you, but there are parameters of what's supposed to be happening, lines that people are supposed to say, actions they're supposed to take... there are general guidelines that can be rehearsed or thrown out as wanted/needed, a sense that i am myself, playing myself, and playing a person other than myself by turns. it's a common thread for me to notice someone or something out of place but to very deliberately go on as if i didn't. in more than one dream i'll experience the same "scene" more than once, and i remember one dream where afterward someone commented on something in the scene as if she hadn't been present, which would make sense if we'd been rehearsing and she was just commenting on my performance there's probably a lot to unpack here but let's just throw out the whole suitcase, huh?

i can't remember if the animal people were in either of these or in their own. i really only remember a white tiger with extremely long fur on its tail, a dog, and maybe mind-controlling snakes?

[luxmaeastra]

"Nox wished you to have these. He said we'd know when to give these to you."

Rhysand had never seen this citizen, but he could somehow tell she was part of Seraphine's Den. Maybe it was the words she used, or the little bit of her inner song he could hear. What was it Remus said? Soul-songs could be modified and twisted to change the very fundamentals of a person.

He could see how someone like Hesperus did what he did now. Even if he was only used as a last result by the Triad. He supposed it was good more Daglan were mating and staying with Changelings, saved them all another war.

He took the letters from the girl, staring at them. He looked up, not surprised to see she vanished into the crowd.

Seraphine may have authorized the hit, Kaden and he had laid waste to Spring - ensuring very few survived.

But she had still lost her father, he supposed he could understand her rage. The buzzing though, did she hear it? The way her Den's magic was affecting everything around her? That her Den, she was powerful enough to make him feel that aching, pit of anger.

He had retreated to this small cafe to get some work done, to stop himself from saying or doing something he regretted.

He looked at the letters more closely, one stood out.

The handwriting was elegant and looping, for when you realize just how much power she holds.

It was a long title but he supposed that summed up his feelings. He didn't mind her Den, just the fact they held her away from him. That they could deem him a threat and he would have no recourse for it.

He tore the letter open.

------

Rhysand,

Seraphine is three now, a beautiful, darling little girl. Lumas and I have known for awhile what you would both become.

Aidas wrote me these letters when Silence and first mated. It was all the wisdom he'd known before mating Theia. I thought as I watch you both grow I'd continue the tradition.

I'm not sure when you'll read these, I hope it's a long while yet. I hope I'm around when you and my daughter mate - that I can deliver my wisdom in person.

But if I cannot, I'll start with this. A Changeling's Den is their lifeblood, it is as important as our mates are to us. As our bloodlines and lineages are to us.

I knew that of course, you don't survive a war with changelings and not learn that.

But this was the first time I understood it.

Seraphine plays at my feet in the small koi pond in our gardens. Her mother and I haven't spoken since last night, I'm not sure if she knows that.

Helena and Pelias died last night, well they were murdered. Mab had them kneel and cut their heads off. She went after their children, only one survived.

Silene is furious I refused to take the boy in. Kaden will be sent to the Camps in the east where Orphaned Changeling go to hone their magic and find new Dens.

I hate to disappoint her, I hate fighting with her more.

But Mab's power stretches farther than she realizes, what is good for her Den isn't for my court.

Have you realized that when they get angry their Den close ranks? Have they tapped you yet at night? To know you'll be woken to protect their Queen if they fail?

I wished for the first time to tear the threads out of her Den. To have Silene all to myself last night.

But I've seen what happens to Changelings like that. Neculai was fond of that punishment, they'd wither away and throw themselves onto the nearest sharp object.

I have no true advice but to find ways to love her Den. They've been invaluable spies for me, and playmates for Seraphine.

They give Silene a sense of safety I can't always give her.

For those reasons I suppose I'll swallow my pride and apologize. The boy can't be saved but if the Goddess is good he'll survive. His parents were survivors, I expect nothing less of Kaden.

Warm regards,

Nox

Rhysand carefully folded the letter and slid it into his pocket, the weight of the heaviness of its content weighed upon him as he looked up and across the small cafe. It was not a letter he had expected to read, it wasn't one he had been prepared for.

There was knowledge in that letter that he wasn't prepared for, but it was a welcome knowledge as he waded into this world he had not been ready for. He trudged through it, tripping and falling, yet it was nice to know he had some guidance...He had feared wading this world along.

Not that he imagined he would be alone for long, he watched the pining for one after his cousin - a friend he hoped would one day step up.

Step up. Maybe like he needed to do, he and Seraphine had already taken the step but sometimes he felt he was lacking in terms of a mate. Not understanding her and her Den, the connections they held. Nox's words read true, for someone who was not a Changeling it was hard to understand.

----------

It had been a few hours later that Rhysand returned home, bags in hand as he made his way along the hall. The familiar buzzing had returned, the noise of the Den that he was just out of reach from.

Yet she wasn't. He picked up her scent and followed it to where she was, the beauty of Night who was his entire world. His eyes softened when he saw her, his knees felt like they should buckle.

"Serie," he said softly as he walked towards her, his fingers brushing against her hair. "I brought some gifts home..."

Home. She was home.

[legends-of-time]

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 64: A Lesson in Vengeance

Masterlist

Anne’s POV 

Anne is happy with Gwen’s return. She is really, but something is still bothering Anne. They'd gotten Gwen out. Morgana and Amelia had held her captive, they had been there, and Merlin was sure of it. Yet he'd not seen them. They'd just let Gwen leave and hadn't tried to stop them. It worries Anne that something much deeper is going on. It had been too easy for them to get Gwen out of there. But there is little Anne can do to find out, ever since her return, Gwen has been in shock, still grieving the loss of her brother and only recently coming out of her shell. Anne doesn’t want to cause any damage if she’s wrong so she decides just to wait and see what happens.

And then something does.

Anne hurries into Gaius’ Chambers when she hears the news that Merlin, Gwen and Arthur had been attacked when they were riding to have their picnic to celebrate Gwen and Arthur’s anniversary.

When Anne bursts in, she is greeted with the sight of Gaius tending to Arthur's wound. Gwen stands by her husband’s side, stroking his arm comfortingly while Merlin stands to the side.

“What happened?” Anne asks, calmer than she was before now that she knows everyone is safe but still feeling anxious.

“Bandits attacked.” Merlin tells her. “Seems they planted a bomb of some sort to spoke the horses, Arthur's threw him and the bandits attacked.”

“You're very fortunate, Sire,” Gaius begins as Anne frowns at that, “a fall like that you could have broken your neck.”

“But how did they know?” Anne questions. “How did they know you'd be taking that path?”

“The men that attacked us, have they been questioned?” Arthur asks.

“I'm sorry, Sire, the wounds were fatal. We were unable to learn anything from them.” Gaius replies.

“I agree with Anne though.” Merlin remarks. “It can't have been a coincidence that they were there.”

“Maybe they were waiting in trap for others.” Gwen suggests. “Just for anyone who might be going that way.”

“Then they got more than they bargained for.” Anne smiles at Merlin and Arthur for that.

Leon walks in. “Sire, we recovered your saddle from the forest trail. The girth has been unpicked and re-stitched. It was designed to break Sire.”

Arthur walks over to have a look. “Perhaps it wasn't all that much of a coincidence then.” He muses. “Someone must have been able to warn the bandits that we would be heading out and they ran ahead to the path we'd chosen.”

——

Anne frowns as she stands beside Merlin and Gaius as well as Yrene, Gwen’s maid, whom Anne has begun to trust a bit more than she had before but there’s still that divide, in the Council Chambers. A young boy, Tyr Seward she recalls, stands before Arthur, Gwen and the Royal Court. The poor boy is terrified, clearly, he is pale and shaking and looks utterly bewildered as to why he is here in the first place. Anne has to admit, she is rather confused as well, she knows the boy. She'd been a servant when he was just starting off as a Stablehand. He'd slowly moved his way up to being in charge of the prince's, now King's Stables. He is a sweet boy, who works to support himself and his mother. She can’t fathom why he'd be here.

“The thread we found at the boy's home matches that used to sabotage your saddle, Sire.” Leon steps forward, handing Arthur a spool of thread to examine.

Anne looks at it closely as Arthur analyses it. She frowns at what looks to be a generic, basic, common thread. This is probably in half the homes in the Kingdom and Leon thought, because the boy has access to the horses, that he had done it?

“Who put you up to this Tyr?” Arthur questions softly. 

“No one, no one's put me up to anything Sire.” Tyr replies.

“You're saying you acted alone? Had no help? No accomplice?”

“I don't know anything about these things you're talking about. I've done nothing Sire, save look after your horse and tack like I always do.” Tyr insists.

