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nisaconite · 2 years

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read on ao3

You hate the runestones scattered across the hills of Jorvik.

There’s no big story behind it, or so you say when anyone asks. They’re just eyesores and roadblocks, and - this part is for the Soul Riders’ ears only - the faint purple glow they emit whenever you approach is getting old. The hum that only you can hear when you draw even remotely near drives you crazy. You don’t want to have to take the long away around places just to avoid the magical anomaly.

Whatever, whatever, whatever.

The truth is that each rune etched into those rocks is a reminder of the responsibility that you are destined to carry, of the responsibility that, so far, you are failing to carry. The glow signals, you have power, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it. Anne and Lisa and Justin, they’re all still missing, and you are even at fault for the latter’s plight. Heroes don’t seal the innocent’s fate, not like that. You are no hero. You carry no power. Lightning refuses to spark at your fingertips.

You vandalize what you must to get your way. The last time you came across a Dark Core goon, you bodily tackled her because you had no other weapon to use. And so far, you have only given the villains what they want for a lack of guile.

Back when everything was normal - or rather, back when there was an absence of anything abnormal in your life - you never had to feel this way. You have friends and wits and everything else any teenager could possibly need to survive their junior year. But here, surrounded by people armed with magic, you feel completely useless. They say you are the most powerful of them all, but time and time again, Alex has cut short a lesson in frustration for how little you seem to grasp the concept of magic.

You wonder, not for the first time, if it’s possible to mistake someone ordinary for a powerful being. Surely it is; could they have looked at the ease with which you handle horses with and thought, she must be a Wild Whisperer? Could you have ended up with a Soul Steed by chance, leaving them to assume, that must have been her horse in another life? That feels better, the idea that you are just coincidentally talented, that if you went back to being normal again, you would be great.

But the druids refuse to let you go. You are the one, they assure you. We know how this works. Trust us, your magic potential is strong.

You grin and you bear it. Hey, at least getting to be around all this magic is cool, right? Sure, at times it can make you feel inferior and inadequate and insecure, but you know some people would kill to have a life like this.

(Not you, though. You were happy, going to school and having your biggest problems be petty drama and gossip. You even liked your old horse.)

You save people now, or try to, or tag along as others do. You feel more like a sidekick or NPC than you do the main character of your own life, but there’s no denying that you’ve helped do some good. You rescued Linda.

And one day you’ll make up for everything and save everybody else, too. You tell yourself this very firmly, with no room for debate. You will save them all. The runestones say so. The druids say so. Alex looks at you with exasperation, sometimes, but she says so, too.

Time passes. you let yourself believe that they’re maybe right? You save Lisa. It takes work. That's okay. Your horse, now much more beloved than your old one in your normal life, has a broken leg. That is much less okay. Anger and panic and fear spur you on, and your first jagged bolt of lightning escapes your hand. You will be happy about it later, but not now. A trap laid out in front of you, and you couldn’t stop your horse, who would follow you anywhere, in time. Lisa fixes the break with her magic, but she can’t stop you from thinking about what could have been. What almost was.

You can hear your horse in your head now, which must be something special. You make a portal. You get Justin out of mind control, out of Dark Core, out of house arrest. His mental state is worse than ever. You can’t do much about that. (You saved him, but not fully, and it’s your fault he needed saving in the first place.)

They send you to save Anne alone. You have always followed everyone else, always been the sidekick to their heroism, so this surprises you. Gut-churning, dreading surprise, not the pleasant kind. But you breathe in, out, and tell yourself that you can do this. You have done everything so far. An intruder in this magical world you may be, but you have managed to disguise yourself perfectly.

Magic and talking horses and saving people. You can do this.

What you realize, but try not to acknowledge, is that you have only done everything else so far because you were not alone. An impostor is harder to spot when there are others to blend in with. Now, everything is up to you.

Pandoria does not go well. You’re too late, Anne says. You run, selfishly, cowardly, pitifully. Your horse says that you’re no good to anyone dead, that you made the right choice, but heroes don’t think that way. You run, and are too late to close the portal, just like Anne says. Fripp does it at the expense of the keystone and his consciousness.

Great. Another one down for the count. Another one to rescue. You think, a little hysterically, that you should keep a couple of body count lists. One for each person rescued, one for each person felled. See whether you’re doing more harm or good. Linda, Lisa, Justin rescued. Justin and Fripp felled. Does Anne count? It’s all catching up to you. One more collateral and you’ll be more a villain than a hero.

Concorde, the Soul Riders decide together. Concorde, Anne's horse, is next. Him and his rider and then Fripp. So many people. If this is the life of a hero, do you really want it? Do you want to be useful and powerful and have every runestone glow as you pass if these are the consequences? If this is what it means? You don’t know.

You thought you did, but every way out feels selfish now.

So you keep at it. You get a vision, and for a moment when you make a mistake it seems like maybe Ydris will be collateral this time around. But you see stars, and you heal him with Lisa. You rescue Concorde. She’s not really Anne's Soul Steed, because the Concorde she knew is dead and this one was meant for another cycle, another generation. Is this a loss or a rescue?

You and the rest of the Soul Riders split up again, you to Dino Valley to fetch the keystone that will create the portal to Anne. This is a simple task, one you somehow convince yourself you can’t mess up. Sabine is there, though. She pokes at sore spots and open wounds, taunting, reminding, spitting nothing but the truth.

You are nothing without your horse. You are nothing without the Soul Riders. You are nothing alone. You are nothing. You think you’re great, think you’re powerful? Here's what you are. Nothing at all.

You get it. But she demands you hand over the keystone, and you may be powerless, may be a tag-along, may be an NPC, but that’s what sidekicks do, isn’t it? They support the heroes unconditionally until the end. They never give them up. They shouldn’t even be in this story, but they are, so they’re going to play their minuscule role well.

Magic rips into your shoulder, courtesy of Sabine, for your trouble, and you run. This time, your horse doesn’t need to validate you for it, because it isn’t cowardly now. Sabine will have to pry your ticket to Anne from your cold, dead hands (although you escaping, alive, and with the keystone, is much more preferable).

The Soul Riders show up just in time to save your ass, when you’re trapped and starting to feel like your only option is to actually square off against Sabine. You are beyond grateful that it doesn’t come to that, even though it just solidifies the whole ‘sidekick’ thing. You think you can be at peace with that. At least you have friends. At least you know where you stand.

You all venture into Pandoria to save Anne together against some of the druids’ wishes, which surprises you. Relieved, chest-lightening surprise, not the awful kind. Maybe you are all just stronger together. Maybe instead of relying on them this entire time, you’ve been helping in your own way, and they have been relying on you, too. Maybe instead of being the sidekick-friend, you’re just… a friend.

You find Anne. She is angry and scarred and hurt, but you can’t do much about that. All you can do is bring her back to where she can try and patch things back together again, and she doesn’t have to do it alone. The repose you feel when you finally tumble back into the Guardian’s Dale is immense. Anne is back. You don’t know whether or not you’re needed anymore, whether or not you want to stay anymore, but there will be a choice from now on.

(If they could function with four members while you took Anne's place, they can function with four again if you decide to leave now that she’s back. No one will convince you otherwise.)

But then Alex is gone - collateral, your brain screams, why does it never end? - and you sprint back into the portal to support her, rescue her, save her, be her sidekick and her friend and whatever else she could possibly need. It doesn’t even matter now; did it ever?

Elizabeth dies. Collateral. You hope that makes more sense in context, with your list, than it does without. You hope you don’t sound uncaring. Linda, Lisa, Justin, Anne, Concorde rescued. Justin, Fripp, Anne, Concorde, Elizabeth felled. Five for five. You are as much a hero as you are a villain, but now, at least, you are the sidekick. You stay by Alex's side, and you painstakingly make your way out of chaos space together.

There's a memorial. You stand in the ruins of Doyle's Abbey, choked up and eyes fixed on the horizon. People talk and music plays and arrangements are made, but you hear almost none of it. You are gone before the candles are lit for Elizabeth. Is that rude? You don’t think she would have minded.

You leave your horse behind. Your destination is only minutes away, a triangular runestone tucked just around the corner and over a hill. The biggest one you’ve ever seen, and also the first one you’d ever seen. Where it had started, where the mistake had been made, where normal had been abandoned for… for this.

It buzzes and flares, even though you’ve stopped a few feet away to stare up at it. You can’t read the runes inscribed on it, and it gives you just about as many answers as you’d been expecting, which is to say, none. You sigh, and are just considering going back to the gathering when someone speaks, startling you.

“Alex said you hated the runestones.”

It's Anne. You tense, not because her presence is unwelcome, but because you don’t know how to reply. The two of you have only exchanged clipped sentences here and there, introductions and instructions and awkward condolences.

“I do. Did.”

“Something changed?” Anne settles, cross-legged, in the grass. Her face is hard to read. She pats the ground next to her in an invitation.

You take it. “I guess.”

She doesn’t press, which you appreciate. You don’t offer up any more information, either, and you both sit in silence and watch the runestone. Maybe in different circumstances, this would be uncomfortable, but there’s too much going on in both your minds for you to read into weird silences.

“So,” Anne says finally, “which one of us is the fifth wheel?”

Are you fighting for the other Soul Riders’ attention now? You don’t think that’s something you want to do, so you laugh a little, and make a decision you probably haven’t given enough thought to yet. “No fifth wheel. I'm leaving.”

“What?” She sounds genuinely surprised, not pleased or anything of the sort. “Why? Just because I'm back? The others will still want you around-“

“Oh, I'll be around,” you say. “I'm not leaving leaving. I'll help when you need me to, and you guys can always come by Moorland to say hi, but Soul Riding? Not for me.”

Anne seems to relax just slightly. You’re not sure why. Maybe she doesn’t want you to be a new addition to the group of friends she’s just coming back to (you’re not hurt by the possibility), or maybe she’s just glad that it isn’t because of her that you’ll be leaving. Whatever the case, you think you’ve made the right decision. You don’t have to just be the sidekick. You can have your own life, and still keep your friends, still be around for them when they need you.

“Why?” Anne asks.

You fish around for a moment, trying to recall what she could be pushing for, when you remember where the conversation left off. “I'm… pretty bad at magic,” you answer eventually. “But I know how to use all four Circles. So, when you and Lisa were gone, there was a reason for me to stick around. Leaving to have the normal life I want would have been selfish. But now…”

“Everything you can do, someone else can do,” Anne finishes, realization tinting her words. It stings a little to hear out loud from someone else, but you nod. She shakes her head. “But what if something happens to one of us again? Or we need strength in numbers? It isn’t all about magic, you know.”

“Well, if you need manpower, I'll be here,” you say with a shrug. It seems simple enough to you. “If someone gets hurt, I'll be here. Hell, if one of you just needs a break, I'll be here! I just don’t want to always have to… be. Here. If you know what I mean.”

Anne arches her brows at your stumbling, but understanding seems to flicker over the shadows in her expression. “So it's not because of me.”

“No-” you think for a second, cut yourself off. “Yes? I'm able to go through with it because you’re back, yeah, but I don't want to do it because you’re back.”

Anne blows out a long breath. “And it isn’t because you think the others, or I, won’t want you around.”

“Definitely not.” Some part of you whispers, yes, that they would be better off without you, that you’ve done more harm than good as a Soul Rider, but you don’t actually think that they believe that.

“Okay,” she says. “Then I guess we’re good.”

“Good,” you repeat. You stand up after a moment’s silence, brushing dirt off your pants, and offer her a hand up. “I'm going to go back. Are you coming?”

Anne stares straight ahead at the runestone, refusing to look at you. You think you can see a sheen to her eyes (one green and one pink) that suggests she’s holding back tears all of a sudden. “I think I just need a few minutes.”

You hover for a split second, unsure of whether to actually leave her. Eventually you decide she needs her time, because Lisa had always recalled that Anne hated seeming weak in front of strangers (and you are a stranger), and she will not have a much-needed, cathartic cry if you stay. So you turn, and you leave.

Doyle's Abbey is emptying now. Alex is gone, Linda looks to be sleeping, Lisa is still playing, and the few stragglers are scattered around, alone or in pairs. Your feet carry you to the crumbling window at the back of the Abbey, and your fingers find an unlit candle to fiddle with.

Lightning sparks to life at your fingertips with some effort, and you light the candle, for Elizabeth and the rest of the felled. For Anne and the rest of the rescued. For sidekicks and heroes and villains and everyone else just struggling to make the right choices. You light the candle, and you watch the tiny flame flicker in the near-dark, and you wonder what all this power is for.

At least you did good things with it.

#sso #sso mc #my writing #second person pov #sso player #anne von blyssen #main quest spoilers

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justagirl-andherbooks · 1 year

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Books Purchased in May 2023

There was a Sunday in May when my husband and I decided to shirk our responsibilities and hit a slew of bookstores across town. I picked up three in total and even though I'm still juggling, reading two very different books right now - which I will make a separate post for - I'm honestly so excited to dive into these!

Summaries are below the cut.

Thank you to @firefly-graphics for these cool dividers!

The Woman Left Behind by Linda Howard

Jina Modell works in Communications for a paramilitary organization and she loves it. When she displays a high aptitude for spatial awareness and action, she's reassigned to work as an on-site drone operator with one of the elite GO-Teams. Far from athletic, she needs to be fit for the field and learn how to run and swim for miles, jump out of a plane, shoot a gun...or else be out of a job.

Team leader Levi Butcher doesn't have much confidence in Jina completing her rigorous training, so no one is more surprised - or proud - when she thrives in her new environment. Even more surprising is that the disciplined leader can't stop thinking about her smart mouth...

Meanwhile, a powerful Congresswoman is setting a trap to ambush the GO-Team. Once the squad is deployed to Syria, Jina remains at the base for remote surveillance, when suddenly the station is attacked with exlposives. Escaping to the desert, Jina must remain undetected by the enemy and make it to her crew before they're exfiltrated from the country.

But Levi never leaves a soldier behind, and he's determined to bring back the brave woman he's fall for - dead or alive.

The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna

As one of the few witches in Britain, Mika Moon knows she has to hide her magic, keep her head down, and stay away from other witches so their powers don't mingle and draw attention. And as an orphan who lost her parents at a young age and was raised by strangers, she's used to being alone and she follows the rules, with one exception: an online account where she posts videos pretending to be a witch. She thinks no one will take it seriously.

But someone does. An unexpected message arrives, begging her to travel to the remote and mysterious Nowhere House to teach three young witches how to control their magic. It breaks all of the rules, but Mika goes anyway, and is immediately tangled up in the lives and secrets of not only her three charges but also an absent archaeologist, a retired actor, two long-suffering caretakers, and...Jamie. The handsome and prickly librarian of Nowhere House would do anything to protect the children, and as far as he's concerned, a stranger like Mika is a threat. An irritatingly appealing threat.

As Mika begins to find her place at Nowhere House, the thought of belonging somewhere feels like a real possibility. But magic isn't the only danger in the world, and when peril comes knocking at their door, Mika will need to decide whether to risk everything to protect a found family she didn't know she was looking for...

Night Broken: A Mercy Thompson Novel by Patricia Briggs

When her mate's ex-wife storms back into their lives, Mercy knows something isn't right. Christy has the furthest thing from good intentions - she wants Adam back, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to get him, including turning the pack against Mercy.

Mercy isn't about to step down without a fight, but there's a more dangerous threat circling. As the bodies start piling up, she must put her personal troubles aside to face a creature with the power to tear her whole world apart.

I've quickly become a fan of the Mercy Thompson novels and I mean, come on, the summaries for Howard and Mandanna's stories are just so intriguing!

I do enjoy my romance woven into action and adventure - clearly. 😉

Happy Reading!

Yvette

#readblr #bookblr #the woman left behind by linda howard #the very secret society of irregular witches by sangu mandanna #night broken by patricia briggs #new books on the shelf

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dontfuckingbite · 2 years

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Yuletide Letter

Dear Writer,

Thank you for taking the time to write for me, I'm excited to see what you come up with! If it'd be helpful for you, I've listed some likes and interpretations below along with my Do Not Wants. For any potential treaters, I have allowed automatic gifting.

LIKES: messy relationships - morally grey characters, doing the right thing for the wrong reason, doing the wrong thing for the right reason - character study and character-driven plot - competency and loyalty - being immersed into a culture, place, or time - soulbonds, a/b/o, and other supernatural tropes that draw from destined for each other, whether they like it or not - smut (some particular likes: D/s and power imbalance, rough sex, mouth kink, exploring erogenous zones, dubcon -- especially with these requests, I'm really into exploring sexuality outside of its most traditionally romantic and tender expression.)

DO NOT WANT (unless specifically requested): serious, graphic injury on screen - body fluids other than come, spit, and sweat, and preferably not an overwhelming amount of those, either - genderswap, focus on genderplay - natural disasters or apocalypse scenarios - requested characters in happy, endgame relationships with non-requested characters

My definition of "graphic injury" is basically going past canon typical depictions. Video game logic that says getting shot isn't that big of a deal, "Johnny felt his knee seize up," William has done very bad things are all fine. But I don't want to read about the specifics.

The unrequested endgame DNW also has some holes in it. I'm very down to my requested characters just going after each other, but I don't mind and can really enjoy flirting, flings, relationships that aren't meant to last, trying to move on and failing, or unresolved/unaddressed sexual tension. The only route I absolutely don't want is anyone I've requested happily ending up in a romantic relationship with another character.

I also realized as I was writing this that for each of my requests, someone ends up (presumably) dead. This is more of a preference than a DNW, but I'd prefer if the story kept away from "cold" grief, for lack of a better word. In Far Cry, for instance, grief is obviously, canonically a massive motivating force for Dani, and I don't at all mind a fic exploring that. This is opposed to, say, the nothingness in The Month Pages of New Moon. There's no right way, but within a story, the former is more engaging to me in this moment in time. I'm also, of course, not at all opposed to presumed dead fix-its, canon divergence, or just placing the story before the canonical death.

FANDOMS

Bullet Train (2022) - Lemon, Tangerine

Admittedly, I did fall into the trap of considering whether the twins were twins the same way gay couples used adoption as a familial loophole -- they just had so much chemistry! The bickering! The familiarity! ... Finding out they really are brothers did not make me ship it less. For the purpose of this request, I'm cool with reading a platonic brother relationship, they actually are husbands AU, outright incest, They Grew Up Together In Such A Way That "Brother" Is The Best/Easiest Way To Describe Their Relationship But It's Still Not Really Really Incest; whatever floats your boat.

Whatever your preferred answer is, I really do love their relationship, and I'd love to read more about their history, how they got into the business, developing their (very, very messy) style...

The Card Counter (2021) - Cirk Baufort, William Tell

I must have entered the theater with my twisted homosexual hat on very tight when I saw this, because I genuinely thought there was a chance that they might go there with Cirk/William, with William/La Linda purposefully being a stiff, unbelievable testament to how Tell will never be able to adjust to a more normal, moral life. C'est la vie.

But, as is the magic of fic, I'd move to read about Tell's attempt at pseudo paternal guidance falling off the rails; Cirk being very very very stubborn about the things he wants; Tell's variable ability to get what he wants and maintain control and how far he really wants to push it (preferably, for me, not that far, at least not with Cirk, but still with a healthy scoop of fucked up).

Far Cry 6 - Male Dani Rojas, Alejo Ruiz

Again, I was shipping it immediately, only for it to be taken from me only slightly less immediately. But Alejo still stuck with me -- maybe in part because this is the first time I was really motivated to go for the "secret" ending immediately -- and I felt very vindicated while tripping balls on the mad dash to Matías.

There are a couple layers I found really interesting and gut-punch about that scene: that Dani and Alejo weren't just like "lmao fuck outta here!" but had actual plans and dreams for once they left; the guilt and insecurity that Dani carried throughout the game; that "Lita" wasn't exactly fully wrong that Dani moral motivation wasn't exactly iron clad at all times; and that Cortez was definitely a negative influence on Dani's self conceptualization.

So, basically I'm really interested in The Orphans' lives leading up to the revolution, the messes Dani got himself into and out of, the decision to leave, the inability to go to. Has Dani always attracted older male figures that want to sculpt him in their image? Did Alejo have a Feeling that an active civil war might not be the best space for Dani to be in, even as a survivor? If Dani and Alejo were fucking, as I like to assume, what was going on that made him think "Yeah, we're all in together but also he's still in it for the girls on the other side"?

Point Break - Bodhi, Johnny Utah

I mean. It's Point Break. It's hard to even express how gay it is and how much doomed chemistry Bodhi and Johnny have better than the movie does itself. Let them fuck! Let Johnny go bad! Let Bodhi live and have them figure how to live on the edge without, you know, killing and robbing!

