#so i drew this out of spite. i love them both so much die mad about it

[hexadopamine]

hey. you. grabs you by the shoulders. look. look at this

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - x (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The truth finally comes out.

Warnings: brief mention of sex, mentions of death, really shitty writing tbh, dialogue driven. (NOTE: when concerning the flashbacks, he’s actually explaining to the reader what happened)

Word Count: 2.5k

Note: Feel free to send me any questions because I know this is a really crappy chapter. (of course, I’m not going to reveal the rest of the plot)

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

You could still taste the salt from the sea on your lips. The memories of what happened aboard that ship still fresh like a wound that you’d carry forever. You stared at your hands that were conjoined with your husband’s. The wedding bands glistened in the dimmed room.

“Will you believe me if I told you everything?” Steven asked. His thumb drew soothing circles on the back of your hand. His grip tight as if he were afraid you’d disappear again.

“Everyone’s lied to me.” You whispered. You looked towards Wanda’s body, still covered with the bloodstained tarp. “What would make you any different?”

“This is the truth,” he promised. “The complete truth.”

When Steven was young, his mother doted on him because he was a sickly child. He grew up to have her compassion, optimism, and idealism. He was sixteen when his father unexpectedly died, and he was hailed King of Brooken. He wanted to carry his mother’s ideals into a new age for Brooken, but he underestimated what it meant to have a crown on his head.

The sacrifices he’d have to make, the betrayals he’d have to face, the blood he’d have to spill. He’s told more lies that he could count – all in the name of protecting his reputation and his power. A cruel king is respected after all. The lies were like storm clouds that poured hard. He drowned in them and got lost in the darkness those clouds brought. The lies burdened him more than anyone would ever know.

You squeezed hand, breaking him away from his thoughts. “Steve?” Your tone was soft, coaxing him back into reality. He welcomed the calm you brought. It eased the storm inside of him. You were ready for the truth – perhaps, you’ve always been ready. “Unburden yourself, my love.”

“I don’t know where to start.” He said, honestly. It was true. There was so much to the story. He wasn’t quite sure where it began.

“Start with Margaret, perhaps?” You suggested.

“I was young,” he began. “Twenty-one years old. Five years on the throne. They told me I needed a wife.”

“They?”

“Pierce and the old council.” He answered. “Brock’s father had just died, so he took the vacant seat. At first, I thought having my cousin on the council would alleviate the tension. The lords on the council were nearly twice my age, if not more. They saw things differently than I did. They wanted different things. Sometimes I felt as if I were their puppet. I was young when I took the throne. Sixteen. I didn’t know what to expect, so I leaned on their counsel. I depended on them,” he scoffed, remembering his earlier years on the throne. “They told me I needed to continue the line succession. Thanos was beginning to make a name for himself by this time. He had lovers and spawned two daughters. His line was growing, and the Rogers’s wasn’t. So, I asked them to find me a match. Pierce brought in Lady Margaret of House Carter. I was smitten when I first laid eyes on her.”

Steven sat tall upon his throne. The room was empty. Brooken had a tradition that detailed that those in royal betrothals must meet for the first time in private. He was giddy with excitement. Lady Margaret’s portraits were presented to him a month ago. She was easily one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Lord Pierce made the arrangements and they were to marry within a week. “House Carter is a respected house in the Old World,” Pierce advertised.

The doors opened wide and a young woman walked through. Her hair was dark as night. Her lips painted a bright red. She smiled at him and bowed. “Your grace,” she greeted. “I am humbled to make your acquaintance and, of course, honored to be your betrothed.”

“I didn’t know her, truly. I didn’t realize how manipulative she was from the beginning. She charmed and enchanted me to do her bidding. We were married for nearly a decade. No children. She didn’t want children. I didn’t want to lose her, so I agreed.

“She had many faces. A face she’d show the people that made them love her. A face she showed me that hypnotized me. And the face she’d show my allies, which were her foes. She fought with James incessantly – even tried to make me banish him. I refused. He was my oldest friend. I promised the moment I took the throne, my riches, my blessings were his to share. She was trying to isolate me. She banished my allies from court. James warned me she was a devil. I refused to listen. I thought her a gift from the gods themselves. Until I caught her poisoning my mother.”

“What?” You gasped.

Steven nodded. The haunting memory pained him still.

He woke up alone after a long night of making love to his queen. It was early in the morning; the sun had barely risen. Orange streaks painted the sky. He searched for Margaret, wanting to jest her for allowing him to wake up alone. He found her whispering to his sick, elderly mother who was bedridden due to a broke hip.

“You won’t get away with it. My son will find out,” his mother croaked.

“Not from you,” Margaret gave her a wicked smile as she slathered arsenic-riddled paint on his mother’s toast. The thick substance looked like jam, but Steve knew better. She force-fed the queen mother the poisoned bread.

“What are you doing!” Steve boomed into the room, pushing his wife aside as his mother choked. “Guards! Get a physician!”

“She died later that evening.” Steven shook his head. It was your turn to console him. You released one of your hands from his grip and rubbed his arm. He took a shaky breath. “I stabbed Margaret in the heart in front of Rumlow, Pierce, James, and Sam’s father. I didn’t know, yet, that her betrayals were much deeper than the murdering my mother.”

“Enter Sharon?” You asked.

“I was widowed for a year. Pierce brought her in. The younger cousin of Margaret.” He continued. “Married two days after her arrival in Brooken.” He chuckled humorlessly at his naivete. “I should’ve never marry a stranger.”

“We married in two weeks.” You noted. “We were practically strangers, too.”

Steven shook his head in disagreement. He didn’t feel that way. In the two weeks he grew to know you, he learned the innerworkings of your mind, your soul. He knew he was in love with you, truly, even before he wrapped the cloak around your shoulders during the wedding ceremony.

“We weren’t strangers.” He said. “Far from it. Sharon was distant. Defiant. We never consummated our marriage, not that anyone would know. She refused to sleep in my chambers, refused to be held, or anything, really. It felt as if I had married a ghost that everyone could see. I couldn’t touch her, but she still haunted these halls.”

“You beheaded her.” You said. Steven bit his lip as he nodded. “Pierce said you beheaded her out of spite.”

Steven cocked his head to the side, brows raising, as if he entertained the idea. “Well, she was spiteful.”

“The men in the prisons… They preferred her over you and you imprisoned them, correct?”

Steven sighed. He was disappointed that you were so quick to believe rumors and lies about him, but he blamed himself for not being completely honest from the start. “Sharon plotted a coup on behalf of the Mad King.”

“How can you be certain?” You asked.

“She admitted it when she was caught.”

Steven stared down at the blonde. Her eyes wide as he finished reading her encrypted letter. “You’re not subtle. You’re not discreet.” He spat at her, crumpling the paper and throwing it at her feet. “You work for the Mad King. You’re here to topple me. Rip the crown from my head and give it to him. The game’s over, Sharon. You’ve lost. Your followers all caught and imprisoned. I will get a confession and you will die for treason.”

She recomposed herself, rolling back her shoulders with confidence. “You think you can just kill off another queen? What will people think of you, Steven.”

“I am pulling the weeds from my kingdom.” He snapped. “You Carters are all the same. Traitors. Liars.”

“Margaret was good.” Sharon complimented. “She had you wrapped around her finger for a decade. If she hadn’t been caught killing your mother, then she would’ve convinced you to ally yourself with Thanos.” She turned her head to the side and gave him a smirk. “Then, she would’ve killed you along with your mother. Such a shame, she was caught.”

“You admit. You’re a traitor.”

“Of course, I admit it. But mind you, your grace, your enemies are all over Brooken. You cut me down today, someone else will cut you down tomorrow.”

“I beheaded her for treason.”

“You didn’t tell people that your queens were committed treason. You allowed rumors to spread about your cruelty to your wives.” You frowned.

“As I told you before, a cruel king is respected.” Steven muttered. “But I never wanted you to be afraid of me.”

“Isn’t it odd?” You asked. “Both queens chosen by Pierce were traitors.”

Steven nodded. “They pushed me to get married once more, but I told them, this time I’ll choose my bride.”

“Me.”

“It’s three years after the War between the North. Tony and I were close before. I fought alongside your father when York was invaded ages ago.”

“You fought over a disagreement over land.”

“More than land. He wanted James dead. James’s father killed your grandfather. Since James’s father had died long before, your father asked for my friend’s head. I refused. So, a war erupted.”

“You traded blows with my father on the battlefield.” You recalled. You remembered your mother’s cries and pleads with the gods, asking for them to protect your father’s life. “He returned to my mother bloodied. You cut through his armor. But you looked him in the eyes and called the war off.”

“No one won.”

“No one.” You agreed. “Three years later, you ask my father for a wife.”

“I needed a wife I could trust. Although we had our differences, I trust your father with my life. I know Tony’s blood. I know how you would’ve been raised to be loyal. You took after your father and your mother.” Steven explained. “I didn’t trust Pierce to find me a wife that could slit my throat in the night.”

“You trust me?” You asked.

“The moment I stared into your eyes and saw fear… I knew you knew the rumors. I knew you thought of me as cruel – our first encounter made that clear.” He smiled at you softly. His fingers lightly traced the scars of your wrist. He brought your wrist to his lips and pressed a light kiss onto the skin. “But, truthfully, my trust in you waned when I saw you with Brock and Pierce leaving the dungeon. I began to think you were conspiring with them.”

“I – I – I wasn’t.”

“I know that now.” He said. “I realized you were afraid of disappointing me because you didn’t … you weren’t –“

“Pregnant.” Your voice wavered, immediately brought back to the painful memory of losing your baby alone on the boat. “I should’ve told you I was, though. But I was afraid. I thought you were going to kill me. You struck me.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Steven shook his head. No amount of apologizes could ever make up to the faded scar on your cheek.

“I was afraid for my life and the child’s. They manipulated me because of my fears. They prayed upon it and convinced me to trust them. And I did. In turn, I – I lost my best friend and my baby.”

Steve pulled you to him. Your head rested in the junction between his neck and shoulder as you cried softly into him. He rubbed your arm, comfortingly.

“They tried to turn you against me.” Steven whispered. “They tried to weaken me by trying to kill you on that boat. I thank the gods that you’re safe now.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” You muttered.

Steven nodded and kissed the top of your head. His arm around you tightened a bit. “You should sleep. Get some rest. You need it after what you’ve endured.”

You agreed. Steven untangled himself from you before he leaned down to press a kiss to the scar on your cheek and a kiss on your lips. He began to walk away when you felt panic begin to settle. Your hand shot out and grabbed onto his arm, preventing him from taking another step.

“Please stay.” You begged. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

He gave you a soft smile and nodded. You scooted over the cot to make room for your husband. The positioning was a bit awkward considering his massive build, but you immediately felt safer once his arms wrapped around you once again.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You woke up alone in Steven’s bedchamber. The sun had already set, the full moon up in the sky. The pain had subsided after nearly a day of rest. The truth settling in inside your mind.

At least now you knew everything.

The doors opened suddenly to reveal your husband. He smiled at you as you sat up on the bed. “You’re awake.”

“You left me alone.”

Steven’s smile faltered. He couldn’t register if there was sadness in your voice or not as he walked over. “I – I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

You shook your head. “I understand. You’re a king. Your duty is to the people, not to me.”

“I am your husband, first.” Steve argued. “My duty will always be to you, my love.” He took your hand in his and helped you off the bed. “Come. There’s something I must show you.”

He led you to the balcony doors, opening it and allowing the air rush into the room. You breathed it in. The mixed scents from the gardens below overtook your senses, washing out the pained sea salt smell that still haunted you.

Steven guided you out onto the terrace and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in front of him. You gasped as you looked up to the sky. Along with the bright moon and the stars were lanterns that floated into the air and painted the dark sky.

“For years, I stumbled alone in the darkness. Feigned love with false queens who sought to destroy me. And here you are. The true gift the gods bestowed upon me. I truly believe you were crafted to be my soulmate, (Y/N).” He murmured in your ear. “I wish I could take away the pain you’ve endured, but I cannot. I can only tell you whatever comes next, we will face it together as husband and wife.” Tears swelled in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks as you stared up into the bright sky. “I love you, my light, my love.”

You smiled and turned to him, cupping his bearded cheeks in your hands. “I love you, Steve.”

[jonismitchell]

A track by track review of 1979’s reputation, one of the most critically acclaimed pop/rock albums of all time. Dive into enigma Taylor Swift’s hits with top reviewer Alice Lam… and maybe find a fresh perspective on these old songs.

PRELUDE: This prelude sees Swift angrily repeating ‘people like a show’ while compatriots at the recording studio read negative headlines aloud. It is a sonic mess with a loud guitar backing, hitting a mix of sound that effectively portrays both chaos and clarity. It is not a song but a minute long intro, at the end of which the sound cuts out, Swift stops whispering, and there is a silent moment before she whispers ‘reputation’ and the album begins. 

SO IT GOES: “We’re on the precipice of a good time,” Swift sings on her album’s opening track. She brings clever detail and confessional songwriting to a story of lovers who meet in a bar and quickly turn on each other, holding and losing in tandem with the crashes of music in the background. This is Swift’s first proper rock song, and it’s clear that she’s chosen the best of the bunch in terms of producers.

DON’T BLAME ME: While largely overlooked on its original album debut, ‘Don’t Blame Me’ quickly became a classic after the theatrical performance it gained on the accompanying tour. In it, Swift screams about “love making her crazy” at high notes she had previously never attempted in her career. It is widely regarded as one of the greatest examples of her vocal performance, even if she didn’t quite have the range of certain soprano peers.

I DID SOMETHING BAD: This sardonic ode to the witches in Salem has a distinctly powerful and feminist quality with Swift’s biting lyrics. While a first draft of the song features snippets such as “I never trust a narcissist, but they love me” and “this is how the world works, you gotta leave before you get left,” the final version serves as a scathing critique of men in general. This was a recurring theme in Swift’s late work. 

THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS: This Gatsby-esque experiment in camp brings Swift at her melodramatic best, biting subtly at the celebrity feuds most thought she would address more directly. Even though the song claims that Swift is enamoured with ‘looking for her Daisy,’ one gets the sense that she could rather be curled up in a corner with a book and the lover she toasts to.

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO: A sharp pivot from the giddy laughter of the previous track, Look What You Made Me Do shows Swift as vengeful and scorned. As her voice soars over the lyrical density of the chorus, the accompanying strings evoke images of a scorned goddess in tandem with the Nine Muses and Aphrodite references. This came later, but as Swift herself would say: “there’s nothing like a mad woman.”

INTERLUDE: This largely instrumental interlude starts with a continuation of the strings in Look What You Made Me Do’s outro, but fades from that rage and intensity into a simple melody on the acoustic guitar. As the strumming continues, one can hear Swift say “isn’t that so pretty to think? That all along, we were going somewhere?”

GETAWAY CAR: While the kingdom established lyrically in the first half of reputation is fraught with fear and change, this nearly perfect pop song takes place in an extended metaphor of running away with a lover. Swift seems to know the relationship won’t last (“should’ve known I’d be the first to leave, think about the place where you first met me”) but revels in it all the same. At the very end of the song, you can hear Swift’s car actually pulling into a motel. This song is a fandom favourite and of the most well-known Taylor Swift songs.

CAROL: Although Swift never explicitly confirmed the subject of the track, its title and lyrical content suggest that it draws inspiration from the 1952 novel ‘The Price of Salt.’ It drew hot debate in coming years due to the fact that it is explicitly sung about a woman, (as was 1982’s ‘betty’) but was dismissed alternately as a male perspective and a fictional story. Nevertheless, the emotional details of the song prove Swift’s salt as a songwriter.

GORGEOUS: This acoustic song set at a bar goes through the drunken emotions of meeting someone and being instantly attracted to them. “I go through phases when it comes to love, I’m nothing that you want, but can I just say… you’re gorgeous,” Swift almost whispers, tentative in this first declaration of love despite her reputation. This is the first truly stripped song on the album and is beautiful in this regard.

DELICATE: Picking up exactly where ‘Gorgeous’ left off, ‘Delicate’ deals with the growing emotions of a relationship complicated by outside measures. “My reputation’s never been worse,” laments Swift, but brightens as she sings “so you must like me for me.” With equal measures of misery and hope, ‘Delicate’ is an oft-covered tribute to first love.

END GAME (ft. Lorde): Swift collaborated with Ella Yelich O’Connor (more commonly known as Lorde) for this track about believing that your lover is the last one for you. Originally cut with rapper Future and singer Ed Sheeran, Swift was forced to politely explain to the former that she “did not want to ruin her status as a talented artist by including Ed Sheeran on a track.” The version that was recut with Lorde featured backup vocals from future and the indie singer’s trademark incisive metaphors.

DRESS: Yet another ode to falling in love with your best friend, the breathy and sweet production brings a classic love song to the table. The hook drew attention for being decisively more sexual than Swift’s prior work, much to the artist’s surprise. “There’s a reason I put ‘So It Goes’ at the beginning of the album,” she told AMK Magazine in 1980. “Did people not get it?”

KING OF MY HEART: The second half of reputation alludes to a new kingdom with the lover, but none so explicitly confirm it as this acoustic celebration of Swift’s unnamed lover. Using an extended metaphor of pieces in a chess game, she declares that she would die to keep the secret of her love and that she believes it is “the end of all the endings.” Fans celebrated the heartbroken songstress’s supposed happy ending in 1979, but quickly fell to pieces once Swift confirmed her breakup on 1982’s folklore. Still, no one knows who this song was about. 

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED: Building upon the secrecy theme, this song features Swift, her guitar, and a trembling voice that packs in syllables as if trying to finish so the owner can cry in a corner. Indeed, rumours claim Swift cried extensively before recording this song. It’s easy to see why: the trial and tribulation of loving someone in spite of deep fears is never better rendered than in this miserable song about almost-lost love.