“The evidence is staring you in the face. You can't deny it.” Arthur points out, clearly reluctant to believe Tyr could have this.

“Sire, I swear on my mother's life...”

“Just give me their name. Why protect them? They can't help you now. Just give me their name.” Arthur pleads.

“I have no name. There's no name to give.” Tyr insists.

“Then you leave me no choice!” Arthur declares. “Though it saddens me greatly to do so I must charge you with treason. Is there anything further you'd like to say?”

“You're my King, Sire. I'd never do anything to hurt you. Never.” Tyr tearfully states.

Arthur sighs. “Tyr Seward, by the power vested in me I hereby sentence you to death.”

Percival steps forward and takes Tyr out of the room.

Anne has to stop herself from crying out in shock at what had just happened. It’s clear that Tyr didn’t do it and may know something about who did, but treason? Death?

——

“I can't imagine Tyr wanting Arthur dead, he's a good lad.” Merlin rants later on to Anne in their Chambers.

“I can't either.” Anne agrees. “He holds no grudge against Arthur, or even Uther, he's been a dear the entire time. He loves working with the horses, he's so proud whenever one of his fairs well in a tournament or on a hunt.”

“Arthur respected him as well.” Merlin nods. “Always treated him fairly and well.”

“Someone else had to be involved.” Anne voices out loud. “We just need to find out who they are. With Tyr being held and about to be executed... I fear that they may have purposefully pointed the finger at him. What if they knew the evidence would lead to him?”

“Maybe so, but Arthur was right about one thing Tyr could not have done this alone. Someone else is involved,” Merlin pauses in his movements, a thought crossing his mind, “and unless we find out who they are. What's to stop them from trying it again?”

Anne pauses at that. “And what else would they do to Tyr?”

Merlin turns to the door. “I'm going to speak to Tyr, see if I can reason with him, see if he might have seen something, anything out of the ordinary about the saddle before all this happened.”

Anne nods, taking his hand to tug him closer. “Good luck.” She whispers, kissing him before he runs out of their chambers.

——

Gwen, Arthur, Anne and Merlin all gather in the former couple’s Chambers.

“You went to the Cells to see Tyr.” Arthur states rather than asks when Merlin explains what he did.

But Merlin answers anyway, “Yes.”

Arthur lets out a huff. “We've been over this before, we know what he said. The evidence doesn't lie.”

“No one denies the crime Sire, but the only part that Tyr played was to see it done.” Merlin retorts.

Anne perks up at this as Merlin hadn’t explained to her beforehand about what Tyr had said, only pulled her along to speak to Gwen and Arthur. 

“He told you this?” She asks.

“Five minutes ago.”

“Then who was it?”

“He won’t say, he's too frightened. They threatened him.”

“I must speak with him, at once.” Arthur declares, walking around Gwen to the door. Merlin turns to follow.

“Arthur surely it can wait. Gaius told you to rest, let your injuries heal.” Gwen rebuffs anxiously.

“I'll be fine Guinevere. I just want to hear what he has to say.” Arthur replies, opening the door.

“And you shall.” Arthur pauses at the door while Anne frowns at Gwen as she talks in confusion. “But Tyr has said everything he is willing to say for now. He's clearly frightened and unsure of what to do-don't push him. Let him think it over and maybe after a night in the Cells he'll be prepared to say more.”

Anne sees Merlin look between Gwen and Arthur, studying them as Arthur takes a moment to decide on what to do. He then shuts the door.

“As always, Guinevere, you're right.” Arthur walks past Gwen to the table by the window.

Merlin and Anne share a glance with Gwen before she turns to follow Arthur. They look at her as she goes before glancing at each other. Anne can see the same suspicion, concern and confusion that she feels written on Merlin’s face.

——

Tyr is dead, had been murdered in his Cell. The Guards had been knocked out by a concoction of clarywort, a soporific, which allowed the person entrance to the chambers. Tyr hadn't stood a chance against whoever it was. He'd been stabbed. The worst is, that it only brings to light the growing fear that the person who had done it is familiar with Camelot. They had gotten in and out and hadn't been caught or spotted by anyone. They knew that Arthur was going to talk to him. Either way, Tyr is dead and they now have a traitor in their midst. The patrols have been doubled as a result. If this person has inside knowledge, then no one is safe.

——

Amelia’s POV 

Amelia wrings her hands together anxiously as she waits for Gwen’s arrival near the walls of Camelot. She tries not to think about how close she is to so many people that she used to be close with, that had betrayed her.

Amelia is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone walking towards her, she turns to see it’s Gwen.

“Guinevere.” She greets, eager for news. Had the plan worked?

“The plan failed. Arthur lives.” Gwen regretfully reports.

Dammit. Merlin had likely intervened. 

“Does he suspect you?” Amelia questions, mulling over what she just heard.

“Not yet.” Amelia relaxes at that. “But the Stablehand saw me. He was going to tell them everything.”

This causes Amelia to pause. “Was? You have some good news then?”

“I did what had to be done.”

Poor Tyr…

It's sad that it happened but it had to. Gwen is right, it had to be done.

“With Tyr gone you have to find someone else to take the fall.” Amelia says, a new idea already forming in her mind. “You need to make sure no suspicion falls on you when Arthur dies. You must have support of the Knights, only with their allegiance will your path to the throne be clear.”

“But what good is all this? Arthur’s still alive.” Gwen points out.

“For now.” Amelia feels herself smile slightly when the plan continues to form. It’s a good one that’ll hopefully work. “By tonight you’ll have everything you need to finish the job.” 

Gwen shakes her head. “Arthur’s doubled the Guard, and there are patrols night and day. I can’t risk leaving…”

“Gwen. Gwen.” Amelia interrupts, gripping her hands to calm her and reassure her. “We will come to you.”

Gwen looks at her questioningly but before she can ask what Amelia means, the sound of horses whinnying nearby can be heard. A Camelot patrol.

“Go!” Amelia quickly urges.

Gwen pulls her hood up and runs off. Amelia walks the other way. Gwaine turns his horse and goes the way that Gwen went. This causes Amelia to pause, with the speed he’s going, Gwen will be caught in no time. Amelia grips her hand into a fist and pulls it back quickly causing Gwaine to fly off his horse and onto the ground. 

Amelia looks at his crumpled, unconscious body with satisfaction. Morgana had entrusted her to meet with Gwen and now Amelia has stopped Gwen from being caught. She hopes Morgana will be proud of her.

——

Anne’s POV 

“No broken bones, I’m glad to say.” Gaius declares.

The patrol didn't just count for just inside the Castle, but outside as well, which was why Gwaine is having a checkover under the gaze of Anne, Merlin and Arthur in Arthur’s Chambers while said man questions him. Gwaine'd been on patrol, seen something, seen someone meeting in the woods and tried to get closer, tried to go after them, only to be pulled from his horse.

“Anything else you remember?” Arthur continues to question.

“Nothing. One minute I was pursuing them through the trees. The next I was flat on the ground.” Gwaine admits regretfully.

“You’re sure it was sorcery?”

“Without a doubt. Powerful, too.”

“Morgana?” Anne questions, hoping it’s not Amelia.

“Or Amelia?” Merlin also suggests. He says it pointedly, side-eyeing Anne.

“Either’s possible. But why was one of them there?” Gwaine replies.

Anne hates how he has seemingly set on Amelia having turned dark. She would’ve thought he would have believed others considering what he used to feel for her.

“Maybe they were meeting someone.”

“Why come so close to the Citadel?” Arthur asks.

“Maybe they had to. Maybe whoever one of them was meeting was here in Camelot.” Merlin suggests

“Well, until we have more to go on this is idle speculation.” Arthur declares. He looks at Gaius, Anne and Merlin. “Gaius, Anne, Merlin, see what you can find in the woods. Perhaps there’s something we overlooked.”

“I’ll go with them.” Gwaine starts to stand up but Gaius stops him. 

“You’ll do no such thing. You’ll rest, Gwaine. Physician’s orders.”

Gaius gets up and leaves with Arthur as Anne lingers and Merlin moves to sit next to Gwaine.

“I don’t think this is over.” Merlin declares. Anne looks at him questioningly.

“What do you mean?” Gwaine asks.

“Well, whoever’s responsible for the attack on Arthur’s life, what’s to stop them from trying again?”

Anne feels her heart drop to her stomach at that. God, he’s right. This is just the beginning.

“They haven’t a chance, the Citadel’s on full alert.” Gwaine argues. “Every entrance, every exit’s being watched. Trust me, Arthur’s safe as long as he remains in Camelot.”