One angle that I do find interesting and that didn't get unpacked enough, unsurprisingly given the genre, was Johnny's dissatisfaction within being The Good Ohio Boy Who Does The Good Things With The Good Guys, and how flawed that whole structure is to begin with. He's obviously disillusioned with it all by the end, but I'd love to spend more time with Johnny as he discovers himself and his likes and goals after losing so much of what he'd been grounding himself in.

Thanks for reading, and happy writing!

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inkdemonapologist · 3 years

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[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

REMEMBER BACK WHEN WE GOT INVITED TO A MASQUERADE??? And we figured out the masquerade guests are definitely the sacrifice meant to summon their eldritch deity and that the party will probably be the location of the final ritual? ANYWAY WE’RE CRASHING THE PARTY, which means we need costumes.

The party is Alice in Wonderland themed; Sammy hasn’t read the book but got kin-assigned the March Hare by Joey, so naturally i’ve been doing nothing but drawing this loser in a dapper rabbit costume for an entire week

---

Anyway have a little smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 11

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Sammy just has no magical powers. [Jack] YET. [Sammy] Yet. Correct. ...He doesn't want any. [GM] Half of him doesn't want any. [Sammy] That's... accurate, yeah. Half of him ALSO wants the OTHER half of him to stop having magical powers. [Jack] No Magical Girl transformation? [GM] *laughing* Is that what that is? [Jack] I'd watch a magical anime where the main character drugs themself and then becomes a weird... religious... madman! [Sammy] That does sound compelling! Maybe you should see if you can find a franchise that contains that element, and then become a big fan of it and draw a bunch of fanart for some reason. [Jack] Yeah, I dunno, I mean... it's so tiring getting into new media, I need to get a friend who will drag me into it. [Henry] And then you guys can start a roleplaying game with it and drag me into it! [GM] There's an idea! [Jack] Yeah! Someone should get on that! [GM] And if there was such a theoretical game... people might have to figure... what they're doing when they wake up!

[Sammy] We were put in a situation before where we were told that the only thing we could do was kill the host, but we found a way around it last time, [Peter] What way was that? [Sammy] Complicated.

[GM] Henry is the first to notice the apparent cultist, camping out, looking tired, trying to spot you guys. [Henry] Uh, Henry is just going to tap Sammy on the arm and point him out. [Jack] Bros! You've got to unionise! Look at these working conditions! [GM] Maybe one of these days you won't spot them, right? Hope springs eternal!

[GM] Okay, you can make an intimidate! [Sammy] Okay! *rolls* FIFTEEN IS -- this is the only thing Sammy's good at now -- fifteen is a hard success!

[Jack] I'm proud of him! [Sammy] Someone has to be.

[GM] Allison chats with everyone, and gets you into the costume room! Everyone seems relatively friendly! [Sammy] Except Sammy. Sammy doesn't seem friendly.

[Joey] My idea was, Joey would be Mad Hatter -- [Sammy] Because he needs a hat, [Joey] --Yeah, so he can have a hat -- I was thinking Sammy could be the March Hare, Jack could be White Rabbit, and then Henry could be the Dormouse, [Sammy] Yes! And then the Haiti boys are all the Mad Teaparty, which is great, because the Mad Teaparty is canonically trapped in a time loop. [Sammy] Because we tHOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO MUCH,

[Jack] Kin-assign Pete! [GM] He's content to wear anything that looks like it fits him, as long as people aren't trying to push a co-ordinated effort. [Joey] (Pete can be Caterpillar,) [Jack] Catter-pete-lar [Sammy] Oh my goodness. Completely unnecessary. [Jack] This is a pun that Jack might make, out loud, to Pete [GM] Pete laughs, despite himself! [Sammy] I feel like, Jack would make this pun, and then Jack would be SO pleased with himself that Pete would laugh, because Jack was so happy about it. [Jack] Yeah that sounds canon. ....It IS canon!!

[Jack] You can like, actually pretend to be people who decided to come to this party to enjoy it, and not just steal and/or murder!

[Henry] I want someone on the help, because I feel like we would have more control if we had someone on the inside, [Henry] And Henry does have a very forgettable face, apparently!!

[Joey] What are the staff wearing? Target red shirt, khaki pants? [Sammy] Perfect! Everyone will fall for it! Based on my experience wearing red shirts into Target!

[GM] I guess this does mean Joey misses an opportunity to dress up Henry. [Joey] *excited gasp* Wait, wait, [GM] What? [Joey] Sorry, this has nothing to do with anything that's happening right now in the roleplay, but I just suddenly realised that (1) when Henry got married, was Joey his best man, and (2) did Joey get to pick out his tuxedo for him [Henry] UHHHH... I feel like, Henry usually defaults to Joey for outfits and stuff, but he would hesitate a bit to ask his best friend who has an obvious crush on him to help dress for his heteronormative wedding!

[Joey] There probably is at least one of the wedding photos where Joey is insistent on standing very next to Henry -- while Henry's next to Linda! -- but, [GM] ...but also, Joey is here, [Joey] But also Joey is here. [Sammy] ...absolute disaster of a man... [GM] But the tuxedos look good! [Joey] Yes. Henry was properly fitted.

[Sammy] I don't want a full-- I don't want a freakin' fursuit, because-- [Henry] (FNAF in the distance)

[Sammy] But I feel like, since both White Rabbit and March Hare are, like, dapper rabbits, they could do something like, yeah, splicer mask and also a hat. [Jack] I mean, Jack's not opposed; Jack likes hats. [Sammy] Jack absolutely should have a hat, I agree. [Jack] He's getting so many hats! So many hats, and so many boyfriends, [GM] He can't be stopped! [Jack] >:3c He shouldn't be stopped.

[GM] I'm still just stuck on the phrase "Dapper Rabbits."

[GM] If Joey and Allison are talking further away, I guess it's moot. Though Allison did see Prophet Sammy! He changed in her room. [Sammy] Well, nobody explained him to her. Sammy just showed up the next day and hoped that we wouldn't talk about it, and then we didn't! It was great. [Jack] Sammy's over here, hoping that Allison is distracted by Joey so that none of this conversation is being listened to, [Jack] MEANWHILE, smash cut to the other side of the room, where Joey is explaining SillySam,

[Joey] A lot of Joey's lack of giving information was to keep her out of it, and not paint a target on her back... but now? She has a target on her back, so... Sure! You can also sacrifice yourself, for the greater good!

[Sammy] I'm sure someone in this party will thank Allison. It won't be me. But I'm sure someone will.

[Henry] Henry's already smearing his blood on people, he's gonna agree to whatever at this point.

[Sammy] DEFINITELY not a cult, now hold still while we put this guy's weird glowing blood on you, it's fine. [Jack] Welcome to the flock!

[GM] What does this mean for Prophet Sammy's sacrificeability rating on Henry, though? Now he's potentially long-term useful... [Sammy] I mean... [Jack] The Prophet isn't here so he doesn't need to know about this! [Sammy] ...I feel like, if something has greater value, then it's an even more impressive sacrifice. That's why you sacrifice an unblemished sheep, traditionally. If it's not a blemish-- [Sammy] Like, that's most of what he was worried about, like, “does this make you not fit for sacrifice.” But if it's actually a really cool thing, ...!

[Sammy] Sammy's nervous. [Jack] Jack is also nervous. [Henry] Henry is also nervous! [Jack] Oh, that's always a good sign, [Joey] Joey's going to be confident! [Henry] ...Of course he is. [Joey] Someone has to be! [Jack]...is he "Confident" or "Confident (Fast Talk)"? [Joey] YES. That last one. [Sammy] *muttering* That's the best we got, unfortunately.

[Sammy] If Jack or Henry express nervousness, Sammy agrees with them. If Pete is nervous, then Sammy will very aggressively say that Joey knows what he's doing.

[Sammy] Allison, don't use a spell to bind people's souls together in order to avoid crunch,,, [GM] You never know when something might be handy! [Sammy] I mean, [GM] Waste not want not!

[Henry] Does Henry have to draw in blood on himself...? [GM] No, Henry has a lot of his own blood on his person.

[GM] Aw, man, Bendy should've commented on the rabbit outfits! I'm sure he'd find that hilarious. [Joey] ...why...? [GM] WHY? It's just objectively funny! No additional reason is needed!!

[Joey] Joey will go through his notes, and confer with Henry and Bendy on, okay, shall we try this, and see if we can help Bendy as well? [Henry] Henry is down to try! [GM] Bendy is worried about Henry overexerting himself. [Henry] ...Henry is down to try!

[Jack] Worst case, Jack looks at the symbol, and then he can be seeing-eye rabbit for the rest of the group!

[GM] Norman wonders what the plan is! [Henry] Bold of you to assume,

[Sammy] We're having such a good sleepover! We did a weird blood ritual, and we're braiding each other's hair~ [Joey] Having a fashion show, [Sammy] Yeah! We went out and got clothes, [Jack] Can't believe Joey called a boy, [Sammy] Gotta ask Joey about the boy he likes... wait, no, don't do that. [Jack] I'd say it's time to play seven minutes in heaven, but I think we, we did that early. [Sammy] WE DIDN'T DO A VERY GOOD JOB,

[GM] Norman wants to see how this plays out. [Joey] Okay, well, try not to get sacrificed, then, [GM] He laughs, and thanks you for the advice! [Sammy] *Hypnos Hadesgame voice* "Try not to get sacrificed, okay?"

[Henry] Allison is very helpful, and not weird at all!

[Joey] We already have the banjo case full of ritual circles, and Joey would rather have the emergency circles than Sammy carrying around bOTTLES OF INK. [Sammy] WHY, WHY WOULDN'T YOU WANT THAT TO BE HAPPENING? WHAT WOULD BE THE PROBLEM WITH THAT,

[GM] Make a sanity check! [Jack] Wait, what's happening? [Sammy] Joey was trying to think too hard.

[GM] Sammy does manage to catch that there's a little-- next to the kitchen, when you go into the place where they're serving food, there's a sign that says "Sheep Shop" over it. And there's a person wearing a sheep mask, handing out food. [Sammy] OKAY, THAT'S FINE,,, I don't feel like Sammy has actually read Through The Looking Glass, so I don't know if he knows why this is happening. I think he's just concerned. [GM] Excellent. Ideal response.

[GM] And Joey has NEVER seen the symbol EVER because he's incredible at not looking at creepy symbols! Which you wouldn't expect. [Sammy] I'm sure Joey will put this in his autobiography.

[Jack] :/ No Hashtag Gay Rights at this party,

[GM] Seems to be another party-goer; in fact, you recognise the voice! [Joey] Ohhh. Kyle -- I don't know his actual name, but -- [Sammy] (Dennis!) [GM] (Yes, that's-) [Joey] -- Kyle.

[Henry] Henry is going to try to sneak up on Moonlight while he's distracted! [GM] OH! ...Okay! He's very distracted, Sammy just screamed! [excited noises from everyone beCAUSE NO ONE EXPECTED THIS] [GM] You successfully sneak up behind him! [Henry] I'm going to grab the staff! [GM] Make a Brawl check, with advantage! [Sammy] (He has SO many limbs that don't work my dude, you got this,) [Henry] That's a success! [GM] You snatch it! [Henry] I RUN!!!

[Joey] We're just both escorting Jack, now. [Sammy] Would you say Jack is late, for a very important date? [Jack] Well YEAH, his Face Removal was scheduled like 2 dreams ago!!

[GM] He'd have to roll for it, to see if it felt familiar to his trip to Carcosa. [Jack] Extreme success! [GM] Then he would pick up that familiar feeling! [Jack] Oh, nice and homey at this party! Really nice. Nostalgic! It's been a while. [Sammy] Hm, [Jack] Maybe he should go play the piano, for old time's sake! [Sammy] NO

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #Henry Stein #when in doubt just keep drawing #Henry has a daughter he knows how to do hair #Joey's going as the Hatter so we match for Mad Teaparty purposes #I can't believe we put Sammy Lawrence in a rabbit mask and NEVER made the vanny connection how is this possible

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years

Note

soo yeah, I don't know If I Actually gonna Work on The Hogwarts Mystery CYOA or If even Gonna make it public but Let's talk about The Personalities

For starters, The “Personalities” Mechanic affects relationships and The Backstory Of The MC in a way, I don't have names for it so I just gonna number them

Personality Number 1

short-tempered, studious, diciplinated, pessimistic

To start, This Personality Never could get their Potion ruined by Merula, apart from them being a Good student They Will notice it because They're perceptive enough and Will tell Snape, altought It Will depend If They're a Slytherin If Snape actually believes them.

Being in The lawful side of the bar, normally The Stats Relationship would be 0 Before You get an interaction with The Character, but This Personality Will have “-5” for default with Chaotic Characters, altought If The player want to befriend Them with This Personality Tulip Would pick on Them a lot

Also This Personality Is very conflictive so as Other personalities get “-5” in relationship Stats This One gets “-10” because realistically speaking They Will be a very hard person to befriend

Aligns with Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses

Backstory Of The Personality: Comes from a Family well known in The Magic World, oh well, that was Before Jacob ruined everything. The Principal reason They want to investigate The Cursed vaults Is not exactly because wants to find their brother, Is More Like a Family Pride kind Of Thing, really resentful to Jacob for go with no explanation and leaving dirt in The Family name.

Personality Number Two

Kind, Servicial, Charming

As I Say Before, There's a change in The Relationship default points so Instead Of getting “+5” Relationship points They get “+10” Relationship points.

Aligns with Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw

Basically The Therapist friend, If The Player wants to be a prefect This One Is really indicated for This, Is aware Of People, feelings and wants really badly to help Others. Is probably The Personality that actually gets un Merula's head. Either in a negative way (She feels patronized) or in a “well, maybe You're no so bad” but Obviously to players who don't Like Merula MC totally could lose their cool and tell Merula Off What... yeah, it Will lead to a Situation where Merula totally breaks down, because If even The Most patient person give up on her She doesn't have to have regrets for being with R, r i g h t ?

Backstory Of The Personality: well, This Personality Is for default a Muggleborn who was adopted by a Pureblood Family, and Well, since They were saved They kinda got This Hero complex, Jacob was really protective Of Them and That's Why They want to return The favor to him “You saved me, I'll save You, Ok Jacob?”

Personality Number three

Brave, very black and White mentality, Superficial

They don't get along with shallow Characters Like Rakepick, Ismelda, Jae etc and have for default -5 Relationship with them, They're very distrustful for What gives Of Them in their surface, also They Can't accept The World if ull Of Grays because They either categorizar persons as totally Evil ior totally Good, that leads to idolize and hate when They don't have All The Facts, Lawful side Of things Again but actually can pull it off with Chaotic personalities as long as They don't have a Bad vision on them

Aligns with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff

Backstory Of The Personality: So basically They inherits their black and White Personality Of Jacob, who had a strong sense Of justice and kinda induced their sibling in The Thought there's only Villains and heroes, probably The Personality who has idolized Jacob to The point They Can't accept any despective perspective about him, Their Relationship with Jacob Is linda Like Harry and James in a way? Like their has something to use with discovering Jacob Is not a Hero and neither They are.

I Have ideas for More but I Will tell You Other day, ALSO, This personalities has their own Character Arcs for MC, They Can Get worse or evolve from Them All depends on players options

Okay before I go any further, I just want to say that I really dig this whole concept. It reminds me of the character building system from Oblivion. And speaking of the Elder Scrolls, I sure wish HPHM could be modded. I mean it can, of course, but not to the degree that something like Skyrim can, where people are overhauling the entire game to make it more polished and complex, adding hours worth of content. I’ve seen mods for Skyrim that do exactly what you’re suggesting to the character build system. It would be so cool to have something like this implemented.

I guess the only issue with a system like this would be the inevitable restrictions that come from having to choose one particular personality type, and that would of course be the drawback. Does the archetype system box you in? Because if it’s just something as simple as starting bonuses and deficits, that works fine. Like if you had to work harder to get certain characters to like you, but it was still possible. If it wasn’t though, that might be a little limiting. People might gravitate toward type one but want to be friendly with characters from type two, and so on. In particular, this would matter for the core three - Jacob, Merula, and Rakepick. How your MC feels about them.

In any case, I love this whole concept as a kind of “starting bonus” to help you characterize your incarnation of Jacob’s Sibling, because that secondary type? Has a lot in common with Luca. As for Gail, I’d have to say that maybe she’s a blend of types one and three? More aligned with three though. It all brings me back to the core archetypes in gaming: Warriors, Mages, and Rogues. Obviously every character in HPHM is a mage, but in terms of personality and soul, Gail is also a paladin. She may be a Slytherin but for the most part, she leaves all that sneaking and stuff to the gutter rats. Knock down doors and get down to business, that’s her way. Luca? Yeah they’re still a mage. And if a game has a personality system, where you can talk your way out of fights without drawing a weapon, they’d specialize in that.

#Video Games #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 26 of 30]

Summary: Erik and Yani’s time comes to an end...

NSFW. Mature. Smut.

youtube

"Every morning, every evening

Oh love, love, love, love, loving you

I can hear you when you're calling

Oh, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon

Take me with you

You'll break my heart and soul

If you left me behind

Take me with you

Don't want to stay around when you're gone…"

Blundetto Meets Booker Gee—"Take Me With You"

Yani dropped Erik off at the compound after ten in the morning. He stood in front of the compound gate and allowed the retina scan to gain him access onto the property. Meandering down the walkway to the main house, he ran into Jerome who dangled precariously close to the end of a tree branch hanging over the middle house roof. The iguana's eyes were shut tight in a peaceful looking pose, and Erik took a moment to watch the creature snooze in the sunlight.

To think his woman adored that overgrown lizard.

"Jerome."

Erik called the reptile's name and Jerome opened one eye.

"Lazy ass," Erik said.

Jerome closed his eye again and ignored him.

Erik thought about taking a swim in the cove but decided to sit and meditate on the balcony overlooking the sea. Climbing the stairs, he saw Linda sitting on a lounger holding a mug of coffee up to her lips. Dressed in a beach robe with her wet hair jumbled about her head, she turned to look at Erik.

He gave a deep sigh. He was not prepared to see her again.

Their conversation the night before was uncomfortable for him. When Yani told Erik that Linda was in love with him, he scoffed at the idea. Linda? In love with him? She was a woman with a sex drive as high as his, and she often stayed out late sowing her wild oats like him. He knew she liked him, respected him, trusted him…but love?

Thinking on it, he knew she still had the hots for him, but that was because he put that thang on her so long ago and it was only natural that she'd want to have sex with him again if she could. He did enjoy it…for what it was. Just sex. He had no deep affection for her because his heart had already made a connection to Yani.

He should've been stronger, more discerning with where he laid his pipe. Hooking up with Linda had been a flippant mistake on his part. He assumed that she was a confident woman who played the field too. She had fucked him while she had a man and didn't regret it. Allowed Erik to humiliate her boyfriend in another country. He had no clue that her wanting to sleep with him on different occasions was her way of showing love for him. He thought it was just lust and horniness. Boredom from the other mercs and not having access to other men while they were stuck in various places doing the bidding of Klaue. If Yani hadn't been in the picture, he and Linda would probably be fuck buddies as well as colleagues. But love? Nah.

Perhaps her drinking too much all the time was a way for her to cope with his lack of interest in her. She could be hard to read. Perhaps her overconfidence and need to one-up the other mercs was her way of trying to impress him. Make him notice her more. She acted like Yani was beneath her and made fun of him when he came back from trysts with his woman.

To see her so upset in the kitchen of the middle house, her eyes blazing with anger and jealousy, was a sight to behold. It was a complete crack in her façade.

He knew what Yani said was true when he went to get his overnight bag and he found Linda crying on the balcony, her chest heaving and her eyes shiny with tears. He had never seen that woman emotional like that before. Didn't even know her powerful aura could even shed tears. She held her own with the deadly male company, her brilliant mind a joy for him to tangle with during their free time together. Nothing about her was ever soft with him and so he treated her like one of the guys at all times. To see her weeping because of Yani threw him.

"I wish you looked at me the way you look at her."

That's what she said when he tried to slip away with Yani.

He took the plunge and sat next to her.

"I tried to play it cool with you, Killmonger. I thought that's what you liked about me. I thought…I thought we had so much in common. I thought you would see me as something more…"

He let her talk. Tried to be a good listener.

"I didn't know," he finally said.

"You know how to read people so well, but you couldn't see how I felt about you?"

"We work for Klaue. He takes so much energy to keep up with. Maybe I just didn't want to see that. Or even deal with that. I don't feel that way about you. I'm not looking for that right now."

"I'm just one of the guys…"

"Yeah."

"I tried to play it that way for a long time. But those nights together in South Africa…before the raid…shit. As wild as it sounds, those were some of the best nights of my life. Talking under the stars all night. Arguing about shit in front of the fireplace and drinking so much together. Laughing so hard with you. Watching bad movies together. I thought of us as friends and then I just…wanted more. I should've told you then, but I thought we'd have time here to relive that magic like we had in South Africa. But once I got here, I realized that you wouldn't be with me like that. And then when Neal said you were fucking her…"

She wept and Erik could only sit and listen to her. No words of comfort came to him except sincere apologies for not loving her.