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT: “My castle crumbled overnight,” sings Swift, “I brought a knife to a gunfight.” While slightly more produced than the last several offerings, ‘Call It What You Want’ is a calm love song about moving past fears of what those might say. Swift finally casts aside her bad reputation and invites listeners to comment on her supposed relationships, almost casting the audience an eye roll in the comfort of a stable love.

NEW YEAR’S DAY: The album closer is a simple piano offering, but features beautiful lyrics that are played consistently on January 1st. “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere,” Swift entreats her lover, acknowledging her fears and her hopes in the same breath. It feels almost too private to listen to - and in a way, that seems exactly as Taylor Swift wants us to do. reputation makes it clear that no matter how much she tells us through her music: we still won’t know her at all.

BONUS SONGS (2015 CD RELEASE)

SYLVESTER SKY: As of 2015, no one has seen Taylor Swift for more than thirty years. (“Good for her,” grumbled Goran Stelkoff, longtime correspondent at AMK Magazine.) This so-called new song was played by Swift at several clubs in 1980, although never to more than a couple dozen people at a time. This nearly-flawless recording is a rare find. The lyrics are classically Swiftian, filled with anxiety for the future while revelling in the love she enjoys at present. “We’ve got to get back to that Sylvester sky,” she croons, wondering at a heaven where she and her lover can exist without fears. It is a thematic companion to the album’s ‘Dancing With Our Hands Tied.’

BOTH SIDES NOW: Citing this as one of her favourite songs from the moment it was released, Swift covered Joni Mitchell’s ‘Both Sides Now’ dozens of times on her reputation tour, presumably as an ode to her new perspective of fame. Several quality recordings have been spliced together here to form a haunting effect. As you listen to this song, imagine Swift sitting on a stool in front of her legions of fans and strumming a guitar, quietly singing the lyrics she knew by heart.

[scarlet-it-was]

folklore for evermore: the ruby x christina edition

combining two of my favorite things: taylor swift and fandom. here are the lyrics and headcanons that are giving me life from the summer/autumn sister albums; reylo & msr editions to follow

cardigan

you drew scars around my stars

but now i’m bleeding

but i knew you

stepping on the last train

marked me like a bloodstain

i knew you

tried to change the ending

peter losing wendy

...you put me on and said I was your favorite

I’d be remiss not to include this as the first in the list considering I’m writing a fic and using specific lyrics as the fic name and chapter titles. If you’re interested, you can find it here: You Drew Stars Around My Scars

my tears ricochet

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

When I think of the...distinctly disappointing end of the series, these last lines come to mind. Even though I don’t really believe that Christina killed Ruby—but if she had, she definitely turned into her worst fears, which was ultimately being as much of a failure as her father.

this is me trying

I've been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could've followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

Headcanon: Christina has been resurrected in some fashion, perhaps by the Mark of Cain, or a secondary magic trap she set just in case things went to hell. This finds her regretting her choices, contemplating her next steps, if she even wants to take them, but ultimately, ends up finding Ruby.

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here Pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn't pour the whiskey

Headcanon (cont): Ruby proved time and time again in the show that she knows exactly how to cut right to the center of a person with her words, and I’m sure over the years, she’s said some regrettable things to her sister (not that they were undeserved). Ruby also put in the effort to take the classes and make herself as an attractive candidate as possible for her ‘dream job’ and when she finally is ready—she finds a thin, light-skinned Tamara has been hired. And the rest of the story in the little bar scene—she and William didn’t stay strangers for long.

mad woman

And there's nothing like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that

And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out

And you find something to wrap your ***** around

And there's nothing like a mad woman

Really applicable to both parties who were both oppressed by patriarchy (both) and whiteness (Ruby). I censored one of the words because I’m not comfortable using that word in reference to a POC, but the Swifties know what it is. Anyway, you end up with two women who are willing to ‘go the distance’ so to speak to get what they want and not be interrupted because of the bodies and skin they were born in.

peace

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Headcanon: In spite of her money and magic, there’s a certain amount of peace that she’ll never be able to give Ruby in part because she can’t (and doesn’t want, nor does Ruby want) for her to take away her blackness. The flip side is that Christina’s ambition will likely always put them in harm’s way to an extent. But at the end of the day, in spite of Leti’s accusations that Ruby is being used, Christina is the only one who is up front with her 100% of the time regardless of how it comes out. She always comes through for Ruby.

Hoax

My best laid plan

Your sleight of hand

My barren land

I am ash from your fire

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason"

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in

Headcanon: a sadder and more cynical take on if Ruby had betrayed Christina in the finale (which I still don’t think she would have, but it wasn’t my show and I didn’t write that ending) which did in fact wreck her best laid plans with Ruby’s bait and switch of seducing Christina in her natural body instead of William’s—leaving Christina dead at the end of the series.

willow

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

But I come back stronger than a '90s trend

Including this lyrics specifically because it reminds me of one of my favorite AU fics, Leave It To The Davenports – if you haven’t checked out this WIP, it is a ride you don’t want to miss.

gold rush

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

Headcanon: The last line specifically reminds me of Ruby snarking at Christina about being late and in return being called demanding. But also, overall, it captures the feeling of Ruby initially being distrustful of William’s affections towards her specifically when there are any number of women he could be with.

no body no crime

Headcanon: The whole damn song is my murder wives anthem.

happiness

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I guess it's the price I paid And I pulled your body into mine Every goddamn night

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

In our history, across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

Headcanon: Misleading song title in a way. This is what I’m dealing with in chapter 3 of my fic in the wake of Christina’s death and the process of Ruby moving on and finding happiness on her own. The writers Lovecraft Country tried really hard to make Christina a hateable villain, and I suppose through the lens of straight up hating white people, they may have done that for some viewers. They failed to give her any real Big Bad qualities though outside of manipulation and apathy—which while those aren’t shining character traits for her, it doesn’t make her the best (worst?) option for being the overarching antagonist. We had villains literally chopping people up and sewing them together, but Christina was the bad guy? Nah, I think not

long story short

Fatefully

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

Misery

Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

The knife cuts both ways

If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break And I fell from the pedestal

Right down the rabbit hole

Long story short, it was a bad time

Pushed from the precipice

No more keepin' score

Now I just keep you warm 

No more tug of war

Now I just know there's more 

And my waves meet your shore

Ever and evermore When I dropped my sword

I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door

And we live in peace

But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready Long story short, I survived

Headcanon: based on the idea that Christina survives, but does in fact have her magic stripped from her and is reflecting on the time period and going forward how she will protect her and Ruby’s relationship going forward by critics (like Leti) who would make Ruby choose between them.

Evermore

Hey December

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Can't remember

What I used to fight for

I rewind thе tape but all it does is pause

On thе very moment, all was lost

Sending signals

To be double-crossed

And I was catching my breath

Barefoot in the wildest winter

Catching my death

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for

Evermore

And when I was shipwrecked (Can't think of all the cost)

I thought of you (All the things that will be lost now)

In the cracks of light (Can we just get a pause?)

I dreamed of you (To be certain we'll be tall again, if you think of all the costs)

It was real enough (Whether weather be the frost)

To get me through (Or the violence of the dog days) (Or the violence of the dog days)

(Out on waves, being tossed)

(I'm on waves, out being tossed)

I swear (Is there a line that we can just go cross?)

You were there

And I was catching my breath

Floors of a cabin creaking under my step

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for

Evermore

Headcanon: Specific to You Drew Stars Around My Scars and Ruby’s grief in the early chapters and how she feels that the grief is impossible to move past when she thinks back about the months that the two of them spent getting to know each other as friends and lovers. She uses magic to connect with Christina even when she’s not there.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF DMITRI.

Admin Cas: There’s something so tragic about Dmitri that I love: everything about him is a contradiction. Yet, for all his love and light, he’s also really quite terrifying, and the way you balanced both of those aspects of their character was truly breathtaking, Emma. I thought your reflections on the idea of Dmitri as a sort of wingless angel was especially impressive. In spite of all the things that make them angelic, they can never truly be one with God’s angels. That, after all, is what sets him apart from their brethren; where they are ruination, he is its saving grace. I put this golden prince in your hands without fear that you’ll do wonderful things with him, and I can’t wait to see the directions you’ll go together! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma.

Age | 21+.

Personal Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I’m able to get a reply or two out at least once daily; depending on length, it could potentially be more or less than.

Timezone | Eastern.

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group?  | LSRPG tag.

Current/Past RP Accounts | I delete my character accounts to create a blank blog for my next character account. I save snippets of threads I adore, so I’m so sorry. RIP - xoxo

IN CHARACTER

there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all and it takes control of the person that i thought i was the boy i used to know.

CHARACTER 

Dmitri , the Horsemen of Conquest

DRAW TO CHARACTER

I’ve never been the type to write a sample for a character before fleshing out the other bits first, but Dmitri’s voice whispered, begging to be explored as soon as I read their biography. The first sample you’ll read below was the initial picture I painted and kept throughout this application because Dmitri resembled that of a poor Icarus, who simply overindulged in something not meant for him to enjoy. 

I imagined Dmitri in the seconds after creation gasping at the sights of Heaven, reaching back for white wings — only to be met by their bareback. Shoulders aching for the flight of angels, the purity evident in their veins to be his own, God’s presence given at a moments notice.

Yes — I very clearly drew these small, delicate details from a few lines, but Cas wrote this character in such a way I felt the weight of Dmitri’s needs as if they were my own to be met. The biography held me captive to do whatever would be in my ability to give this character justice for what they were never gifted. I still get butterflies reading over the biography and couldn’t stop what followed. 

This application is my confession of love for Dmitri, and I would even offer to say this could be read as a fever dream because isn’t that what God would want? His beloved, lastly mad Horsemen to be written in a state of complete and total euphoria for conquest and recklessness… but more importantly, I hope to show how beautifully flawed this character is to desire to be loved by a dead God, and the journey I would take them on to realize their purpose was never tied to God’s needs.

FUTURE PLOTS

SUMMARY: I’ve written these in a format of progression based on what I think could occur first in-game based off of current connections, and Dmitri’s direct link of being a Horsemen, making it far more likely to push said plot first. Each builds upon the other in a sense of a video game character skill branching system. As in, I’ve written some answers or may propose them in a way, which would directly change a plot below it. Hope this helps explain the mess which is about to occur below!

FUTURE OF THE HORSEMEN

what happens to those who were meant to end a world already destroyed?

Their purpose set forth to them by God has come to no fruition as the world destroyed itself, at least in a way. Each Horsemen dealing with their new identity as a mercenary in their own way, but I can only speak from the perspective of Dmitri. When it comes to them, the Horsemen are family. They came from the same Gos as them, shaped from different moments but important just the same. Their future as a whole could be explored by each Horsemen’s motivation. For Dmitri, the idea of leaving them to go elsewhere seems far-fetched at first; a type of daydream when the cleanup after a job is too heavy to stay focused on. If given a bigger glimpse at something else, something Dmitri could find himself desiring to do, I imagine the Horsemen could find a strain.

FUTURE OF THE HEALING

what is the purpose of being one of healing if you watched the wounds be inflicted?

Building upon a strain forming within the Horsemen, Dmitri would first need to experience something so terrifyingly out of character for them to do, which could trigger a wave of events to follow. The concept of using their healing ability seems to be the “fun” direction as this golden boy not being able to save someone caught in the crossfires would be an angst ridden thread to experience. I want to shape his tenderness in a way to correlate with his healing. Dmitri’s process of healing someone is something I haven’t ventured much into yet — but I imagine the sight of it to be something beautiful, almost too beautiful to fully understand what you’re looking at. This light bringer among those who only bring darkness is the difference enough to push the first plot and this one forward.

FUTURE OF THE LOVED AND WORSHIPPED 

what does one do with love and praise when all they expected was hate?

Imagine the first time someone witnessed Dmitri healing a mortal. Who was it? What occurred? No one who lives now among the mortals knows, yet their growing affection towards him makes me feel as if he’s gotten his own personal tale passed between them. Here in this new found love among men, I think Dmitri sees what he’s always wanted out of life, rather existence. It’ll be such a wild ride of secret trips to different parts of the world to see if he finds this love and praise everywhere. He’d be drunk over this, but there also comes the dark side of being given something kept from you for so long. Yes, I would love for this beautiful, precious Horsemen to ride happily off into the sunset… but there’s definitely some trauma left from God. Here within this, I find Dmitri’s breaking point could take place and all of the above could shatter.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | yes — given a month’s notice and option to decline? i feel as if the answer would be different depending on how they were to die and character development, if this makes sense.

IN DEPTH

but there is a lightin the dark, and i feel its warmth

in my hands and my heart why can't i hold on?

CHARACTER MOTIVATION

It’s unknown at first- their motivation. Perhaps, God always intended the existence of those who were meant to cause the end of the world to possess no motivation. Life to them, the Horsemen, was simply a story already written down in the stars, yet Dmitri walked out into the New World with the story finished and no part to play in it. Purgatory had warped their glowing essence, satisfying God’s need to prevent prayers said to Conquest over the God of Creation. 

Yet motivations can still be rather fickle when they were never intended for you. Dmitri’s creation came from the infinite love God felt for man, yet they were never meant to have this (this being love) as their backbone. No, they were to indulge their fellow Horsemens’ wrath by mending the blows they were destined to cause. Their gift, their healing, their voice. All things given by God to serve a purpose not their own. Somewhere between all of the havoc and chaos of this world, there had to come a time where Dmitri sought to figure it out. 

Their motivation laid rotting within the crevices of darkness and filth they called home all these centuries. Purgatory did it’s job more so than God could have ever intended because Dmitri struggled with purpose outside of God’s. Sunshine filled his veins in a way the darkness fed off of and merely left the Horsemen of Conquest bare. So walking out of, rather escaping from, Purgatory to Dmitri awakened this desire for answers. With the death of God, Dmitri discovered their rebirth into something rather ungodly as he wanted to become everything God never intended on him to be: loved. 

From this death, Dmitri has discovered a solace with mortals he’d never found with the fellow Horsemen as there’s something to be said in regards to being made last. He didn’t resemble the others completely as he felt a mirror to man more so than his Horsemen. I imagine actions and motivation for him to be teetering currently as his own questions in the regards of ‘what’s next?’ as having a calling as a mercenary never sat well with him. He wants to be loved in a way God had left unspoken between them over the possibility of competition.

SUMMARY: Throughout interactions and inner thoughts expressed throughout this roleplay, I would love to dive into the future plots tying into Dmitri’s motivations above with the balance of being deemed as loved or worshipped. Dmitri needs to be loved, yet I think if it ever rocked towards him being worshipped, it’d be a nice little shift of what truly motivates him. Overall, I find my motivating factor to be Dmitri’s voice and relationships with the Horsemen due to my overall understanding of how much he truly values them. Yes, he’s always wanted more for himself, but there’s always going to be the glimpses of why he is among their ranks. He isn’t pure as the angels or as mischievous as the demons, but I find Dmitri’s complexities something of value as a character in a world without restraints.

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLES

i. DREAMS AND THE HEREAFTER

‘Icarus, my son — your wings are too brittle for the warmth of light. Now, I shall watch you burn with the rest.’ Or was the name spoken across the lips of God dmitri? Did he curve the appetite of man’s undeserving love of their creator by existing? Were his screams - for more - not enough to make the tear from God’s eye a regret? 

‘But father, I shall fly with you. We can escape together. No mortal shall ever have to look upon our faces again. We can finally be--’ Scorned brow silenced all of his pleas, bringing the truth to the forefront. Dmitri dreamed before the tear was ever caught and molded into the literal form of his being. They knew of themself from the perspective of God’s eye and convinced themself of something which wasn’t there. ‘Am I never to be free of this burden then? Am I to suffer?’

They painted a world where they crawled from the depths of Purgatory, where their strength came from the purity of man, where God Himself welcomed Dmitri back into Heaven as if he’d never gone. In this recurring dream, God would realize the mistake to tuck away his most prized creation. 

The final Horsemen did not deserve the caverns of impermeable darkness Purgatory supplied them because somewhere in the infinite of his existence, he truly believed himself to bare wings. 

‘Suffer? Suffer! You are the brilliance of life; my creation. Do you wish to know what I plan to do with you? Follow me, Conquest. Your domain awaits.’ 

Their eyes open with horror, memories of a man - rather a god who loved him less. A god who created him by mistake. An outstretched arm from active slumber finds its way back onto their chest, an unsteady rise and fall of breaths lost. His own torment from sleep a self-given punishment as he allowed himself to fall into the corners of his own mind. The hidden doors which locked memories long forgotten as he believed himself to be more than he was. 

God regretted shedding a tear for out came the brightest of shadows, the technicolor snake of dispute in the form of a golden angel. They were truly no closer than their brethren to bearing wings, but if one deserved them, Dmitri would declare themself so. 

Instead of wings, however, cascading down their back, you would find a seeping hole of nothing; a hollowed out mine of what could have become of them. It is the wickedness they hide beneath enchanting smiles, minor suggestions, and lack of resolve which will keep their back bare. Denial being a sort of game which they’ve mastered over the years.

Once, one might have spotted the prospect of gold, sinless existence within them, but they were not created like the other angels, the other horsemen, the other fallen. They were made as the result of emotion, and one knew what followed closely with emotions — mistakes or rather the sins of man.

They were the rotten cavities created over years of divulging in sweets, buried in the crevices of newborn teeth who hadn’t the taste of sugar.

And in their devastation, Dmitri destined themself to find the answers which God withheld from them.

 ii. DENIAL IN THE FORM OF SINFUL BEAUTY

“You’re late — again.” A simple nod towards either Nerissa or Viktoria felt enough to find his place among his family, his fellow Horsemen.

One thumb found its way to his temple before releasing a heavy sigh. “Dreams haunt me recently. 

“You mean nightmares.” Nerissa could never resist correcting him over something so miniscule as words, yet this simple exchange caused a growing irritation to sprout wings and turn into complete rage.