“That’s just it, what if he’s not safe here?” Anne speaks up, drawing their attention. “Merlin’s right. What if Camelot’s the most dangerous place that he could be? Who could have access to the Stables, who could of known the layout of the Cells? Who knew that Tyr would do anything to protect his mother?”

“Gwaine, you need to stay close to Arthur, and do whatever you can to protect him.” Merlin urges the Knight.

“You have my word on it.”

——

Amelia’s POV 

Amelia and Morgana walk along a path to a Hut that is in the middle of some trees. There is a bald man, Sindri, sitting at a desk, who looks up when they enter. 

“Who are you?” He questions.

“It matters not who we are, but what we want and whether you can give it to us.” Morgana deflects as they walk through the aisles of shelves upon shelves of different potions.

“And what is it that you want?”

“A tincture. With the power to kill.” Amelia explains calmly. “Not just to kill, but to do so slowly and with the utmost pain.” 

“Very particular, what you seek.” Sindri replies with a slight smirk.

“It has a very particular purpose.” Amelia retorts. He looks up at her from a paper that he was looking over.

“Well? Do you possess such a thing?” Morgana urges.

“I do.” He gets up and walks to a shelf that is next to them. He pulls two vials off the shelf. “Here.”

Amelia eyes them curiously. “What are they?”

“Valerian. Two drops will render the victim unconscious. And Henbane. A single drop administered through the ear. Their death will be as prolonged and as unpleasant as could wish for.” Morgana goes to reach for them. “Ah, these are… uncommon things. Hard to come by, hard to prepare…”

Amelia glares at him before handing over some gold and Morgana takes the vials.

Sindri counts the gold. “Very generous, My Lady,” he says as they walk away to leave, “more than enough to buy my wares. But not my silence.”

This causes them to pause. They turn and Morgana tosses more coins on the floor. 

Once they step out, Amelia turns to Morgana as they walk away from the Hut, “Hopefully this will work.”

“Of course it will, sister.” Morgana reassures, linking her arm with Amelia’s. “You’ve done well.”

Amelia can’t help but perk up at the praise.

——

Anne’s POV 

“Gaius, Anne!” Merlin suddenly calls nearby on the forest path, close to Camelot and where Gwaine had been magically yanked from his horse.

Anne and Gaius quickly walk over to see what he had spotted. A vine on a tree that’s unusually shaped.

Gaius goes to examine it. “Yes, that’s certainly not natural.”

“It was Morgana or Amelia, I’m sure of it.” Merlin walks off in the direction Gwaine had said he’d spotted the hooded duo talking.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Gaius questions as they walk 

“Gwaine said he spotted them somewhere around here.” Merlin assures.

Anne then notices a piece of cloth on a branch. A clue! “There. On that branch.” She picks it up, showing the other two.

“It’s not much to go on, is it?” Merlin comments as he takes the cloth from Anne to give it a closer look.

“It’s something.” Anne declares.

——

Gaius examines the cloth through a magnifying glass in his Chambers. “Raw imported silk. Traders ask a small fortune for it. Whoever that belongs to is extremely wealthy.”

Merlin takes the glass and cloth from Gaius. Anne peers over his shoulder as he looks at it. “What is that? Some kind of embroidery?”

This causes Anne to freeze then snatches the fabric from Merlin’s hand despite his protests. She recognises it now, now that she’s looking at it properly. It can’t be—

“Indeed. Woven threads of silver and gold. Only those of the highest rank can afford such a thing.”

Merlin’s head snaps towards Anne as the same thought that’s been forming in Anne’s head begins to form in his. Her husband then abruptly takes off running without a word.

“Merlin? Where are you going now?” Gaius calls after him but to no avail so he turns to the woman standing next to his chair. “Anne?”

Anne stands there, frozen as she digests the knowledge she’s just realised. Gwen’s the traitor.

——

Amelia’s POV 

Amelia slips into the Lower Town with ease, all the while in her Freya disguise, browsing the stalls. In a way, she kind of misses this, wondering between the Market stalls and the hustle and bustle of the people around her. She often walked these streets with Anne, Gwen or Morgana but then after Morgana’s first take over of Camelot, foiled by Amelia’s betrayal (one of many) of her sisters, Amelia began taking them with Percival. Her eyes well up at the thought of how Amelia used to wait for the Knights’ training to finish before she stole Percival away to spend time with him.

Her heart clenches at the thought before she then places herself at the vendor who sells cloth, browsing the fabrics that used to be so familiar to her, focusing herself on the mission at hand.

She then sees Gwen making her way through the Town as expected. She nods to some Knights who walk past her, smiling pleasantly, playing the role of Queen. She stops at a vendor that sells cloth. Amelia turns around and grabs her hand. Gwen gasps and then calms once realising who it is.

“Just a few drops will ease your troubles, my dear.” Amelia places the vials in Gwen’s hand. “This one first,” she indicates to Valerian, the yellow vial, “and then the other,” she points to Henbane, the clear vial, “for the desired effect. Do you understand?”

Some Guards stop next to them and talk to a woman who is sitting in a chair next to the stall.

“Yes.” Gwen glances at the Guards. “Come on.” She loops her arm with Amelia, to display the act of assisting an old woman so that they can continue to talk without being noticed.

“Are you prepared? Have you found someone to take the fall?” Amelia asks. “Suspicion cannot fall to you.”

“Don’t worry. I have someone in mind.” Gwen reassures, pausing in their walk.

Amelia gives her a pleased smile before departing.

——

Anne’s POV 

After the realisation that Gwen’s likely the traitor and Merlin’s departure, Anne had taken the chance to spend time with her children.

Anne smiles as she carries Euwen with her towards the Nursery, Faye walking beside her, holding her hand. They'd gone to see Gwaine. When Faye had found out that her favourite uncle had been hurt, or 'gotten an ouch' as the young girl likes to say, she'd wanted to go see him and make sure he was ok and give him a gift to make him feel better.

Faye had given him a small clay cup she'd made out of her crafting clays. It can’t be used for a drink, but it is thoughtful. Even Euwen had tried to give his uncle a gift, he kept holding up a flower to him and waving it at him till he took it. Then he kept tugging on his hair until he put the flower in it. Which made Euwen giggle and clap and Gwaine proudly wore the flower in his hair the rest of the day.

But now the children are tired and Anne is looking forward to setting them to bed and then going to sleep herself. After lots of cuddles and kisses as well as many “just one more story, Mama”, Anne departs the Nursery in search of her husband to find out what he’s discovered. Instead, she has a frantic Merlin coming charging past her from the Castle’s Kitchens.

“Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t pause as he yells over his shoulder, “You were right! The fabric matches! We have to warn Arthur!”

Anne’s eyes widen and she immediately bolts after him. They burst into the Chambers, to see they’re too late. Arthur is slouched over, pale and unconscious with Gwen nowhere to be found.

——

Arthur is now on the bed with Gaius examining him. Gwen stands on the other side of the bed facing Gaius with the Knights, Anne and Merlin behind her. Anne glares hotly at the so-called frantic and concerned wife.

“All the evidence suggests that the King has been poisoned.” Gains declares.  

“You’re certain, Gaius?” Comes the fake sob.

“Quite certain. The sweating, the corruption of the skin, the traces of tincture around the ear. They all point to the use of henbane.” Gaius assures.

“Is there no hope?” 

Anne clenches her jaw as her fist tightens, trying to stop herself from launching herself at her so-called friend. She knew that ever since Gwen returned from the Dark Tower she hadn’t been quite herself but this?!

“The poison is a deadly one, My Lady. There may be a way to arrest its course but I cannot guarantee it.”

“One thing I know for certain. That whoever did this lives among us. Whoever did this has betrayed us all.” She turns to look at the Knights then back again as if the thought is only just dawning on her. “Someone who is free to roam the Citadel as they please, someone who has access to the King’s Stables,” Anne thinks she can tell where this is going, “the King’s Prison, even the King’s food. There is only one I know of…” Gwen turns around and looks straight at the person who stands next to Anne. “Merlin.”

——

Despite Anne’s protests, Merlin is thrown in a Cell. Anne yanks herself from Gwaine’s grip, glaring at the Knight as Leon locks the Cell and hands the keys to the overnight Guards. He avoids looking at Merlin and strides over to Gwaine and Percival, who lingers nearby, urging them to leave. The coward doesn’t dare to look at Anne either.

The Knights depart and Anne can’t help herself anymore. She charges after them, catching them at the entrance and calls to the Knight at the end of the group. “Percival, please?”

He stops while Gwaine and Leon continue walking. He turns but avoids her gaze.

“What, Anne?” He sounds completely and utterly resigned, life and energy knocked out of him.

“You can’t seriously believe this. That Merlin would really poison Arthur.” She argues.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“I can tell you that Merlin wouldn’t have done this.” Anne retorts.