Staring at her on the lounger in the morning light, her eyes looked better. Less red and less puffy.

"Hey," he said. He sat next to her again.

She sipped from her mug.

"Back early," she whispered.

"A lot to do today before y'all head out."

"Yeah. I'm not sure if the Sweden adventure is a good fit for me."

"You quitting the team?"

"Doesn't seem to be a good idea since our misunderstanding."

Her head bowed down and she stared at her coffee mug.

"I acted a fool last night. None of the guys will take me seriously again. They'll look at us like a soap opera."

"It's a four-unit team now. Limbano and Klaue don't care—"

"But I do."

Her eyes regarded him with deadly seriousness.

"I love you. I can't change that, Killmonger. Yani saw through me like an open book and I was so pissed at her. She apologized for the fact that you didn't love me. Ain't that some shit? Apologized to me. That's fucking rich…"

"You're a big girl, Linda. You can work around feelings—"

"I can't. Not when it comes to you. Best to leave the team. Keep the drama at bay."

Erik felt the itch of panic in his belly. They needed Linda. It was too late to vet a new hacker or even a new team member. Tahir wasn't available. None of the other mercs were trustworthy.

"Yani is just a distraction for me."

"Liar."

"I made a mistake mixing business and pleasure with you. That's on me. I've had other women on this island too. You ain't the only one out there getting it in."

"Don't play me, Killmonger. You love that girl—"

"I love fucking her. Pussy too good to turn down. It's there when I want it. Think I'm gonna pass that up? She was just showing off yesterday. Tryna get a rise outta you because you always dog her out. And you fell for it. I got a million things to deal with that are far more important. Like getting this C.I.A. money. Getting into Wakanda so I can ghost this life."

Erik prayed that his words would get through to her.

Linda gazed out at the water.

"You don't see yourself when you're around her."

"The fuck that mean?"

"You glow—"

"Girl, please—"

"You do. Look like a big ole puppy—"

"Shut up."

She laughed.

"You're not a good liar. So stop trying to convince me otherwise."

"When we get to Sweden, you'll see how ridiculous you sound right now. Good pussy will make any nigga glow. You didn't see me shining with you after I hit it?"

Linda stood up.

"Good luck with Wakanda—"

Erik grabbed her arm and pulled her back down next to him. Klaue would rake him over the coals if this woman left them.

"You never said anything to me, Linda. How am I supposed to know your true feelings when you don't say shit? We gotta keep focused on the job at hand. We need you. Don't fuck up a fortune. You smarter than that."

"It's not easy for me. I'm not this person. But here I am."

"Do the job. Make these coins, Ma."

"I can't—"

"Please."

He pulled her into his chest and let his lips nuzzle her neck. Her body shuddered against him.

"I can't even look at you without wanting to cry. And I hate it. Fucking hate it. I'm better than this."

"I know you are."

She pushed back from him and he pulled her even closer.

"I can't force myself to be where you are. Don't hold that against me. It's not fair. I need you. I need your skills. You'll love being a multi-millionaire more than you love me, I promise."

She laughed into his neck.

"Come with me," he pleaded.

He stressed the word "me". Not "us" or "the team". He had to make it about them. Corral her into his control. She was making it hard. Linda had pride and she was so damn stubborn.

He ran his fingers up and down her back. Her robe loosened up and he stuck his hand inside the material so that his hand touched her side. She was naked underneath and her sighs from his touch danced in his ears.

"Killmonger…don't…."

His hand dipped lower and rubbed her hip.

"Don't be stupid girl. I'm 'bout that work. Always have been."

His fingers rested in the cleft of her thigh and hip, dangerously close to dipping down…

Linda pressed her face into his chest, her breath hot on his shirt.

"Okay," she whispered.

Erik's eyes closed with relief.

"We'll have fun in Sweden like we did in South Africa. Maybe you'll open your mouth and talk to me honestly for a change?"

"Whatever," she said pulling her robe tighter together.

He walked a fine line of manipulation. Gave her enough to draw her in, but not enough to commit to anything with her.

"I'm so embarrassed about everything."

"Who cares? Forget it. It's done. We'll be gone from here and it won't matter."

"My feelings won't change."

"That's all you, Ma. I told you my position. You packed up?"

"Yep. Bags in the S.U.V. Separate flight times and airline carriers confirmed."

"Cool."

He stood up.

"I'ma take a nap. See you at departure?"

"Yeah."

She sank back into the lounger and curled her legs under herself. She looked a whole lot better. Relieved.

Erik strolled into his room and after he locked the door he jumped on his bed and covered his face with a pillow. Fuck. So close to losing her over some bullshit. He texted Yani with his cell.

Will contact you soon when everyone is gone.

###

"Dat's mi fuckin' friend, we is trouble!"

Yani was loud and grabbing onto her friend Lesonne's arm as she screeched out words to a group of women who tried to provoke a fight with Yani's other friend Milah. She spilled a little of her rum drink on her white pants as she swayed against her other girlfriends Aisha and Caypri. From the side of her eye, she saw Erik at the bar stirring his glass of brown liquor as he spoke to the male bartender leaning over to listen to him.

Since she didn't have to drive, Yani decided to drink to her heart's content. She was so ready to hear Kendall perform live. The audience was bigger, the venue was bigger, and his popularity had grown to greater heights since his travels to Florida and New York. He had quit his gardening job with Klaue and moved into an apartment with two other rappers, finally getting his very own bed to sleep in. He no longer rode his motorcycle since he now had a new car to tool around in. Nothing too flashy, a two-year-old red Honda S2000. It was enough to make Kendall feel like he had arrived.

The boisterous women who had the nerve to accost Milah for looking at one of them a little too hard peeped Yani's whole crew, including Twyla who arrived on the scene late with her newest boyfriend. They hesitated to go any further with their backchat. Flouncing away with her girls, Yani tossed her empty drink and headed out to the dance floor and joined her cousin Dulan in swinging hips and throwing up party hands. She kept an eye on the bar as Erik was approached by different women. He was engaging but focused on his liquor and his view of the stage where Kendall would perform.

Yani danced with her friends among a group of men who tried to show off for them. Two were from St. Croix and Yani was stuck with a Trini who wanted to talk her ear off asking questions about Kendall. She eased off the floor and stood to the side to watch the action. Tapping her left heel with her arms folded across her chest, she enjoyed the gyrating bodies.

"Booty out here jiggling."

She felt Erik ease behind her, his right hand caressing her waist and pulling her back against him.

"I'm not even dancing, hush."

"It don't take much to make them yams bounce, Ma."

He kissed the side of her face and she reached up and stroked his new locs. She thrust her backside against him and he eased back.

"Nah, you not getting me in trouble right now."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the floor with her and he held his drink above her head with his left hand.

Yani felt up his chest while enjoying the stares of others as Erik let her nails rake up and down his pecs that strained against a white cotton shirt. They both agreed to wear all white and her own form-fitting pants and shirt complemented his outfit. The lights of the club made them glow on the dance floor.

Erik sipped on his drink and watched her bring back old dancehall moves, her butterfly a bit raunchy for the crowd. Her friends swarmed around them making the affair more hyped. The energy in the room was high octane and so ready for good live music. Erik finished his drink, tossed the cup, and moved them deeper into the dance mix.

Her eyes took in Erik's face and the happiness she saw there made her spirit burst. The man could dance his ass off and entwining her fingers with his made her feel possessive of him. When dub mixes came on, she usually left the dance floor, but Erik made her appreciate dancing to the dank sounds, especially when she rubbed up against him and he matched her move for move. Winding on him, he gripped her hips and let the room see how he handled all of her. She noticed a lot of women watching him work her body over with dreamy expressions on their faces. There were a lot of stone faces from the men though.

They touched one another openly as they danced, and several times she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him while they swayed.

"Having fun?" he asked after releasing her lips.

"Mmmhmm."

She shook her hips and he slapped her butt playfully before pulling her close again and lifting her off of her feet to swing her around in another direction.

She couldn't keep her eyes off of him, nor could she stop touching him. His hands rested on her lower back as she gazed up at his face. His eyes darted about taking in the couples on the floor and his dimples flashed whenever she squeezed on his ass. He smelled so good that she constantly nuzzled her face into his neck so that her nose could take in his scent.

"Why you keep licking on me?" he asked.

Her tongue flicked along his neck and he leaned back from her.

"Tickles…" he whispered.

He lowered his mouth to hers and they kissed for the thousandth time that night.

"Hey, Killmonger…"

The woman's breathy voice caught Yani's ear as Erik released his mouth from hers and swiveled his neck to see who was talking to him on the dance floor.

"Still around I see," the woman said.

Yani sized her up.

She was only a few inches taller than Yani, a yellow-brown gyal with cat eyes and wanton lips. The woman danced with her man, but her moves were for Erik. Big titties… way bigger than Yani's…were thrust out for the world to see and her hips were made for men like him. Yani didn't like the way the woman licked her lips at Erik before her eyes fluttered to see what he had on his arm. She recognized Yani but chose to act like she wasn't there.

"Harlee," Erik said.

His tone made Yani's lips scrunch up with annoyance.

He had fucked that woman and it had been good to him.

"Tend to yuh man," Yani said to her with some attitude.

Harlee smiled and Erik pulled Yani closer into him.

"No disrespect, Black Mermaid," Harlee said.

Yani sucked her teeth and Erik slapped her butt.

"Stop being mean," he said.

Harlee moved with her partner further behind some other dancers.

"Her meant disrespect. She didn't have to say one word while I'm here."

"Chill—"

"Waving her titties in yuh face. She letting me know she fucked my man to get mi vex."

"Girl, stop."

"For true, man. But me nuh vex. For real. She rude. Yuh rude! Frog face, bitch!"

Yani felt spittle fly from her lips. Erik only smirked and twirled her around.

"Thought you had taste," she teased.

"She not ugly. Don't tell that lie."

"She not cute."

"You trippin."

"Step your game up. Yuh suck them titties good?"

Dimples. Big pearly white teeth flashed at her.

"Yuh did. That's the only thing cute on her."

Yani was amazed that she could joke about a woman he had sex with, but the way Erik held her let her know it was so long ago and probably a one and done hook up. She just wanted to be petty and he let her.

"You were still being mean to me when I got with her."

She caressed his chest again and he ran his fingers up and down her spine.

The movement on stage let the patrons know it was about to be showtime. Erik clasped Yani's hand and led her back to the bar where the best view was while Yani's friends headed to the left of the stage.

Posted up against the bar counter, Yani leaned into Erik, his hard body supporting her frame. She turned around to hug him a bit and his right hand drifted down to grip her right butt cheek. He rubbed it knowing people were watching, thirsty locals wishing they were in his place and squeezing soft handfuls of the Black mermaid. She tilted her head up and puckered her lips. Erik lowered his head and their lips touched. Yani slipped her tongue in his mouth and felt dizzy tasting cognac. His fingers rested on the cleft of her ass. She tried to keep her tongue in his mouth but his lips traveled up her neck and he nibbled on her earlobe.

"You 'gon take care of Daddy tonight?" he whispered.

"All night," she sighed.

"You 'gon sit that fat pussy on my dick all night?"

Yani's lips quirked and she felt her eyes water. His words were hot in her ear making the nerves tingle from his breath. Erik's hand dropped down and cupped her mound. He didn't care who saw him do it. The tips of his pointer and index finger tapped against the outline of her opening.

"…get you all wet wet. Let Daddy fuck you in your ass?"

"Oomph…Killmonger…"

His fingertips pressed a little too deep into her slit and she felt like she was about to cum in front of everyone. His soft taps along her pussy lips had her wiggling on his hand.

She could feel her clit thumping with his tongue dipping into her ear.

The lights on the stage flashed and the music switched to Kendall's "Fiyahbun". Yani's voice filled the entire club as they heard her sing the chorus. A big grin spread across her lips as she saw Erik giving serious appreciative stank face to the thunderous bass carrying her voice all around everyone. A few patrons stared at her as they sang along with her vocals. Yani twisted around to face the stage as she listened to the new remixed version of the song.

"Baby, you sound wavy as fuck," Erik shouted above the music.

"Queen Mary, ah where you 'gon burn? Queen Mary, ah, where you 'gon burn?"

Yani moved her neck in time to her own voice, impressed with the new version.

"Queens don't vibe, hear me now? With no fuck niggas!"

She felt Erik moving his hips dancing to the song. He gripped her waist and rocked into her as she let her ass cheeks rub against him in time to the music.

"Shit is dope," Erik whispered into her ear.

There was something epic about swaying with her man to her own song. The heat from his mouth on her ear had her turned on all the way. She wanted him to drag her to the car and fuck her in the backseat while listening to her voice in surround sound crooning to him.

The speed of her voice was slowed down in reverb creating a haunting sound as Kendall took to the stage. So much swag. So much confidence. So much command of the stage. Yani felt like his first performance over a year ago where he had an anxiety attack and almost vomited on himself was a fuzzy memory. The young man controlling the stage and audience now was acting like a seasoned professional while her voice backed him.

"Queen Mary…fiyahbun…fiyahbun…fiyahbun…"

Her voice seduced the audience and Yani stood still watching the crowd react to her singing as Kendall rapped a few bars on top of her lyrics. Kendall had asked her to perform live with him, but she wanted this night to be about him.

The last echoes of her voice faded as the live band behind him fired up and played the intro to his latest track. A mash-up of all the sounds they grew up with as children. There was nothing like live musicians feeding into the energy of their vocalist, and Kendall gave them all a taste of his true vocal prowess. He sang the chorus himself and his backup singers, top-shelf beauties who swayed in sync behind him, backed him up smoothly as the funky sounds reached a crescendo.

"Your cousin done come up!" Erik shouted.

"Mmmhmmm, him choice. He ah star now!"

Kendall's set was a glorious triumph and Yani felt so proud of her cousin. She hooted and hollered for him along with everyone else and when he finished, Yani knew for certain he was going to make it big. The charisma and talent and star power were right there in front of everyone.

A new performer took to the stage and Yani clung to Erik's arm as it wrapped around her chest holding her close. The seductive female vocalist put everyone into a sexy state of mind after Kendall's fiery intro and Yani arched her back and thrust her backside against Erik once more.

"Stop teasing'…" he whispered trying to ignore her ass by being still.

The crowd around them was busy holding up cell phones to capture the performers on stage and Yani felt bold bouncing her thickness on him openly.

"Yani—"

His left arm pulled her tighter against him.

Her mouth formed a tight "Oh" expression when his right hand slipped down into her pants, bypassing her panties. She gripped his arm in a panic as his fingers dipped into her slick opening.

"That's what you get for teasing me. I'ma play in this pussy now…"

Yani tried to squirm away from his hold, but he clutched her in a solid embrace, his fingers wiggling against her walls.

"People can see…"

"Think I care?"

Yani's eyes swept to her left. One man around Erik's age was the only person not watching the stage, his horny eyes glued to Erik's fingers turning her out.

Erik's teeth gripped the sensitive tip of her ear. Yani panted, her eyes darting about. Only the stranger to her left was paying attention to their public debauchery.

"A man is watching—"

"Let him."

Her eyes tracked back over to her left and the stranger's lips were pursed, his eyes fully taking in all the pleasure she was receiving. When Erik's fingers flicked her clit, Yani's body jerked back and her mouth flew open again. Her eyes latched onto the stranger's and the illicit connection made her pussy pulse around Erik's fingers. She widened her thighs and Erik went deeper and she moaned much to the stranger's own pleasure at watching her. The man's right hand held a drink, and he let it drop down in front of the clear bulge that poked out in front of his pants. He tried to be sly about it, but Yani could tell he was rubbing himself while watching her get fingered.

Tight circles teased her hard clit and when she felt the uncontrollable release of her orgasm clutching Erik's fingers when he inserted them once more into her gushy slit, the stranger's eyes closed tight.

"Jesus, man…yuh killing me…" she hissed.

Erik pulled his sticky fingers from her pants and grabbed her hand. She straggled behind him as he guided her out of the venue and to Klaue's S.U.V.

Erik opened the back-passenger door of the car and helped her get in. He jumped in after her.

Pulling down his pants and boxers to his ankles, she could see his rock-hard erection waiting for her. She kicked off her heels, pulled off her pants and panties for him and crawled onto his lap.

"Ride this dick."

He held her up by her waist and she lined her wet opening with his tip.

"Fuck yes!" he shouted when she slid down to his balls.

They had the car bouncing with their fucking and Yani couldn't stop squealing when held her still and pounded his dick up into her hard and fast.

"Lemme cum in your pussy—"

"No—"

"Why not…oh shit…pussy wet as fuck…fuck…Yani…I wanna cum in this pussy—"

"Cum in my mouth. Mi wahn see the rest of the show…yuh fill mi pussy up too much…ooh love…right there…I feel it deep…shit…yuh soak my panties up and I'll be a mess all night."

Erik grabbed her throat.

"I'ma bust in this fat pussy—"

Yani pushed on his chest.

"Killmonger…don't—"

"Pussy too good baby…"

He choked her tighter.

"Don't… mi nuh wahn walk around with soggy pants."

Erik burst out laughing and released her throat. She lifted off of his dick while he kept laughing.

"For real, man. Yuh like ah volcano. Cum heavy…then it flows back down."

"You don't like it?"

"I love it… at home."

He kissed her and she stroked his length.

"Too much," she whispered.

His eyes regarded her with humor until her thumb circled around the fat head of his glans.

"Let's go home," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"Open your mouth."

Yani shifted next to him and put her face down by his tip. She let him tap his dick on her lips before she separated them for him.

He had her slurping on his dick while he cradled her head. She moved to her knees in front of him, head steady bobbing. He hit the back of throat roughly and she released his length to catch her breath and rest her mouth.

"I make too much cum?"

His thumb toyed with her wet lips and Yani nibbled the tips of his fingers before dropping her head back down to his lap.

His eyes burned into hers as she sucked around his frenulum. The tip of her tongue teased his slit. Playing with her nipples through her shirt, Erik closed his eyes.

"You should let me soak them panties…"

She groaned on his dick and he let the back of his head fall on the headrest.

"You know how to take all my cum…lick my balls…"

Her face lowered further and she suckled each nut sack for him.

"Yeah…put those balls all in your mouth…"

She sucked, licked, kissed, and fisted his erection until he lifted her back up and made her ride his dick in reverse. He squeezed her breasts and thrust up into her.

"I just want to hit it a little bit more…fuck this pussy right…get you ready for more later…"

The loud sound of him slapping his body into hers filled the car. She threw her head back and took it, the build-up of a new orgasm tightening the nerves in her clit that was feeling the strong tugs from his pounding. She loved what he was doing to her. She loved the liquor still coursing through her. She loved it so much that it made her mouth reckless.

"You fuck Linda like this?"

He slowed down.

"What…why would you ask…"

Her mind thought of her and Erik on the dance floor together, all the eyes of the other women watching him, watching his tight body rub against her front and back. She liked the longing she saw. All that desire. It was the same look Linda had on her face, and Yani wanted him to remember her pussy that had him begging to cum in it. Linda wanted what she had, and Yani wanted Linda's sex with Killmonger wiped from his mind.

"Answer me."

"Nah."

"Whose pussy yuh wahn cum in?"

His moans thrilled her ears and the hard needy gasps he emitted every few seconds let her know he was desperate to spurt inside of her.

"Yours girl…yours…," he grunted.

She leaned forward and shifted her weight. Erik shouted and slapped her rump.

"Godammit! Bounce on that dick!"

"She nuh give it to yuh like this?"

She slowed down and flexed her walls around him, doing her best to hold his erection as tight as she could.

"Fuck her, Yani…stop talking 'bout—"

"This be yuh pussy forever, hear me? No one love mi like yuh do, man. No one…"

"Yani…"

Erik stroked the back of her neck. She turned around to bounce on him face to face. Her wrists draped around the back of his neck.

"Love me always, Killmonger?"

"Yes."

Wet kisses joined them together even more and she leaned her face against his as he held her tight giving her everything he could in the backseat of the vehicle.

"I'ma cum…lemme cum in you, baby."

Yani sat still and just let her pussy muscles work Erik's thickness.

"I told you I wahn see the show."

"You betta lift up then cuz my balls are tight and I'ma—"

"Hold it—"

"Girl…the fuck…I can't just—"

"I wahn feel your dick all thick and juicy in this pussy—"

"Yani…I'm fuckin' serious…you betta—"

"Big dick…all in your fat pussy—"

Erik's eyes rolled back and he lifted Yani up from his dick. Her labia rested on his length as a hot lava flow of cum shot all over his chest and dripped down to her mound drenching them both.