His temples tensed, nostrils flared with fingernails already cutting at the skin of his palm. “You honestly think I’m mortal enough to switch the meaning of two words, War?” Tongue pressed against the back of their teeth, Dmitri allowed their body to sink into their assigned chair, of sorts. Each had a place within the others home as if each home belonged to all four of them collectively. 

“Someone woke up feeling out of place again.” Always Ryuk with a quick word before letting the storm brew on.

“It’s the dreams — I wake up in horror over...” Their eyes, washed in an array of gold, scanned the softness of their palms, the lack of scars on their flesh, the harrowing displacement of havoc in their words, and the deficiency of darkness their fellow Horsemen possessed. “...for it is the dream I can never grasp.” 

With the unblemished palm, he wiped away at both of their eyes, trying to remove the hints of sleep behind them. More importantly, he wanted more than anything to remove any attempt of truth being proven by Nerissa’s words.

Harsh snarled laughter came from the corner of their domain, mocking their spiral for something less than what it was. To Dmitri, they saw these dreams as something more of an awakening, uncovering their last moments with God.  

“What is the point of man if not to suffer, dear Dmitri?” 

“But I am no man!” Fists shattered the monotony of the discussion, calling in the last ounce of sanity any of them could take as they stood from the table.  “I am no god.” The once golden irises, which mirrored the glory of the sun’s warmth,  now mimicked the lava spewing from a devastating volcano. “I am Conquest, and I shall suffer no more!” 

Here in the brilliant, pure light of their anger, their risen voice, the very might of their denial gave birth to something else. 

A soft chuckle from the other side of the room destroyed any build up between the others as Viktoria waltzed over to them. 

“He’s not wrong… None of us are man, so none of us shall suffer.” Viktoria’s hand draped over theirs with a tenderness they’d only felt from the mortals, but it was enough to show Dmitri the horsemen had the ability to give him what he wanted.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, GRACIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of LADY MACBETH with an approved FC change to Melissa Barrera. Admin Jen: God, I just can’t get over the beautiful, captivating vision you’ve presented to us, Gracie. One can’t think of Lady Macbeth without thinking of the power that she encompasses, and not only did you capture that with such fascinating plots and stellar imagery, you added depth and a crucial touch of humanity to it. She's not just a pawn in a game greater than herself, and she's not just a woman consumed by her wants and desires, either. She’s so much more than that, and we absolutely cannot wait to see her flourish on our dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | gracie

Age | 25

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I am pretty around - work has slowed down majorly and I am looking for a new rp to fill the hole in my heart <3 I am almost always on mobile to plot and chat and I try to write at least every other day

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | scoping out the tags!

Current/Past RP Accounts |

IN CHARACTER

Character | Lady Macbeth, Lucrezia Eleonora Falco nee Capuccio - I’d like to change her face to Summer Bishil pretty please!

What drew you to this character? | I have always held a soft spot for Lady Macbeth. Why are the traits that would be seen as positive, almost heroic, in a man the ones that doom her in the end? Why is she punished for her ambition and cleverness, the willingness to do whatever it takes to get ahead? Lucrezia to me answers the question of what if Lady Macbeth wasn’t condemned and drowned in guilt, what if she was able to remain as much of a force to be reckoned with throughout the whole play, not just the first two acts. Strength, competence, and ambition have far too often been seen as faults in women - in Lucrezia they are her crowning glory. By no means does that make her a good person, it makes her all the more interesting and dynamic. I also truly love that there is no deep violent or horrible reason that she is the way that she is. No tragic villain origin story. It was a deliberate choice, one that I feel she made freely and intentionally, to give into the longing for something more that the rose colored world she was born into. Something interesting and dark, to explore the innate cruelty that anyone can be capable of. I want to play with the darkness and with the idea that a girl could be given everything one could possibly want and still demand more.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Give my rage back to me, I know how to hold it - Men have always sought to own pretty things, and he is no different. Til death do us part, you said with more than a little irony. Who’s death is still uncertain. Your husband wanted you because you were just out of reach, all poison laced smiles and velvet rage in a pleasing package. He held such promise in those days, made the game almost interesting enough for you to want to see it out to the end. And now that he owns you, slipped that diamond shackle on your finger and tattooed his name on your soul, did he really expect you to be happy one step behind him? You are never happy, you force his name higher and farther than he could even dream. But when you plunged your hand into his chest, the organ you pulled out was feeble and pathetic, not nearly strong enough to fill the emptiness inside your own ribs. You are a creature of rage, he knew what he was getting into. His heart did not satisfy your hunger, in fact it only made you all the more starved. You will taste every heart in Verona if you have to, and he has no one to blame but himself.

[ I love a twisty and toxic relationship! Mikael did not gave her a taste for blood and destruction, but he increased her lust and refined her palate. Lucrezia wants to play with her food and conquests, twisting the knife deeper and deeper until their heart slips freely into her stained hands. Rage is her tool and I want to explore her being held back and fighting against her husband or anyone who tries to tame and control her. I also want to see the consequences of reaching too far or biting into a heart that is perhaps more poisonous than her own ]

All that hard, glossy armor - You watch them call her names you yourself wear like badges of honor and see her flinch at every verbal dagger. You are not one to care for other people, you never have. Perhaps you see yourself in her, or what you might have become if you did not learn early to love the darkness for what it was, not what you wished it to be. You crafted your armor, lovingly cultivated this reputation into a weapon. You attack first, and if they are dumb enough to hit back they find anger and armor all the way down. She needs your help, a decision that surprises even you. Maybe you are bored, and think it might be interesting to try and create someone for once instead of destroying. You will teach her to take their venomous barbs and learn to love the sting until she has built up her own armor. And what if, in the middle of this, she discovers a tiny crack in yours?

[ Gals helping gals we love to see it! This is an opportunity to explore Lucrezia’s armor and reputation - how she built it and what might threaten it. I want to play out what happens when someone finds a chink in hers - originally based on the Delilah connection, but could work for anyone who can get close enough. The inner turmoil of her trying not to care then realizing that she does and dealing with the repercussions of this is something I definitely want to explore! Give her a weakness, or someone else to see past what she projects and tries to be, maybe they can use this to hurt her or maybe they actually care. I want to test the strength of all that hard, glossy armor. ]

Then why does it feel like I’m losing my mind? - Madness sings from the blood of every woman, your mother once said, imploring you to resist its call. Can there be such a thing as too much love? Too much attention and coddling? Maybe you learned to love the cruelty and darkness just to spite them. They obsessed over the porcelain doll they thought you were, smothering and controlling and loving all too much. You learned to crave the thrill of chaos, the high that came from taking this love and holding it over their heads like a whip. And they made it so delightfully easy, tracing out the lines so clearly they were practically begging you to cross and smudge them. Because despite all that they tried to teach, all the loving words and sickly sweet affection, you knew you could never be enough. Even if you did exactly what they asked, dampened down the parts of you that were dark and interesting, resisted madness and her pretty call; you would never be enough. Perfection is utterly unattainable, to strive for it is a type of madness itself. If you are going to miss the mark, it might as well be deliberate and enjoyable. But guilt is a ghost who has followed you throughout your life, singing her own sort of haunting refrain. You tried to cut that part of you away and were mostly successful. She still finds you in quiet moments, crashing in with an alien emotion, methodically clawing away at that armor. You will not allow this imagined weakness to threaten everything you have built and so you double down on your devotion, cutting away that traitorous part of your mind again and again until maybe there is nothing left.

[ Guilt and madness and paying the price for ambition are huge parts of Lady Macbeth’s play arc and I want to explore Lucrezia fighting against these. “Madness” and “losing ones mind” seem to be the end, the punishment given for reaching too far. But what if they are a choice one makes to get there? Another tool like beauty and sex used to get ahead. I want to play with Lucrezia balancing right on that line between control and the loss of it. Likely her own actions and weaknesses will lead to some sort of confrontation, maybe an internal battle that leaks out to threaten her plans and ambitions. Is the idea of madness a choice one can make or simply the result of other choices? I want to see what happens when she is forced to deal with the consequences of her actions and choices, a reckoning for her rage. ]

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes probably but I am fairly attached to her so I’d like to have plenty of time to play first. I don’t really want her to meet the same end as her literary namesake, ie if Lucrezia is to die, I would like it to not be by her own hand.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“Twelfth Night Museum in the early morning,” she responded without hesitating, the truth flowing almost as easily as a lie. “I like the stillness and the silence, there’s a sense of peace that is hard to find elsewhere.” At this Lucrezia smirked at her questioner, peace was rare in such a tumultuous city. And for those who knew her well as an agent of controlled chaos (and even those who only knew of her), even the word peace sounded unnatural on those red lips. It was meant to be an offhanded question by some eager tourist looking for the locals perspective - ( Note: since when did she give off the approachable ‘ask-me-for-recommendations’ vibe? Lucrezia needed another espresso and quickly ) - but it lingered even after he was long gone. It wasn’t peace, she decided, there had always been a bit of unease in the empty museum, like she was intruding on a sacred crypt for the gods. Those moments in the early mornings seemed to exist outside of the normal confines of time and space, Lucrezia could walk through all ages at the same time. She almost expected to see the old masters adding a final touch while the elements whether away details on a nearby marble bust. Maybe that was why she loved it so much, a place both haunted by the weight of history and expectations while utterly, achingly empty. The museum held some sort contradictions as Lucrezia herself, and perhaps she wanted to co-exist just as beautifully.

What does your typical day look like?

“I certainly hope there isn’t a ‘typical day’, that would be so boring,” she resisted rolling her eyes, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting something different is a type of madness, is it not? So I would hope to never be typical.” Still, the questions seemed to have been asked in good faith, so Lucrezia sighed a bit dramatically and continued. “I guess I have to wake up every day, sometimes early sometimes late - it depends.” She had never been good at sleeping well, the task of quieting her own mind daunting but not nearly as exhausting as she wished. “And then I go to work. Or I go to the museum, I always make sure to find time to be alone and surrounded by beauty - art, music, places, maybe another person.” Her smirk was laced with honey but her eyes flashed in a warning. “Work is never boring, there is always something new.” Lucrezia did not expand on this, her companion did not need all the details regardless of how she longed to brag. Because she was very good at her job and thought that was something she should be praised for. Charm was second nature, she was expert at the delicate blending of flattery and threats. More than that - it was a game, the give and take of honeyed words balanced with a sudden shift to cold cruelty. And Lucrezia loved to win. “And then I come home to my adoring husband who loves to take me out.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far? (Tw self harm kinda)

Lucrezia laughed harshly, “Getting married at eighteen” She spun that huge diamond around her finger, a nervous habit, feeling the bite of the gem in the well worn callous on her palm. She loved the ring, she liked the sharp edge. The pain kept her grounded, reminded her of the goal. She would sometimes count - one turn for every year with him. Ten to right, then ten more to the left, and she was back smile in place, momentary lapse in control gone. Mikael served a purpose, she knew this, even that young she wasn’t so stupid as to throw her life away on something as meaningless as infatuation that could be mistaken for love. His name gave her access, status her father’s could not. And he so prettily sank to his knees for her, feeding into that innate desire for power - her driving force. The strangest part? She’d made the initial mistake of showing too much, of letting him see too much of who she was, the rage and cruelty and force. And instead of running, instead of longing for the pretty smile and charming mask - he saw her for who she was, and wanted her even more for it. Lucrezia looked down at her hands, the ring still twisting - eight, nine, ten - and then back up at the questioner. “I just mean I was too young, we should have waited a bit more.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“Oh, I don’t know,” she waved an errant hand, as if to dismiss the question. “Probably some negotiation with a particularly horrible client. I am sure it was difficult and tiresome, but I persisted and won, naturally.” A lie, they surely knew that it was, but she wasn’t about to attempt to unpack the particular traumas of a picture perfect childhood. Because the most difficult task had always been the first one asked of her, the most spectacular failure of her life. Little Lucrezia Capuccio with her chocolate curls and wild gaze tasked with lessening herself, carving out anything interesting, shrinking and molding herself to fit into their expectations - the porcelain doll daughter they thought they deserved. She was a creature of rage, even then. And when they begged her to stop, to peel away parts of her self to please them - Lucrezia set fire to anything good and pure that might have remained inside her. They had it wrong, though, when they pleaded for her to be their little angel. Angels had always been vengeful, violent spirits - sent by God to punish, to kill, to make an example. There is nothing soft, simpering, or good about a creature who’s wings have always been dipped in blood.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“War seems like a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” She took a sip of her drink, “it is not so far reaching and tragic as all that.” She knew her side, had chosen carefully. Mikael had been her way in, but she’d long ago outranked him. But she had never had time for such dualities as black and white, good and evil; the battle-lines were far messier than the poets would have you believe. And that was the best part about choosing, she wasn’t bound to a side with anything as weighty and meaningful as blood or history. Lucrezia chose, and she would continue to chose - the next right thing, the next fortuitous position. One could only ever truly be loyal to oneself, any other pledge would alway eventually become a lie. “This situation,” she chose this word carefully, “provides opportunity for those who are able and willing to take it. We all want the same thing, right? What is best for those we love and our dear, fair Verona.”

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

(Tw mention of violence, tw blood)

On her wedding night, the newly minted Mrs. Mikael Falco considered killing her husband.

There wasn’t any particular reason, it was just the fact that she could. She wasn’t unfamiliar with violence, having dipped her toe in those depths more than once, but the particular sin of murdering one’s husband called out like a deliciously dramatic turn of events. Lucrezia thought she might make an excellent widow, she’d perfected false tears that still left her beautiful long ago. She could play vengeful, demanding the city run red with the blood of her husband’s killer. It could be a nice spark, instigating more chaos and violence between factions, an opportunity to climb even higher, not to mention how entertaining it would be to watch.

He looked so peaceful sleeping like this. Lucrezia watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with every breath. She felt a sudden desire to touch him, to trail her fingers lightly along the outlines of his muscles, to trace the marks her nails had left earlier and then to press down harder and harder until he awoke and forced her to stop. Instead she grabbed the glass of wine from the bedside table, cradling it in both her hands to take a too large sip. Some heavy red, she remembered, not her favorite. Surely he would have learned her preferences by now, beyond the exquisite things his hands and mouth could do to her body. Then again, she might not have ever told him what wine she liked. Not that ignorance was an excuse she would accept.

Was being served the wrong type of wine offense enough to warrant the death of one’s husband? Asking for a friend.

Lucrezia took another sip of the disappointing wine and idly wondered if he’d ever thought the same of her. She wasn’t afraid of him, he wouldn’t have the balls to go through with it he was far too devoted - something she’d made certain of before saying yes. It was the headiest type of high to watch him carve it out himself and willingly place his protesting heart in her hands. She often tried to replicate that initial thrill and occasionally she got close, but never quite the same heights. Taking his life would surely do it, an incredible rush buzzing across her skin if she were to actually stain it with his blood. But it would be just as short lived as the last.

Since she was indulging this little fantasy, she might as well consider the details - she was nothing if not a very thorough planner. It wouldn’t be with a gun, the weight and heft of the weapon always felt wrong in her hand. And that was such a clinical, distanced way to harm. Lucrezia preferred a knife. Their intimacy had always teetered just on the edge of violence, he might not even realize her intentions until it was too late. And maybe, she let her self think for a fraction of a second, it was how he wanted to go. Mikael knew her better than anyone else, he saw her for exactly what she was and loved her anyway. It was almost frightening.

Fear and guilt are sisters - or so Shirley Jackson told her.

She finished the wine and reached over to place the glass on the table. Her husband stirred, his fingers twisting in her dark hair and Lucrezia let herself be pulled back into his arms.

“What are you thinking?” Even his half asleep whisper sent a spark of something down her spine and she smiled that arcane, cruel smile she knew drove him mad.

“I was wondering if I could be strong enough to kill you if I needed to.” Her honestly startled her, something about him caused intimacy and vulnerability. Or maybe she’d had too much to drink. He laughed then moved swiftly, rolling over on top of her while pinning both her wrists above her head with just one of his hands. The other gently caressed the side of her face and she met his burning gaze, wondering if her own eyes looked empty. He did not ask if she’d decided. She didn’t know if he thought she was joking.

He kissed her, hard, biting down on her bottom lip until she tasted her own blood and let out a gasp of desire. No, Lucrezia thought, I don’t think I could kill him. She reasoned that she would never be able to top that power rush, that he could still prove useful and the sex was excellent so best to keep him around. But really, she would be lost without his devotion, his obsessive love.

The gods only die when there is no one left to worship their names.

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

Pinterest - https://www.pinterest.com/gracieewrites/lucrezia-f/

[sleepyfan-blog]

Don’t let them see you cry, Dreamtale? Your writing is wonderful and I love reading what you post!

Don’t Let Them See You Cry

Fandom: Dreamtale

Characters and pairing: Dream, Nightmare, nameless ocs, Dreammare

Warnings: Illness, cursing

Word count: 1,108

Summary: Dream has been trying to heal the sick for three days, and is close to passing out from exhaustion

Three days. Three exhausting, miserable days. He’d been doing all he could to help the villagers - a plague had come through the small village, having been spread by a passing traveler, who was just as miserably sick as everyone who had caught the illness. The illness was transmissible between humans and monsters - which was unusual, in Dream’s somewhat limited knowledge of illnesses, and spoke of more of a communicable curse, rather than a true sickness of one kind or another. Dream had been doing all he could to heal the sick, or at least to bring them comfort - working non-stop since the moment that the two humans had first shown up and literally dragged him away from Nightmare who had been sleeping peacefully at the time, keeping him quiet with a hand wrapped around his mouth, and a plea to “Stay quiet and let us explain!” which he had.

But Dream had been unable to go back to the tree - or to see his other half in that time, worked down to the metaphorical bone and trembling with exhaustion. All he wanted was to go back to Nightmare and curl up and sleep… Especially as several of the humans and monsters who he’d been trying to keep alive had died anyways. The monsters having just finished fading into dust before him, the humans souls floating above their bodies and shattering apart as they drew their last breath.