Percival scoffs. “Well, I can tell you that we don’t always know all that there is to know about our spouses.”

“I know one thing about yours is that Amelia wouldn’t allow this to happen.” Anne argues.

Percival to flinches. “Amelia’s gone, Anne. She betrayed us.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Anne retorts, striding over. “It’s Morgana’s influence, we just need to get her away—”

“Anne, please. Stop. I can’t.” And with that, he turns quickly and walks away, fleeing.

“Percival!” She cries after him.

He keeps walking. Anne huffs before looking back towards the Dungeons where she knows her husband is with wet eyes. 

——

“You were both right.” Gaius murmurs as the three of them convene to discuss what to do. “Whatever they did in the Dark Tower, they’ve taken control over Gwen and used her to get to Arthur.”

They.

“How could Amelia do this to Gwen?” Anne utters in disbelief.

“We can deal with that later but right now we need to save him.” Merlin speaks. Anne nods, knowing he’s right. He turns to Gaius. “Can you?”

“The poison is too strong, too virulent. Your magic is his only hope.” Gaius replies.

“You need to get me out of here somehow.”

——

While Gaius deposits Merlin the ageing potion, Anne goes to the Royal Chambers to ‘comfort’ Gwen and keep an eye on her until Merlin arrives.

She arrives to find a sobbing Gwen sitting at Arthur’s side with Leon dutifully comforting her.

Anne clenched her fists before speaking, “Gwen.”

“Oh, Anne.” She sniffles. Gwen stands, wiping her eyes. Anne can clearly see she’s faking it, she can tell that Gwen is different.

“I’ll leave you both.” Leon murmurs before quickly leaving.

“How is Arthur?” Anne asks. The King does not look well at all, even worse since she last saw him.

“There is no change.” Gwen says regretfully, looking towards her husband. Anne wonders what her expression is now Anne can’t see her face. “I wonder if there is any hope anymore.”

Anne knows that’s a very non-Gwen thing to say but keeps quiet and says, “Until the King draws his last breath, there is always hope.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course.” Gwen turns to Anne once more. “I know how you much feel about Merlin. You must believe me when I say how sorry I am. But the evidence against him is overwhelming.”

Gwen’s false sympathetic gaze makes her internally cringe and Anne has to swallow heavily before replying. “You did what you had to do, Gwen. You had no choice. I understand that.”

“Thank you.” She grips Anne’s hands in what is meant to be a gesture of warmth and sincerity but all Anne is left with is coldness. “I cannot imagine how betrayed you feel towards your own husband.”

“Yes… it’s difficult to imagine who those closest to you will do. Why anyone would betray the one they promised themselves to.” Anne says.

Gwen nods solemnly but Anne can see her shoulders tensing ever so slightly and tries not to smirk.

——

When the warning bells sound, Anne shares a quick, almost gleeful look with Gaius, who had joined them in their vigil over Arthur, behind Gwen’s back. Anne can hear a great deal of noise and running about in the Main Square below.

Gwaine enters the room. “Are you all right?” He frantically asks.

“Yes...” Gwen answers, confused.

“You haven’t seen anything? Heard anything?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“There’s an intruder within our walls.”

“Here? In the Citadel?” Gwen questions in shock.

“Yes, My Lady. We last saw them in the Main Square, then we lost sight of them.” Gwaine answers her.

Anne spots Gaius looking over his shoulder and does the same, just in time to spot a familiar shadowy figure hiding behind the curtains by the window looking out onto the Main Square.

“My Lady, you may be in danger.” Anne warns in false concern. Though, to be honest, they do need to keep Gwen safe until they can reverse whatever happened to her. “Gwaine will take you to the Guest Chambers. He’ll ensure no harm comes to you there.”

“Why would anyone wish me harm?” Gwen questions.

“You’re to be our leader, Gwen.” Gaius speaks up. “You are Camelot’s future. Do you imagine our enemies don’t want you dead?”

“I can’t leave Arthur, not now.” Gwen says, acting the worried and frantic wife.

“Gwen, I promise, if there is any change, we’ll fetch you at once.” 

“Gaius and Anne are right. Come, My Lady. You’re not safe here.” Gwaine says.

Gwen has no choice but to oblige and lets Gwaine lead her out of the room.

Anne turns towards the curtains where Merlin is peeking out. “Do I want to know how you got in here?” She asks.

Merlin pushes the curtain aside. “No, you don’t.” He makes his way to the bed. “How is he?”

“His heart is nearly stopped. I fear he’s close to death.” Gaius answers.

Merlin puts his hand on Arthur’s chest. “The sickness is so deep in him. I don’t know if I have the power to bring him back.” He says regretfully.

“You can do this, Merlin.” Anne encourages. “We know you can.”

Merlin straightens up, wipes his face and takes a few breaths. He places his hands on Arthur’s chest. “Ic the thurhaele thinu licsar mid thamsundorcraeft thaere ealdan ae!”

Merlin backs away so Gaius can step forward to check on Arthur. He grips Anne’s hand tightly as Gaius feels for a pulse. He turns to look at them regretfully. No, no he can’t be—

Arthur moves and makes a face and mumbles, “Gaius…” and rolls over.

Anne almost chokes as she breathes a sigh of relief. “You did it, Merlin!” She and Merlin share a tearful but happy hug.

“Well done, Merlin!” Gaius also hugs him. “Well done.” Merlin laughs wetly. Gaius pulls back. “You’d better get back to the Cells before you’re missed.”

Ah, yes, that.

“But… how? There are Guards on every floor and every stairwell.” Anne splutters.

“Exactly.” Merlin agrees. “How can I get back down there?”

“Well the same way you came up, obviously.” Gaius replies bluntly.

“Obviously.” Merlin deadpans. He turns to Anne, who shrugs helplessly. He sighs, gives Anne a peck then turns toward the window as Gaius makes a shoo motion. 

——

Arthur stands before them with Gwen at his left hand and Yrene lingering behind her. Anne and Merlin stand to the right next to a column. An unknown bald man stands before Arthur, flanked by two Guards. It’s the next day, Merlin has thankfully been released but Anne’s joy hadn’t been able to linger as they were all called into a Council meeting to discuss evidence that Gwen had apparently uncovered.

Arthur holds two vials in his hands, showing them to the Court. “The Queen found these vials in my chambers. They bear, as you can see a distinctive mark. Thanks to her tireless effort, she has been able to trace them.” Arthur walks toward the man and holds one of the vials up in front of him. “This is your mark, is it not?”

“It is my mark, yes.” The man admits, not holding the King’s gaze.

Arthur holds up the yellow one. “And what does this vial contain?”

“It… it’s valerian, Sire.”  

“What does it do?”

“It renders the subject unconscious.”

Arthur holds up the vial filled with clear liquid. “This one?”

“Henbane. It’s poison, My Lord.” He barely looks at Arthur as he says this.

Anne’s breath catches.

“A lethal poison.” Arthur says to the Court before gesturing to Gaius. “And it is only thanks to the great skill of my Physician that I am still alive.”

And Merlin.

“I’m sorry, My Lord.” The man hurriedly apologises. “I… I supplied it, I must confess. But I did not know that it was intended for you. In truth, I was… um… was too afraid to ask.”

“Too afraid to ask who?”

“They who… procured it.” The man hesitantly admits.

“And did you recognise these people?” Arthur asks.

“Well, I cannot say for certain but I believed it to be Amelia Hallewell and Morgana Pendragon.”

Anne instinctively clutches Merlin’s arm at his words. She sees Percival flinch and Gwaine grip his shoulder reassuringly.

Arthur nods and the Guards take the man away. Arthur walks back to the throne. “Because of the Queen’s diligence, the truth has been uncovered.” Arthur takes Gwen’s hand and leads her forward. “Each and every one of us owes her a great debt. Long live the Queen.”

Anne feels a bile ride in her throat as Gwen stands in front of the room smiling while everyone shouts. She turns in a circle and nods her head a few times. Gwen pauses when her eyes catch on Anne and Merlin. They stare at her showing nothing.

——

Amelia’s POV

Arthur is alive, the plan had not worked.

Amelia flinches as Morgana lets out a scream of frustration, swiping the objects on the table in front of her. Beroun, who delivered the news, swallows heavily but, other than that, remains blank face as one of his mistresses lets out her anger.

“I-I’m sorry, Morgana, it’s my fault.” Amelia quickly tries to reassure her.

Morgana lets out a shaky breath, raining in her anger, before turning to Amelia. “It’s alright, Amelia. You’re lucky Gwen has able to cover her tracks. We will not fail next time.” She reassures her. “Arthur Pendragon must die.”