Erik fell back against the seat gasping and stared down at the semen overflow. He touched his shirt.

"Damn, I messed up my shirt," he said.

Yani glanced down at his lap and lifted up. She felt his semen pooling under her ass. She gave a big sigh and stared back at him.

"Hey, I didn't cum inside you, so don't blame me for what happens outside your pussy."

The smirk on his face made her giggle and slap his chest.

"Guess we're going home after all," he said reaching for his pants.

###

They picked up Sydette from her parents.

Since they had left the club so early, there was no point waiting until morning to get her. Yani held her sleeping daughter in her arms as Erik drove them to the compound. She took a deep breath when they walked into Klaue's main house.

"You alright?" he asked.

She nodded.

They were back in their home again.

It was Klaue's property, but only the three of them made the house a real home.

Erik showered first and while he dressed in clean loungers, Sydette woke up and walked out of her room looking for Yani. Erik watched her while Yani showered, and instead of the nasty sex he thought he would have with Yani again, the three of them piled onto the bed together.

Sydette slept between them and Erik just stared at Yani's face as they watched one another. It felt good to have them both back with him.

He had food prepared for their last two days together. The next day would be a cove day and swimming with sunbathing. The following day had even more chill around the house time until he had to fly out. He planned a surprise birthday party for the three of them. He would miss both their birthdays again, so he wanted to have a celebration to end his time there.

Yani's eyes watched him so intensely that he reached out and stroked her cheek. She didn't want to sleep. So afraid he would suddenly disappear probably. They held hands on the bed until Sydette half woke up and crawled onto his chest, her head resting under his neck. Yani tried to pull her back between them but Sweet Pea whined until Erik made Yani leave her alone. Yani stroked her daughter's shoulder until she dozed off herself.

He listened to both of his girls' breathing and tried to stay awake for a long time so he could remember that sound.

He woke up in the middle of the night with Sydette shaking his face.

"I have tuh go bathroom, Baba," she said.

He helped her down from the bed and walked her into her room's bathroom where her potty seat was. The bright lights in the room woke him up fully as he waited for Sydette to finish.

"Make sure you wipe yourself."

She reached for the toilet paper next to the adult toilet and he had to keep himself from chuckling when she did her best to clean herself.

"Throw it in the big toilet," he said.

He helped her wash her hands after flushing the toilet.

"I wahn juice."

He walked with Sydette into the kitchen and found an unopened bottle of apple juice waiting. He poured a little inside a plastic cup and handed it to her.

"More, please," she said holding the cup up to him.

"It'll make you pee again."

"No—"

"Yes, it will."

"I hold it."

"No don't do that. Just a little bit."

He poured just enough for her to get three good sips.

"Thank you," she said handing him the cup.

"You hungry?"

"No."

His eyes took in her small form. He felt a small lump in his throat as he thought about the exact moment he first saw her on his bed fast asleep. No teeth. Tiny curls plastered to her scalp. Chubby belly making her shirt ride up. She could only babble and point back then, but now…

"We all good now?" he said swallowing hard.

Sydette nodded.

He wanted the best for her. If Yani ever married or formed a new relationship with someone, Erik wanted this little girl to know she was loved and would never want for anything. He didn't want Sydette to forget him, but she was so young. Erik tried to think of the many people from his past that his own parents knew and sometimes there were blanks when he tried to go back to when he was two.

Two.

Damn.

Sydette was just nine months when he first stepped on the island. She would be two so soon.

Her face stared up at him, probably wondering why they were still standing in the kitchen.

"Back to bed, Sweet Pea."

Erik guided her to the master bedroom. She fell back to sleep quickly against Yani's arm and Erik got up to go stand out on the bedroom balcony. The roar of the surf sounded loud and he stood there until dawn broke. The hours were winding down too fast for him.

When sunlight struck the room, he turned to see his love wide awake and watching him. Sydette was still asleep. Yani held out her hand to him and he walked back inside. Spooning around her he gave her kisses for over an hour until they both slipped away into the other bedroom to make love. He held her legs with his arms as he balanced her on the edge of the bed. Plunging into her, the only sound they released were soft sighs and the wet suction of her walls gripping and releasing him. She slathered his morning wood with so much frothy slickness that he had to bite his own lips to keep from yelling and waking Sydette. He didn't spill into Yani until they were under the covers spooned together once more, his hips rocking into her backside as he fondled her breasts. He bit her neck during his release and the new mark was deep enough to stay for a few days. A harsh shout escaped Yani's lips when he sank deeper to drown her with all of his seed.

A loud "Fuck!" jumped from his mouth and he pushed his face into her shoulder to laugh. He could never be totally quiet with her. It was impossible.

Sydette came looking for them and luckily, they were under the covers and already finished when she found them huddled together.

"Waffles?" Sydette asked.

"I guess I'm making waffles for breakfast," he said.

###

He had gumbo simmering on the stove early in a large crockpot and made them cranberry chicken sandwiches and salads for their time spent on the beach at the cove. Yani was relaxed on a beach chair and deep into a new medical journal on global pandemics while Erik built sandcastles with Sydette and dipped in and out of the water when the mood struck him.

They ate at their leisure until the sun was high overhead.

"I'm so full," Yani said rubbing her belly, "I won't have room for gumbo."

Sydette was tipped over on a blanket fast asleep, her fingers still clutching a pink plastic shovel.

"Here, put this over her."

Yani unwrapped a rayon beach cover she wore over her waist and Erik draped it over Sydette to keep her skin from burning.

"I should move her to the shade—"

"She's fine. It's not too hot right now. Give yourself a break."

Yani stood up and stretched. Her eyes surveyed the water and Erik watched her take off her blue bikini and wade in. She dove under a lazy wave and floated on her back. Her deep brown body drifted away from shore. He felt that automatic pull to go to her. Eyes checking for Sydette, Erik stood from the blanket they shared and followed Yani out into the water. He circled her and she tread in place.

"Sneaky face," she said.

He splashed water on her and she splashed back.

He ducked under and grabbed her legs pulling her down.

Rising back to the surface together, Yani wiped droplets from her face. They moved closer to shore until he could feel sand under his feet. The aura around her face had him entranced. Without make-up she was a natural beauty, her youth so apparent to him. A decade older he wondered how he would've been with her had he been in his twenties again. That time in his life was wild. Certain women from his past came to his mind and he was so glad that this woman swimming before him came at a time when he could really appreciate her. He broke a lot of hearts, but he could always say that he was honest with the women he hurt. So many tried to scoop him up. Lock him down. Domesticate him. He was a dog. A good dog. But still a dog. He may have run all through Yani and felt no guilt when he stepped. That's just how it was. His Uncle Bakari told him he had his father's nature. His Aunt Serah concurred whole-heartedly.

Maturity brought reflection. Wisdom.

He was old enough finally to have someone like Yani for the short time he did. And it was worth it. She made him remember his heart again. Made him feel once more. He was losing that side of himself through anxiety. Depression. Killing. All the anger he held deep inside.

"I like it when you smile at me," he said.

"I always smile at you."

"Not that first time I came here. You yelled at me."

"This is all my territory. Can't have some strange man out here."

He imitated her voice in a teasing high-pitched whine.

"Hey! You out there! What are you doin' here?"

Yani splashed water on him.

"I didn't say it like that!"

"Yes, you did! Gave me stank face and everything! Hand on your hip. Sucking your teeth. Pointing your finger at me—"

"Yuh lie, man!"

Her soft laughter warmed his spirit.

His Black mermaid.

Yemanja.

"The second time I saw you…you were naked and the water fell from you like… jewels. I walked away from you…"

Yani wiped seawater from his cheeks. He kissed her hand.

"My father…my Baba…he said the first time he saw my mother he knew she was his life…"

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her and floated for them.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?

Erik looked away from her bright eyes.

"This chance…"

A wave pushed them and Yani let go of him. They tumbled closer to shore. Water splashed in her eyes and she turned away. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Erik kissed the back of her neck. Tracing his fingers down her shoulders, he cupped her breasts and circled her tips with his index fingers. Yani turned suddenly and jumped on him, knocking him back into the water. He felt the drag of the tide sucking sand back under his feet and he reached out for her. Lifting her high in the air, he tossed her out toward the sea and the big splash blew back on his face.

"Mama! I wahn play!"

Erik saw Sydette bouncing on her feet, the water licking her toes at the shore.

"Come out here, Sweet Pea," he said.

"Cold!"

"It's not that cold," Yani yelled.

Sydette hopped on one foot and then the other. She was so cute in her little blue bikini.

"Come get me!"

"Swim out here," Yani called.

Sydette hopped up and down.

"Baba! Get me!"

Yani grabbed his arm when she saw Erik moving toward her.

"Let her swim," Yani cajoled.

"Baba…"

Erik was torn. Sydette's hands were spread out toward him. They heard the whine in her voice and watched her stomp her feet with annoyance.

"Baby girl, swim to us. I'll meet you halfway, okay?"

Erik waved her toward him.

Sydette took a tentative step forward and tested the water again with her right foot.

"Cold…"

"Be a big girl, Sweet Pea. Show me you can do it."

It was obvious to her that no one was coming, so Sydette ran really fast toward them.

"Ow…ow…ow!" she huffed out as if the cool water was really hurting her.

A small wave pushed her back and she went under only to pop back up dog-paddling toward them. Erik stepped toward her, keeping his promise and moving halfway to her. Her body was buoyed up by a new wave and he reached out his right hand.

"A little further, Sweet Pea," he encouraged.

The closer she got, the more determined her face was until she reached out to grab his hand.

"There ya go! Big girl!"

Erik held her against his chest as she wiped her face.

"I did it, Mama!"

"Yeah yuh did!"

Yani kissed her forehead and Sydette jumped from Erik's arms to hers.

They played in the water together until rain fell upon them. Sydette looked up toward the sky and stuck out her tongue to taste the rainwater.

"Well, at least we were able to get a few hours down here," Yani said as she gathered up her bikini.

They packed up their lunch basket and towels. Erik carried their beach chairs and once more found himself trailing Yani and Sydette. Yani bent down to adjust the bikini top that Sydette wore that matched her own.

"Queen Mary what yuh bun…" Sydette sang.

Yani glanced back at Erik with a big grin on her face.

"Who taught you that, Sweet Pea?" Erik asked.

"Auntie Twyla."

"No bad words I hope," Yani said to him.

Taking shelter from the rain in the main house, Erik made tea while Yani cleaned up Sydette.

"Are you yawning?" Erik asked when Yani padded into the living room wearing an orange baby doll dress.

"Water made us sleepy. I'm going to lay down with her. Want to come?"

"Y'all rest. I'm gonna chill a minute. Check on this gumbo. Take a nap with the baby. I'll wake you up later. Okay?"

"Not too late," she said.

Yani kissed his nose with a loud smooch and sashayed back to the master bedroom.

Erik checked their food and debated about making cornbread. He baked a small cake for their birthday celebration and let it cool on the island counter.

His personal cell rang and he saw Marisol's avatar. Padding back into the living room, he closed the hallway door that led to the bedrooms. He accepted Marisol's call on the viewscreen and lowered the volume.

"Yo, what it do cuz?"

Marisol's eyes didn't look playful like they normally did. In fact, they looked tense.

"JaJa."

The Portuguese accent on his family nickname let him know no English was going to be used.

"What is it?"

"Change your mind," she said.

Marisol's face loomed large on the screen. She was in her apartment alone.

"Don't start—"

"I'm begging you—"

"I'll call you when I get to my next spot—"

"You make me carry this burden. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want you out there doing that shit anymore."

"Lower your voice."

"Don't tell me to lower my voice, JaJa."

She burst into tears and Erik stood up from the couch and moved in front of the viewscreen.

"Marisol—"

"Grandpa Dante told me that you are planning visits to everyone soon. That some kind of Tour of Duty?"

"I visited you and Aunt Serah back in December—"

"He said everyone, JaJa. Like a farewell tour. You're going there now, aren't you?"

"I'll talk to you later—"

"Don't you hang up on me!"

Her shriek was more explosive with her face so large in front of him.

"Killmonger…"

Yani stood in the open hallway door. Her eyes were wide staring up at Marisol's crying face.

"Go back to bed, baby. I'll get you in a few minutes. I need some privacy right now—"

"You're Yani, right?"

Marisol's English was good, but when she was stressed or excited, her accent came out thick.

"Yes."

Yani stepped further into the room.

Marisol's eyes gazed at Yani with compassion.

"Yani, I said go back into the bedroom—"

The rumble in his voice made Marisol's eyes focus hard on Yani.

"Yani, talk to him. Convince him to stay there…with you. Please! He's about to —"

Erik shut down the viewscreen.

He kept his back to Yani.

"Killmonger. What was she talking about? Who was that?"

"My cousin. She is upset with me because…"

The words wouldn't come the way he wanted.

"Finish. Why is she so angry? Scared?"

He heard the fear in her voice now too.

"We've had a disagreement for the last six months and it makes her upset to talk about it. It's personal Yani. Nothing to do with you."

"She knows my name. Looked at me like she knows me well—"

"I was with her and my Aunt. Before Sydette was sick. I told her about you. Us. Just forget it!"

"Why are you so angry right now?"

"I'm not angry Yani. Just irritated. That's all. You know family shit gets people agitated. Give me some space right now and I'll come in the room in a minute—"

Her arms went around his waist.

"She's scared for you. She was crying over you. Yuh going off to do something bad. Like before…"

She touched his keloids. He rested his hands on top of hers.

"Don't go," she whispered into his back.

It was the thing he didn't need to hear. The thing he dreaded coming from her. It was bad enough to see Marisol crying over him. He didn't need Yani falling apart too. Not now.

Twisting around in her arms he held her against his chest.

"Let's go lay down."

She shook her head furiously.

"C'mon."

He eased her backward and she went along with him.

###

"Happy birthday, baby."

Yani couldn't help but grin ear to ear when she saw Erik walk into the dining room with a blue and white frosted cake. Three light blue candles flickered on top. Sydette sat on Yani's lap and clapped her hands when she saw the birthday treat. He placed the cake in front of them on the table.

"Make a wish," he said.

Yani's eyes held his gentle gaze and she looked away before she said something to make herself start crying again. She closed her eyes and made a bargain instead. Something she would keep to herself.

When her eyes went back to his, he was watching Sydette touch a tiny corner of icing and taste the sweetness.

"Happy birthday to you…" he sang, and Sydette joined him.

"Blow?" her daughter said looking at Erik with excited eyes.

"Go ahead," he said.

Yani blew the candles out with her and Erik clapped his hands.

He didn't bother to bring out plates, just three forks. They dug into the cake and watched Sydette smear frosting on her cheeks trying to eat a forkful that was bigger than her mouth. Chocolate was their favorite and the small cake was gone in a matter of minutes.

"Dang, I forgot the ice cream," he said jumping up and running back into the kitchen. He returned with small bowls of vanilla ice cream and they ate that quietly together.

They watched a little television, Animal Planet, and Sydette sat wide-eyed watching giraffes run wild in a pack until she yawned and sprawled out on Yani's lap. An hour later Erik lifted her daughter from her lap and carried her into her room.

Yani stretched, took a moment to use the restroom, then waited for Erik to return. She was still rattled from Marisol's call. Couldn't get that woman's face out of her mind.

Erik sprawled out on her lap in Sydette's place and she stroked his hair. His eyes eased shut and his body relaxed on her. His bare chest enticed her to touch it and his warmth was nice to feel.

"Where are you going, Killmonger?"

He ignored her at first, turned his head toward her stomach and tried to pretend he didn't hear her.

"I have the right to know this time. Yuh never come back…I have the right to know…"

"Let us have this last night in peace, Yani. Please."

"You gave us so much. I don't want to spend the rest of my life…"

She felt his body tense.

"I don't want to start a fight or upset you—"

"Then leave it be."

"I want to…for you…but…"

He rolled over and looked up at her face.

"Don't make me hurt more than I already do. Don't hurt yourself more by asking. You're right about me. I'm a killer. That bad man. I just want to be a good man for these last few hours. Be a good man for you…"

He stroked her cheek and she held his hand against her chest.

"You can be a good man for always, love…please…"

He turned away from her and watched the tv.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

She touched his temple and smoothed back a few of his locs. His eyes shut tight and he reached back to touch her cheek.

"I'm the one that's sorry, Yani. I can't give you what you want. There ain't no promises I can give that can make you feel good or make you think we have a future. I have nothing—"

"You have me."

"I have you," he whispered.

She bent down and rested her plump lips on his fuller ones and let the skin there lightly touch before she opened her mouth to let her tongue taste his.

He fondled her nipples through her dress as they kissed.

"Take this off," he said tugging on her dress.

She did what he asked and he rested back on the wide couch.

"Sit on my face."

Always direct. Demanding.

She crawled above him and sat her vulva on his lips.

The heat from his mouth had her sighing before he even licked up and down her folds. She felt her labia plumping up fully, and when the tip of his tongue flicked her clit, she was already dripping onto his lips.

He flattened his tongue and Yani wiggled her waist to get the full lavish flourishes of his wet mouth. Leaning forward, Yani exhaled hard into the couch. He ate her pussy like it was a fine art to be mastered. His hands reached up and held her ass cheeks as he plunged his tongue into her opening. Hot puffs of breath from his mouth excited her more as deep groans had him stop every few seconds to gather himself. She lifted up and gazed down at his face as she writhed above him. She felt his hands release her ass as he pulled down his loose sweatpants and freed his erection. His right hand gripped his length and tugged hard.

She dropped her ass onto his face and he moaned into her pussy.

"Shit…Yani…"

His tongue traced patterns into her folds and her keening above him spurned the movement of his hand jerking off his dick. That wide tongue of his, interchanged with his big lips rubbing all over her labia, made her cry out his name. She pressed her pussy hard on his mouth.

"I'm cumming!" she yelled.

Erik groaned so loud and his body went stiff under her.

When she looked behind her, she watched him ejaculate all over his hand.

"Fuck! I want to cum in your ass Yani."

She crawled off of his face and sauntered into the master bedroom. When she returned to him on the couch, she handed him a bottle of lube and some tissue to wipe up his semen.

Lying next to him, she allowed his hands to roam all over her body before he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He kissed her with slow deliberation as his fingers took their time inserting into her anus, massaging her there. He slickened up his new erection with even more lubrication. Yani leaned forward while gripping the couch cushion and lifted up her leg a bit so he could get his tip pressed into her anal opening. She held her breath and relaxed with a deep exhale as he inserted three inches into her.

"You okay?" he asked.

Rubbing her waist, he waited for her consent before he pressed in further. She could only handle about four inches at that moment and he eased back out to use more lubricant. When she was ready, he pushed back in until she was comfortable with more from him.

He gave short thrusts that she liked and inserted his fingers into her pussy. Stroked from both openings, the tightness pulling her close to the edge of another explosive release, Yani endured the nasty words spilling from his mouth and into her ear as he fucked her good and long.

"…just letting me fuck you in your ass like this…"

"…yes…"

"…nasty…I'ma put cum in you like this…"

"…please…"

"…'gon nut all up in you like this…deep in this ass…fuck girl…letting me do this shit…"

She chewed on the sensitive skin of her lips.

"Who else you fuck like this?"

"Just you…and Chez…"

"Goddamn, I'm in there deep!"

His head fell forward onto her shoulder and she knew he was done whenever he couldn't speak anymore. His fingers had her pussy sticky. His dick had her anus stretched with pleasure. Slow. Deep. Gentle. Just how she liked it with him and only him. "I feel your balls, Killmonger…"

"All in this ass…tight…ah fuckkk—"

His orgasm rendered him speechless and he jerked against her as he spurt hot jizz.

"…nasty bitch…cumming in your fat ass…"

Yani felt tears of sexual release drip from her lids as her pussy spasmed around his fingers. When he removed his slick digits from her, he held her tight and kissed the back of her neck and shoulders. They were both covered in sweat.

"You can bring a nigga to his knees, swear to God."

Yani grinned and held onto him as he brushed his lips over her clavicle. She felt his penis soften and he pulled out from her.

They watched tv a bit longer until Erik removed himself from her and took a long shower. She took one after him and when she finished, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with her for the rest of the night. She asked him no more questions about his destination.

She focused on the now.

###

"What are you two doing?"

Erik sat still on the floor with his back against the vanity mirror drawer. Sweet Pea stood in front of him with her left hand on his forehead and her right hand smearing bronze lipstick on his lips. Yani clutched her stomach and laughed hard when she saw his entire face when Sydette stepped back from her handiwork.

Bronzer, cinnamon eyeshadow, false eyelashes, and liquid foundation rounded out Erik's features.

"Makin Baba pretty Mama, see?"

Sydette returned to her work tracing the lipstick outside the lines of his mouth.

"How I look?" he asked.

"A hot mess," Yani said.