Several members of their families were glaring at him, as if this was somehow his fault. Tear tracks were clear on their faces, and all of them were quite distressed… And he could only do so much to soothe their ragged pain - particularly as he was running very low on magic. He needed to sleep as there wasn’t enough positivity in the village for him to draw on to continue to help anymore. He started to walk carefully towards the door, trembling with exhaustion when one of the mortals spoke up, voice full of anger, grief and spite “Where do you think you are going? You can’t leave! We’re still sick and dying here!”

“I… I need to rest.” Dream responds, doing his best to continue to stay positive and some semblance of cheerful - which he did not at all feel. “I will be back as soon as I can, to continue to help.”

“We… You couldn’t help my sister! Why did you let her die, but keep the others alive! It’s not fair! You… You p-promised to help! And all you’ve done is let them continue to suffer! It’s not fair that you and that thing can’t get sick, while we all suffer and die!” One of the humans hissed, full of a terrifying sort of rage as they charged at him, looming over the little guardian.

Dream shrinks down a little, trying to reduce some of the human’s anger - flinching a little and shrinking down, staring fearfully up at the other, robbed of his voice as he took several steps backwards, shaking a little “I… I d-didn’t let any of them die… I-I really did t-try to save everyone… B-but I have… H-have to rest. I c-can’t help anyone else if I’m t-tired.”

“Bullshit! Neither one of you really get tired! I’ve heard the stories of what you both are! Some sort of godlings protecting the sacred tree. Tireless and powerful beyond measure! And yet you can’t save anyone! All you do is -” The human hissed, lifting Dream up and shaking him a little, glaring at him.

The human abruptly stopped speaking because Nightmare had suddenly appeared at the door, pulled Dream out of the human’s grasp with magic and pushed his mate behind him protectively “So this is where you’ve been for the past few days. I’ve been worried… And I’m guessing that they haven’t let you out of this place since they dragged you?”

The positive guardian nodded, on the brink of tears, clinging to Nightmare and shaking a little “Y-yes… I a-asked them to tell you where I was but I… I guess they didn’t have anyone to spare to send you. A couple of the v-villagers dragged me away when you were asleep. I c-couldn’t speak or I would have called out to you.”

The look on his childhood friend’s face hardens a little before the expression clears, and he smiles a little at him “I see. I’m not mad at you, Dream. Let’s go home. I know that you’re exhausted. Once you’re fully rested, we’ll both come back and I’ll help you tend to the sick.” He pulls Dream in close and presses a light kiss to the other’s teeth as he teleports them off.

As soon as they are at the base of the tree, alone but for the two of them, Dream clings tightly to Nightmare, sobbing into the other’s chest, trembling “I… I c-couldn’t s-save them. Th-they’re dying and I… I d-don’t know if a-any of the s-sick will survive! A-and then… The-then…” He couldn’t continue talking, as he’d been terribly frightened that the human would have tried to hurt him in their anger. As he’d been so low on magic, Dream wouldn’t have been able to defend himself.

“I could sense your fear and distress - that’s how I was able to find you, actually. Don’t worry. I’ll come with you the next time, alright? So that when you start to get tired, I’ll be sure to take you back here, where we can rest safely. I won’t let them overwork you like that again. Okay?” Nightmare murmured, holding him tightly and continuing to rock him back and forth, soothing his distraught mate.

“O-Okay. Th-thank you Nighty. I d-didn’t mean to go to pieces like this.” Dream managed out, wiping his face clean of his tears.

“Hey… It’s alright to cry in front of me. We were created for each other, as well as to protect the tree, remember?” Nightmare pointed out gently “Although… I… Please promise me one thing?”

“Sure, anything.” Dream responded earnestly, leaning exhaustedly into the negative guardian.

“Never let them see you cry? I think that they’re under the impression that you’re unable to feel negative emotions and I… I don’t want them to see you when you’re vulnerable like this.” his beloved mate asked, violet eyes full of concern.

Dream blinked a little bit in surprise at the other’s request, but he nodded “I… Okay. I try to put my best face forwards when we talk to the mortals anyways, but sure. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Nightmare responded, smiling softly “You should sleep now. Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay… Thank you moonbeam…”

“You’re welcome, starlight.”

[nubnubblr]

If You Do .11

MARK

"It's a Thursday. What do you mean she's not working?" I frowned.

"The manager was working the coffee machine today, apparently she called in sick this morning," Whitney shrugged.

"That's just great,"

"It shouldn't be that different, I do know the specifications that she puts into making coffee that the other barista doesn't, and the manager seemed to follow them," she frowned handing me the coffee.

"I don't really have a choice, the meeting starts in ten minutes," I sighed.

It wasn't that the other barista made bad coffee, it just wasn't my type of coffee, it was too strong and a little bitter, I have to add at least three packets of sugar to it for it to be drinkable. But her coffee was sweet and reminded me of Christmas which is odd, but I have never had a coffee quite like it before.

THEA

I pulled into the police station, Charlie was still half asleep in the passenger seat. I'd gone in to tell her what the boys had done and that I was going to get them, I wasn't expecting her to get up but she had.

She was definitely more tired than I was, but she hadn't taken short power naps throughout the movie marathon like I had, so it was understandable. The boys were sitting in the waiting area when we got there. Neither Sam or BM looked like they had slept, but Jae looked completely rested, maybe a little hungover.

"I thought you needed us to come get you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah my car is back at the club, we had no way home," BM nodded.

"I thought you meant bail you out, not pick you up," I frowned. I was irritated and I knew it was from lack of sleep I was getting towards it being almost 24 hours. That didn't make me any less annoyed.

"Does it matter? You would have come either way,"

"No actually, if I had of known you didn't need bailing out I would have continued to sleep and you three could have caught a cab,"

"You guys look tired," Sam stated looking at Charlie who looked like she could fall asleep on her feet.

"We stayed up watching lord of the rings all night, we'd only slept an hour before you called," I growled.

"Don't get mad at us, we didn't know that," Jae stated.

"Well, we weren't expecting a phone call saying our three idiot friends got arrested. Now can you get in the car so I can go and sleep?" I snapped

"Dude, do you have to be so loud? I have a headache. Also, we're not friends," Jae frowned.

"No, I don't care about your hangover, get in the car," I spoke louder.

"Thea, seriously," BM sighed.

"What? It's not my fault you are hungover, that's on you,"

BM

Thea was growing more agitated. It usually happened when she hadn't slept but had napped. She was overtired and if she didn't sleep soon she was likely to either fight someone or cry, there was also the possibility of her doing both simultaneously. The fact that her mouth was probably still hurting wasn't helping with her mood in any way.

"Why don't we just go back to your house and we can all get some sleep?" I suggested.

"Sleep? What a wonderful idea," she bit sarcastically, clenching her teeth. She did that when she wanted her mouth to stop throbbing, but I wasn't sure if it was that or because she was just really angry.

"Do you want me to drive?" I offered.

"No I do not want you to drive," she snapped as she tried, and failed, to hold back a huge yawn.

"I didn't drink enough to get too drunk and I've sobered up sitting in there for a few hours. I'm fine to drive, you don't seem to be in the same state," I pointed out.

"I'm perfectly fine," she snapped.

"Yo can we go?" Jae sighed.

"Does it really matter who drives?" Sam added.

"Just give him the keys so we can go home. You're overtired and in pain. I don't want to die today," Charlie spoke. Thea still clenching her jaw handed me the keys and got into the passenger seat without another word.

"Let's go guys," I sighed.

We drove quietly for a few minutes before Jae decided to break the silence.

"Can we go through a McDonald's? I really want a bacon and egg McMuffin, and maybe a hash brown,"

"Food actually sounds really good right now," Sam nodded.

"What do you say? Are you going to kill us if we stop for food?" I turned to Thea who was already asleep, I looked in the mirror, Charlie had also fallen asleep on Sam's shoulder.

"As long as no one wakes her we should be fine," I nodded.

"They haven't slept all night, not even I'm dumb enough to wake them," Jae stated.

"Okay quick breakfast run," I agreed.

SAM

We pulled into the driveway, Charlie and Thea were out cold, BM picked Thea up, Jae got out of the car and stared at Charlie for a moment, he looked like he was going to try and pick her up.

"I've got this, you can grab her, she's too heavy," Jae shook his head picking up the paper McDonald's bag.

"This is heavy enough, BM hurry up before I drop everything," Jae threw over his shoulder as he walked towards the front door.

"You got her?" BM asked as he followed behind Jae.

"Of course,"

She was lighter than I thought she would be and that was already fairly light. She barely stirred when I lifted her from the car, she did stir slightly when I pulled her into the cold morning air. But she didn't wake up, not even when I climbed the stairs and was almost knocked over by an excited Volk.

Jae was already sitting at the kitchen table eating his breakfast, BM was coming out of Thea's room probably to take his shoes off before climbing into bed next to her. Not that I blame him neither he or I had slept at all last night. Jae, however, had slept pretty much throughout the whole thing which was conveniently all his fault to begin with.

Okay, to be fair BM was slightly to blame seeing as he was the reason Jae was drinking. Jae was so irritated about being paid in drinks that he became slightly spiteful and decided to get to drink his full payment value. Drunk Jae ends about as well as drunk Thea.

BM

Sam placed Charlie in her bed and kicked off his shoes.

"Dude not a good idea," I stated quietly.

"Why?"

"Because she is bound to be mad at us when she wakes up, and I guarantee when Jae decides he wants to go back to sleep he will just wiggle his way in between you and fidget until you get out of the bed which will wake her up and irritate her more,"

Honestly, even though it was something Jae would do, I knew this because he had done it before, I highly doubted that he was in any mindset to do that today. He would probably just crawl into the spare bed if Charlie's was full. He knows better than to interrupt her sleeping.

But I had to say something to stop Sam from getting in her bed. I wasn't against the two dating or anything but him getting into her bed right now when she has no idea how he feels and him pretending it's nothing more than friends would only end up hurting him. He was definitely heading for a relapse on the 'I'm not in love with Charlie' roller coaster and if that's the case then he needs to be convinced to put it all on the table and be honest with her about his feelings instead of being strung along like a marionette with a clueless puppeteer.

Charlie doesn't know she's doing it because she thinks they're friends but whether Sam will admit it or not she was more than that to him and some of the things Charlie did with him gave him the assumption that she probably felt the same and there was no need to actually voice it right now. Which let him hide his feelings until she found a new guy and he got hurt and found a distraction until he thought he had a chance again. It was a vicious Charlie Cycle she didn't know she'd had him riding for years.

"You're probably right," he nodded picking his shoes up and exiting the room pulling the door behind him.

I frowned watching him walk into the spare room. Sam was very good at self-sabotage, especially when it came to Charlie.

I got into bed with Thea who stirred at the disturbance and rolled closer to me cuddling into my side.

"If you snore I'll stab you," she mumbled.

JACKSON

"So what are your plans for the weekend?" Jessi asked as we made our way down to a lunch bar.

"It's only Thursday?"

"I don't work tomorrow," she shrugged.

"I'm hoping to go to lunch with someone," I nodded.

"The same someone that you're be been texting nonstop for the past few weeks?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"Wait, hoping? Like it hasn't been confirmed?"

"She doesn't want to come alone, she's trying to convince her housemate to come too,"

"Why can't she come alone?"

"In case I'm a crazy psycho?"

"Why would she think you're a crazy psycho?"

"Did you hear how we met? The girl ran into me spilling soup all over me and then I asked for her number, not really the act of a sane person,"

"And this is why I shouldn't have days off, then you're left unsupervised," she shook her head at me. Jessi was probably one of the people I was closest with at work. People seemed to think we would date, personally, I don't think I was her type, I'm pretty sure she wasn't into men at all. But she was a good work friend, we didn't really hang out outside of work which was probably a good thing, I didn't need her knowing that I had more influence here than just a simple employee.

CHARLIE

"She lives," Jae stated when I emerged from my bedroom. I wasn't really sure what the time was but it didn't really matter seeing as I had nowhere to be anyway.

"So is someone going to tell me why we had to come and pick you up from the police station this morning?" Thea raised an eyebrow lifting the kettle in my direction, asking me if I wanted water put in the kettle for a coffee without actually speaking.

"I'm good," I waved her off.

"I have no idea," Jae shrugged stuffing a bowl of cereal in his mouth.

"Seriously?" Sam frowned at him, he just shrugged like he was clueless.

"Long story short, Jae got drunk and then got mouthy, we got arrested and he slept through the rest," BM stated.

"And short story long?" Thea asked placing a cup down in front of BM and Sam.

"It's really BM's fault," Jae shrugged.

"How is it my fault?" BM frowned.

"You're the one who got Drew to pay me in alcohol,"

"No one said you needed to drink that much,"

"If I was being paid in drinks I was going to drink my share,"

"That doesn't tell us what happened," Thea stated sitting down with her own cup.

"Well like I said, Jae got drunk and mouthy. He started announcing his love to the entire club until Drew asked us to remove him before he caused drama. So we left the club and ended up at a bar, I'm not really sure how that happened because we were trying to bring him home,"

"He's smarter than you," I shrugged.

"Anyway," BM frowned at me.

"We were at this bar for maybe an hour, Jae got all loud valley girl, like he does and there was a misunderstanding between us and this other group of guys who thought Jae was trying to confess his love to this guys girlfriend, things only got worse when Sam and I tried to fix things. So things were said people were hit and police were called. No one pressed any charges but we had to stay in the cell until he had sobered up," BM nodded towards Jae who was still eating cereal.

"I remember none of that," he shook his head.

"That's probably because the minute Sam and I intervened, you lounged back in the chair and fell asleep," BM stated.

"And stayed asleep until about ten minutes before you guys came to get us," Sam added.

"Why did you need us to come and get you?" Thea frowned, she was probably still annoyed that they're called and woken her up.

"Because I had to leave my car at Drew's club last night, he has my keys because we had all had too many drinks to drive," BM stated.

"I should have made you walk home," Thea pulled a face.

"You wouldn't do that," BM mimicked her face.

"Sure I would,"

"Maybe to Jae but not to me," BM ruffled her hair.

"Considering you three are here already," she glared at BM.

"Not it," Jae shook his head.

"I picked you up, fed you, and got rid of your headache," Thea stated.

"Do you guys have to argue," I yawned.

They ignored the fact that I had spoken. That wasn't entirely unusual, especially when they were arguing with each other.

"What do you need help with?" BM sighed.

"The only place in the house that I haven't cleaned out is the shed," she stated.

"You haven't cleaned Charlies room," Jae stated, I frowned at him.

"Well she hasn't," he shrugged.

"What reason would I have to clean out Charlie's room?" Thea raised an eyebrow.

"She doesn't even go in Charlie's room," Sam added.

"Because it's weird," Thea nodded.

"I didn't say you had to go in there I was just pointing out that the shed wasn't the only room you hadn't cleaned out, and technically it's not even in the house," Jae stated.

"You're not going to be any help anyway, you can barely lift your own bowl, so just stop talking," Thea waved him off.

"You're right," Jae nodded.

"So you want help clearing out the shed?" BM raised an eyebrow.

"Considering your conversion from office to apartment is done, and over half of the boxes in our shed are full of stuff that belongs to you three, I think it's time you guys took them and went through them,"

"You're the one who said we could keep them here as long as we needed," Jae shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure I told you to stop talking," she frowned at him.

"He's not wrong though," BM stated.

"I'm not saying they can't stay in the shed, but I think you guys should go through the stuff and see what you want to keep, if you want to take any of it back to your apartment, and what you want to get rid of,"

"Why? it seems a little pointless to unpack boxes just to repack them again," Sam frowned, he was a little grumpy today which was strange for him.

Sam was normally quiet and pretty happy, but he seemed to been extra quiet today and not at all happy. Maybe he was just hungover or tired but it seemed like more than that, he was also avoiding looking at me or at least it seemed that way. Maybe I was still a little tired.

THEA

"It's pointless to have boxes of stuff sitting around with stuff you don't want or need anymore," I tried to make my point.

Honestly, I just figured that if they went through the boxes in the shed then they would be too busy to get in any sort of trouble for a few hours.

"Are you punishing us for waking you up from your beauty sleep?" Jae questioned.

"No,"

"Good because it doesn't matter how much sleep you get, all the sleep in the world isn't going to fix that," he waved at my face screwing up his own.

"Your face does look kind of swollen," BM frowned.

"It does that after I see the orthodontist," I sighed rolling my eyes.

"I'm surprised at how much you're talking considering the amount of pain you were in last night," BM muttered.

"The wonders of modern day medicine,"

"Are you still in pain?" Sam asked.

"No, my mouth only hurts when I try and eat solid food,"

"So you're on a baby food diet?" Jae smirked.

"I know what you three are doing, but you still have to go through your stuff,"

"Today?" BM sighed.

"No, tomorrow,"

"Why tomorrow?"

"Because Charlie has is busy all day and I have a shoot to do, so you three need something to keep you busy and out of trouble,"

"We got arrested one time," BM frowned at me.

"We don't get in trouble anywhere near as frequently as you do," Sam stated.

"I've never been arrested," I shrugged.

"Because we're always looking after you," BM stated.

"This is me looking after you, either go through the boxes tomorrow or I'm donating them," I shrugged getting up from the table.

SAM

"Seriously?" Jae frowned.

"You set off her mother complex, what do you expect?" Charlie stated.

She looked over at me and I quickly looked away. I couldn't help but feel like BM had meant something different earlier when he said it would be a bad idea to sleep in the bed with Charlie. I knew my feelings for her were coming back, and I wasn't sure how she felt about me but I was betting it wasn't more than a friend.

We have slept together recently, does that mean anything? I've told her my feelings before, several times, but she's never taken me seriously. She just brushes it off or someone interrupts us and she gets distracted. There are also the numerous times that I've chickened out and haven't gone through with it.

When it comes to Charlie, things are complicated, she makes every atom in my body buzz and freezes at the same time. I'm not sure she will ever take my confessions seriously, but at the same time I'm not sure I want her too, she's not someone I can imagine life without and I don't know if I'm willing to risk losing her.