Amelia nods quickly and barely lets out a flinch as Morgana strides past her and out of the room.

——

A/N: I swear that in the episode, when Morgana buys the vials that the clear one is valerian and the yellow is henbane. But then the two other times we see the bottles, they’re referred to as the other way round? Am I seeing things?

I worry when writing season 5 that Amelia is taking too much of Morgana’s role but then I think that Morgana would like an underling/assistant to do the work for her as well as testing her sister so that she doesn’t betray her. Plus, I want to show that while Amelia has joined her sister, she still at times feels torn, particularly when she thinks of it near Anne and/or Percival.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[deepseavibez]

Drowning Too Deep_3 || KNJ || JHS

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Drowning Too Deep [Namjoon x Hoseok x Reader]

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

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Genre - Explicit Smut; established!Boyfriend(s) au; Poly oneshot; Punishment;

Summary - Alone at home, nothing but thoughts, pent up emotions, roaming fingers and a wild imagination... that is... until your boyfriends catch you in the act.

Warning - 21+!Only; Poly; Aftercare; Angst(Some);

Word Count - 4.2k

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🎶- Never Not - Lauv

Right. That was all it was. It felt right. Slowly, you registered the voice - two voices, words of good, have you, with you.

A hand cradled your head, a secure hold.. The musk of Namjoon engulfed your senses, his chin resting at the top of your head, his arm reaching around you, closing you in with the body at your back. Flexing your hand you found your fingers inter linked with slender ones, rings laced in between - Hobi held strong.

You blinked slowly out of your haze and found yourself face to face with the smooth expanse of Namjoon’s chest, your nose in line with his sternum, on instinct you placed your cheek further against it, burrowing yourself against him.

An earthy giggle came from above you, the elation in his voice evident as he took in your actions.

Smiling against him you felt the ghosting of lips against your neck. Squeezing lightly at the fingers between yours you acknowledged your boyfriends, their comfort, their love, their presence.

You could stay here forever.

You felt fingers threading through your hair, careful fingers, a contrast to the demand they had mere minutes ago. Eyes fluttering shut you basked in the aftermath of your lovemaking. If you could bury yourself in their skin, you would. The need to be as close as possible visceral and insistent.

They usually did this, let you be as clingy as possible after sex. There was something about the moment, the afterglow, the headiness, being that close, feeling that loved -- it was incomparable.

‘You okay?’ Namjoon’s question felt far away, but you nodded in response. You felt like you were in a cocoon of warmth. Shifting your legs, you winced visibly at the tenderness in your body and couldn’t help the groan of discomfort that left you. Deciding it wasn’t worth it to move, you slackened further into their hold.

After a minute of stillness, shuffling at your back had you stirring again. Blinking away the bliss of the moment, you felt your hair being ruffled lightly, the hand leaving your head. You heard Hobi say something about running the bath as you opened your eyes again and made to sit up.

Craning your head toward his retreating figure, you swallowed the whine that threatened to leave your chest, his distance already having you feel cold and bereft.

It was illogical, he was just a few feet away, but you needed him next to you, here, touching and holding you, near you.

Namjoon clearing his throat caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. You turned to face him and found him sitting up, trying to hold your hand, which you now realized was fisted in the blanket under you. He smirked as you loosened the scrunched material from your hand and placed your palm on his waiting one. Bringing it up to his mouth, he placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist, eyes never leaving yours. Unable to help yourself, emotions threatening to take you under, you flung yourself into his open arms and buried your head against his neck.

'Hey, we're here, we're both here, we promise. We promised to always catch you. You’ll feel better after a hot bath.’ His voice was soft and reassuring, body warmth overwhelming, both exactly what you needed, arms strongly anchored against you, holding you as tightly as you held him. To feel so much, to be okay with being pushed, to trust blindly as you did, it was impossible to recover from it.

'I don't think I can live without both of you.' The confession came from deep within you.

His chest rumbled as he hummed against you, the sound coursing through your body. 'It's a good thing you won't have to.'

Words between you and Joon were never minced, which was something you would be grateful for. The letters forming the words that took up the space between your lips were never easy going conversation, but it consisted of truth and fact and every bit the promises you would both die to uphold.

The option to use a safe word during your lovemaking was a mere formality, you had no need to use it, despite their effort to openly communicate and make sure you knew you could.

Because the ties were never that tight. They were easily maneuverable. In the moment it would feel like exactly what you needed, control being taken away from you. But in a serious setting, if logic prevailed, you were the one with the most right, the most power to stop, the most control. But it was leverage you had no need to use.

The control they had of your body, and your heart and their access to it in their keeping, the addiction you had to keeping them happy was too good of a high, and the after was always worth it; if you loosened your ties, if you took that away from them it would upset the exchange of power.

And they never let you down, not once.

'I'm okay, I'll be okay.' You said more to yourself than to him, as your grip loosened.

He didn’t budge. 'I know. I need to feel you close to me too.'

Footsteps broke you out of your bubble as you listened to Hoseok get closer. 'Water.' Only after he said it did you realize how dry your throat was, you were parched.

Pulling away you held out your hand for the bottle. The water livened your senses up a bit, like fresh air, you could think a bit clearly, and it gave you a second to assess Hobi, you noticed him closely from the top of the bottle. His jaw was set, deep in thought, he was lost to the world for the moment.

Handing the bottle to Joon when you were done, you grabbed a hold of your other boyfriend and pulled him down beside you.

Moving to the edge of the bed, not without difficulty, you threw your legs over as your hand found his hair. He wouldn't meet your eye, so you pushed in your own way. Turning toward him, you curled your other arm around his front, it took a moment, but his arm wrapped around your waist, unconsciously bringing you closer.

He would adapt around you, he would always adapt around you.

The skin contact calming, you nosed at his shoulder. 'Hobi.' His name, a question, a pretty word, a cadence,as you implored your lover to open up. He was your Hobi, you needed to know what was bothering him, even if you couldn't fix it, no one in this relationship had to handle things alone

'Were we too rough?' You paused your petting at his serious tone.

Cocking your head to the side you took a deep breath before replying. 'Do you trust me?'

You would have expected a protest at the question, but he didn't, he knew better, he simply nodded in answer.

'And did I, at any time, use it?' You didn’t wait for him to answer. 'No, I didn't, and even if I had, it would have been something to talk about. We would have gotten through it.'

Looking over at Joon, you motioned for him to step in.

Almost immediately, he moved to close in on Hobi's other side, contributing to the third degree. 'So, why are you self-deprecating?'

Hobi turned to you before answering. 'You've never been… so far gone… after.'

You couldn’t deny that. It took a minute, it was different, but there weren’t any manuals for this type of thing. ‘But I'm okay now, see, maybe a bit clingy, or alot, but besides being absolutely weird at walking tomorrow, I love making love with you both,’ You didn’t want to say it, not when you were all so vulnerable, but his thoughts needed to be shut down. ‘Don't turn it into something we have to second guess.'

'Your demons have a place here Hobi, just not when they try to get between any of us.' You smiled over Hobi’s shoulder gratefully. Joon always had the right words.

'I just don't think I could forgive myself for hurting either of you intentionally.' He looked at our bare feet, unable to meet our eyes.

'It's a lot of responsibility to be the one with the reins in the relationship, but y/n and I trust you. I mean, if we hurt you, at any time, would you want us eating up inside because of it.'

‘Would you not let yourselves get eaten alive inside because of it.’ He glanced between us, but the question was rhetorical, we all knew the answer.

‘I think the point is,’ you intervened, ‘that we'd forgive each other, eventually, there's a lot of understanding here, of course we may love each other more than we should, but we give it our all.'

Placing his chin on Hobi, Namjoon rubbed his boyfriend's back and followed your lead, in reinforcement. ‘And during sex, we have safe words for a reason, outside the bedroom we have the word no, and we have trust enough to voice ourselves in any situation.’

‘My sweet, endearing man,’ you ran your fingers through his hair and hugged yourself to him. ‘This isn't your burden to share alone, we’re all in this relationship.’

‘We're fluent in Hoseok, especially when your brain is forming words you refuse to speak aloud.’ Joon’s palm gripped Hobi’s thigh, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. 'Respect our trust in you, and remember that you trust us to speak, even if it's for you.’

He didn’t answer, just resigned for the moment as he turned over to you and kissed your shoulder, eyes far away in contemplation. It was okay, he needed time. Things like this would take more time, more communication.

‘I think it might be time for that bath now,’ Joon whispered.

-----

🎶- Paris In The Rain - Lauv

Standing on the balcony rail, you stared out at the city below you. It was your favourite spot about this apartment, the bright lights, the noise, it made you feel alive, like you were a part of something bigger

‘What's down there?’