Erik stood up and looked in the mirror. Sydette crawled onto the vanity chair and patted his arm.

"I have tuh finish your lips. Put more on…"

She held up the lipstick and he bent down so she could add a little more.

"There," Sydette said.

"All done?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Clown face—"

"Hush, baby girl worked hard to perfect this look. You just jealous cuz you can't get your face like this."

"Tuh."

Erik ran his fingers through his hair to fluff out his locs.

"I look good, don't know what you hatin' on. Jealous."

He walked into the living room and grabbed his sandals by the door.

"Please tell me you not wearing that face—"

"We're going for a walk. Join us if you want."

Sydette still held the lipstick in her hand and rolled it along her mouth. Yani took it from her.

"Fifty-dollar lipstick…for playtime," Yani said.

"You can afford it. Let's go Sweet Pea."

"We pretty, Mama."

"I see."

Sydette held Erik's hand and they walked around the compound.

They visited Jerome and watched him chase off another iguana from the pool. Moving through Klaue's prized flowers, they observed butterflies resting easy and caught a gentle breeze on their faces as they walked down to the cove.

Yani trailed behind them, still laughing at his overly made face, and Erik just acted like it was normal to have a face beat to the two-year-old Gods of cosmetics. He picked up seashells with Sydette and dipped his toes in the water with her. She chased him when they returned to the house for lunch.

"You are really going to keep that look?"

Yani served them leftover gumbo and cornbread. She kept shaking her head each time she looked at him.

"Hater," he teased.

They napped together on the couch until it started raining again, the soft patter of water striking the roof. They played with Sydette's toys until Yani couldn't take it anymore and made Erik clean off his face. He could hear Yani's snarky laughter while he did it.

Yani cooked their last dinner together, made him all the island foods he loved, and Erik ate until he was stuffed.

As the sun made the journey down from the sky, Erik grew somber.

They put Sydette to bed early and Erik read her a book and stayed with her until the little girl fell asleep.

"Here."

Yani handed him a glass of white wine and they sat outside on the lounger to watch the stars pop out across the dark velvet sky.

Yani crawled onto his lap and he held her close, nuzzling his nose into her neck. A dragonfly drone flew past the balcony, its movement a little off-kilter. The battery was probably running down.

Yani wiggled on his lap, hungry for him once more, and he stripped out of his loungers for her and gave her the dick she craved. In his favorite spot. In his favorite position with her.

"Fuck, I don't want nobody else in this pussy…." he chuffed into her neck.

Lifting her up, Erik stood with her legs slung over his biceps. His eyes watched the water far down below as he thrust. The mewling from her throat had him on edge and he locked his legs in position to hold her up while his length pumped up into her. He needed to work his back into it and carried her on his dick back into the house and into their bedroom.

Her legs spread wide and her toes pointing toward the wall, Erik pressed his muscular thighs into her thick ones as they both watched his dick plunge in and out of her gripping folds.

"I'ma be in this pussy all night. You know that, right?"

She nodded vigorously, her lips pressed tight as they heard the sloppy noise coming from their engorged lower parts.

"You want all of Daddy's cum now, huh girl?"

"Hmmmph…"

"Want me to fuck you in your ass again?"

Her head fell back onto the pillow with her mouth dropping open and when his dick slid out, he saw more sticky wetness spilling from her slit. He sank back in again hitting the side of her walls. The bed was bouncing with his thrusts. Yani's eyes went back to watch their joining.

"Oh shit…Yani…ah fuck girl…I love you…"

"Erik…"

"Say my name again."

"Erik."

He groaned as he slammed into her hard to punctuate the pleasure he received hearing his real name drip from her lips like honey.

"Erik…love…you feel so good. Making my pussy feel so good…God!"

"I see you squirtin' baby. I see it!"

Yani's legs shook even as Erik pressed down on her thighs to keep them flat on the bed.

"You tryna make me nut right now? Huh?"

He dug in her deeper and she took it like he knew she could.

Forcing her onto her hands and knees, he made her face the wall mirror so he could enjoy hitting it from the back and watching her face while he did it.

"All night, baby," he whispered.

All night indeed.

Every position.

Every nasty word he could think of in six languages.

Yani was panting, screaming into the sheets, squirting and cumming from every angle he could twist her into. Front. Back. Side. Diagonal. He held off from ejaculating, wanting to marinate in her juices for as long as he could, trying to savor and remember every moment of that night with her in their bed.

"Ah…baby…'bout to make a big mess…"

"Please!"

She held her breasts, her fingers circling her areolas.

"Wish I could suck milk out them titties again."

His head dropped forward and his right hand clutched her left breast and held it.

"These big titties…"

"Cum in my pussy, Erik."

His eyes narrowed looking down at her face.

"Want me to cum in your pussy, baby?"

"Yes."

He moved slow, so slow that her legs wrapped around his waist to get more friction from him.

"Tell me you love me again," he begged.

Yani clutched onto his back, her harsh pants tingling his ears. He knew that look and reaction from her. She was at the tip of her orgasm. A large one.

Her big eyes looked up at him as she clung to him, the look on her face taking him back to the first time they ever made love.

"Erik!"

"Yes, baby. I'm here."

"Erik…God…!"

Her voice hitched and Erik froze with her as her vaginal walls quivered against his length.

He couldn't breathe.

Tears slipped down her face.

"I love you, Erik. I want you here with me forever—"

Her head fell back as her pussy spasmed tight.

"Erik! Erik!"

"I'm cumming with you! Goddamit I'm cumming so fucking hard!"

There was no shame in his yelling out loud. Every hard spurt into her pussy made him yell out her name and how much he loved her. She only clung to his body as all of her softness pressed into the hardness of his body. When he felt the last of his semen leaving him, he bit into her shoulder and squeezed her tight. His toes cramped up and didn't want to let her go.

Their bodies cooled with the hot sweat evaporating from their skin.

Pulling her on top of him, Erik cradled Yani in his arms until she needed to go pee. He listened to her take a quick shower before she returned to his embrace.

"All night, remember?" she whispered to him.

"I remember. But a quick respite."

He shifted down until his head was on her stomach.

Yani whispered how much she loved and needed him until he fell asleep cradled in her arms.

###

Sydette's crying woke him up.

"She's probably having a bad dream," Yani said.

Erik shifted and Yani pushed him back on the bed.

"I'll take care of her. I get back and yuh give me some more."

Her eyes twinkled.

Jumping off the bed, she pulled on her panties and threw on one of his t-shirts.

"Big nipples poking through," he said grabbing his dick.

She kissed his lips and bounded out of the room.

It was late. If Sydette was up, she'd want to get into bed with them unless Yani could get her back to sleep fast.

He rubbed his belly then scratched his balls waiting for her.

His mind wandered to trivial things until he noticed things were too quiet.

"Yani. Everything okay?"

His hand swiped the security cam feed and he immediately sat upright. There was nothing there, which was impossible because he should see an image of Yani and Sydette…

Erik slid his hand to his bedstand drawer and pulled out his Glock. He slipped his loungers on and crept to the door.

The hallway was empty.

He checked Sydette's room. It was empty. He checked the hall bathroom and Klaue's bedroom on the far end of the house.

Easing toward the living room, Erik noticed a light pop on. He stepped into that light and saw Huntsman sitting on the couch with Sydette on his lap, his own Glock pressed into her little chest, his other free hand covering her mouth. Across from him standing near Klaue's wall of African masks was Shipley strong-arming Yani with his weapon pressed into her temple. His left hand fondled Yani's nipple.

Neal stepped into view with an AK-15 pointed at Erik.

"Now see, you shouldn't have been here, Killmonger," Huntsman said.

"Let them go," Erik hissed, keeping his eyes on Sweet Pea who had big shiny tears in her scared eyes.

"No. We can't do that. It's too bad though. Now they get to die with you."

Chapter 27 Here

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

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#wet sugar #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #klaue #black panther fanfiction #uzumaki rebellion's pantherverse

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oh-boleyn · 5 years

Text

dreams of her

words: 4007, one shot, language: english. f/f (parrlyn)

tw: alcohol, drowning, angst, if I forgot one just tell me

Catherine Parr met Anne Boleyn on a rainy midnight, while passing through the tower of London.

Anne’s dress was a mess, all white and out of fashion. Still Parr couldn’t stop watching the girl. She had bright green eyes, and long dark brown hair that almost got to her waist. A lost, confused look on her face got Catherine worried.

“Are you okay?” She asked. The girl saw her and smile.

Her smile was so bright it could light up the world.

“Yes, yes I am.”

(…)

Writing poetry is not quite a Catherine Parr thing, but she still does it.

Something about the white dress in the middle of the night that she can’t shake, not without pouring it into words.

(…)

It’s over a week before she sees the girl again. Just like she remembered her, but this time a choker on her neck catches her attention. Is white, the whole look is, just like last time. It matches almost perfectly with the porcelain skin.

“Good night.” Parr tries to sound casual, cool.

“Good night.” The other replies.

Cathy turns, heading to the tube. Without wanting to do that again, and lose back the gorgeous girl, she gives a glance back, but can’t find her again.

(…)

She dreams of her, which is something completely weird.

There is so much detail on the dream, things she can’t even quite put a finger on. They couldn’t possible have exchanged more than seven words, but in her dream, she knows exactly how the brunette would laugh and talk.

Even more strange, she wakes up with an ache on her neck.

(…)

Catherine hated having to cover in the bar, one of the advantages of being the goddaughter of the owner was having the best hours, and escaping dealing with drunk guys past ten. But since Jane had his son, little Edward, she had been pleading for a change of hours and Parr couldn’t just say no.

Staying in the bar late meant she had to write there, hiding behind the counter, wishing to be in her way too small apartment with the peace and quiet of her favourite Spotify playlist. Between college, bartending, and trying to write at least one good thing before finishing her studies she was constantly on the border of a mental breakdown.

The only thing she was glad about, was that apparently every time she made extra hours the white dressed girl would be standing near the tower of London. Catherine wished to be able to talk more to her, but was too anxious to create any more conversation that just casual greetings. Like written on stone, every night she would see the girl, a dream about her would come.

(…)

“Goodnight!” Cathy screamed, passing beside the other girl.

“Wait!” The paler responded. “I was wondering if I could have your name.”

“Yeah.” She is taken aback, slowing her peace. “I’m Catherine Parr.”

The writer extends a hand, which the other takes without hesitation. The touch is soft, almost like silk, but so cold that it could be ice.

“Anne.”

Anne fits her. Even if Catherine is not sure if the name fits her or the way she says it, pronouncing slowly, needing the time because every part of it is important. It’s a really short name, but still sounds so elegant and distinguished coming from her. Parr is sure she is not going to be capable so pronounce a name so elegantly ever in her life.

(…)

“What are you thinking about, Cathy?” Anna asks.

“What?”

“You have your head in the clouds, what’s going on?” The German questions again.

“Nothing it’s just I’m having crazy days. With changing hours with Jane everything became catastrophic.” Parr excuses herself. “Do you want the usual?”

“It’s almost too late for that, I would prefer something stronger, what you got?”

Catherine smiles, mischief clear on her face.

“We have a new drink, it’s called bridge. One of these and you will be on the other side.”

She takes a long glass and starts mixing different alcoholics beverages, plus some other stuff like sugar and some fruit juice. Anna drinks it quickly, not bothering by the name of it.

“It is not that strong.” Cleves accuses Cathy.

“Try to stand up.”

The German does it quickly, stumbling on her feet and guiding a hand to her forehead in an attempt to drown the sudden numbness she feels.

“You were right.”

“I always am, linda.”

(…)

That night Anna is uncapable of standing up by herself, less to go home alone. Catherine dismisses her early, under the promise she will take her friend back to the apartment. Going through the streets of London with a really drunk woman, who is at least half a head taller than Parr it’s not quite easy task, but she manages.

“Friend of yours, Catherine?” Anne asks, smiling.

She almost shines, her white dress floating with the cold wind of the night. The clouds above them are grey, almost black, announcing a rain coming, but Catherine can’t bring herself to care, not even when Anna moves towards a trash can.

“Yes, you can say so.” Parr says, before adding: “She is your namesake, almost. It ends with an A.”

“Well, I’m Anne with an E.”

Cathy laughs.

“Why are you laughing?” Anne questions.

“You made a reference, to that show.” Cathy responds.

“What show?”

The girl seems confused, and for a second Catherine feels like that too, but when Anna takes her arm and request to please go home, the smaller complies.

“Good night, Anne!” She screams.

(…)

When the storm breaks, Catherine had barely time to get back to her house. She luckily didn’t catch the rain, or else her house would probably be a mess.

She wonders about Anne, Anne with her white dress and precious smile. With her cold touch and pale skin. Anne who is just as enchanting as anyone could be, elegant but still playful. Just thinking about her name makes Catherine have her head over heels.

Catherine Parr was not one to fall in love so abruptly, a first sight. Her love was usually slow, getting used to the person, knowing them completely. But it was not the case, outside the things she could got from their short talks, she knew nothing about Anne.

But she was still falling.

(…)

“Goodnight, Catherine!” Anne calls, voice clear in the not so populated street.

“Goodnight, Anne.”

(…)

There was something strange, a sickening feeling when Catherine got closer to Anne.

Just the sight of her pale, even slightly green, skin made Parr feel giddy and shaky. Her hands would start tremble, and her mouth would run out of words quicker than it usually did. Even the temperature seemed to get lower near her.

Catherine still felt attracted, an uneasy feeling of belonging. A need to get closer, even if it sickened her to the very core, letting her so tired that the only thing she could do when arriving home was sleeping.

And have nightmares about her.

(…)

“Yes, godmother, I’m getting to the bar right now.” Catherine says on the phone.

Arriving, she takes the key to the back door, letting herself in the vast place. Cold hits her skin while she changes into her uniform. Going into the bar, the music starts sounding more and more loud, until she shows up there.

A girl with brown and pink hair is singing for the karaoke night, totally careless but hitting the notes.

“There you are.” Catherine of Aragon calls. “I thought I had lost you to your books.”

“Funny.” Cathy said, straight-faced. “Who is that?”

“I’m not sure, Katherine something, but she is good.” Aragon explains. “You should go and sing.”

“I don’t think so.” Parr replies.

“Whatever you say.” She makes a pause. “I was wondering if you were going to take again Jane’s turn.”

“Yes, yes I will.”

(…)

Walking back home makes her stomach turn when thinking about watching Anne. It must have been a prediction, because when she finds the other woman, she doesn’t exactly look like always.

Her green eyes are not bright and gleeful, instead there is something obscure apart from the tears falling. Her white skin is left untouched, not a single mark of redness, still it is puffy and demonstrates signs of crying. The white dress is different, looking like a dirty white, almost grey, and the choker is thicker, wrapping itself tighter on her neck.

“Anne?” Catherine asks, getting closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so lost.” The woman cries. “Have you ever felt like that? Like you are slowly drowning? Is like there is just so much water weight on me, my lungs can’t take the pressure.”

Parr slowly moves, sitting beside her, she wonders for a moment, before putting a hand on Anne’s back. As expected, her skin is freezing, but the other doesn’t care. Slowly drawing paths in her back, she waits for words to come out, but they don’t.

“I am just so tired.”

“Let’s go out.” Catherine suddenly reacts.

“What?”

“Let’s do something. Right now. We deserve a free night.” Catherine slowly guides a hand to Anne’s face, attempting to dry the tears with her thumb. “What do you say?”

A timid smile appears on Anne’s face.

“I think you are right.”

Catherine quickly stands up, offering a hand.

“Lady…”

“Boleyn.”

“Lady Boleyn, would you do me the pleasure of being my companion for tonight?”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Both of them interlock their hands, while laughing at their silly manners.

Walking the streets of London never felt more magical to Parr. Everything seemed prettier, brighter. In her dream like state, everything is better, and she is no longer tired. She wonders if it is another fantasy of hers, but decides against it, even if it was, everything was just so wonderful that it wasn’t worth it to not relish it.

They get to a club, with dark lights and loud pop music. Anne smiles at Parr, who takes her lead. They start to make silly moves in the middle of the dance floor, not caring about the consequence of embarrassing themselves. Anne’s eyes have a certain gleam, shining every time she smiles for a move Cathy makes.

The atmosphere makes Cathy feel drunk, everything brilliant, dazzling, under the blue lights. People are moving in a blur, and the only static thing are green eyes watching her, attentive at every move she makes. It feels right, she keeps telling herself so, but at the same time an insanity to the whole situation keeps her out of that train of thought.

“Would you like to drink something?” Catherine questions, to which Anne gives half a smile.

“Of course.”

“I think I know a better place.”

Taking back Anne’s hand, they start making their way outside. An hour has already passed, and even less people can be found in the streets.

“Tell me about yourself, Catherine.” Boleyn questions.

“I’m not an interesting person.” The shorter claims.

“Don’t say that.” She fakes pouts. “Please, I want to know.”

“Okay.” Cathy laughs. “Where to begin? I am the oldest of three siblings, and we used to live in the north, in Cumbria to be more exact. I am good with languages, since I really love anything that has to do with words.”

“You sound like a bookworm.” Anne proclaims.

“I am! But really, I just love it.”

“I am not good with languages.” The taller explains. “But I speak French.”

“For real? I do too, and Italian. And Spanish. And I can translate from Latin but I haven’t practiced in a long time.”

“How long? Since somebody actually cared and talked Latin?” Anne mocks her.

“Shut up! It’s really interesting, and important. A lot of languages come from it.”

“What is your favourite word? In Latin, I mean.”

“I think vigil. It means sentinel.” Cathy makes a pause and signals the sky. “It can also mean stars. You know, they watch us.”

“The starts watch us?”

“Totally. So does the moon, and the sun.” Catherine slowly strokes Anne’s hand with her own. “I moved with my godmother when I was still young, departing was really hard. My mum told me that starts will be everywhere, watching over me even if she couldn’t. It was good to know, like a protection.”

“I used to live in France, my dad sent me there for boarding school.” Her voice grows darker. “I didn’t saw any of my siblings for a while and it was… It was really lonely. Still I found comfort in the sky too. I don’t think starts can see me, but I do think I can see them. Like stars, the moon. It doesn’t matter where you are, the moon is always the same.”

Anne hides her face.

“That’s a nice thought.”

“It’s dumb, Catherine.”

“It’s not.” Cathy reaffirms with a squeeze to Anne’s hand. “It’s something good to think. Like every person that has ever been on earth has known the moon. A million of civilizations, people we don’t even know their names. Every hero and villain saw the same moon.”

“The moon is beautiful.”

“No more than you.”

Anne gives a surprised look to Parr, who looks away.

“Keep telling me about you.”

“I told you I love words. I want to be a writer.”

She is trying hard to keep her breath under control, but deep inside her heart is racing. The sickening feeling makes her feel that she could overshare at any moment, which is something she would rather not happen.

“I am currently in University, and I am trying to write this book, but it is just so much and so hard. It’s like I can write a thousand pages, but when I proof read it, I hate it.” Catherine explains.

Way to go with no oversharing, Parr. She blames herself.

“I think you are probably just too perfectionist.” Anne’s voice is sweet, familiar. “I used to write, and I loved it, it was messy, a strange kind of poetry.”

“Really?” Cathy questions. “Since I met you, I have been writing little poems here and there. I was never one to write literal poems, maybe sonnets but nothing more.”

“That sounds really structured from you, Catherine.”

“Why do you always call me Catherine?” She burst out.

It’s Anne’s way to say here name, pronouncing it whole, making her feel so important and personal. Maybe it was something about living in France, having another language for so long, but still it doesn’t quite explain why.

“It’s your name; isn’t it, Catherine?”

There is a playful smirk on her face, which brings Parr to her edge. Saying her name into the conversation feels so intimate. She considers that the only other way to make her feel like that would be if Anne ran her fingers through her arms, through her face. It is confidential, affectionate.

“Yes, but people call me Cathy.”

“Well, I am not people.”

Fortunate or not for the shortest, the moment Anne finishes saying it is when they arrive to Aragon’s bar. Nobody is there, counting that the clock indicates 2AM, and it closes at one, but the mess is still there. Some chairs out of its places, while others are neatly sitting in tables. The floor is dirty, and there are glasses still sitting on the scenario.

Still, she can’t appreciate it more, with the fairy lights, and Anne by her side, the chaotic scene looks like something irreal, out of a dream.

“Welcome to my job, you wanted to know about me? I’m here most of the time.” Cathy grabs a clean glass. “What do you want to drink, milady?”

“What do you recommend me?” Catherine nods, but doesn’t say a word. “So, bartending. I couldn’t possibly have guessed it.”

“Well, it’s not my ideal job. I don’t enjoy crowds to be honest, but my godmother is the owner and I used to do my homework in the back, so I’m used to being here. It’s good.”

“Is it? Really?”