"Where are you going?" BM's voice snapped me back into reality.

"I have a meeting," Thea shrugged.

"It's almost 4 in the afternoon,"

"What's your point?" she raised an eyebrow.

"A meeting with who?"

"Are you boys staying here for dinner?" she changed the subject.

"It is Thursday," Jae pointed out.

"Okay, I'l get something on my way home," she nodded picking up her bag and keys heading out the door.

"Anyone know where she's going?" BM frowned.

"She's your friend," Jae shrugged.

"No idea," Charlie stated getting up from the table.

"Where are you going?" Jae asked.

"To pee, what to come?" she frowned at him.

"I was just asking," he pulled a face at her.

"Oh, do you want me to drop you off at Drew's club to get your car?" Thea came back into the room.

"Yeah sure, let me get changed," BM nodded.

THEA

"So who do you have a meeting with?" BM asked getting into the passengers' seat.

"The guy I'm doing the photo shoot for tomorrow,"

"You liar," he frowned at me.

"I'm not lying,"

"You are, you're wearing interview clothes," he pointed out.

"I'm wearing a skirt and a nice shirt," I rolled my eyes.

"With stockings and a blazer,"

"What's your point?"

"My point is you're going to a job interview,"

"I need a job," I shrugged giving up.

"You have a job,"

"Not that I don't appreciate you giving me a job, but I need more hours than a few times a week, you only use me when you've rostered everyone else and you need a spot filled,"

"You could have just asked for more hours," he sighed.

"I still have nothing to do during the day,"

"So you plan to work that job then come work for me?"

"This interview is for a job that's only four hours a day, from 8 until 12, which gives me an hour between leaving there and starting at the bar,"

"And how far away is it?"

"I could walk, I don't get your resistance with this, I figured you'd be happy I wasn't going to be sitting at home re-cleaning things,"

"I'm glad you won't be bored but I think you're trying to do too much and you're going to overwork yourself,"

"I'm fine,"

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he stated as I pulled up to the club.

"Get out of my car, and make sure you get those boxes out of the shed," I sighed.

"You're serious about the boxes?"

"Yeah, so sort through them tomorrow before you have to open the bar, speaking of which who opened tonight?"

"Coco, I'll head over there after I get my car," he shrugged getting out of the car.

"Do you want to come say hi to Drew?"

"Why would I want to do that?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Because he got Jae out of your hair last night?"

"And look how well that turned out," I stated. He just nodded with a small laugh closing the door.

BM

"Hey man, your keys are in the till," Drew called from behind the bar where he was restocking shelves.

"Thanks,"

"I thought you would have been here earlier,"

"Yeah, I had to wait for Thea to drop me off,"

"She couldn't have brought you by earlier?"

"Probably, but I think she was making me wait on purpose,"

"Why?"

"Because I'm in trouble because of you,"

"Why because of me?"

"After you kicked us out last night we ran into some trouble and got arrested, I had to get Thea to come and get us this morning, just so happens that she chose last night to pull an all-nighter watching movies,"

"You got arrested?"

"Yeah, Jae got mouthy,"

"Well that's your fault, you're the one who told me to pay him in drinks,"

"You could have given him a cutoff point,"

"It all worked out fine, no one was hurt, right?"

"I now have to pull all of the boxes out of the girls shed and go through it just to put it back,"

"Thea went mother mode," Drew laughed.

"It's not funny bro,"

"It's a little funny," he shrugged.

"The next time we come drinking here I'm going to make sure she throws up on your dance floor,"

"She wouldn't do that to me,"

"She would,"

[skywailer]

Poison-Alice Cooper If you’ve ever seen the video you’ll know EXACTLY why I chose this omg

(so uh, *sweats profusely* here you go)

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Kylo has only just left her chambers; has only just moved her from the dregs of the dreadnought’s prison cells; has just barely arrived in time to order an indefinite stay of execution (at great peril to his sovereignty, if Hux’s disapproving glower is any indication)  - when their connection slaps across his face, and she dares to appear before him with a sickeningly yellow vial pressed to her lips.  The image of it stings.

“Put it down, Rey,” he warns, anger welling wet in his eyes.  He takes a step towards her; she, a step back.  This could go on forever, if he let it- the ship’s corridor long and abandoned.  His subordinates are waiting at their stations, waiting for their Supreme Leader’s command.  The rebellion is on its last leg, hobbling in an enclosed valley of Ibaar, and all he has to do is give an order and it will all come tumbling down- the end of a war.  Except, Rey is waiting as well- threatening a different, just as deadly, end.

“You’re bluffing,” Kylo snaps, and his temper churns viciously, an electric storm in his chest.  Through the bond, Rey’s pure determination strikes true to his heart.  Stunned, his heart clamps tight, there is a burning in his lungs, and his muscles spasm before going terrifyingly numb.

“If you kill them, you kill me.”  

Her words are unnecessary with the intensity of their connection; it is a live-wire constantly electrifying him.  It has never been this raw before, this potent.  And she has never before given him an ultimatum.  She has never bartered her life, poised it so bluntly upon the sacrificial altar.  And for what?  For the likes of them- the thought is venomous spit- they whose hands carve her into a disposable pawn for their meager, wasteful cause; whose hands place in hers a poison.  His blood boils to know whose hand it was that gave her such a vile option, boils to sever it with his own bare hands.

Rey blocks his attempts to see this criminal’s face.  

She protects them, with her life.

Knuckles clenched, nails nearly cutting through leather and flesh, he seethes, “it’s pointless, Rey.  Careless, pointless.  I’ll heal you, and I’ll destroy them for ever making you think this was worth their shitty crusade.”  It is a vicious promise, barely softened by the trembling of his lips.  His hands ache to seize her, shake reason back into her skull, heal her of this damned need for purpose.

She simply shakes her head, and the yellow liquid glints gold in the sparse light.  He knows it’s glint well- the coma-bloom inside promising a swift exit into oblivion.  “I know the second I drink this, we’ll lose connection.  Just like I know you’ll have a very short time-frame to get to me, to heal me.”

And even then, it would take time.  Time she’d buy them to escape. Risking her life, on the off-chance they can escape.  Knowing he can’t call off the attack- or, worse, not trusting him to.  The realization of all this crashes down on him, leaves his face blood red.

“They wouldn’t do the same for you!” he shouts- outraged, horrified.  Desperate.  “They don’t care!”

Not like I do. He can never quite say it the way he means to, but it’s there, rippling tidal currents in the air between them.  Violently sweeping her off her feet.

There is a heartbreaking flutter in her energy, a tremor in spirit that she refuses to express in flesh.  Rey stands, resolute, the final pillar the Resistance stands upon- crushing weight be damned.

“I know.  I wouldn’t expect them to,” she says, a slight fracture in tone exposing old wounds he immediately regrets tearing open.

“Rey,” he breathes, takes a step towards her, arm failing to reach out the right way-

“It’s time to choose, Ben.”  

The words are as solid as her poison is liquid, spilling over into her mouth.

Kylo is running before he can see her body fall to the ground, before he can feel the tether snap.  He is at the door of her chambers, blasting it open with just a look of sheer rage.  He is on his knees, where she lies - motionless, lifeless - on the floor.  Hands clasp her face, effortlessly lifting her upon his thighs as he searches for a pulse of heart and spirit.  He finds both, both quiet and dazed, and clings to them with his mind.  He closes his eyes, tries to focus - focus - beyond the panic, to pull her back, knowing this could go wrong in so many ways.  All the while, cursing her for being the last in a haunting line of loved ones willing to die because of him.

In the midst of his anguish, in his attempts to focus and heal, Kylo realizes something is… wrong.

He opens his eyes, and looks at Rey- studying her: the peaceful rest of her lips and closed eyes (the same as when she sleeps) and the stubborn color in her cheeks.  Carefully, he rests her head upon his arm, peels the leather glove off his free hand, and presses his fingers to the side of her neck.  It is the first time, in a long time, that he has touched her- flesh to flesh.  And when he does, he finds her life beneath his hand, beating vigorously.  

And not because of his efforts.

When she comes to, she is still resting upon his thighs, head still nestled in the crook of his arm, and his fingers still pressed onto her neck.  Her vial of senflax, however, is no longer held in her fist.  Sleepily, her eyes trail down the arm that cradles her, curving around the bend of his elbow until she lands on the (surprisingly intact) little glass in Kylo’s fist, which lies knotted and heavy on her chest.  Or at least, she assumes it’s heavy.  The neurotoxin’s paralysis lingers just enough to keep her oddly numb.  Not numb enough, however, to soothe his anger.  It rolls off him in waves, foaming against her skin.  

Strangely enough, it tickles.

Of course, when, finally, she raises her eyes to his, he does not look very tickled.  Not at all.

He has had time, Rey can tell, to compose his features while she was unconscious.  Yet, still, there is a retreating undertow of hurt and fear when he commands, “don’t do that again.”

She tries to smile, not sure if it’s supposed to be smug or reassuring- either way, it doesn’t work.  She can’t even feel if her muscles are doing what she wants them to do.  

“Don’t worry,” Rey mumbles, relieved she can speak- even if she sounds like a drunken yuzzem.  She feels like she’s going to have an equally terrible hangover.  She closes her eyes, as the headache creeps in.  “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.  Seems like a one-time deal.”

The fingers Kylo had softly caressing her pulse don’t feel so soft anymore.  His thumb, resting at the hollow of her throat, drags up the length of it, catching her breath and hooking it beneath her chin, lifting with nail and calloused skin until her eyes are caught by his.  They are darker than usual, sublime in their passionate depths.  In their fury.

All of which is directed with intense precision at her, where she lies upon him, completely at his mercy.

“Because you tricked me.”

She didn’t think quite this far ahead, acting on impulse when she heard the calls for battle.  She hadn’t even thought it would work.  

“Barely,” she snorts.  Rey thinks she might have also managed to shrug.  Definitely smug this time.  Fully in spite of her vulnerable position.  “You drew your own conclusions about what was inside.”

The Resistance had long decided it was better to feign death than to become it.  Unfortunately, she chances exposing that with her actions.  Though, Kylo seems too focused on her to think about the bigger picture.

“Besides,” she rants anyway, sensation returning to her in small spurts.  Not enough to get up, not enough to run for the exposed exit just behind him, but enough to speak her mind.  “You started this.  You imprisoned me.”

That does the trick.  His eyes narrow, and his hold on her throat tightens just enough to send a thrill down her spine.  Sensation is definitely coming back.  Perhaps, too much so.  It begins to dawn on her that it has been a long time since he’s touched her like this- and it is slightly distant in feeling, like a slight drizzle on her skin.  But in a desert, that is enough to drive her mad for more.

“Barely.  May I remind you it was Hux who captured you, and I who came just in time to save your life.  Twice,” he fumes, breath hot on her cheeks.  His eyes flicker down, and Rey writhes in her mind- afraid her body is betraying her somehow.  When he looks back at her, its her eyes that do the betraying- pupils flaring wide, awakening with need and eagerly drinking him in.  

She can feel and hear his mind, humming; he is arrogantly pleased by what he sees, wholesomely relieved by what he feels: her.

“Besides,” he breathes, and his tone is just as unyielding as before- but the tension comes from somewhere low, profound and hungry.  Much more dangerous.  “This is hardly a prison.”

He says this, arm of steel coiled around her, hand wrapped around her pulse, thumb dictating every inhale and exhale with its strokes up, and down, her throat.  Her breaths come long, and deep, and slightly trembling.  Like his touch.

“I guess we’re even, then.  Let’s just call it a truce.”

“No.” It is more hiss than human.

Kylo’s trembling has stopped in sudden, stone paralysis- as though she has poisoned him.  In a way, she has.  She did, the moment she poured what he thought to be her death down her throat, injecting that same venom into his veins.  Rey can see it spreading in his eyes, feel it through clenched muscle and clawing hands as it incapacitates reason.  

Rey realizes her mistake in all this the same moment she is coerced into thinking it isn’t a mistake- when his lips sink into hers with one final, hissed, “no.”

His kiss is at once venom and antidote.  It is sharp and biting, tongue dripping toxins deep down her throat- the kind of deadly that melts bone and scorches veins.  Yet, it is distressed and yearning, that same tongue licking and dragging the last of the neurotoxin out of her- until she is raw to every part of her body and his.  

His arm has constricted around her, pulling her flush to him- so close that she can’t distinguish his heartbeat from the maddening pulse of energy surrounding them.  She can find hers, though, moaning and vulgar beneath his hand- the hand that is still wrapped around her throat, clawing and stroking.  He croons into her mouth.

Frenzied and feeling, Rey grabs him by that damned cloak and pushes him to the ground.  He falls willingly, pulls her down with him.  There is a tearing of gasps and clothing.  A sealing of sweat and bodies.  There are to be no truces between them, only a give and a take- a vicious cycle of it.  It is not the first of illicit intimacies between them, though they swear (as they had before) that it will be the last.  Because it is toxic, how she wants and presses into every part of him- even as her eyes glance to the gaping exit, her escape, and plans to leave him again.  

It is just as toxic, just as painful, how he will let her and love her all the same.

[some1foundme]

Repost: The Long Way Home

Decided that I need to get this entire thing posted before the premiere so here is the next chapter.  Watch for two a day!

Read on AO3

Chapter Five

As the school where she had spent her childhood came into view, Felicity couldn’t fight the wistful smile that found its way to her face.  Ray was holding her hand and he squeezed it tightly at her expression.  

“This is it,” Thea confirmed, “Star Island Day School.  Home of anywhere from one hundred to a hundred and ten kids at a time, ranging in age from five to eighteen, housing grades K thru twelve.”

Ray glanced at her, “All of the kids on the island go to the same school?  At the same time?”

It was Felicity who answered, stepping away from him and heading straight for the familiar playground.

“There aren’t that many kids on the island.  A hundred and ten is pushing it.  And yes, we all went to school together at the same time.  Unless someone moves away, the kids you meet in kindergarten are the same five to ten kids you’ll graduate with.  There were seven in our class.”

He shook his head, befuddled and astonished all at the same time.  Felicity wanted to laugh as she settled herself on one of the swings.  Thea took the one beside her and Ray stepped behind them to give each of them a push.  She stared out at the water across the way.  The school was on the island’s west side with an uninterrupted view of the Pacific Ocean.  The road separated the playground from the rocky beach.

“Must’ve been tempting,” Ray mused, “Being able to see that every day during school.  I would’ve wanted to spend my time on the beach, not in a classroom.”

Thea snickered, “Yeah, well, there were definitely times we did just that.  But it’s a little difficult to skip class when the teachers can see you from their windows.”

“We were here a lot though,” Felicity told him, “Before school and after.  We got a forty-minute lunch / study break every afternoon.  When it was warm, the older kids would come out to the beach for lunch.”

“Oliver and Tommy loved to scare the living daylights out of us.  They’d run out here the minute the bell rang, stripping off their clothes as they went, and dive into the water.  Racing out to the buoys became a thing for them.  At least once a week they were out here trying to prove which of them was faster.”

Thea’s words brought the memory to the forefront of her mind and she felt her heart kick into overdrive.  She dropped her feet into the woodchips beneath the swing and came to an abrupt halt.  It shook her, rattling her bones.  She almost demanded that Thea shut up but she clamped her mouth shut, knowing that shouting at Thea wouldn’t do either of them any good.  Instead, she was distracted by the sight of Ray jogging away from them.  She watched in stunned silence for a few minutes as he yanked his shirt up over his head and kicked off his sneakers.  She was on her feet a moment later.

“No!”

He didn’t seem to hear her – or was choosing to ignore her – and she ran after him.  Thea was right behind her.

“Ray!  No, please, stop!”

He had just reached the water’s edge when she clamped her hand around his wrist and tugged him around to face her.  She was breathing hard, her pulse thrumming in her veins, and he frowned as he looked down into her eyes.

“What’s the big deal?  You said Oliver used to swim out there as a teenager.  I do know how to swim, Felicity, I think I can –“

“No!  I’m telling you no, Ray.  Yes, Oliver and Tommy used to – used to race out there but… but that water is dangerous. There’s a bad riptide and –“

“I’ll be fine,” he told her, pulling free of her grasp, “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Ray –“

“No!” Felicity shouted, cutting off whatever Thea had been about to say, “No!  I don’t care how it looks.  I watched Tommy die out there, Ray, it’s too dangerous!”

She stormed away from them, heading back to the playground, while her heart beat out a staccato rhythm in her chest. Anger and fear made tears well in her eyes but she blinked them away.  She dropped heavily onto the swing she’d vacated earlier and watched Thea and Ray approach silently.  When they were close enough, Thea situated herself on the swing to her right and Ray crouched down in front of her.  He took both of her hands in his but she drew back.

“Don’t.”

The word was a sharp reprimand and she saw the look of hurt that flashed briefly in Ray’s eyes.  She took a few deep breaths, counting backwards from twenty until her heartbeat had returned to normal, and recounted the story without stopping to look at Thea.

“I was sixteen.  Oliver and I… we used to come out here sometimes to talk.  He’d come to my bedroom window.  His home life was – well, it wasn’t good and when things got to be too much, he’d come and find me.”

Thea sat beside her stiffly and she wanted to reach for her hand but she couldn’t find the strength.  She knew if she stopped talking, she wouldn’t be able to finish the story.

“It was later in the year and cold and he showed up at my window in the middle night.  We came out here because it was safe, because we could be alone.  Oliver, he – he didn’t want to talk about what happened at home.  Sometimes he’d tell me but most of the time he just pretended like everything was fine. That night, he was hurt and trying to act as if nothing was wrong but I – I knew and I kept pushing him to tell me what was going on.  He wouldn’t and when I pushed too hard, he used the water as a way to escape.  He shouldn’t have been out there because it was just too damn cold and the water was too rough but he was mad at me and trying to get away so he swam out to the buoys.”

A knot was forming in her stomach as she spoke and the tears she’d been holding at bay threatened to fall again.  She did everything she could to keep her composure.