‘Everything.’

You looked up at Hobi as leaned on the rails next to you. He was shirtless, in plain black shorts, a coffee cup in hand. Questions like these weren’t his type, but he surprised you still.

As for the coffee, it was one of the first habits they had all synced up, coffee could wake all of you up, or help put you to sleep now.

‘It's distracting sometimes, all the noise. Wouldn't it be nice to get a change of scenery, peaceful, like a quaint cottage or a mountain range and hills, lush greenery.’

You made a face at Joon’s observation as you took the cup he offered to you. After sex coffee was always a good idea. Extra sugar, extra cream, something of a cherry on the top type of thing. It's good for vacation, but not for life.

‘The plus side is that our careers are here, our livelihoods, you guys know how to navigate yourselves through this city. And I've been having fun trying.’

‘Do you think you'd ever regret moving here? You were pretty scared, at first.’ Joon pulled you against him as he voiced the question, one arm around you, he pulled the shirt further down across you, his shirt as it flailed a bit in the breeze. You rolled your eyes internally, smiling into your mug, but the small action warmed you.

‘I was scared.’ You answered after taking a sip. ‘I still have some trouble. But, I just have to remember you two, remember that I will be coming home to my favorite people, I can't turn away from either of you, not after seeing inside your lives and your hearts, and how much I want to be a part of it.’

In fact, you remember the day you chose to be a part of it.

----------

🎶 - Blinded - Emmit Fenn

‘I'm gonna miss this view.’ Leaning against the window of the boys bedroom in the dorm, you looked out, over at the buildings, the birds, the lives taking place miles around.

‘What do you mean?’ You turned toward the sound of Hoseok’s voice. He was in his and Joon’s shared walk-in closet, putting away his clothes from the day before.

You limited your emotions behind your answer. The fears and anxiety of what was inevitable plaguing you since things had come so far. ‘I have closing contract negotiations next week - my time in Seoul ends in December. They have a flight booked for me the day before Christmas.’

‘Wait, you're leaving.’ Joon stood, from where he sat at the edge of the bed.

‘Don't look at me like that Joonie, we knew about this.’ He was the more logical of the two, if he didn’t see reason, this would be harder, for both of them. ‘I have family in America, friends, a different life.’ You tried your best to be reasonable, remaining calm and comforting. Some things in life were unavoidable. You decided you would be strong here, be rational, there was plenty of time to break down, to fall apart when you got...home.

Shaking your head away from your thoughts, you positioned a fake smile, ready to drive through this conversation, as fast as possible.

‘Can you really walk away y/n.’ You looked up at Hobi as he stepped into view. You expected this, the tight voice, the stoney face, Hobi was driven by emotion, he would take longer to adjust.

You turned away from them, you never could lie well, especially not to them, these men that held your heart. ‘It’s not complicated, Hobi. You both asked to see where it goes, and, well I have to go home.’ You tried not putting much weight behind the ‘have to’ but you would be lying if you hadn’t already searched for a reason to pull time, to extend things, to stay.

‘Move in with us.’

You whirled and stared at them incredulously. Joon for the statement, Hobi for not even remotely looking to amend it.

‘What, Joon, I don't live in Seoul, I-,’

Hobi crept toward you. His features stood out, jaw clenching as he grit out, ‘Tell me you don’t love me.’

He tugged your hand as soon as he was close enough and pulled you forcefully into him. You didn't answer him or look at him, you couldn't, the little resolve you had...no. You knew you had to leave. This wasn't your world. This wasn't your life. They didn't belong to you. You squeezed your eyes to trample down the surge of pain at your latter thought

‘Y/n.’ He caught your chin and made you meet his eyes. ‘Tell me. Tell me you don't love me.’

You felt hands at your waist, ‘Tell us, and we'll walk away from this conversation, right now.’

Trapped, you were trapped. These two beautiful males, they didn’t understand. You bit the inside of your cheek, you didn't have the luxury of crying, you didn't have the right to accept this. This was your life for crying out loud.

‘I-,’

‘And don't lie.’

Your fingers dug into Hobis' bicep at his tone.

‘I don't belong here.’

‘That's not what we asked you to say,’ Joon’s voice was shaky, his usually rich baritone, clouded with an unnameable emotion.

It didn’t need a name, for a long time now, you made it okay to not have a name.

‘Well where would this go, if I stay? What are you going to do? Announce to the world you have a girlfriend that you both share.’ Your voice rose with each word, your argument gaining momentum.

‘How do we do this? How do we go about life?’ You struggled in their hold, needing distance to do this, their hands on you vice-like, unshakeable at your outburst.

‘I can have sex, and I can love and I can let go, but if I stay, I want the whole damn deal. Can you give me that? Can you introduce me to your parents? Can you tell the boys? Can you explain it to your management? Can you give me kids? Can you tell the world about us?’ Your voice broke, ‘’Because I deserve to be number one in someone's life. And to be shown off and, and I can compromise so much, the distance and the tours and the time I have to spend missing you, but I cannot be just by the way. No one should be put through that. No one should be asked that, unless you want to throw money at them and call it a night.’

‘Y/n!’ You flinched visibly at the reprimand, not sure who it came from, as the blood rushed in your ears.

You swallowed harshly and used the little bit of anger you had left, if they could hate you, it would be easier for them. 'What?! It hurts! Of course it hurts. Yes, for fucks sake, I am in love with both of you. I want the long haul. I want forever. But I cannot ask that of you. I can’t ask for you both to only be mine.’

‘Why ask when you will be given freely. When have Hobi and I ever made you believe that you weren’t entitled to any of that.’

‘Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. This isn’t just a phase, this is going to bed and waking up together. This is arguing and making decisions together. This is respecting each other's financial and career choices. This is every day, every moment, it's everything.’

‘Y/n. Hobi is my life partner. He is my soul-mate. I have loved him and I can survive because I know I'll always have him. But I can't live without you. I can't breathe unless I know I have access to you.’

‘We.’ Hobi amended.

‘We can't live without you.’ You could feel Joon’s soft smile at your back, alleviating the tense atmosphere slightly, as he followed his boyfriend’s unspoken order.

‘Baby, look at me, talk to us. Come on, make this work, make us work - we can.’ Hobi’s hands around you were demanding, as he coaxed, holding onto you tightly, as if you might disappear at any moment.

‘I can't. I, if I look at you, I can't be strong, I can't hold off, I won't be able to look away.’

‘Because you know we care. Because you know we want to be yours. Everything else is everything else.’

‘Joon, you’re making this hard.’

‘No, y/n, you are.’

‘You will remember me, that I was here, that we made the best memories,’

‘We can make more.’

‘Hobi, please be reasonable.’

‘’We know it’s a lot, but this, this isn't just for now, this is, for however long you will have us, this is for as long as you love us and we love you, fingers crossed it’s for a really really long time.’ Hobi’s lips found your forehead, as if he couldn’t help himself.

‘Do you think you will regret it someday.’ Even your whisper was forlorn.

‘You?’ He huffed, the sudden movement jerking all of you against each other momentarily. ‘I can't think straight when you're not near me, it's even worse when you're in the same room.’

‘I think a part of me woke up when I met you, and then wanted to stay awake when I realized I didn't want you to leave, that was months ago.’ Joon could make anything sound poetic, you thought.

‘A violent part of me wanted to lock you in a tower and keep you there, for us, all to ourselves. 'There was absolution in Hobi’s voice. 'You're a bit insane, in a good way, and courageous and you see the world differently and you watch spongebob of all things,’

‘Not to mention you drink coffee at night,’ Joon chimed in, ‘We want it all.’

‘I won’t stop. Work. Travels. Experiences. I have wants, needs, a lot to learn and do and I have some of the worst days’

‘All of it, we want all of it.’ Joon hugged your back as his chest rumbled against you at his declaration.

You were a goner, all because you didn't have to be on guard with them. There was always some sort of control involved in existing. From emotions to urges and choices. Sexuality even.

But here they were, asking you to be yourself, pummelling those walls down with sheer will and determination, demanding you be as y/n as possible, even if it made life a little more difficult.

‘Me?’ You looked up at Hobi, willingly meeting his eyes, letting him see how deeply embedded they were within you, searching for hesitation, for any sort of reluctance. ‘Me.’ You repeated to them both, a statement, a chance to back out, before anything else was said.

‘You.’ Joon replied with confidence.

‘You.’ Hobi said, solidifying it.

‘Us?’ You assessed the word as it fell from your lips, a stick against a stone, a spark being allowed to ignite.

‘Us.’ Firm fingers at your waist, as the whisper of a sound came a hairsbreadth from your ear.