It takes Parr for surprise, how easily she asks, a smirk on her face. A nervous feeling creeping on the back of her mind.

“It is. Really.”

“Would you be a bartender forever?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why is it good?”

Catherine stays in silence while she finishes preparing the drink.

It feels tense, the atmosphere getting heavier instead of better, and none of them talking. Anne has a stern face, with her eyes fixed on Cathy’s hands. From being intimate, the talk became invasive, way too much for both of them to take.

Catherine finishes the drink, and hands it to Anne. She takes a sip, and makes a face.

“That was too much salt.” She jokes, a slight smile appearing on her lips.

“That was a great done margarita. If you can’t handle salt, I hope I see you trying to manage your tequila.”

“Alcohol and salt are two different things, Parr!” Anne slams her first on the table, dramatically. She makes a pause. “I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

“It’s alright, I don’t care.”

“It’s just… Lately nothing is what I expect. I wish I made things because they made me happy, and not because I felt obligated to.”

“I know that feeling.” Catherine explains. “I feel like I’m constantly running out of time, as if I sleep when I wake up there will be nothing there. It keeps me at edge most of the time, like I can’t just experience one moment, I have to do something else, and when I finish there is another thing to do. I think this is the first night I feel alive and living the moment in a while.”

“I feel the same Catherine.” Anne explains. “And you are a great bartender.”

“If you keep calling me by my whole name, I will start to feel important.”

“You should feel important, you are.”

Anne Boleyn was most definitely a flirt.

She didn’t sound forced, or uncomfortable, but it was rather just a way to be. With her long eyelashes, frisky smirk and porcelain complexion, it was impossible to resist. Elegant movements, a way with words, and the warm feeling she irradiated even if her skin was icy.

Catherine could feel herself painfully falling.

They talk about it all, play silly games with the cups and dancing slow dodging tables.

Deciding it was more than what Catherine could take, they opt to go and grab coffee at her apartment. The chill of the night still present, Parr gives Anne her jacket. Light revealing it was almost time for the sun to shine again, something dreadful for them, knowing their night off was about to end.

When they get to the spot where they usually part ways, the sky starts turning a pink colour, indicating the dawn.

Anne stays for a moment, watching the reflexion of the light on the river. She looks almost like a statue, firm, almost as if her chest is not breathing. Catherine takes out her phone, taking photos of Anne, until she realizes and turns her head, smiling.

“You are giving me a breath, Catherine. I never thought I would see another night like this one, but I can’t be any other thing that thankful.” She plays with her hands. “I know it was so brief, only a night when a year have so many, but there is nothing more I could’ve ask for.”

They stare at each other eyes.

“One last night.” She mutters, not loud enough for Catherine to hear. “I have to go.”

“Can I get a kiss?” The other one wonders.

Anne impacts her lips with Catherine.

The world suddenly goes on mute. There is no other sound, except the blood running through their veins. Anne’s lips are soft, softer than what Cathy remembered lips were, and her skin feels as if might break if she grabs it too hard.

Still, it is tender, caring. So warm despite everything being so cold around there.

Anne is the first to pull away, giving Catherine a smile.

“I hope the best for you, Catherine Parr.”

Catherine takes just a moment to get her eyes open again, and Anne is no longer there.

(…)

It drives her almost crazy at first, doing research about Anne Boleyn, but there is almost little to no information about her online, nothing about the past few years.

The pictures on her phone are still intact, and it is the only thing that keeps her from thinking it was a dream.

She waits for hours at midnight on their usual spot, but Anne never shows up again. There is no sight of her white dress or kryptonite eyes.

There’s nothing, as if she never existed.

(…)

Katherine Howard becomes a regular on the bar, singing almost every night.

She is young, around eighteen years, but she still becomes friends with Catherine and Anna. Aragon even becomes fond of the girl, offering her a weekly payment in exchange of singing. Jane is enamoured with her, but opinion biased since Edward was probably in love with her, not crying when he was on her arms.

(…)

Catherine has nightmares about it, followed by the feeling of being underwater.

She has nightmares of Anne, both of them lost in the middle of a sea, or a river, and when they are about to reach each other, they can’t. She can’t even clearly hear Anne talking on her dreams, but instead it is so much pressure on her chest she might faint from it.

But at least she remembers.

(…)

Times goes away flying.

It’s been two months, and Catherine haven’t seen Anne.

She almost even prayed to see her again, to hear her voice, a sight of her smirk, but it never comes, all she has is nothing, and three photos of that night. Parr wonders if she moved back to France, if that was why she was crying. If she is alright, writing poetry on a café. If her dress is still white and her choker still wraps around her neck.

Her mind can’t stop missing her.

(…)

“What’s up with that face, Cathy?” Katherine asks, Anna rolls her eyes.

“She has been painfully pinning on this girl for almost four months now, even if they only went out once.”

“Shut up, Anna!” Catherine bickers. “You don’t understand.”

“Keep saying that, is not my fault you dearest Anne Boleyn isn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Wait, what?” The younger’s face is pale, drained from any colour. “What do you mean Anne Boleyn?”

“Do you know her?” Cathy wonders, hopeful. “Look, I have these photos.”

She quickly goes through her gallery, showing the three pictures.

“Where do you get those?” Kat’s voice is panicking, and she is not bothering to hide it.

“Near the river, four months ago, why?”

“Anne was my cousin.”

“Was?” Catherine asks.

“She has been dead for seven years.”

(…)

Catherine can’t process it at first, but then it starts to make sense.

Weird dreams.

Not knowing a show from three years ago.

Pale skin.

Disappearing.

Always cold.

Never blushes.

Is like there is just so much water weight on me, my lungs can’t take the pressure.

Catherine feels sick to her very core, almost as much as she felt when she was with Anne.

(…)

It is the morbid thing to do, but Catherine begs her namesake to take her to Anne’s grave.

The cemetery is cold, rows and rows of grey pieces of stone laying around. The grass is almost as green as Anne eyes, and Catherine has a bouquet of white margarita flowers on her hand.

She wants to believe it is just another dream.

Dreading the moment, they get to stay on front of a grave, which clearly says Anne Boleyn, stating her death on the 19th day, of the fifth months of 2012.

What comes as a surprise is Parr’s jacket sitting on the grave.

“I hope you the best for you too, Anne Boleyn.”

#six fanfiction #six fanfic #six the musical #anne boleyn #Catherine Parr

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andromeda-sapphire · 5 years

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Witchy Then Vs. Now

I was SO inspired by the post by @hermeticimp regarding comparing the witchy things of our childhood to the witchy things we do now. I had to write a blog post about it!

Herbal Magic:

Then: I remember when I was a kid, maybe around age 5 or 7, I used to make rose water with my brother in the summertime. But not quite the way I would now! My mom had a few rose bushes in the front yard, and we would pick a bunch of roses and put them in a big bucket of water. Then, we’d roll up our pants and jump in the bucket (or for me, just jump in, as I was usually wearing dresses at that age) and start smashing the roses up with our bare feet! We called the rose water “magic perfume” and I remember wanting to keep some stored in a bottle but my mom always dumped it out when we were finished because playtime was over and it was dinnertime.

Now: I typically don’t even make rose water very often now, as I don’t usually have access to fresh rose petals. I love to use beauty products with rose water in them though, like Thayer’s brand alcohol-free witch hazel. Nowadays I usually use dried rose petals for spell bottles and for smoking herbal blends. My herbal witchcraft nowadays is mostly making tea blends, smoke blends, and of course as ingredients for spells. I’ve also made healing salves and oils with herbs over the years.

Crystal Magic:

Then: Inspired by my mother’s geological rock collection (she was a science teacher when I was a kid), I began collecting rocks when I was a young child, probably as young as 7. I have a lot of crystals that came from my mom’s collection, and as a kid, I remember taking out her rock collection boxes from the garage and placing them all over the living room so I could open them all up and look at the cool rocks inside. I remember reading about crystal healing in a book on home remedies that my mom gave me. I bookmarked so many pages in that book, most of them in the crystal healing section. I had one special crystal that I had found near my elementary school as a kid (but lost over time.. sad!) and I was convinced it was a magic crystal. I carried it with me all the time, I slept with it under my pillow, and I never completely knew what it was (maybe some kind of quartz?) but I felt that it enhanced my dreams and made them much more vivid.

Now: My crystal collection has multiplied... Significantly... (oops) I am definitely a crystal collector, and now I go out and find some of my own crystals as well. In fact, the huge chunk of serpentine in the image above is one that I found, and it’s roughly the size of my face! I love my crystals, and I make crystal grids as a part of my rituals and practice. Crystals are somehow always involved in my practice actually. I make wire wrap jewelry now with crystals also (check out Buffalo Wraps on Instagram) inspired by the healing properties of the crystals.

Astrology:

Then: When I was about 10, my grandma gave me this book. It was her original copy of Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs. It even has my grandmother’s signature on the inside cover. I was visiting my grandparents in New Zealand at the time, and didn’t have any other books with me for the trip that I can remember, so I spent my evenings in bed reading the section on How to Recognize a Libra. (I’m a Libra Sun, and that was all I knew about astrology at the time) As I finished the chapter on Libra, I was convinced there had to be something real to this tradition of the cosmos. So after returning to the USA, I began researching astrology in my free time, reading as many books and online resources as possible about the topic. I gave my friends and family birth chart readings, and was constantly examining my friends’ behaviors as a scientist examines their test subject.

Now: Well, now I’m trying to become a professional astrologer! It’s been my goal since my third year in University to become an astrologer, and I’ve been taking webinar courses since then from well-known astrologers and (again) reading as many books and online resources as possible. I now have shelves and shelves (almost a whole large tote full actually) of astrology books of all kinds that I’ve collected and read over the years, and it all started with my grandma’s little copy of Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs. Instead of only giving free birth chart readings to friends and family, now I offer paid readings of all types as well! I’ve learned so much over the last almost 15 years of studying this beautiful tradition! Astrology is also a huge part of my magic as well. I never cast a spell without first planning it for a specific planetary hour and day that aligns with the desired planetary energies. I’m constantly watching transits and studying how they affect us down here on Earth as well.

Astronomy:

Then: As a kid, maybe 3rd grade through middle school, I was super into outer space. I remember having those little glow in the dark stars all over my ceiling. My dad gave me a telescope for Christmas one year, and I remember him helping me to set it up a few times at night outside on the porch. I was always staring at the stars as a kid, looking at the moon and the constellations. I had (still have actually) a great little guide book on all of the constellations in the sky and the mythology behind them, and all kinds of cool info.

Now: Unfortunately, that telescope got very dusty over the years. It’s sitting in storage now, and I’m dying to bring it out and set it up again, but I need the space for it first! I still observe the sky and watch the stars and moon, but aside from my astrology practice and cosmic witchery, I don’t focus too much on space. I still watch documentaries on space and the planets etc. however! My magic actually heavily relies on my knowledge of both astronomy AND astrology.

Mythology/Fairy Tales:

Then: As a kid, I loved reading fiction and fantasy! I loved drawing dragons and unicorns, and reading about magical princesses and fairies. I wanted to live in a world of mythology so badly. I remember one of my favorite books at the time was Dealing With Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede. I think that book really got me excited about dragons and magic. I also have believed from a very young age, not sure where it originated from, that I am a witch, and have magic within me! I know one influence on that belief was a graphic novel series I used to read all the time growing up called W.I.T.C.H. - I related to one of the characters in that series, Irma, who had water magic abilities. I always felt a deep connection to water for some reason, and as a kid I believed I could control it to an extent. Later in elementary school, I remember learning about Greek mythology briefly, but didn’t get to learn much about it until later.

Now: I went through a bit of a phase a while ago where I thought I had to connect to a deity, or a pantheon. And I feel like I did have a few encounters with deities, but nothing that truly made me feel comfortable worshiping a deity. Don’t get me wrong, I love Greek mythology and religion, and I’ve actually taken a class at University on Greek mythology. Though I’m no expert, I feel pretty well-versed in my myths. They have a few good mythology documentary shows on Netflix that I enjoy as well. I guess because I come from a semi-Christian background though, I have a distaste for worshiping a “god” or “god-like” figure... So I don’t really worship any deities at the moment, but I do recognize the possibility of them existing, and I recognize them as archetypal figures. Same goes for other mythological beings, I don’t really work with them, but I recognize the potential for their existence in another plane.

Divination:

Then: When I was a kid, I had a little pendulum that I made out of blue lace agate and a chain. I used that for divination purposes, just asking yes or no questions. I didn’t know much else about divination though, aside from astrology, so I didn’t know what other directions there were for me to explore.

Now: I use a few different types of divination, and surprisingly, I rarely use my crystal pendulums! Besides astrology, my go-to divination method nowadays is tarot. I’ve learned to read tarot cards over the last few years after one of my college roommates gave me a rune reading and introduced me to tarot and other forms of divination. Now I have several tarot decks, oracle decks, and pendulums all stored in a beautiful box I call my “divination box.”

Anyway, that’s my Witchy Then Vs. Now! I really would like to see this pick up on Witchblr cuz it’s a fun challenge to make you reflect a little on how you’ve changed, or stayed the same!

Check out my Ko-Fi below to leave me a tip!

ko-fi.com/andromeda_sapphire

#wakingwitchblr #witchythenvsnow #witchblr #witch #witchy woman #blog #me #mine #childhood #memories #crystal healing #herbal remedies #reflecting

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sammysreelreviews · 5 years

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My Top 10 Bob’s Burgers Episodes

So I’ve literally been sitting on this list since May 2018 cause it’s just so hard to choose my favorites! I thought since the 10th season is coming out this Sunday I would drop a list of my ten favorite episodes so far. This was so fucking hard to do so if you say anything negative you will be BLOCKED. Enjoy and don’t forget Bob’s Burgers is back September 29th at 9pm on FOX!

10. Purple Rain-Union: Season 4, Episode 6

Linda and her old band “The Ta Tas” reunite to play at their 25th high school reunion. Gayle sings one of the most memorable songs from the show and Bob’s zit is the life of the party but the best part of the episode is the encore song Linda sings with the band. Also, Fuck Bad Hair Day!

Best line:

Linda: “I still got my sexy parts. Well I got two out of five, I still got two out of five!”

9. Slumber Party: Season 4, Episode 9

Linda makes Louise have a slumber party and Louise is NOT about it. Louise tries to make the girls go home one by one but the best part of the episode is that she makes a friend in the end and that’s what I love about it.

Best line:

Louise: “If she was a spice she’d be flour. If she was a book she’d be two books.”

8. Ain’t Miss Debatin’ Season 7, Episode 15

Season 7 is full of amazing episodes including this favorite cause it’s centered around Tina and the Tina episodes are 100% the best episodes. Tina having a random boyfriend and Linda critiquing him when he comes to the house will never fail to make me laugh. I also need Sasha in every episode.

Best line(s):

Duncan: “You know in New Zealand we don’t say turn off the light we say turn on the dark.”

Tina: “Son of a bitch.”

7. Brunchsquatch Season 8, Episode 1

Brunchsquatch is late in the game out of all the other episodes listed but the character Dalton honestly makes this whole episode. Brunch is such a big thing and they made fun of it perfectly. Also it was so cool that they had so many different people draw their own version of the Belcher fam.

Best line(s):

Dalton: “I’ve seen brunch skunks throw up in their booths and just keep drinking. I’ve seen a boy brunch skunk fight his way out of an ambulance to try to get back into a restaurant for more drinks. This is bad Linda this is very bad!”

Linda: “Oh god I got to go tell Bob!”

Dalton: “Yes you do but before you do that could you be a lil cabbage and grab us another round of Mom-osas and some more jalapeño aioli for our burgers? Love you! Mwah!”

6. Work Hard or Die Trying Girl Season 5, Episode 1

Episode 1 of season 5 set the bar extremely high but season 5 is genuinely one of their best seasons. I’ve never seen Working Girl or Die Hard (please don’t attack me) but you don’t need to see these movies to appreciate the incredible joint musical that happens.

Best line(s):

Gene: “But your characters don't even end up together!”

Tina: “We're all allowed to interpret the movie differently.”

Doug: “No, they definitely don't end up together.”

Tina: “Eh, to each his own.”

Doug: “No, they really don't.”

Tina: “Well, comme ci, comme sa.”

Doug: “All right, well, now you're just saying words.”

Tina: “C’est la vie.”

5. The Kids Run Away: Season 4 Episode 19

Most people would forget this episode but for some reason this episode will always have a special place in my heart. I love how even though Louise is always a badass it shows that at the end of the day she’s still a little girl. To be honest even I don’t know why I’m obsessed with this episode sometimes. Is it because it’s all about Louise or the fact that they play Gayle force winds? Either way Louise says a line (written below) that never fails to make me cry laughing which makes the episode so much more worth it.

Best line:

Louise: “Wagstaff was my platoon in ‘Nam. Oh man, they said there’d be people like you when I came back.”

4. Mother Daughter Laser Razor: Season 3, Episode 10

Louise is the definition of a daddy’s girl so to have an episode where her and Linda are forced to bond is magic. Even though Bob is Louise’s favorite it was awesome to see her and Linda play laser tag together.

Best line:

Linda: “Here goes the hair and there goes the hair and where is Harry Truman? He’s dead in the ground, he’s dead in the ground. He’s dead dead dead!”

3. Bad Tina: Season 2, Episode 8

I think most Bob’s Burgers fans can agree with me when I say that Bad Tina is one of the best episodes of the show. Tina being influenced by the new girl Tammy not only is one of the best Tina centric episodes but also introduces Tammy and honestly I can’t imagine the show without her anymore. We love Bad Tina and we love Erotic Friend Fiction.

Best line:

Gene: “We’re Belchers, from the womb to the tomb!”

2. Ex Mach Tina: Season 7, Episode 8

Like I said before season 7 is full of gems and this episode is the very best one from that season. Tina sprains her ankle from wearing her espadrilles and has to go to school through a remote controlled computer. Through this program Tina connects with Jimmy Jr. on a “deeper” level. This episode has so many one liners it was hard to choose just one. The whole subplot of Bob having a banjo moment is so random but it’s so funny it fucking works like when he imagines he’s good at the banjo I always choke on my water. Also just the name of the episode is fucking priceless.

Best line:

Gene: “This is the worst episode of the O.C. ever!”

1. Can’t Buy Me Math: Season 5, Episode 11

If you know me you know how much I fucking love this episode. This is undeniably the best Valentine’s Day episode of the entire show. From Tina and Darryl to Bob trying to seduce Linda I mean what more could you ask for?! This episode is absolute PERFECTION and that’s why it’s number one.

Best line(s):

Louise: “So the breakup, is it gonna be classy or nasty?”

Tina: “Definitely nasty. Want to know how many holds will be barred?”

Gene: “Three?”

Tina: “None.”

Gene: “Wow, that is... so few.”

#bobs burgers #the belchers #linda belcher #louise belcher #gene belcher #regular sized rudy #hulu recommendations #bob belcher #tina belcher

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justforbooks · 5 years

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On Western Stars, Bruce Springsteen Rides in the Whirlwind

A look inside the LP being hailed as The Boss’s best since Magic

In his memoir Born to Run and its live companion piece Springsteen on Broadway, Bruce Springsteen describes his first drive cross-country, when he was 21 years old. That would place that journey around 1970, ’71. Let’s pretend that at the end of the trip he found himself in sunny Southern California (not “down San Diego way,” but in Los Angeles) and decided to hang around there, writing songs, playing acoustic gigs, and by ’73 was getting some cuts on Linda Ronstadt albums, generating buzz as a solo performer from shows at the Troubadour, and the record labels started showing interest, resulting in a deal with Asylum, or Reprise.

Springsteen’s L.A. debut album released that year, let’s call it Greetings from Griffith Park, Ca., might’ve sounded something like his new Western Stars. When he began hinting about this solo project a few years back, Springsteen referenced the SoCal sound of the late ’60s, specifically Glen Campbell’s records of Jimmy Webb songs, and on Western Stars you can hear him aiming at the sweepingly melancholy vibe of “Wichita Lineman,” “Galveston,” and “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” In Dylan Jones’s upcoming book The Wichita Lineman: Searching in the Sun for the World’s Great Unfinished Song, Springsteen says about Campbell’s singing, “It was simple on the surface but there was a lot of emotion underneath.”

Reviewers have been scrambling to play spot-the-musical-influences on Western Stars, and that’s fun to do. I hear some Johnny Rivers with the Wrecking Crew and Marty Paich’s strings lurking in the corners; Waylon Jennings’s version of “Good Time Charlie’s Got the Blues” (many people have pointed out how much “Hello Sunshine” resembles that song); the string arrangements Nick DeCaro did on Reprise albums for Gordon Lightfoot (Springsteen even has a song called “Sundown,” like Lightfoot’s big hit from ’74), Arlo Guthrie and Randy Newman, or the ones Bergen White charted for Tony Joe White; the hyper-literate, vivid Americana of Mickey Newbury. What a cool game! Nilsson! Jim Croce!