“I was standing there watching him, tracking him as he cut through the surf, and I saw him tap the buoy.  But when he turned around, the wind had picked up and it started raining.  The water became choppy and he was struggling.  I couldn’t – I couldn’t do anything to help him.  I’m not a strong swimmer and I knew if I tried to go after him… but Tommy appeared out of nowhere.  I don’t even know how he found us.  I mean, it wasn’t a secret that Oliver came to me when things were bad but – Tommy went in after him.”

It was playing in her head again, that film she couldn’t remember watching.  Every detail of that night was clear in her mind and she shivered, feeling the cold rain seeping through her clothes.

“They both struggled.  The water was bad, worse than I’d ever seen it, and Tommy tried to get to Oliver but he was dragged out by the current.  Oliver turned around and went after him.  He – he dragged Tommy’s body to shore.  He’d hit his head on something.  The bottom here is all rock, no sand, and he was dragged under.  When they made it to shore, Oliver started CPR and I ran for help.  By the time my dad and I made it back here and the police arrived, we were too late. Tommy was gone and Oliver was… he was devastated.”

Felicity risked a glance at Thea and at the sight of tears streaking her friends face, she stood and pulled her into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, Speedy,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.  If I’d just let him be, if I hadn’t tried to push him, he never would’ve –“

Thea shook her head, “No, Felicity.  We’ve been over this.  It wasn’t your fault.  Ollie would’ve died, too, if Tommy hadn’t gone after him.  I would’ve – I would’ve lost one of them, no matter how you look at it.  And Ollie knew better.  He knew he shouldn’t have gone out there.”

Thea wiped at her tears and Felicity struggled to contain her own.  They each sat again and Ray remained crouched at Felicity’s feet.

“Tommy was Oliver’s brother?” he questioned gently.

Felicity nodded, “Half-brother.  But they were close.  They were… they were best friends.  Thea and Tommy and Oliver… they were all really close.”

Thea sighed, shaking her head.

“Maybe coming down here was a bad idea,” she huffed, swiping her fingers under her eyes one last time, “I always forget that this place has some really shitty memories attached to it.”

Felicity laughed in spite of herself.

“It does.  But there are good ones, too.  Like Halloween our freshman year, remember?  When we all snuck out and had that bonfire?  Threw our own costume party?”

Thea snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth to cover the sound.

“Oh god, that was so bad!  I saw way more of my brother that night than I wanted, too.”

They both laughed and, to Felicity, it was cathartic.

“I really should head back,” Thea said eventually, getting to her feet again, “Went out for a morning run and totally got sidetracked.  I’ve got work to do today and my mom is probably wondering where the hell I disappeared to.”

Felicity hugged her again, “We’ll have to do dinner one night this week.  I want to see Roy and, of course, introduce him to Ray.”

Thea grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.  Call me, okay?”

She and Ray watched Thea go, the silence between them heavy.  As soon as she was out of sight, Felicity turned to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately, thrusting her fingers into her windblown hair, “This place – this whole damn island – just keeps dragging up all of this stuff I thought I was over.  I should’ve known that it would be like this.  I did know.  I mean, hello, there’s a reason that I’ve avoided coming home for so long and I –“

“Felicity!” Ray caught her face in his hands and cut off her ramble, “Breathe.  It’s okay. I get it.  I mean, sort of, but I’m trying to understand.”

She nodded and stepped back, putting distance between them.  She chose to ignore the question in Ray’s eyes as she did so.

“We should get back.  I’m sure my mom’s already started breakfast.  Actually, we’ve probably missed it.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it. She hoped he didn’t see the way she hesitated.

“Is it okay if I ask another question?”

She swallowed hard but nodded.

“Were you in love with him?”

She shouldn’t have been surprised by it but his question caught her off guard.  She paused mid-step and turned to him.  It was on the tip of her tongue to respond vaguely.  She wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Ray.  She didn’t want to tell him about their past, about the life she’d dreamed of for herself before she’d lost him.  It was too much.  But lying would get her nowhere.  

“Yes.”

“Is Tommy’s death the reason that the two of you aren’t together?”

She shook her head, “No.  We – we were together for a while after.”

Ray said nothing and she was thankful that he was willing to let the conversation go.  She knew it would be brought up again, that they still had more to talk about, but it would have to wait.

They hadn’t made it to the bend in the road that would lead them back to the inn when a voice called out her name, accompanied by a car horn.  She turned, watching a familiar blue pickup roll to a stop a few feet away.  

The man who leaned out the window was grinning widely, his dark hair long enough that it covered his ears and his brown eyes were shining.

“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me again!” he called, “I thought, no way is that Felicity, she would’ve told her favorite cousin she was coming home!”

Felicity smirked at him, rolling her eyes, and jogged over to the truck.  She hugged Cisco through the window.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she told him, “It was all kind of last minute.”

He eyed her for a moment and chose not to address the fact that it would’ve only taken thirty seconds to send him a text and tell him she was home.

“Well I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Me, too.  Oh, Cisco, this is my boyfriend Ray.  Ray, this is my cousin, Cisco.  Barry’s brother.”

“Hey, man, nice to finally meet you!  When ‘Lis told me she got a job at Palmer Tech, I was a little jealous.  You’ve done amazing things with technology and –“

“Cisco, quit fangirling, please.  It’s kind of embarrassing,” she teased.

He flushed, “Yeah, sorry.  Look, I’m heading out to see Grams.  You want to come with?”

She glanced between Ray and Cisco for a moment and could see the interest in Ray’s eyes.  He seemed to be open to meeting her entire family in one go.

“I guess that would be okay.  But Ray, I – I should warn you.  Remember when I asked you not to bring up Laurel around my parents?”

He nodded and she saw Cisco’s smile falter.

“I’m going to ask you to do the same with my grandmother.  Laurel is… Laurel is Laurel and what I haven’t told you is that, after high school, she sort of just vanished.  She left the island one afternoon and never came back.  At least not until she showed up two years later with her newborn daughter. She only stayed long enough to leave my niece on my parents’ doorstep before she took off again.”

Her explanation left a shocked expression on his face and she sighed.

“My family is far from perfect, as you can now tell.  And while they haven’t officially disowned Laurel, to my parents, they only have one daughter.  Me.”

[shirewalker]

Hey! For the ship fic with sappy and smutty, Han/Leia no.5 (sappy) in a changing room?

+ “I’ve wanted this for song long”

Again, soft AU tho it’s still in a galaxy far far away. Also, Holdo shows up at the end lol (she KNOWS stuff, she’s totes the friend that knows what’s going on at all times)

Rated E ofc

“I’vewanted this for so long!” Leia let out, her hands trembling as she undid thebuttons of her clothes.

Han trippedon the way to his own changing room and looked back at her, “What?”

She stoppedand looked at him, “The laser tag test, Han.” She frowned, noticing the brightblush that coloured his cheeks.

Han coughedand looked away, “Oh, right.” He opened the door and sighed. Leia had utteredthose words in such a breathless way… That paired with her stripping down wasbound to make him think… Stuff. Considering he’d been wondering where theystood for a long time now, no one could blame Han Solo for thinking Leia haddecided to take some sort of plunge.

“You’re alittle distracted. Nervous about the test?”

“What? Ohno. I know I’ll ace it.” He looked over his shoulder and flashed his best smuggrin. It nearly fell off his face when he saw that Leia was wearing just herpanties and an undershirt. He instantly regretting looking her way as his bodyreacted quite happily to the sight. They’d kissed once. And then Leia had runoff on him.

“Ofcourse.” She scoffed, though he knew she was smiling.

“AfterwardsI’ll need to go get a new uniform.” He said out of the blue, as they waited fortheir turn.

Leianodded, “Me too, I ripped mine during our last mission on the Desert Moon.”

Han’s heartfluttered a little, “We can go together.”

“Soundsperfect.” The doors opened and their names were called. Leia rose a teasingeyebrow, “Ready to ‘ace’ this?”

“Always.”

--

Miss Holdo’sdesk was empty. A message was blinking in her signboard, the neon lightstaunting the two of them. “Your uniforms are ready. Call your name and code number.I’ll be back in two hours. Holdo.”

Leia sighed,“She’s been seeing that pilot a lot lately. I bet that’s who’s keeping her awayright now.” She leaned into Holdo’s intercom and stated her name and codenumber.

“PrincessLeia, honorary member, changing room number 4.” The machine announced.

She sighed,“Why haven’t they changed that honorary thing yet? Just because I’m theprincess it doesn’t change my place in the Rebellion system.”

Hanchuckled, “Actually, your worshipness, it does.”

“Oh, stopcalling me that.” She pointed at the intercom, “Go ahead, and call for yours.”

He did.

As hefollowed Leia into yet another changing room, Han couldn’t help but think theuniverse was taunting him. Probably a result of not believing Luke’s beliefs onthe Force or something. It wasn’t his fault, he just had never been provenwrong on his own beliefs. But hey, if the universe gave him an opening withLeia… Maybe he’d begin to change his mind.

A handcaught his as he passed by Leia’s changing room. Before he could do anything,Leia was pulling him into the cubicle. Han’s heart fled the scene, not readyfor this kind of opening happening so fast. But then, “Han, help me out withthis zipper. It won’t go down no matter what.” Leia huffed, back to him.

Ashamed forthinking such things, his heart returned home, tiny and pale with disappointment.Han nodded and pulled down the zipper, “I don’t understand your obsession withthese dresses and these zippers. I thought you preferred the practicality ofyour suits.” He let out, fighting a little with the zipper. He bit his tongueto stop himself from saying the rest. He didn’t understand her obsession withwearing dresses for five minutes, but they always looked fantastic on her. So,he kept his teasing to rare moments. Like now.

“I likethem. Feels good to change once in a while, Han.” She gasped then, when thezipper gave in and the back of Han’s hand brushed her skin.

A smirkdanced on his lips, “Something the matter, Leia?”

“No, no!”She shook her head, though her voice trembled hard enough to give away hownervous she was. Han’s heart began to glow, perhaps…

“Leia…” Herasped and leaned in to brush his lips over the back of her neck, hand softlypushing aside the locks of hair that’d fallen from her grip.

A shudderwent through her, “Han…”

“What arewe doing, Leia?” He continued, his lips still on that patch of skin, both dyingto explore at once and waiting for her word.

“Han… Whymust you make everything difficult?” She said, even though she didn’t moveaway.

“I makeeverything difficult, don’t I? It’s because of you. You drive me crazy. Youlike my scoundrel side. You love to snap at me for the littlest of things justfor the sake of snapping at me…” He said, a hand now gingerly on the curve ofher waist, fingers drumming against the fabric, aching to throw it away and totouch her skin.

“I don’tlike your scoundrel, side. I happen to like nice men, Han…” She counteredthrough a shudder and Han felt a smirk curve his lips. Witty Leia, alwaysmeeting every word of his, now only managed to counter one of this arguments,and quite meekly at that…

“I am anice man.” He rasped, lips traveling to her pulse as Leia leaned her head away,beckoning him closer and closer.

“Oh… Han…”She moaned at the first brush of lips against her pulse. Her back arched andher whole body leaned into his in a silent request for more and more and more. “Holdowon’t be back for two hours…” She let out, finally voicing her permission,finally admitting to wanting more than the little games they’ve been playing upuntil now.

His hands travelledto the exposed skin, fingers digging under the fabric and climbing up her back,peeling away the dress with a patience Han never knew he even had. The softsound of fabric hitting the ground drove him mad with anticipation, and beforehe could control himself, her bra was snapped off and gone in a heartbeat. Agroan climbed up his throat when her hands touched him and Leia began toblindly undress him. “Leia… Your worshipness…” He chuckled, fully aware of howmuch she hated and loved that little nickname, “Do you want to do the honours?”

“Icertainly am not going to stand here practically naked while you kiss me andremain fully dressed.” She snapped back.

Han droppedhis hands and stood back as she turned on the spot and he finally took a goodlook of her expression. Leia was… aroused. As much and as badly as he was. Hercheeks were flushed red, her lips were parted and had a little pout that beggedto be kissed and her chest heaved fast, thirsty, demanding.

Somewherebetween that moment of quiet and the next heartbeat he took, Han’s clothes weregone and Leia’s lips were on his. At last. It had been too long since theirfirst kiss, far too long. And it had changed since then. While the first wasquick and shy at the same time, this one was a slow burn and needy. As if bothwould die should they ever stop kissing, as if each other’s air was the onlyway of breathing, as if time was theirs to bend and stretch and play with. Leia’slips tasted of caramel and her moans smelled of coffee. Her breakfast, herfavourite breakfast. They glided over his with haste, yet he was certain shewas making sure she remembered all the curves and tilts his mouth made. Histongue traced her mouth and with a moan, Leia welcomed him in, meeting himhalfway as the kiss was deepened.

“Leia… Oh,Leia…” He rasped when the kiss was broken, his mouth tracing her jaw and neckas he tasted her endlessly.

A loud moanescaped her lips when he found a sweet spot and played with it, “Han…! Oh stars…Oh stars…! Han…” She passed her hands through his hair over and over again,playing with it before dragging her nails down is back. Down, down, down. Shecupped his backside and squeezed, a giggle following suit when he groaned atthe tease.

“I’vewanted this for so long…” He rasped, echoing those harmless words of hers backinto her mouth.

Leiachuckled, arms back around his neck as he hoisted her up and eased into her, “Sothat is why you were so red when I said that. Your mind was somewhere else…”She breathed and licked her lips, savouring the sensation of having Han insideher. He fitted her almost too perfectly. “Oh… You feel so good, Han.”

Han pressedhis forehead to hers and said, “You too, your worshipness.”

“You reallylove calling me that, don’t you?”

“It rilesyou up, and I love it when you’re so riled up.” He said as he rolled his hipsslowly. In and out, so slowly it drew new sounds out of Leia that Han had neverheard. And how lovely those sounds were. She locked her legs around his waistand brought him closer with a cried moan as his sudden thrust hit all the rightbuttons.

“Oh…!” Hermoans grew louder and less coherent, Han’s thrusts growing in speed.

His heartwas so full right now, his whole body focused on nothing but Leia and her bodyand her moans and cries and how fantastic they sounded to him. Leia demandedspeed and he moved faster. Leia demanded more and he thrust harder. Whatevershe asked for, Han gave without hesitation, wishing nothing more than to climaxin the arms of the only woman that had ever made him feel the so-called “fuzzyfeelings”.

“Leia… Leia…Leia…” Her name was a permanent presence on his lips. His head was nested onthe crook of her neck as Leia pulled his hair and demanded more and more andmore.

“Kiss me,Han… Kiss me…” She begged.

He lookedup and his gaze met hers. They hadn’t stopped yet, not yet, though the edge wasdrawing closer by the heartbeat. Her eyes shined so bright, in spite of beinghooded in the heat of the moment. She was absolutely and without a doubt themost beautiful creature he had ever seen in all his years in space. Nothing hadever gotten close to her beauty, even before they had ever crossed paths. Hiseyes fell to her lips. Her mouth was open in a round ‘O’, lips swollen fromkissing and biting, and soft moans kept pouring out of her. His name, yesses,his name again. “I love you, Leia…” He rasped before bringing his lips to hers,before capturing her cry of pleasure, before swallowing down that beautifulsound that would follow him forever.

--

“I’m back!”Holdo called from the entrance and Han quickly finished putting on his shirt.

Leiacoughed and pushed him out of her booth, whispering something about not beingcaught together.

“Too latefor that, Leia.” He whispered as he came face to face with Holdo.

Her brightpink hair was fashioned into a high bun today, her bright blue eyes clashingwith it in a way that felt almost too fantastic to be real. Yet her eyes werereally that blue. But not innocent blue, oh no. A knowing smirk spread on herface, “Oh, you two? At last. I was starting to think I’d have to force you intoone booth one of these days. Ah, Leia! You look lovely, that after-sex glowlooks amazing on you.”

Leia blinkedat her friend as she exited the booth and a bright blush exploded to life onher face, “What? After what?”

Holdoscoffed and turned to their uniforms, “I trust they fit you to perfection, soyou don’t have to go back in and try them for real this time. Did good use of thefree time? I hope so.” She walked away, ignoring their embarrassed faces, “Idemand gossip tonight, Leia!”

“She set usup?” Han croaked after a moment.

Leia hidher face in her hands and groaned, “She has been for a while now. And I realisedit only now… Oh stars…”

“Well,” Hecleared his throat, “It was a lovely afternoon, still.”

A smilefought through her pained expression, “It was. Oh!” She froze and turned tohim, an expression of pure horror distorting her face, “You said… And I didn’t…!”She buried her face in her hands once more, “I’m so sorry, Han.”

“Aboutwhat?” He was confused. What was she sorry about? “For not saying it backthere?”

“Yes. Thatwas uncalled for.”

“I don’tknow what you mean. You may not have worded it,” His voice dropped a notch andhe pulled her into his embrace, “But the way you looked at me and cried my nameand kissed me back… It said enough.”

Her eyesfluttered a little, “Oh?”

“Yes. Iknow, Leia. I know.”

“You’re notgoing to stop me from saying it, are you?”

He shookhis head, “Go ahead, your worshipness.”

She rolledher eyes and placed her hands on his chest, where his heart seemed to stutter, “Ilove you too, Han.”

He flashedhis best and most troublesome smirk, “I know.”

[spiritualpuzzleshipper]

“it’s okay to hurt & breakdown. you don’t have to be strong all the time.” I'd say have fun, but yea we both know where this is going...

GAH THIS TOOK FOREVER!! But I finally did it! It’s done! Two birds with one stone! I got that Weevil vs Yami prompt AND this prompt done together! It fit perfect! I love this so much! What took forever, I fell in love with, and wanted to make sure it was perfect! Which it is!

EDIT: It’s longer then I thought it would be, so I put a keep reading instead.

  I opened my eyes and looked around, darkness was all I saw, it surrounded me “Where am I?” I thought. “Where’s Yugi?” My heart dropped into my stomach, as I thought the worse. All of sudden I noticed I was walking. When did I start doing that?