You closed your eyes, sending a prayer to the sky, that this was a good choice, that what you wanted couldn't be so bad, that you wouldn’t wake up one day to two males that realized they were too good for you, because they were, you knew that.

You wrapped your hands around Hobi’s back, bringing Joon with you at your back.

You felt the tension ease out of both men, letting out breaths they didn't know they held.

‘Here.’ Hobi’s voice was authoritative, unrelenting.

‘Here.’

----------

🎶 - Paris In The Rain - Lauv

A kiss at your neck broke you out of the memory, the soft spot, known and well used by the man you currently rested against. ‘Where did you go?’

Leaning into his hold, you looked out toward the city, ‘Here. Us.’ You reached out and pulled Hobi into you and Joon, a soft smile gracing your face as you answered. ‘Forever.’

‘I guess, it just makes sense, something about it, just is, I just, love who I am here.’ You meant it. You felt a puzzle piece slot into place when you let yourself be talked into a life with them.

‘We get it. Anywhere with you just feels right.’ Hobi pecked your cheek and ran his fingers through yours.

‘Hobi can be under any moon, any set of stars, anywhere, as long as it's with y/n and Joon.’

You smiled at the third person statement. You considered before asking your next question, holding tighter to Namjoon’s arms around you. ‘Do you think, you’ll ever stop loving me.’

Hobi dropped his head in a giggle, very used to this question.

‘Maybe when the lights go out in the city.’ Joon's sincere answer was so like him; he was always patient. ‘When the music stops playing from the numerous ads across the buildings-.’

‘And when hell freezes over.’ Hobi added as he smiled at you.

His contagious smile formed a mirror on your face. Right then you remembered you would never get tired of moments like these, post sex or no sex, you would never get enough of them. You had yet to regret leaving your old life for a new one. You hadn't stopped falling in love with them daily.

Stars above you, the black night sky engulfing your forms like a blanket, it was a pause to the endless possibilities surrounding your lives together. You weren't sure if it would always be like this, but right now, Namjoon’s heartbeat at your back, Hoseok next to you, nothing else in the world mattered.

‘I am going to have a serious issue with you touching yourself when we aren’t here though.’ A nip at your ear reaffirmed the statement. You just took another sip of your coffee.

‘Y/n.’ Hobi chastised. Oh no, you were about to be double-teamed.

You kept the mug at your lips, making your eyes wide over the mug. You pointed to it, busy drinking coffee, not talking about this.

‘Y/n.’ They exclaimed consecutively, pulling out of Joon’s hold and you rushed into the lounge, but not before one of them grabbed a hold of your shirt. You squealed in surprise.

Thinking fast, placing the mug on the nearest surface, you pulled the shirt over your head and ran, buck naked away from them.

‘You are so done when we get a hold of you!’ Joon shouted.

‘You’ll have to get a hold of me first.’

Laughter could be heard from your apartment, laughter and squeals of a girl that laid it all on the line, for a new life, for two smart, talented men that she had found halfway across the world; laughter that carried out the balcony to the city below, laughter of a relationship finding its way in Seoul.

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

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[nataliescatorccio]

i just watched the wilds season 2 (binge watched both seasons really) and i saw a lot of i don't wanna say distaste for the boys but more like lukewarm interest for them and i know i might be in the minority here but i think the boys would have received a lot more love if they had been given a whole season to shine. because there were only 9 episodes and it was split between the boys and the girls their introduction was kinda botched for me

we had to check in with the girls and see their progression, all the loose threads needing to be tied (norah's disappearance, leah's suspicions about norah, their rescue) meanwhile it felt like we sped through the boys experience and their experience was mostly low points we saw barely any high points. there was no time (that and seth kinda got in the way of anything going smoothly). i was super disappointed to see the boys didn't all get their flashback episodes and i hope they'll fix that in season 3 because i wanted to get to know bo outside of his friendship with scotty. i wanted to know more about scotty (we got crumbs but not the full picture) same goes with ivan and kirin's episode. i felt for kirin but i had no info on the guy save for he has shitty parents. and probably the one that i hated the most was the fact that we didn't have an episode for henry. i truly don't get why the focus was shined so much on raf because he's not at all a compelling hero to me. at best he is very similar to leah (the obsessiveness and co-dependency in both of them). i felt like henry was so much more compelling and it sucked that he was sidelined a lot only for him to be the one to basically put the nail in seth's coffin by telling everyone about julia. and josh also got no episode. yeah the boys needed more time to shine. no wonder audience didn't care lol

i'm afraid i can't say i agree with you! maybe if you watch the seasons back to back it wouldn't have mattered having a season focused on just the boys. but for those of us who waited a year and a half to see the girls again, to see the characters we'd formed an attachment with again, if they had thrown the girls out in favour of the boys i know the fandom would have been in uproar.

i get it's different coming to a show later, but you have to understand that when this show dropped it wasn't about men - and that was fucking incredible. to this date, i cannot name a show on tv like season one was. it was all about the girls, everything centered on female characters and female dynamics. there was not a single main character man in sight, everything was about the girls; their different personalities, their different backgrounds, their different sexualities! i watched the show and i was so in awe of just seeing women on my screen. boys on a desert island has been done a thousand times (cough, lord of the flies, cough), but girls? a whole show about girls? that was new and refreshing.

so to pass that up in favour of focusing on male characters? no way. of course the fandom as a whole didn't really care, we wanted to see the characters we'd formed an attachment to. the girls did not have enough screen time as it is - the boys were actually present for an hour and a half longer than them. as someone who went into this season excited to see my ladies and where they are at, i was very disappointed. they felt like an after thought, a 'let's see where they're at but we're not going to give them a lot of substance'. instead, i would argue, we saw way more of the boys navigating their world. all the main drama was with them. and i'm sure they will show those backstories in season 3, which honestly, ultimately just takes more time away from the girls.

i understand your point. if you come to a show later and watched the seasons back to back, it must be odd to see the boys 'not get the same treatment'. but you have to understand that for a great deal of the fandom, season 2 was not the show we signed up to watch. they went back on everything that was initially promised us (aka, a female driven show, with more focus on female storylines and dynamics) and we were never going to care as much about the boys in comparison, simply because it was yet another example in the media of men taking the focus off female voices.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 14// Here we Go Again

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | y/n and Bucky get closer again

Warnings | blood, implied violence

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"My scar." Y/n mumbled, looking up at Bucky suddenly. The man hummed, placing his book on his lap to look back at his girl.

"What about it?" Bucky mumbled back with curiosity.

"You said those...dreams were what you would've done if we'd been together before the war, but I still had my scar. You could've gotten rid of it, but you didn't." Y/n explained, a confused frown dancing over her brow when he smiled.

"It's because I love you, all of you. That scar, it tells a story that you shouldn't have to tell, but shouldn't ever forget. It's part of you, like this," Bucky lifted his metal arm, waving the plated hand slightly, "is part of me."

Y/n smiled light from where she sat across the couch; she still didn't feel comfortable being too close to Bucky after the whole locking her up thing, but she was getting closer.

"I'm sorry." He abruptly blurted and y/n frowned. Bucky took a deep sigh before continuing. "I really can't tell you how sorry I am about...about, well, everything?" Bucky proposed and y/n shifted in her seat slightly.

"Oh." Was all she managed, placing her own book on the flimsy coffee table that sat parallel to the torn up sofa in the motel room they were staying in. "Thanks, I guess?" She supplied and Bucky blinked at her. "I'm sorry, I'm just not good at this stuff, I guess. I'm so confused as to how I should feel right now." Y/n vented and Bucky smiled.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just happy you can bare me enough to talk to me, I was terrified that I may have lost your trust forever." He mumbled, tentatively reaching to take y/n's hand. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he held it in his own.

"I just don't know what to feel; on the one hand, you let them lock me up, but on the other, well, you did everything you could to keep me comfortable and you got me out." Y/n admitted and Bucky nodded, understanding. "And I still love you." She added quietly and Bucky grinned, before wiping the expression from his face.

They'd been on the run for a couple of weeks now, skipping between dingy motels and safe houses that had been long forgotten. Using a code, Bucky and Peter had kept in contact. Apparently, Tony and Sharon were furious.

"I love you too. Do you want some food yet?" Bucky asked and y/n nodded. He got up and crossed the room to gather some money and the room key. "I'll be back in half an hour tops, okay?" Bucky checked and y/n nodded.

"See you later." She murmured as the door slammed shut.

Alone with her thoughts again.

Y/n would rather be in Bucky's company than alone still. Even after the stuff he'd done, she couldn't stop herself from loving him. And it's not like she hadn't done her own fair share of bad things, too.

The girl sighed, rubbing her eyes as she felt the drowsiness of sleep overcome her. Maybe she could get a nap in before Bucky got back.