But Western Stars isn’t just evocative of the California sound of the early ’70s; it has, underneath its cinematic strings, the downbeat feeling of the movies that were coming out in 1973, populated by characters who couldn’t really be called heroes: Badlands (of course), Charlie Varrick, High Plains Drifter, Kid Blue, The Last American Hero (which Springsteen referenced on The River’s “Cadillac Ranch”), Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, Scarecrow, Walking Tall. (In ‘73, Springsteen’s not-yet-manager Jon Landau was reviewing films—including some on this list—for Rolling Stone.) Those Watergate-era films, road movies, neo-Westerns, stories of outcasts and revenge-seekers, inform the landscape of Western Stars. On the title track, Springsteen reaches back a bit further: “Here’s to the cowboys, riders in the whirlwind” (see: Ride in the Whirlwind, Monte Hellman’s existential black-and-white western from 1966, starring a pre–Easy Rider Jack Nicholson). Sometimes Western Stars feels like an unmade film with Michael Sarrazin, Barbara Hershey, and Warren Oates.

Oh, I haven’t mentioned how good this album is, how memorable many of its lines are. “Fingernail moon in a twilight sky/Ridin’ high grass of the switchback”: his imagery is as crisp and clean as his fictional Montana sky. “Boarded up and gone like an old summer song.” It’s Springsteen’s best album, by far, since Magic (2007), and I already prefer it to the much-revered (in some quarters) The Rising. For one thing, it isn’t carrying the burden of expectations of The Rising (“We need you now!” someone supposedly shouted at Bruce in the street after 9/11, and can you conceive of the pressure? Would anyone have yelled that at Billy Joel?), and it isn’t bearing the heavy sonic weight of Brendan O’Brien’s production. Western Stars feels more open. These tracks have been in the works for some time; he mentioned the project in interviews around the time of the autobiography, but it had to wait until the whole Born to Run/Springsteen on Broadway phase was over. Maybe, by that point, he’d tired of his own narrative voice and his own story and got down to shaping others. These songs are all in the first person, but that person isn’t Bruce Springsteen. They’re hitchhikers and wayfarers (aren’t they kind of the same thing?), stuntmen and bit players. They’re like the characters in the early ’70s novels by Larry McMurtry (Moving On and All My Friends Are Going to Be Strangers), and I wonder how Springsteen missed out on writing a song about a rodeo cowboy.

Springsteen is also liberated musically. He didn’t have to consider, as he did with the woeful Working on a Dream and the clunky, well-meaning Wrecking Ball, how the songs would translate in the context of a live show with the E Street Band. You can’t imagine them schlepping around a big string section to recreate these songs, and there wouldn’t be anything at all for Jake Clemons to do, and even Max Weinberg would be fiddling his thumbs for a big chunk of the set. No doubt a few of these tracks will find their way into the possible 2020 tour (please, not “There Goes My Miracle” and “Sleepy Joe’s Café”; we don’t need him straining to be Del Shannon, or the band pretending to have fun on a Jay and the Americans knockoff), and if “Hello Sunshine” gets to replace “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day,” all the better.

Western Stars suggests an America divorced from this moment in history. The only cultural reference is to John Wayne (in ’73 he was doing junk like The Train Robbers), and the one allusion that nudges the album into the late 20th century is to a blue pill for ED. Otherwise, the album would have sat pretty solidly in the Nixon era. For anyone who expected Springsteen to be a beacon of hope that the country will get through this current crisis the way it did through Watergate and 9/11, or who wanted him to draw stark pictures of our heroes and villains, Western Stars may feel slight, or like a challenge he gave himself to complete a genre exercise. But if Darkness on the Edge of Town was Springsteen’s film noir, this album is his bleak road movie, his characters nursing drinks, recalling old loves and old wounds. By the time we end up at the final track, looking at the remnants of a beaten-down motel, we’ve been along on one of Springsteen’s most rewarding rides.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Bruce Springsteen #Western Stars

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rebellect-writes · 4 years

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[b]Your Name:[/b] Jess [b]Your Age:[/b] 20 [b]How'd You Find Us?:[/b] Don’t ask.

[b]Full Name:[/b] Jackson Rhodes [b]Nicknames:[/b] - Jax. - Jackie. - Roadie. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] 12th of August 1984. [b]Age:[/b] 26 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Occupation:[/b] street magician. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Straight switch.

[b]Animal:[/b] Cougar. [b]Power Level:[/b] "Beta" Alpha. [b]Mindset:[/b] Domissive. [b]Rank:[/b] Manabozho.

[b]Animal Appearance:[/b] [IMG]http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/LRG/26/2675/C6EUD00Z.jpg[/IMG][LIST]Jackson’s big for a cougar, just a little over “average” size. Weighing in at 210lbs in cougar form, he’s almost as big as a jaguar, only a lot less muscled, and almost 6’ in length. He’s covered from head to tail tip in dark and thick honey colored fur that keeps him insulated from the cold. [/LIST][URL=http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/Cowboy_Cougar_by_Skitzobits.jpg]Hybrid form[/URL][LIST]Jackson knows about his hybrid form, and even though he rarely uses it, it’s still something in his arsenal should he ever get into a fight and he needs a little more juice. Standing roughly at 6’8 tall and weighing in at 240lbs, the furred cougar-man form is build for speed and combat. He’s got retractable claws that can cut through skin like a knife like butter, and paw like hands and feet, replace human hands and opposable thumbs leaving him in a mess if he needs to open anything fiddly. When he’s in this form, he’s covered from head to toe in dusty gold fur that darkens in patches and things out across his abdomen. [/LIST][b]Human Appearance:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/taylorkitsch.png[/IMG][LIST]Standing at an even 6 foot tall, Jackson is your average looking bloke. With shoulder length brown hair – that he hasn’t cut since he was twelve! – Which he keeps away from his face by just raking his fingers through it and an almost continuous five o’clock shadow that sometimes, Jackson forgets about and lets it get a little thicker, can almost be described as rugged, and that doesn’t take your fancy, grungy at the very least. The pale tawny skin, stunning hazel eyes, full lips, yep, Jackson knows how to use it all to his advantage and yet he doesn’t. As for his clothing style, Jackson is very laid back into what he wears, though there is a vane streak in him that he always tries to hide behind his temper. He likes to wear suits and won’t admit it, so more often or not, he will settle for clingy dark jeans, dark coloured shirts or t-shirts, often accompanied by a leather jacket for just an open shirt over a t-shirt. With a little bit of practice, he can pull off different styles though. As for jewellery and accessories? He’s not really the type to wear them all the time, but if you count a platinum thumb ring, a wallet chain, and a gold crucifix as fashion accessories, by all means count that as something Maddox will always wear.

He’s got into his fair share of scrapes over the years and that’s given him a nice but small collection of war wounds. The biggest scar that he has is a three inch scar on the inside of his thigh from a bar fight that got out of control when he was human. A couple of inches higher and the broken bottle could have nicked something important. He has a self done tattoo from when he was younger, it’s on the inside of his wrist and all it says is ‘carpe diem’ in small black letters. [/LIST][b]Face Claim:[/b] Taylor Kitsch.

[b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST]• Get's the "job" done at the end of the day. Whatever the task may be. • Listens to people, despite what people say. • Knows when to keep his mouth shut around alphas. Barely. • Fast on his feet in both forms. • Some street smarts. • Working on the fly. • He likes pain, uses it as a focus at times. • He doesn't give into his violent nature easy. • His animal instincts. • He doesn't care if he lives or dies much. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b] [LIST]• Always needs to feed after a shift. • His half and half form takes too much energy and can knock him on his butt for hours after. • He's got a bit of an issue with authority figures. He's working on it! • Silver…it hurts like a…well, you get the picture. • Pain, after all there is a fine line between pain and pleasure. • Attractive females. Point in case with Isabella. • Children. If one's hurt because of him, he'll kick himself. • Magic tricks. Curiousity and cats...Ya know how that goes. • He has too kind a heart at times and it's gotton him hurt. • His flair for drama at times. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b] [LIST]• Practising lock picking. He’s yet to find one he can’t unlock. • Gambling for something better to do. • Drinking instead of talking. • Smoking. He smokes more when he's nervous. • Sex. Oh hush your face. • Tinkering with his truck. • Keeping in contact with the Catamount. • Swimming. • Climbing trees and the like as a cat. • Fish and chips. It beats cooking. • Music over silence. • Magic tricks. • Pissing off idiots to see when they'll snap. • Sleeping the day away when he can. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST]• Having nothing to do. • Crowds. He panics a little and stays to the edges. • Having to keep Izzy out of cougar business. • Getting dragged into things that don't concern him. • Football. He's never been a fan of sports really. • Things over his nose and mouth. • RPIT cops! Or any kind of law really. • Uncalled for clan challenges. • Idiots that think they know it all. • Bad sex. Eh...Yeah. • Having no cash. • Morning TV. • Tea. There's just something wrong with it. • People that hurt others for the hell of it. • Sleep! Yeah, he's just a bit odd. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Jackson isn’t the most trusting of people, preferring to keep his mouth shut at times and eyes open. It isn’t that he’s got nothing to say, he’s got plenty to say, he just doesn’t know how to communicate what he wants to say half the time and it annoys him. It’s a problem, but he’s slowly working through his communication issues. A little jaded and used to getting the short end of the stick, he’s become a good people watcher and likes to take a guess on what people are thinking by simply watching their body language. It doesn’t mean that he’s always right, just a little paranoid. And besides! An attractive face can be his downfall too you know...

I suppose you could say that he’s very loud in his own way. He has a bit of an anger issue sure, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be fun. Jax has a habit of putting himself in tricky situations and mouthing off at the wrong people, and more times than enough, getting his ass kicked. He’s been told that he’s anti social, ok he can roll with that. Still, most of the time Jax uses actions instead of words to get his meaning across and that suits him quite well.

He can be sarcastic, and charming and even violent at times, Rhodes has been known to lash out and think about his actions later. People have questioned his decision making skills before, and he’ll always tell people the same thing, he works on the fly. Jax would rather someone say a silent thank you to him, instead of drawing it out as displaying emotions isn’t one of his strong points and expressing what he wants to say is hard for him. He can do touchy feely well enough but that doesn’t mean anything if there is no feeling in it. To give the sarcastic, slightly flirty male his due, he does have a nasty streak running through him that demands he causes drama some times.

Some things just really annoy him, while he keeps away from people normally; he won’t stand for someone abusing those weaker then themselves, or power. That’s when his protective streak will kick in and he’ll lash out in anger against those that cause the pain and misery. When he lashes out and loses his cool, Jax won’t regret that he did anything, even if he’s punished and humiliated, he’ll take it all with a smirk. Earning his trust and respect is a hard thing to do, but once someone does earn that, there is no way in hell Jax would willingly walk away from them. He’s a survivor and does what he needs to do, he doesn't care what people think of him. There is no better way to describe him. [/LIST][b]History:[/b] [LIST]Jackson Rhodes was born to Linda and Clayton Rhodes, in the city of London, mid April in the year 1984. He was a surprise birth, as the doctors had told his parents from the start of their marriage that Linda could not bear any child in her womb, and being an old money family, they saw every doctor that specialized in that area, no matter the cost. As it was, Jackson came into the world kicking and screaming like any other normal healthy baby.

Growing up the spoilt child, he stoically bared the love of his smothering mother even though she made him want to hurt things. A desperate housewife to the extreme, that’s the easiest way to describe his mother. As for his father, well a workaholic that liked to stay late and make sure everything in the import and export company was running smoothly before coming home and smothering his son almost as much as his mother, well it was an odd childhood. Though from the age of three, Jackson had picked up a liking for magic, and as he grew from a little boy that would hide behind his father’s legs when extended family came to their small estate just outside of London, well into the country that they could have peace, but close enough to the city that they had everything they needed and would be close to work if there was an emergency.

Now many people would have gotten him out there, meeting children his own age, his parents treated him like the boy in the plastic bubble in that respect. Now that was what caused him to rebel against what he knew, he put himself out there, flatly refused to go to any posh school that only taught things that would get people nowhere in real life, instead he opted to go to a normal secondary school with normal children. Rhodes never lost his flair for magic tricks, and would practice them anytime, anywhere, whenever he could. For that alone, people thought he was an oddball (and he is, but we won't go into that here). That simply washed over the young Rhodes, his teachers encouraged him to keep up with something he obviously liked doing, and they had no reason to complain as he was a level student in class. As smart and as clever as young Rhodes was, he didn’t see the day when his father messed up royally loosing the family business to a rival company.

Well it wasn’t the end of the world so to speak, he his friends, his talents, everything would be ok. Yeah, ok Jackson looked at this like any young adult would like their parents were going to split up. He saw it as his fault. His bright innocence turned into something colder, and he accepted it as his grades plummeted and he began to drift away from his friends. For a year, as his antics became erratic, he stopped acting the fool and dropped the magic show that he’d lived in most of his life. Around year ten of secondary school Jackson began to drift around life with a new group of friends. These truant friends taught him new magic tricks, somewhere in him he knew that it was wrong to boost cars and steal from the back of open vans, but he did it anywhere, determined to help his family out of the ever expanding abyss. When he turned up at his father’s study one day with seven grand in cash from his new extracurricular activities that he’d hidden from his parents for nearly three years, his pop hit the roof demanding where Jackson had gotten the cash from.

The little boy in him cringed at the sight of his father so angry, but he didn’t back down from offering the cash even when his mother came in and decided she’d bite his head off too. After a long and boring screaming match, he walked away from them both having tossed the money up in the air and headed to his room. Within fifty minuets, he was walking away from his parents for good with a duffle bag over his shoulder holding things he’d need. The heir to the broken family fortune no longer.

He flat to rent in lower east London, and any idea that walking away from his family had been a rash decision flew the coop as he embraced a seedier nature that his high school friends had began to cultivate, though surprisingly he began to take up magic tricks again, unknowingly needing it as a safety blanket. By the age of twenty one, he was stealing, drinking, smoking, whoring, and oddly enough performing children’s parties, saving what cash he could in various accounts and selling on anything he stole before the cops could poke their noses into any “business” dealings.

That was when he met her, she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or rather a cougar in a black velvet mini dress on the hunt for dinner. A sucker for a pretty face, and long legs, the cold Rhodes flirted ignoring his friends as they heckled from somewhere behind the two. Chemistry between them was as clear as day, and both took off back for Jax’ place. The sex was great! He did have doubts when she said she was allergic to latex, but one thing led to another and safe sex was drop kicked out of the window. He didn’t even mind the fact she clawed his back up when he found her and the loose change in his wallet gone the next morning.

His fate was sealed and though he didn’t know it at the time, so life went on. When the next month rolled around sluggishly, he began to feel odd, like something inside him wanted to get out. Putting it down to a bug he’d caught, Rhodes cancelled the three shows he had the following week and locked himself away in his flat, even calling his friends and telling them not to show up unless he called. The night of the full moon rolled around, Jackson went to never, never dream again land, as his body changed into that of a cougar. It’s safe to say he put it down to his body needing to heal and kick out whatever was invading his system, which he had simply slept the time away.

When it happened again, and again, he began, he ignored it, until one day, he passed out in front of a camcorder. He’d been practising a new trick, and had always used some kind of recorder so he could watch himself over again. When he saw a cougar in his place the morning after, he hit the bottle and shrugged it off figuring it was a bad dream…

A bad dream that he’s lived through for just over four years, it forced him to move out of London, and being no good with choosing things, he put a pin in a map, and Bobs your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt, that pin landed on Jackford. He has a few secrets of his own, and he can tell the residents have their own troubles. Though one little leopard has won his attention and he can count on her. [/LIST]

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prettieparker86 · 5 years

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There’s A Woman || Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 4b

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: implied questionable consent

Gif Credit: ridget-regans, necromancersatan, drinkthevodka Thank you so much!

Tag: @theskinofmyemotions @3eyeddame@vikifirman@reyloshipper-starwars @londoncharlotte88 @megnificent07 @mafaldaz @deactivated-veen @justmehanav @i-shouldbepainting @dermittts @stylesbooze @neversleeping4am, @icebluegriffin @johhnshelby, @ subhamamu@unicorn-glitter-princess @thatsamegirl, @mafaldaz, @cafe-sabor-a-chocolate, @collegecatlady, @20th-centu-fairy-girl, @xlightning-disasterx @niiight-dreamerrrr @i-shouldbepainting @dermittts @stylesbooze @badwolf-in-the-impala @mafaldaz @athewindsofsummer @peaky50 @weeo @thelightsideoflife@s0tc @i-shouldbepainting @dermittts @stylesbooze @stupiddarkkside @feverxxdream @eiliab @solidly-indulgent @eightyninesqueen @hollabackhollagram

Note: It’s been a Really Long Time since I posted anything. I’m terribly sorry. Not even sure most of you will remember me or my stories. I’ve had alot of challenges over the past few months as many of your know. But I’m trying really hard to get back into writing. So please go easy on me. This is the first thing I’ve completed in a long time.

As always, but especially now after such a long hiatus, likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

This one goes out to @twistedrunes It was suppose to be for her bday, which was ages ago, so big fail, but atleast it’s here now and I know if anyone would understand, it’s her. This ones for you friend! For always having my back and supporting me. and having the privileged of being there for your as well.

Tommy’s barely spoken to you since that night and you’ve hardly had a word to share in return. He filled your world up before that, like time and space, only to suddenly disappear with the blink of an eye. And what he left behind was an empty gaping hole that hollows and aches within you in your quietest of moments, to remind you of what’s gone.

What you did together was the sort of dirty deed that swims around in murky waters. The kind of thing that fills the heart with regret, but still leaves a quiet hunger in your veins when you get too close. But you still can’t decide if you wish you never knew what it was like to have a piece of him, to know him and the magic he encompasses, or wish you would have taken any road that didn’t lead to him and spared yourself the pain.

Instead of facing each other, avoiding one another became the unspoken rule. A game you thought you were both playing and perhaps even winning, until Tommy catches alone; leaving the room you still share with Arthur, though you’re not sure for how much longer. Your eyes meet briefly as he exits his room. You move to leave as if he hadn’t been there at all when he steps in front of you path.

Those heavy iridescent blues like a net pulling you into his trap with a glance. You step back on instinct, trying to break free of the hypnotizing hold of his eyes, but he follows, and you find yourself walking right into a trap, wedged between the wall and a man you don’t want to trust. You don’t want to feel anything for. Not that the pace of your heart is listening.

You break from his stare, turning your gaze stubbornly to the peeling wallpaper off to the side and hold steadfast. But you can still feel him. You can feel the tailored ends of his jacket brush against your blouse. The heat of his body as he stands impossibly close. The distinct smell that emanates off him, whiskey and smoke like the factories that bloom overhead. The sound the steady rhythm of his breath makes. Calm – almost too calm. You can practically feel him on your skin, like the thick heavy dew that covers everything in the early morning hours. He clings to you, sinks into you… as if you could ever forget how that felt. But still you persist, avoiding his gaze you feel so heavy upon you.

He grabs at your jaw, tugging it toward him, forcing your hand. Insisting the way Tommy does so well. Reluctantly you turn to him, but your gaze holds steady on the lapels of his jacket in defiance. Until he says it. Until your name rolls off his tongue, smooth like velvet with a touch of grit at the end to bristle the hairs on the back of your neck.

You meet his gaze as if it isn’t a choice and instantly he has you. The power this man wields over you, the way he makes you feel, you don’t understand it, and that terrifies you. No one’s ever made you feel the way Tommy can and you’re undecided over whether you like that or not.

His lips are sealed as he stares down at you, but you feel his thumb drag up from your jaw and brush across your cheek. You fight the urge to lean into his touch as your heart begins to hammer in your chest. He swallows you in his gaze. Devours you, eating you alive, and you can’t break free. You can’t read his thoughts in those sea of blues. His intentions unknown, but the way he looks at you… you could almost swear he’s as dumbfounded and mesmerized by the pull between you two as you are.

You can’t feel the wall at your back anymore, the whole house seems to almost fall away as his blunt thumb drags across your skin. All that remains is his eyes, his touch, and you.

A creak on the stairs snaps you out of it. Your gaze shoots to the sound and you spot Polly standing at the top of the steps. Her gaze heavy upon you with scrutiny, sending the whole world crashing back at you with force.

“There’s work to be done, Thomas.” You tell him, pulling his hand from your face as you brush past him without a second glance. Your eyes glued on Polly’s disapproving stare as you move to her, slipping past her sheepishly on the stairs as you quickly descend.