“Yugi!” I called out into the darkness. “Yugi!!” Louder this time as I continued to walk. Towards where? I did not know, but I did not like the feeling I had, as my feet continue to move on their own.

I suddenly began to hear things, a sound of strong wind, metal on metal, even voices. I closed my eyes and focused, trying to remember. “A train?” It flashed through my mind as quickly as I spoke, a familiar scene, yet it seemed so long ago.

“You want to see Yugi, right?” A scratchy voice spoke. I can’t recall who it is, I focused harder. “His spirit is trapped…” The voice continued.

Then another person spoke. “Tell me how to save him, right now!” This voice, it’s my voice!

I notice I am no longer walking, the voices continued to speak, as I try to focus into the darkness.

A laugh, a maniacal, annoying laugh. “In order to release his soul you’ll need a special card.” I know that voice, I know that laugh. “And I’ve got it right here.”

I hear myself speak again. “Hand it to me now!” I’m demanding him of something. I want a card, a card to release…

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and just as I realized what was going on, the darkness disappeared and revealed to me what it was hiding. Weevil and I, dueling, back when Yugi, was gone.

“That’s not a nice way to ask.” I now see Weevil waving the card around, his annoying voice still irks me. “Why don’t you try saying pretty please with sugar on top.”

Yep, still hate him.

I watch myself take a couple steps towards him. “He’s tricking you!” I called out, but the scene continued on.

“Looks like I have to teach you a lesson in manners.” Weevil puts the card in his hands. I know what’s coming, I can feel it in my chest. The despair, the fear, it’s like I am reliving it again. “Now say goodbye! Yugi’s gone forever!” He rips the card right in front of me, in front of us.

A wave of nausea hits me. Am I really reliving this moment? Please no! I can’t. Those days were already hard the first time. To make me go through them again, the pain, it’s unbearable.

I listen as Weevil laughs, as I scream, remembering the emotions. First shock, then sadness, then…

“You snake!”

Weevil laughs as he throws the pieces off the train. “Don’t you know a joke when you hear one? I tore up a useless bug card.” He admits his lie, he admits he was toying with me.

“You’ll pay for that! Hear me Weevil, you’ll pay dearly!” I sent him a glare and even I shudder at the look in my eyes, the darkness still was flowing through me. I knew it, I was losing control.

I watch as I have my Breaker activate his effect, destroying the magic card he had. I was able to attack with his Poison Butterfly and Breaker attacked him next. I knew what was coming, I knew what I did. I watched Weevil laugh at me, tell me I had lost the duel, he was wrong.

“I can still do this! I activate, Berserker Soul!” I heard the venom in my voice, Weevil never saw it coming.

“What are you gonna to do with that?”

“I must throw out my entire hand. Now I will draw cards from my deck, not stopping till I get a magic or trap card. Meanwhile with each monster card I draw I can attack you with a creature from my side of the field. As long as that creature has fifteen hundred attack points or less.”

I watched Weevil’s face as he was processing my move. He realized what I had done, what I had planned. He realized he, had lost.

“It’s the beginning of the end for you!” I watch as I have Breaker attack Weevil once, then a second time. I had won, and Weevil’s soul was now destined to join the others that had been trapped away. The duel was over…

Or so I thought.

All of a sudden I felt this pain in my chest, I open my eyes and see myself, standing opposite of me. “What’s going on?”

“It’s all your fault!” He yells at me, teeth clenched, he was shaking.

“What do you mean?” I shout across the field. Between the wind blowing and the metal clacking, I struggled to hear.

He growled. “Because of you, Yugi is gone!”

“What do you mean?” I asked again, more confused.

“You’re the one who played that card, the one that took Yugi away.” He glared at me and reached for the deck. “Now, you will pay.”

I remembered, I didn’t stop once Weevil’s life points reached zero. I kept drawing, I kept attacking. My rage had taken over that day. I was so mad at him, but in all honest, it was not him I was mad at. I was mad at myself.

My nightmare…was a reality…

All along…

“I draw again!” He smirked at me. “Another monster!”

Breaker ran towards me, I knew what was coming. He sliced through me and I screamed as loud as I could. The pain was horrid, yet no marks were made.

He drew again. “This just isn’t your day, Pharaoh!”

Another attack, another scream, more pain. I reach for my chest, holding onto it tightly, my vision was blurry but I saw him.

“Breaker! Attack him again!” He cried out, venom in his voice. What I thought was revenge, turned out to be a punishment.

Five, six times, the pain was horrid! I felt as if I was being sliced in half! The screams filled my ears, I tasted blood, my vision was so blurry, I could barely stand.

“DRAW!”

So must spite, anger, hatred; but not for Weevil, for myself! For what I did to Yugi! I deserved this punishment. Tears fell from my eyes when I closed them, awaiting for Breaker to attack me once more. This time, instead of slashing me, his sword went through me. I gasp, coughing up blood, it felt so real.

It was real…

“Yugi’s gone because of you! Now that I’ve won this duel, the seal will take you! In exchange for you, it’ll give Yugi back.” I heard sobs coming from my other self. “Because they wanted you, not him, so they’ll give him back.”

I hear him spat out the words as Breaker pulls the sword out. I struggle to breathe, gasping for air as I fall to my knees. This is a dream, right? You can’t die in dreams!

Wake up, Pharaoh! Wake up!

I tell myself.

“Wake up, Pharaoh!” The panic in my voice. No! Someone else’s voice.

“Please!” The voice, it’s Yugi! “Wake up!” He’s screaming at me, worried, scared.

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!” The Pharaoh shouted as he sat up quickly. He struggled to catch his breath, clenching to the blanket that laid on top of him. He took a moment to process where he was and what had happened. A room, inside his soul room, his bed,  the nightmare, Yugi! He remembered Yugi’s voice and looked around the room for him. Spotting Yugi to his left, who sat on his knees, the Pharaoh noticed he was crying. “Yugi?”

Through the tears Yugi smiled and threw his arms around the Pharaoh’s neck. “Oh thank goodness!” He sobbed. “I could hear you scream from my room. I came looking for you and tried to wake you up.”

The Pharaoh still was processing what all had happened, between the dream and waking up to Yugi next to him, he was confused. “Yugi.” He choked out.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Yugi whispered as he tightened his grip. “It was just a dream.”

The Pharaoh held back a sob as he wrapped his arms around Yugi’s upper body. He held him tight, pulling him closer, still not crying. He dared not to cry in front of Yugi, in front of the one he failed so many times.

Yugi placed his lips against the Pharaoh’s ear. “It’s okay.” His voice barely a whisper. “It’s okay to hurt, to breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time.” He buried his head in the other’s neck.

His eyes grew wide, the tears finally escaping, they fell down his face. He didn’t need to speak, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was muster up sobs, some painful cries, as he held Yugi as tight as he could. He couldn’t take it anymore, holding it in, the nightmares, the pain. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I’ll forgive you…for the both us.” Was the last thing Yugi spoke as he laid them both down.

It was Yugi’s turn to be strong, his turn to be there for someone, to be there for the nameless Pharaoh. For though he was a mighty King, he was also a boy, who needed to know it would be okay. He held him close, whispering he’d be okay, that he would forgive himself.

Eventually…one day.

[anodyne-sunflower]

Rust to Gold (Part 1)-Jack Jackson series

A/N: Guys!! It’s finally here. Not sure how many of you have actually seen PotE but, regardless I hope y'all enjoy. I really love the idea I came up with for his series. While I’m sure it won’t be my popular one, again because I believe not many of you actually know about Jack lol I still adore writing it! Few notes before you read on: I’m using the tv series timeline not the book. I won’t go into too much detail with her father, but you could say it’s Louis VII of France since he reigned at the time. This starts in 1138 like the show does. I am skipping Jack and Tom’s introduction because that’s not really needed for reader and Jack’s story. However, Tom is obviously in this and it will contain and follow the majority of the characters and story lines. And yes, some of history will be a little tweaked if for creative purposes. But, since this is mainly on reader it’s not like I’ll have her interfere entirely with history. It’ll be very very minor. Enjoy!

MOOD MUSIC: Throne for the game ft. Bradley Hanan Carter by Ramin Djawadi

***

The dictations of one’s future was a concept you had grown agonizingly familiar with. Being a woman, your father had every right and determination to choose every aspect of your life for you. No matter the cost of your relationship with him. It was a constant reminder of your duties as princess, to blindly follow those demands of your king. With or without hesitation. And yet, in spite of all that you could not bring yourself to obey him this time. There was moments in your life where ignoring his shouts for proper conduct became a habit, except you often caved to his whims by the end of it. After all, a threat to your life was something you couldn’t bear. Now, however, you found the ounce of strength in you to resist his plans.

“You would deny me? Deny your kingdom?! You ungrateful child! I have given you everything! And you disobey me at every turn!!”

Your father’s hands slammed onto the arms of his throne, making you flinch slightly at the loud sound. But, you held your head high tightening your jaw in order to remain the very picture of calm. It was not easy to defy a man like your father, especially when he ruled all of France.

“I would deny you the pleasure of marrying me off to the first man who comes with a bag full of coins and promises of expansion!”

You spat back, breath heavy with contempt for the man who raised you. If that’s what you could call his lifelong lessons in court. It was a risky move, one that you knew deep down would not end well for you. But, you could not bring yourself to marry just anyone. Your heart was not a bargaining tool, no matter the person wagering it.

“What you speak is treason.” His voice grew soft, though the bite behind it was all too clear. “Defy me now, and I will have you hang for this. Do you understand me?”

“I-”

“Do you understand me?!”

Every word sent chills down your spine, and flattering was the only option your mind wished for. Yet, you could not betray your heart of that you were certain. With every courageous spark in you, you straightened up. Rising on your feet again as you clasped your hands in front of you and stared your father, the king, down.

“Then I shall hang.”

If there was ever a time you saw any hope of pride in him for you, it was oddly now. Perhaps it was the bravery you displayed, but for that brief second he smiled. It was altogether shocking and disgusting, but a man’s honor was everything. And proud of the courage you had or not, he’d still move to execute you.

“You play a dangerous game, child. Take her to the dungeons.” He waved his hand away, not looking at you anymore as the guards neared you. But, you held a hand up keeping your pride about you as you turned away and led yourself down to the bottoms of the hellish castle prison. The guards stuck by you, one hand held above the pommels of their swords and the other holding a shield. You knew if you ran they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. A prince was an heir, a princess was expendable.

As you stepped down the large stone stairs into the dungeons, your heart began to sink. Knowing that every second that went by was bringing you closer to your last breath. Many children would think their father’s loved them, no matter their rebellious nature. Yours was not that father. If you slandered his name, you would pay, and denying his pick of a suitor did just that. It was an embarrassment, and now you were going to pay with your life.

“May I ask a favor of you?” A sigh left your lips, eyes staring into the dark prison you would soon be housed in. The floor was a mess, hay and water scattered amongst the stones. And only one tiny hold of a window that could bring daylight in. “Will you fetch my handmaid for me?”

The guards stood quiet at first, both of them looking to one another for an answer. And if only for the reason that they watched you grow from child to woman, they agreed.

“At once, your highness.”

It was a needless courtesy on their part, calling you by your title. Because, you knew their allegiance was to the king and only the king. But, you thanked them all the same, following their orders as they gently pushed you into the dungeon. The door behind you slammed shut, the sound of them locking the wooden door only causing your heart to sink further into despair. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but the reality of your refusal was now before you.

Time ran slow inside here, you could only count yourself blessed that the sun was still out. It allowed a sliver of light to bathe across your skin, warming you under the dress you wore. A nice comfort in the cold of the prison.

“Your highness!”

The sound of your servant caught your attention, and you rushed to the door to see her through the small bars at the top. It was the first time you get a semblance of joy today, and you reached over the small window to grab her hand.

“Matilda, I’m so glad you came.

“Why on earth wouldn’t I?” She smiled, though you could see the concern she felt for you. She was always a loyal one, a very rare thing in these times. And her friendship meant a great deal to you. She was originally your playmate, a gift from your father when you were 7. She grew alongside you, and you had come to see her as a sister. She was never a birthday present in your eyes, but always family.

“I fear I’ve made a foolish mistake.” A small laugh left you, but the obvious anguish behind it was evident. Something Matilda easily caught on to. But, ever the sweet one, she brushed her thumb over the back of your hand and shook her head.

“I’ve always admired your will, and even now I still do. You cannot marry that awful man. The rumors around him are numerous, and I believe your fate would be the same no matter what you choose.”

She was not wrong, you had heard your fair share of rumors surrounding William Hamleigh. The son of a lord who likely had the archbishop on his purse strings. He held no title to him, but his family was still rich enough and had powerful connections that your father was positively mad for.

“I think you’re right…” You held her hand tightly, leaning your forehead into the door as you whispered your heartache. “It’s pathetic. I stand by my choice then, but all the same I do my wish for death.”

Matilda was silent, and you thought perhaps she was sharing in your current state of depression. Instead, she released your hand and patted softly on the door.

“I promise, you will not die today.”

It was the last thing she said before running off, leaving you confused and lonely in the growing darkness.

***

Hours went by, and you began to grow nervous for your friend. Whatever she was planning was likely going to cause trouble, but you’d rather take the fall than have her life forfeit on your behalf. You tapped impatiently at the floor, heels digging into the straw as you say against the floor. By now you must’ve looked a mess, as the winter winds grew strong at night and snuck into the lower parts of the castle. If your father waited anymore days, you were likely to succumb to the elements as opposed to the gallows.

A soft knocking gained your ear, and you quickly turned your head towards the door thinking they had come for you in the dead of night. It was an odd choice and time for execution, but perhaps your father was eager to be rid of you.

“Your highness?”

The whisper of her voice made you relax back into the wall, and you smiled as you warned Matilda of her dangerous intentions.

“I know what you’re up to, and it’s too dangerous.”

“Nonsense. Just trust me, the perks of being a servant, I know every part of this castle better than you. How else would I sneak food?”

You laughed heartily at that, knowing fully well that she had done so quite often. Not that you could blame her, under your father’s rule everyone was likely to starve if he saw fit.

With a click and screech of the lock the door slowly drew open, and you scrambled up to your feet. Matilda stood at the doorway, joyfully smiling as she hugged you to her. The reunion could not last long, because you were sure the guards would catch on quickly.

“You’ve gone mad. You’ll be killed for helping me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Ever the optimistic one, you thought. And while you didn’t want harm to come to her, she seemed so sure of herself that you willingly followed her down the dungeon halls. Every time you turned a corner you glared both ways, heart going wild in your chest as fear and doubt took over. People rarely escaped from here, and when they tried the end results were far worse than the original sentence.

“This isn’t-”

“Shh.” Matilda hushed you, not bothering with a torch as it would prove too risky a move and alert the guards to your locations. She grabbed your hand, nearly running down the halls and under a large gap in the stairs. It led directly into the waterways, and you were slowly realizing just how knowledgeable the servants likely were. It was almost a miracle that none of them had been bribed to assassinate the king with all the secret passageways they knew.

Your dress soaked up the water, making you more than uncomfortable. You were not dressed for skulking about castles, and thankfully she had thought of that.

“Put this on, hurry!”

She shoved a bag of clothes towards you, and you sifted through the bunch. It was not something you would’ve ever worn around here, and frankly from the looks of the brown robes they belonged to a peasant.

“What is this?”

Matilda sighed at you, keeping an eye on the exit of the tunnel as she rushed you.

“Your highness, if you are to live tonight it is because you leave here a commoner. Not a princess of France.”

Her words filled you with a sense of sadness. As much as you despised the man on the throne, this was your home and you loved it. But, there was as always truth to her statements. You reluctantly nodded, allowing her to help you get out of your current attire and into the simple robes of your new identity.

“Come on then, your highness.”

Matilda led you out of the tunnel, her eyes scanning the open field in your view for any sign of possible danger. She pointed towards the hill that led deep into the forest where your father hunted, and with a solemn smile she hugged you.

“You are meant for great things, Y/N. And it is because of this and our friendship that I happily risk my life for you.”

You dug your fingers into her back, gripping her close to you in a goodbye that would no doubt last forever. You couldn’t bear the thought of not having her around, but you couldn’t let her help go in vain.

“I’ll miss you.”

Matilda smiled at that, kissing your brow before cupping your cheeks and fighting her tears. “And I will miss you, my friend.”

She shoved you out of the tunnel, frantically moving her hands for you to get going and leave. You stared back at her every step, only stopping when you were at the edge of the woods to bid her one last heartfelt farewell.

***

You fell forward onto your horse, barely holding the reins as you felt your exhaustion settle in. It had been days upon days since you left France. Traveling on foot for so long before taking a ship to England. The people you met along the way had been decent enough, save for those who desired to rid you of every coin you had. There wasn’t much Matilda could give you, but what she had was kind enough. It helped you gain passage along the sea, before you managed to settle a bargain and take a man’s horse. But, your journey was tiring and with no plan on where to go or settle you were left lonesome and nearly poor.

Your stomach grumbled, once again alerting you to your starvation. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate, but every minute reminded you of that painful feeling.

“Just a bit more…” You patted your horse, trying hard to stay atop him as he traversed the forest paths. It was still winter time, which only proved harsher to your travels. The cloak you wore hardly contained your body heat, and the biting wind hurt far more than you ever imagined. But, you had to force yourself to keep moving on. Hoping at some point your new home would make itself obvious.

“Just a little….more…” Your eyes drifted shut, your mind fighting against sleep until every ounce of willpower you had drained from your body. With a groan of discomfort, you slid sideways falling roughly from the horse and onto the cold ground of the forest. And all at once everything went black.

***

Soft hums and murmuring could be heard somewhere in the endless corners of your dreams. A woman’s comforting tone beckoning you to wake, though you weren’t sure if it was real or not. But, it was soothing, reminding you of your mother who had passed so long ago you barely remembered her features.

“Mother…?”