...

Bucky kept his head down. His hair had grown longer; he hadn't bothered cutting it since they left. His hood was drawn tightly over his face and his steps were quick as he paced to the closest store that sold food.

Once he reached the shop, Bucky rigged a hand - the flesh one - from his pocket and pulled open the door. When inside, he hastily went in search of some decent food.

Although, he instantaneously discovered one of the down sides to shopping at night - drunk people. The boisterous laughed filled his ears like water as Bucky hunted through the shelves, slurred insults thrown back and forth within the group of men.

"Hey, you!" Shit. Bucky looked up. "Yeah, you with the long hair!" One of them boomed and Bucky scoffed, shaking his head as he turned back to the section of ready-made sandwiches.

"Hey, look at me." The man persisted and Bucky rolled his eyes. They boy looked back to his friends, all clearly amused with the situation before the guy was swinging a punch in Bucky's direction.

On instinct, the super soldier caught the guy's fist in his hand. His metal hand. The guy looked so aghast that Bucky had to stop himself from laughing.

...

"This may hurt a little." Y/n sighs, eyes squinted as she threads the needle in front of her. Bucky swallows his groan of pain, giving her a stiff nod before letting his head knock back into the wall behind him. Y/n steps between her boyfriend's legs, pulling his arm forwards and letting a small apology slip from her lips when he hissed.

"Fuck!" Bucky cursed, metal fist slamming into the counter that he was sat on, the dent large and lined with splintered wood. Y/n winced a little but continued, her voice twisting around whisper sweet nothings to calm him down.

Bucky's breathing was heavy, laboured, as y/n continued to sew up the gash, lip pulled between her teeth in concentration.

"Almost there...just a little more..." Her small voice mumbled as Bucky's metal a whirred.

"Fuck me, please remind to never piss off a group of drunk guys again." Bucky groans, but y/n could only find herself biting her lip harder at the thought of fucking him again.

Clearly, this intimate moment had helped her see past his mistakes.

Huh.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I'll be more careful next time." Bucky promises, flesh hand reaching to cup her cheek when he pulls back - remembering her hesitance.

"It's not your fault. I'll still patch you up each and every time it happens." Y/n smiled tightly, almost with pity when she eyes his retracted hand.

Bucky nods solemnly before moving to hop off the crappy bathroom counter in their motel room, only to cut himself short with a groan.

"Easy, soldier." Y/n jokes, placing her hands onto her boyfriend's hips to help him down.

"Thanks." He mumbled low before hobbling off, eyes biting back tears as he limped through the room to flop on the creaky bed.

Y/n sighs heavily, watching him go with a sad expression. Bucky flicked the TV on - blue light sliding over his features in a haunting highlight; the structure of his bones protruding with the flashing colour of people moving across the screen.

"Y/n." Bucky hissed as she wrung out the little towel - now full of blood and stained a deep crimson.

Her her snapped up, the wet fabric falling into the sink with a soggy slap before she was stumbling across the room to perch on the edge of the bed.

"Oh my god." She exclaimed, hand tight over her mouth I shock at the screen.

"Suspect in the bombing is none other than James Buchan Barnes and Y/n Stark. We'll be back with more information when we have it." The presenter finished, accompanied by pictures of both y/n and Bucky stealthily away from the building, which was now laying in ruins.

"Oh my god." She repeated, horrified at the sight of King T'Chaka and all the victims.

Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @Zaphdekota @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @gooseyhouse @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @prettysbliss @the-surviving-revolutionist @white-wolf1940 @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr @vallerydevora @multihoee @supraveng @cap-n-ce @sebbyxlover @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @veronicapaula @ravenmoore14 @frickin-bats @itstaylorcale @sunflowerbunny2 @spookyparadisesheep

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

[anths-girl]

Right. So. My 'funding campaign' is NOT going well. At ALL. And the reason why it gets to me so much, is because I was very, VERY reluctant to do it, in the first place. Heck, I only finally created the campaign, MONTHS after everything that had finally trigged me to do so, went down.

But also, I'm not someone who handles disappointment well. And saying that, is an understatement. I have depression. And YES, I KNOW - we ALL do, right? Though this - all of this, the campaign, things not going well with my parents, struggling financially, and YES, it almost being Christmas and the new year...it's making EVERYTHING so, SO much worse. I feel like I'm suffocating, sometimes. Like I want to crawl into a hole and just...never come back out again.

Me, putting myself out there, practically baring my soul - and my personal life, and the issues I have - is NOT something I do lightly. Hence why I didn't really WANT to start the finding campaign in the first place. Because I can just FEEL people being...judgmental. Wondering, "well, WHY doesn't she have a job" or "what kind of 'disability' is she getting a social grant for". Because yes, I know: I LOOK fine, right? Like there's nothing wrong with me. But also...it's REALLY no-one's business, right? The point is, I DO only receive a social grant. And I CAN'T go work. If anything, I can't leave my parents to fend for themselves, every day. Because THAT is my job: taking care of my parents.

In-between all this, I am not doing great. In all seriousness, I am doing VERY, VERY badly. The ONLY bright thing in my life, are my dogs. Not that they are 'dogs', to me - they are very literally my LIFE. I call them my 'Kiddies'. If not for them, we'd ALL - my parents and me - really be dead, by now. And all that is yet another issue: Every day, I am TERRIFIED of something happening to them. One of them getting sick, or just ANYTHING bad happening. Because that is what my brain does: It's constantly shouting out to me, in bright, screaming neon letters, ALL of the negative crap that can - and probably WILL - happen.

And 99.9% of ALL of those 'things' that could happen? If they do happen, NOW...we are SO screwed. Because...we don't have money. We are hanging on by a thread. And it KILLS me, that there's NOTHING I can do...but what I've BEEN doing: BEGGING.

And I also hate doing that. Because I KNOW others struggle, too. I know there are people who struggle way, WAY more than me and my family. But since creating my campaign, and, like I said, baring my soul and putting my entire personal life out there for the whole world to see...it's made things so much more...REAL, for me. And now I CAN'T give up. And yet, EVERY single thing I've tried - sharing as much as I can, on social media, writing updates (like THIS one), messaging people, afraid of annoying the hell out of them...nothing WORKS.

The strangest thing of all, is that of the people who HAVE helped - by either donating (I got TWO donations in all. TWO), or helping to share my posts - are folks who are struggling, too. People who I look up to, and who I have been following and admiring because of their talent. And I am so, SO thankful for their help. It makes me feel so much humility, and even guilt, knowing that those people try to help me, when they have their own troubles to deal with.

And still, through all of this...I am not okay. I have trouble getting through every day. Some days I don't want to get out of bed. Some days I can't sleep, at all. I desperately want some kind of distraction from all the negative thoughts (thank GOD for Pippin and Lola, EVERY DAY!). I read fanfic - the only other joy in life that I am SO grateful for that I hardly have words. I watch my shows, or my Marvel movies. But it still doesn't REALLY get the job done. Because there IS one thing, that ALWAYS worked. That could get me out of my own head, like NOTHING in this world could: WRITING.

I can't write, anymore. The last time I wrote something - other than campaign pages and things like what I'm writing right NOW - was almost three years ago. Writing, JUST for the love of writing. Because I DO love writing. It's the ONE thing in this world that I am actually, maybe a LITTLE bit good at. And even IF I'm not good at it, at ALL...I still LOVED doing it. And I MISS it, like crazy.

But no matter what I do, how hard I try...it's just not happening anymore. And really, anyone who knows anything about writing...when you have to FORCE it...it's not fun anymore, anyway.

That last time I wrote? It was right before things started falling apart rather spectacularly, in our home. My dad's health started deteriorating more, he spent time in hospital, days in bed. And I just...lost it. Lost THAT part of me. The part that could shut out the world, and all of it's bad things, and just...go somewhere else. I can't do that, anymore. And I HATE it. It's like I have no choice, but to constantly deal with all the worries and troubles that's day to day life, now. And it's EXHAUSTING.

I'm NOT a strong person. Not even close to it. And whenever I see some of the other funding campaigns, I want to DIE. Because it makes me feel SO, SO bad, complaining and begging for donations, when there are people who have it SO much worse than I do. But again...this is for my FAMILY. The ONLY people in this world, who matter to me. I can't live without them, and watching them struggle, and not being able to really DO anything about it, is slowly destroying me. I have already lost so much of who I use to be, that I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Sorry for the VERY long-winded self-pity party. I just REALLY needed to vent. And apparently to just bare my soul even MORE.

Once again, thank you, and God bless.

*Link to said campaign page, just in case...: https://gogetfunding.com/for-the-best-twilight-years