Tommy doesn’t even need to turn around to know who awaits him. He’d know the presence of his aunt from a mile away in a pitch-black cave. A powerful woman, who fills space as readily as she commands it. And when he turns to face her, he finds the pointed gaze he knew would be waiting. She doesn’t speak as he moves for the stairs. She doesn’t need to. He can hear her.

Telling him to stay away. Telling him to leave you alone. He knows. He already knows. And that’s why he can’t meet her gaze as he moves past, trotting quickly down the stairs without a second glance. He had no intention of cornering you, of touching you… But like so many other ill thought-out moments with you, he doesn’t know what came over him.

There was a time you and Ada had been close. As girls and throughout the war. You had been thick as thieves, joined at the hip, latched at the ankle. The fire inside her drawing you in like a moth to a flame, to revel and soak in her light. Steal a spark of it to keep in a locket or ribbon close to your heart where she could always be near. But after the war things changed as they so often do with the passing of time.

Sometimes slowly, like a cool breeze settling in around you, sinking into your skin until the chill is so thick it reaches in deep to your bones and then all you can feel is the unrelenting cold. Other times it’s swift, like the slip of a blade moving too quick and suddenly the tip of your finger is gone. You’re not sure which it is with Ada, slow and undetectable or fast and unstoppable. All you’re certain of is the absence of her in your heart and a trusted friend who once shared secrets by candlelight.

No one can let the idea of Kimber and race day rest until more pressing matters arise. When Ada’s secret comes to light, you finally realize why your dear friend has been so distant. And that perhaps you’ve finally lost her for good this time. Lost her to a man who stole her heart and bound her to him with his child. All word of Kimber and his intentions for you fade to the back at the Shelby home.

Ada’s pregnancy became just the distraction you didn’t know you needed, and while it pains you to see such an ill fate befall her, it only strengths your determination to go through with your plan. When Arthur leaves and you know he will leave, you’re determined, now more than ever, to make your own way in these cruel streets, without a ring on your finger and little ones biting at your ankle. A life that would only leave you at the mercy of a man who could philander, leave, or die at any moment; leaving you destitute and helpless. No, you would not become your mother. You will make your own way. You will do this. There is no stopping you.

You slip into your finest dress. The one Arthur bought you, because you said you needed it. Because with the guilt he feels over Linda you could have asked for anything. You slip the soft fabric over your body. Let it glide down your figure like rain drops slipping over bare skin. Pull the straps carefully in place with the tips of your fingers as you relish the feel of such delicate fabric against your skin. You’ve never worn a dress this beautiful, never had the occasion, but staring at your reflection in the mirror, touches of color on your face, fine fabrics draped over your body, you look quite convincing… you feel convincing. Not a broken young woman from the filth of Small Health. Something beautiful, something to be coveting and desired.

“Tommy know what you’re up to?” A low quiet voice sounds from your back. You catch sight of John’s reflection in the mirror just before you turn to face him. Blue eyes ensnaring you as he leans against the door frame, drinking in your image.

Your face drops, unable to meet his gaze as you nod. It’s the sound of his scoff radiating through the room that sends your gaze back up on him. Watching silently as John plucks a pick and pinches it between his teeth in frustration, slowly shaking his head. You can hear the words he doesn’t says, but you know he’d never go against Tommy.

You watch him silently, watching the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw, as he slowly shakes his head. A whirlwind of thoughts storming around him, none of them you can hear, and yet you can still feel them filling the space between you in the room.

He pushes off the wall with a start, tossing his pick to the floor with unnecessary force as he moves to you.

“Fuck it, let’s get outta ‘ere.” He tells you pointedly, blind determination bursting from his gaze as it holds you in its grips.

Your taken aback by the insinuation alone. It takes your mind a moment to realize he’s actually suggesting you abandon Tommy’s plan for the races. All of it. Take off together instead. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard John go against Tommy and you’re not sure what to make of it until you watch a sad softness wash over his baby blues.

He’s no fool. He knows what will happen if you go to races with Tommy. Why Kimber wanted you there. It’s that truth, the weight of it on your heart, the way it makes it beat faster, makes your veins suddenly hum with anxiousness, makes you nearly question everything, that has you pulling away from his gaze. Pulling your eyes away, trying to smother the fear building rapidly inside you.

You go to move past him, in pursuit of the door and the distance it brings, but John blocks your way, stepping in front of you, and your eyes meet before you can stop yourself.

“You look beautiful.” He tells you, the words so earnest, so genuine, they melt your defenses. As the crooked grin curled on his mouth and boyish charm dancing in his eyes disarms you.

You can’t resist the smile that forms on your face in return. You lean into him, to place a kiss upon his cheek, but John surprises you, turning to you, he captures your mouth instead. The breath strips from the lung as he kisses you painfully hard. His hand gripping tightly at your face in desperation. You’re shocked and stunned, but only for a moment before you welcome his assault, meeting him with an urgency of your own. A jolt races through your spine as your senses fill with him. Heart pounding so hard you swear he must hear it as John devours you with his kiss.

It’s only when John breaks away, shaky breath fanning against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours, that you realize how different this kiss was from any you’ve shared before. Your eyes slowly blink open to his find his gaze heavy upon you, his thumb stroking steadily at your cheek.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” He whispers, so close you swear you can feel the ghost of his lips against yours with every syllable.

You’re not sure you’ve ever wanted to stay in a moment the way you suddenly want to stay in this one. John’s never shown himself to you like this. Fear and pain, and something undefinably desperate in his eyes as he pierces through you just a heartbeat away.

“Let me get you outta ‘ere.” He tells you, but you have enough sense to realize his words spring from a ball of coiled emotion. Pulled too tight with the knowledge of what’s to happen today. What your arranged to do. What you must do. Because you can’t be saved. You won’t be. You refuse it. You can’t let John rescue you from this.

Pulling from his embrace, your mind is made up. This is something you need to do, even if it is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Even if it costs you everything.

Unable to see what awaits you in his eyes, you look only to open door and move for it without apologies or second guesses.

Tommy pulls you close then spins you on the dance floor. You’ve never been to a place like this, where bright lights and big music surround you. This place, these people they’re unlike anything you’ve ever known and everything you seek to gain. You follow Tommy’s lead, your steps feel light, his hands strong, and for a moment your back home on Watery Lane.

Dancing to the faint flicker of candle light, when your thoughts were naïve and your ambitions twice as strong, before you decided the only path to your dreams was through a man’s heart like the pierce of a dagger. Dancing in the arms of the man who has the power to bewitch even your sharpest instincts, you could almost swear you were back there, in the safety of your home. But as you move to the center of the dance floor you can feel Kimber’s eyes on you. Sharp like the prick of a needle as it slips to quickly as you finish a stich. You feel your muscles tense as you’re sent jarringly back into reality and the weight of what your about to do envelopes you like a blanket intended to suffocate.

Your heart begins to race as everything falls into place and your fate is sealed, and every second that passes only brings you one second closer, but then you feel it, the grip of his hands as he squeezes you. Subtle and steady, so indiscernible you could almost swear it didn’t happen, but you know better. It’s Tommy reassuring you the best way he knows how, without words.

You turn to face him, taking in the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the depth of his blue eyes and the way they suck you in until you can’t look away. The intensity of his attention, you thrive under it, bask in it, feel yourself blossom under its rays. And for a moment, you’re untouchable. Nothing can hurt you. Lost in his eyes, you’re fearless, and capable of anything. Lost in his eyes you remember every moment in that cold musky room, the creak of the bed, the heat of his skin, the look of his gaze when he saw only you.

But then you remember how swiftly the winds can change. How easily he can discard you – can and will. That truth, that scar - It’s sharp and cold, and you nearly flinch when you feel it. You trusted him – the words vibrate and echo through you. Trusted him after everyone warned you. Believing he’d never intentionally hurt you. That somehow you were different, immune. Until he did. Till cut you like a knife whose blade chipped in the battle and now lies embedded in pieces in your heart. The wound festering and rotted, so you’ll never forget. Never forget what it’s like to be everything and then absolutely nothing. You can’t trust his kindness anymore then Kimber should trust his word. And in a room full of liar, you know you only have yourself to trust.

You told yourself you convinced Tommy to let you come. You’re that clever, that smart, but that isn’t what really happened. Tommy only does what he wants. Only truly out for himself. You know that now and can never forget. But staring into his eyes, you suddenly realize he needs you too. You may have lost your naivety, but with it you’ve gained insight… Tommy’s weak to you and if he has a chance of stealing everything away from Kimber without a fight, he’s needs you just as much as you need him. And with that truth, you know you’ll never be a silly little girl again.

You watch something register in those piercing blue eyes that have the power to make a fool out of you if you let them. You find yourself wondering if he can read every thought in your heart as you swiftly turn your gaze away and back over his shoulder as the trumpet fades out.

“Let’s get this business done.” You tell him through a tight jaw and forced smile, now more determined than ever to see the plan through and show Tommy just how formidable you can be

You play along, pretending as if you don’t know Tommy’s made you a part of the deal. You smile and act coy as Kimber joins you at the bar. Pretend you’re delighted at the offer to see his giant mansion tucked away in the countryside just beyond the city. Pretend you’re impressed by all he’s amassed and can introduce you to, because it’s your charm and innocence he’s after, and as long as you spoon feed it to him, he’s good as yours. He’d never imagine you’re clever and cunning, and you use it against him at every chance.

But what surprises you more than even how easily Kimber falls into your hand with every stroke at his ego, is the way Tommy keeps watching you with an air of disinterest you’re not convinced by at all. You distantly wonder what he’s up to, before he breaks from the plan completely.

Taking you and Kimber by surprise when he asks for a moment alone, pulling you away from Kimber’s side just as everything was going to plan. But there’s something piercing and undefinable in the hollows of Tommy’s cavern eyes. Pulling you below, down into their pits as you stare back at him trying to decipher the secrets of a man so locked away he swallowed the key when he buried his heart. But you can’t say no to his request, your lips seem incapable of it.

You let him lead you away as if it were a choice, as if you can control the pull between you. It’s a quiet corridor Tommy leads you to as your eyes scan briefly around the empty space, looking for anyone who might overhear, but it’s the grip of his hand upon the side of your face that draws your gaze back to his determined pair. Pulling you into his vortex.

“You don’t have to do this.” Tommy tells you suddenly, hollow blue eyes pinning you where you stand. His voice lower and more full of grit than usual. Sending the hairs on your skin standing on edge.

“It isn’t necessary. I’ll sneak you out the back to Arthur an’ I’ll tell Kimber you weren’t feeling well.” Tommy says in haste, undercurrents of panic sweeping through his veins as he stares at you.

Rattling his bones though he’d never show it. Looking at you, his heart begins to thump the way it did that day on the train station platform. The power of it pulling him to you in a way he can’t stop anymore then he can understand. He had let himself believe he could live with you going through with this. The part of him that can do what has to be done regardless of the cost. But staring into the light that shines from your eyes, the clench of his gut tells him – he can’t let you sell your soul to that devil.

The raw urgency in Tommy’s eyes, it makes your knees tremble as if you suddenly stand on unsteady ground. It’s akin to the urgency you saw in his eyes that night. It makes you weak, weak to him. You hate that almost as much as you’re drawn to it. How anyone could break your heart, make you want to lash out against them in spite, but at the first sight of their softness, the first gentle touch, everything inside you wants to give in all over again. Somedays it makes you weak to him, right now it just makes you mad that he can have such power over you when you feel you so little in return.

Smacking his hand from your face, your mouth pulls tight. “You always underestimate me. I can do this, Tommy.” You lash out at him.

You shove at his shoulder as you try to push past, but Tommy’s swift and easily drags you back against the wall. Pushing his way into your space, the heat of his breath fanning at the hair that dances around your face as he lingers just a breath away.

“Fuck him, fuck the plan. Fuck all of it. It doesn’t matter, ya understand?” Tommy whispers on a harsh determined breath, intensity blazing in his eyes. His fingers digging into your shoulders as he tries desperately to convince you.

“What I need is for you to be ok.” He says on a softer breath, his heart giving way. Revealing itself in a way it so rarely does, because staring at you as he imagines Kimber’s hands pawing at your gentle flesh, it feels like the shovels digging against the wall of his mind all over again, like a pick axe to his heart. You shouldn’t matter, he shouldn’t care about you in this way, but he does. He undeniably does.

Your heart races as you stare at Tommy, all sharp edges and dangerously handsome. Your heart melts and surrenders from the confines of your chest. Because you’re weak to him. Drawn to him inexplicably. Even at the determent of your own heart. Dancing around something intimate and real like two teenagers fumbling and groping about in the dark. You’re the same, you tell yourself, but you’re not entirely convinced it’s just that.

The way your heart races under the glow of his affection tells you it’s something far more incendiary then that. Something that could and has caused you so much more grief and heartache. It would be easy to give into him now, but even under the warmth of his affections you know you can’t trust this. You know it could change on a dime. He’ll change his mind. He always does.

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is the plan.” You whisper back to him full of resolve. The ice on your breath enough to freeze any man’s heart, even one as cold as Tommy’s.

Slipping from his grasp, you put your back to him as you move away. “Two hours, Thomas.” You remind him. Your bones trembling with an anxiousness you blindly ignore. Refusing to stare into the face of fear. As long as you don’t acknowledge it, don’t think about what your about to do, you can go through with it. Only when the moment looks you dead in the eye will you face its ugly truth. Doing what has to be done… A woman’s work. Because that’s what you do sometimes - you race toward the flames with reckless regard for your own life while everyone else runs for safety.

Kimber eyes you on approach, gaze sweeping the length of your body with lascivious pride. He’s cocky and entitled, and that’s what makes him weak, you remind yourself as you swallow the last of your champagne, letting the bubbles go to your head.

“Shall we?” You smile with your best girlish charm. The charm that makes Arthur fold and John smirk. The kind of charm that makes Tommy’s guard slip. The kind he told you was a weapon and if used probably could bring the best of men to their knees. The space between your body and heart feels so vast one could nearly swear they were separate entities entirely.

And if you prayed anymore, you’d pray for the strength to be like Tommy. The strength to do what has to be done no matter the cost, or how much it frightens you. Here in this place you won’t feel. In this space you will deny the racing of your heart, the tremble in your veins. There’s no room for feelings here, only what must be done, what will be done and everything you stand to gain from it.

The drive back from Kimber’s is bumpy. The road no different from the drive-up Tommy took to retrieve you, but every bump, and every rattle somehow feels harder, more jolting as he glances over at you from across the seat. You sit silently beside him, staring out, without a sound. No familiar light, no bursting spark… unmoving.

And while you’ve been distant and quiet with him for days now, this silence feels deafening as Tommy wraps his lips another yet another cigarette, pulling and tugging away at it with tight unease. He tries to focus on the road, but his gaze just keeps wandering over to you. The seconds tick like a clock winding up, each tick tightening the muscles in his shoulders a little more, until he can’t bare the pressure a moment longer and he has to break you out of your trance or he’ll surely combust.

Subtle as not to startle you, Tommy runs the back of his hand down the length of your arm. You don’t move and suddenly the thought races through his mind, what if you never move again, but as he reaches your wrist and his eyes glance back over from the road he finds you staring at him. Silently staring at him, lips sealed, eyes blinking, suspended. And the momentary relief that washes over Tommy to seeing you move, is quickly dashed as he stares into your eyes.

Dry and tearless, though he almost wishes they weren’t, because the emptiness in your gaze is startling. It sends Tommy’s eyes shooting back to the road. His mind racing, recalculating – what has he done? How could he let you do this? How could he agree to it? Glancing back, he finds you’re still there, there and yet miles away, somewhere he can’t see anymore then he can reach.

His heart heavy with guilt, Tommy reaches for your cheek, running his knuckles gently against the apple of it. Willing some spark to ignite back inside you. A reaction. Something. Show him a glimmer of the girl who bewitched him so effortlessly, but you only turn away – from him and his touch.

A feeling akind to war rekindles inside Tommy’s chest. The same sickening heaviness he used to feel when he’d send men out on orders he knew they’d never return from. The look in their eyes as they realized they weren’t coming back, the way they’d look at him – Sergeant Major – before charging out of the trenches to their inevitable demise. Something in your eyes harkens back to those pits of hell. Tommy’s pulled so many triggers he’s lost track, but there’s something about sending a man that trusts him to slaughter that snuffs out another piece of his soul.

You echo through him like the blast from a shell as Tommy pulls his hand back and coughs dryly, trying to loosen the tightness in this throat and chest. Trying not to be pulled under with the realization he’s betrayed you now twice, in the worst of ways.

Pulling the flask from his jacket pocket, he extends it toward you, nudging your arm faintly. He watches you from his periphery as you glance down at it without response.

“Take it,” He orders, nudging you again, before you finally move. Taking it into your hands, you unscrew the cap and draw it to your lips.

Tommy knows he can’t fix the damage he’s done, can’t mend the kind of wounds gaping in your eyes, but he can ease your suffering, like a shot of morphine to an ailing soldier on the battlefield.

What kind of person are you? What kind of person does the things you’ve done? The words float in and settle like a storm moving in from the sea, to linger unbudgingly against the raw strip of earth that makes up your current state of mind. You listen to the water shift around you as you move, listen as the fire cracks and cackles at you tauntingly from the fireplace. You stare down at your body, taking in the shape of it. The softness of your belly, the width of your hips, skimming steadily down the length of your legs, to where your toes peak out and breach the water. When did this become your body, you wonder, as if you haven’t seen it a million times before. And more importantly, why does it feel so foreign to you now?

You’ve stripped yourself of your dress, and scrubbed your flesh clean, but still the feeling persists, and you find yourself wondering if it’ll always feel this way… Like a stranger draped in your skin.

You lied to Pol about the races. You could see in her eyes, she wanted to press, but she didn’t, instead she drew you a bath. John didn’t say a word when you and Tommy returned. He took one look at you, just one, and headed straight for the door, as if the truth was blinding upon you.

The thought of John and Pol makes you sink back down in the water. Drenching your shoulders, pulling your head beneath the warm soap water. You listen to your heart beat in the ears, let it drown out the noise in your head. You focus on the sound and the distraction it brings until your lungs burn and demand for air, only then do you surface once again.

You linger low in the tub, water encircling and swaying against your lips, every exhale from your nose creating tiny ripples in the water. You’re safe here, from your family, from the world… from yourself. You almost convince yourself.

It’s the creak on the step that catches your ear. Second to the top, old and slowly rotting. You slide slowly up in the tub and spot a figure in the low light moving down the hall. Tall and lanky, there’s no need to see his face, but the sight of him alone creates a deep unwavering ache from the hollows inside you. You think he may be the only thing left in this world that could draw you out of this bath tonight.

You dry and dress quickly, your damp hair soaking into the fabric of your nightdress as it hangs down your back. The pads of your feet step light footed and swift down the hall until you reach the room you share. You slip inside, careful to close the door softly behind you. You find him already tucked in bed, eyes closed, chest even. The sight both peaceful and disheartening, because you need him, because he’s the only thing that feels safe.

Moving to the edge of the bed, you lean in to blow out the candle on the nightstand. It’s only then does he stir. His tired blue eyes flutter open, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth with the sight of you.

He pulls back the blanket as your pull off your nightdress. Heart racing, you swear you see his hand waiver in his invite, the blanket tremble in his hand before your climbing atop him. Bringing your bare fresh down upon his, wrapping yourself around his body. Still dressed in most of his cloths from the day, you feel Arthur stiffen beneath you, but his arms find their way around you just the same. A cautious tension gripping his muscles, but still he reaches for you, comforts you.

“Vera,” He whispers your name, concern tightening at his throat.

You want to tell him everything, but you can’t as you burrow against him, slipping your hands beneath his undershirt to let the heat of his skin warm you as you bury your nose in his neck.

“Let me grab your nightdress.” Arthur persists when you don’t respond, arm extending out against the floorboards. But you cling to him, unsure why you need him to touch your flesh, this flesh that feels so foreign to you now. You breathe him in deeply, old familiar musky scent filling your senses with the kind of relief nothing else has been able to give you tonight. The sense your completely safe.

“Don’t go.” You gasp out sharply, arms squeezing tighter. Arthur stops searching for your nightdress immediately, his hand slipping back beneath the blanket to hold you close with your plea.

Clutching you tightly as he rolls you both onto your side. Holding you firmly in his arms as your breath wavers against his neck.

“I can’t lose you.” You confess, the first set of tears you’ve let surface now burn at your eyes. Desperation clutching at your heart like a squeezed fist. You never once considered stopping him. Never once considered stealing the joy he finds with Linda. You wouldn’t dream of taking that away. But in this moment, as you’re riddled with so much confusion and self-doubt, you know he’s the only place that feels safe. Your first hero, your home.

His fingertips message at your scalp as he leans in close, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead. His breath and lips lingering for a moment longer. “I’m here Little Lady.” Arthur promises. “I’m here.”

#Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #John Shelby #arthur shelby

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