The woman laughed, making you slowly open your eyes to the sound. She was a blur to you, but you could faintly make out the reassuring smile she held. She patted a cloth to your forehead, parting your hair so she could have better access. She was still humming something, whether that was a song or a spell you weren’t sure. But, you were still grateful to be here in the warmth of a fire.

“Easy now, you hit your head hard.”

“What?” Your voice was hoarse, no doubt from the weather. But, she still understood you and she offered you a cup of water that you were forever thankful for. You drank eagerly from it, almost choking when the soothing liquid ran down your dry throat.

“Ahh, careful.” She took the cup from you, placing it aside and patting your cheek. “You will recover. You must rest though.”

“Who are you?” You forced out, groaning when you turned onto your side. The woman just smiled again, putting some bowls down that contained some sort of salve.

“You can call me Ellen.”

You nodded in thanks, finding the strength to sit up. You held your arm over your stomach, leaning back into the cave walls and examining the area. It was no doubt this was her home, and while you couldn’t exactly believe living in a cave was ideal there was something oddly wonderful about it.

“Hungry?”

You glanced towards her, watching her stir a pot of stew on the fire. “Oh yes, please.”

Ellen just chuckled again, pouring some food into a bowl and handing it over to you. She walked on her bare feet to the small stool in the corner, continuing her work.

“Thank you, for the meal. And everything else…”

“You are welcome. We need to take care of each other, yeah? I could not leave you to freeze out there.”

You nodded gratefully, taking a spoonful of the meal and delighting in the warmth of it. It was the first time you had decent comfort since you left France, and you didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

“You live here?”

“Yes. There is a village not far from here, my son lives there. He’s a sculptor, a great one.”

She had this grin on her face when she spoke of him, and you believed it to be the pride of a mother. But, you felt there was more to it than that. As if that grin was meant for you as well.

“A sculptor? That’s magnificent.” You glanced around the cave, taking note of the faces carved into the stone of the walls. It brought a smile to your face, now that you knew the source of the beautiful work. “He’s very talented.”

“He is.” She watched you carefully, following your gaze as you took in her son’s work. “You should go there. Kingsbridge. They are building a new cathedral there, there’s work. I’m sure they will take you.”

The first thing that arose in your kind was your father’s words, about princesses never needing to work besides providing heirs. You wondered what he’d think now. There was no doubt he had already sent party after party searching for you, but chances were high he had no idea you could make it so far from France. That made you feel safe.

“Work?…I wouldn’t even know what I could do? I don’t really possess any skills.”

You hoped that hadn’t given anything away, because aside from needlework, and basic royal skills nothing of the common folk made sense to you.

Ellen just smiled, mending the fire as she spoke. “You can learn.”

It made you smile, because she sounded just like Matilda. Always believing in you when you least expected it. You made to speak, moving the bowl to the side as you pulled the blanket over you tighter. But, as the words left you the sound of footsteps cut you off.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Mother. Philip was in a mood today.”

A young man with the brightest red hair you had ever seen entered the cave, a small bag of things over his shoulder as he removed the hood of his cloak and reached towards Ellen. He pulled her into a warm hug, kissing her cheek and smiling. You watched the entire exchange curiously, feeling very much out of place.

“My boy, Jack.” She laughed joyously, cupping his cheeks and not wanting to let him go. But, for his sake she let him take a seat, before she moved to fetch another bowl for him.

This Jack didn’t seem aware of you at first, his green eyes following his mother’s movement until she waved towards you.

“Say hello to my guest, Jack. Don’t be shy.”

Jack looked towards the direction she pointed, his eyes widening when he set his gaze on you. It was the first time you ever saw a man flustered, and there was something endearing about it. Most men at court took it upon themselves to leer at you, or even touch what they believed to be theirs. But, this Jack fellow just blushed softly, averting his gaze several times before giving a smile.

“Morning.”

He simply spoke, looking back up at you with mild interest. You returned the gesture, holding your hand up in greeting.

“You’re the sculptor. It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

***

A/N: I knowww, not much in the way of Jack this part, but I had to set the stage ;) Feedback highly welcomed!!! And appreciated. ❤️

[askmicrowaveayem]

Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 14

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Dings didn’t wait. He didn’t flinch. He swung at one of the remaining guards with his fist to slam into his head, summoning a long, sharp bone in the other at the same time to stab at one of the points between the plates of armor, right where he was softest. --

The guards crumbled with anguished cries.

Rage slumped on the ground behind the wall of bones, his blaster crumbling.

The rest would be left to his brother.

--

Not many were left after the blasts, one or two. One went down after being stabbed up through the chest while the next was grabbed while trying to flee, Dings tackling him to the ground and beating his head into the ground before stabbing him as well. He stood among piles of dust blowing away through pieces of armor and cloth, breathing steady and deeply through his helmet. After a cursory look around him to make sure that was the last of them, he dissipated the bones around his brother and walked back to him. “Are you okay?” --

Rage was struggling to sit upright, breathing hard and grimacing, despite having only fired off one blast.

“Fuck,” he said, finally giving up and slumping fully to the ground. “Fuck… shit, I’m… I’m really dizzy…”

Grillby approached slowly, watching the dust billow away and quietly offering a bag of food to the two brothers to help them recover some.

--

“Thanks.” Dings said, taking the bag of food and rummaging through it to find whatever restored the most, then held it down for his brother to eat. “You shouldn’t have fired that. I could have handled them.” --

Rage didn’t eat. Not yet. Scowling at him.

“I thought you were giving up,” he hissed. “I thought you--!”

--

“What!?” Dings yelled back, voice livid. “No! Never! I had to get close enough to blast their fucking heads off! How could you ever fucking think I’d turn myself in after all that shit I said?” --

“I don’t know!” Rage said back, straining. “I-I don’t! Fuck you, you’re not allowed to do that to me!”

Grillby stayed nearby, watching them. Watching the dust.

He didn’t know if he should intervene or not.

“...enough…”

He didn’t know if they’d even hear to let him intervene.

--

Dings’ voice faltered as he suddenly realized what kind of panic he must have just put his brother through. “... I-” Grillby’s voice stopped him and he looked back at the flame.

--

When his brother turned, so did Rage, still glaring, eyes unfocused with magic-lack. But he looked all the same.

Grillby was surprised they responded as they did, but didn’t waste the opportunity.

“....You haven’t fought together in five years.... Rage is still recovering…. Won’t be able to read each other well yet… it’s fine…”

--

Dings accepted that and slowly turned to his brother to see if he did as well. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what it would seem to you. But I need to be close range.” He thought back to how they fought together five years ago. “... I can’t do the ranged stuff very well anymore.” --

“You can’t…?” Rage said, sounding confused and concerned, and still rather listless.

He knew his brother said he’d fought up close more often, but… but still.

--

“... I’ve been fighting with Tybalt.” He explained, knowing his brother would remember him; the close-ranged sword fighter without any magical ability. “My entire way of fighting has changed to be able to stick with him.” --

Rage stiffened, face twisting.

He’d done that.

He’d asked Tybalt to look after Dings.

He’d put Dings closer to danger.

“Fuck, shit, I’m sorry…” he whispered, the most sound he could get out at the moment.

--

“Sorry for what?” Dings asked, frowning behind his helm. “Tybalt kept me alive that first year. Without him I’d be dead.”

--

Would he? Would he really have been?

“...put you close to the fight…” Rage managed. “..should’ve stayed far away.”

Grillby nudged Gaster’s hand, trying to remind him of the food.

--

Dings looked at Grillby, then at the food, and shoved it towards his brother again. “We can argue once you’ve eaten and had a rest.” --

Reluctantly, Rage finally began to eat, quieting down.

--

Once he had eaten Dings gathered up their things and lifted his brother onto his back to keep on walking to the next village. Hopefully Rage would manage a nap.

--

Rage was too spiteful and upset still to manage any chatter or conversation as they walked.

He fell into an exhausted, light nap eventually, head knocking on Gaster’s shoulder.

Grillby walked behind, a little slower than he usually went, though it kept up with Gaster’s pace.

He was thinking a lot today.

--

Dings would have to take one more break before they would eventually settle somewhere for the night. The murder of the other guards didn’t even seem to phase him in the slightest.

They had come to separate him from his brother. So they needed to die. That was all. --

Grillby helped set the camp. Made some food. Checked on the two.

Over the fire, he tried to grab Gaster’s attention while Rage slept, asking, “...what’s your plan…?”

--

Dings looked at him, then down at his sleeping brother. “... Same as before. I need to finish Rage’s arms. I need to carve the runes in them before we reach the next town, then have them overlayed with metal.” He ate a little of his meal. “After that? … I don’t care.” As long as he was with Rage he really, truly didn’t care what they did. “When he’s well again I’ll leave that up to him.” --

Gaster nodded, eating abit as well, accepting that.

“....do you have an idea what he has planned….?”

--

Dings shook his head, “He hadn’t said much of future plans. Mostly just worried about recovering right now, I think.” --

Grillby nodded slowly again, and considered his next words even more carefully than usual.

“....I will stay until he is recovered. Then, I may have to part…”

--

Dings looked surprised. Not hurt, but surprised. They knew they would probably part ways after the escort mission, but… “Why?” --

Grillby looked back the way they’d come. Back where the guards’ dust was still scattering around the woods.

“....I understand your love for your brother…” he said, “...but I do not want to fight my fellow monsters…”

He knew, now. If he stayed with the brothers, he would be forced to. And they would fight for him, if he asked, he was sure, but-- it wasn’t the act of doing the deed himself that was upsetting.

It was not stopping the murder of his brethren. Even when the murderers were his own comrades and friends.

He couldn’t reconcile that.

And so he would leave.

--

Dings frowned, “... So you’re going to turn yourself in or what?” He didn’t like that idea. --

Grillby shook his head.

“...try to find somewhere to hide out until it settles…. No sense chasing a deserter forever…”

--

He still didn’t look particularly happy, but… it was Grillby’s life. His decision. A part of him wanted to ask why the lives of those monsters even mattered when they were about to arrest them for doing something like saving his own brother from humans, but… Rage wasn’t Grillby’s brother. He was a friend. He didn’t understand. Eventually, Dings nodded. “Fine. When ya gonna tell Rage?” --

Grillby looked over at him, frowning a little. “...when he recovers a bit more…”

He didn’t want to send Rage into another angry fit like Gaster’s supposed-abandonment had.

This wasn’t an abandonment, he told himself. He was helping them as long as he could.

He just… couldn’t do any more than that.

--

After another moment Dings nodded. He wouldn’t say anything more about it. Grillby could do what he liked. --

Grillby nodded again and continued the rest of the evening in silence.

--

Dings would work on carving some of the runes into the wood of his brother’s prosthetic arms by firelight and only stop when he began to tire. Then he would lay down beside his brother and sleep. --

Rage slept through the night, exhausted from the fight, and without Vrinda’s cooking to pull him through, he was trying to recover through rest instead.

Even once morning came, he was slow to rouse.

He’d used far more energy than he had when he was a child overexerting himself.

--

Dings would help him eat more breakfast before starting off again, taking breaks throughout the day to write in his notebook or give Rage a little more food. He was mad at himself that Rage felt the need to use one of his blasters in his current state. It was because of him. He wouldn’t let it happen again. --

By the time they reached the next village, Rage would be… not quite back to what he’d been after a week of rest. But he was better.

Back to talking with his brother. The last night before the village, he managed to tell a story, if a very short one, half out of desperation to just stay awake a little longer and keep his brother close.

Grillby stayed more subdued the entire time, but dutifully watched over them, doing his best to ease the journey for them both.

--

Without his brother to talk to at least, Dings had managed to spend that time carving in the runes needed to get his new arms moving, just in time to find a metalworker and get the arms plated to protect them. He also considered getting some home-cooked food for Rage at the tavern. It would heal better than what they had been eating.

As they drew close to the village he was on alert, watching for any royal guards. --

There weren’t any royal guards about, but as they drew closer and into the village, there was a… tension, about.

A palpable one.

Monsters glancing at them and quickly looking away or hurrying off.

Apparently, a squad of royal guardsmen going missing in the woods hadn’t gone unnoticed in this village.

They’d arrived after the news.

--

… Well. No royal guards. Just frightened civilians, so far. Dings could deal with that. He headed for the local metalworker. --

The smithy was fairly in the middle of town, taking up a large portion of area near the local market.

One of the smiths looked up as they approached, slowing in their hammering and quietly dipping the piece they’d been working on in the water and wiping their hands, giving them his attention.

--

No hello. No greeting. Dings pulled off the wooden arms from his belt and set them down in front of the smith, voice echoing inside of his helmet. “I need these plated.” --

The smith looked down at the wooden arms and leaned forward to inspect them, turning them over, spying the runes, and keeping his face serious.

“...what kinda plate?”

--

Dings described what he wanted, light but sturdy metal to mostly protect the wood underneath. Just a cover around every digit and rune, something to give each finger and elbow movement but protect it from any grit, wear over time, or light attacks. --

“It’ll take two weeks to get it all right,” the smith said, and named his price.

--

Dings nodded, reached for his gold, counted out half the price, and handed it over without a word. … Two weeks in one spot after killing five royal guards. Hm. … He would get Rage a decent meal now rather than later. The longer they stayed inside the town the worse things would get, and he didn’t want to subject his brother to it when he was still recovering. --

The smith watched him go without a word, pocketing the gold, and taking up the arms to set them aside until he could begin work and discuss the strange customer with his fellows.

Rage looked up at him as best he could from his current position.

“...so. Two weeks.”

--

“Two weeks.” Dings repeated as he headed for the tavern. “You’re getting a decent meal sooner rather than later, just in case.” --

Rage snorted, but despite himself, he looked rather eager.

He hadn’t had anything but the rations for a very long time. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed tavern food until he could smell it from one of the ones they were passing.

--

Dings walked into the tavern still carrying his frail brother and sat him down at a table against a wall, nestled in a corner. Only one way to come at them. He waved over the barmaid before looking at his brother. “Get whatever you want. As much as you want.”

They probably wouldn’t be able to come back, so Rage would need to make it count. --

Rage gave a bark of a laugh. “Don’t tempt me, I’ll actually do it.”

God. Fuck.

Everything looked and smelled so good.

He leaned closer to his brother.

“You should probably order first. I’ll take a while.”

--

Dings only ordered one thing. A beer. Rations were enough for him. He didn’t need to heal. --

Rage snorted at him, but turned to the barmaid and…

Just….

Fuck.

He ordered enough for three skeletons.

--

Dings laughed, the sound echoing through his helmet. “You better fucking eat all that.” His beer, understandably, came first. He reached up and twisted one of the hinges of his helmet so the bottom pulled down rather than the front pulling up in order to still drink with it covering his head and face. --

Rage grinned at him and said, “You haven’t seen what I can pack away at this point.”

His magic reservoir was enormous from so long wielding his blasters. Enormous, and currently drained to the bottom.

He was eating the entire fucking meal. He was determined to.

“You look so weird, drinking like that,” he laughed.

--

“Rude.” Dings said, but grinned. “Eating around a bunch of loudmouthed soldiers I had to keep it covered somehow.” --

“Changes nothing,” Rage said, grinning back. “You still look like a reverse watering can.”

--

Dings scoffed, “You should be nicer to me, I’m the one who’s paying for that meal!”

--

“You should treat your big brother with more respect,” Rage shot back, grinning widely.

--

“Older.” Dings corrected, grinning. “I’m bigger now.”

He seemed to getting taller by the day. --

“Bullshit,” Rage said, scowling back.

“Little brothers are always little brothers.”

--

“Remind me to ask you for a piggyback once you’re better.” Dings smiled. --

“Sure, but you’re taking off that heavy armor,” Rage said, huffing back. “That’s hardly fair.”

--

“Fiiine.” Dings groaned before taking another drink. --

Rage huffed at him and relaxed, waiting for the food to arrive.

--

When it did Dings would take the utensils and feed his brother as best as he could, giving him a little taste of everything before settling into a routine of just sort of guessing what he wanted and letting him eat. “How do your arms feel?” He asked after awhile. “Once the metal plating is finished it’ll just be waiting until you feel like you can wear the prosthetics I made for you.” --

Sometimes Rage would steer Dings towards one dish or another, and there were several he was content to try to eat on his own, but overall, he let Dings feed him in whichever order ended up happening.

“They don’t hurt anymore,” He said, then paused. “...not like a real injury, anyway. ...Nevermind that, the point is, I think they’re pretty well healed. Now it’s just a matter of building back my strength.”

He nodded over the table of food.

--

Dings didn’t ask what he meant, but he did frown a little. “... Alright. When they’re done just let me know when you want to give them a go. I’ve already tested them out. They work fine.” --

He nodded.

“Probably as soon as we run away from this town,” he guessed.

They’d probably be running again.

Hopefully they wouldn’t be forced away or refused by the blacksmith before the arms were done.

--

Dings nodded. “... Think we should camp outside again and only come in for supplies? Hope maybe we can hide away until the arms are finished?” He wasn’t good at plans like this. --

Rage thought a moment.

“....camp out. Stay out of sight. Get all our supplies now, if we can. Two weeks from now, we send Grillby in to pick up the arms and trail him out of sight to offer backup if he needs it.”

--

“Alright.” Dings said, not arguing or suggesting anything else. “... What do you want to do once we have your arms?” --

“What do you mean?” Rage asked, settling more comfortably now that he could feel the effects of the food.

--

“After we leave the village. When we have everything we need. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?” Dings asked. --

He looked down, thinking again, silent for a while.

“...I want to get strong again,” he said after a moment. “Then, I’m going to make them pay.”

--

Dings nodded after a moment and drank his beer. He didn’t need to know who. He didn’t care. He would do what his brother wanted and help him in whatever needed to be done. --

Rage managed to finish almost the entirety of his order. What was left was easy enough to pack up and carry.

He fell asleep halfway out to the camp, magic reserves finally filling to something that felt… an old sort of familiar.

Made it easier to relax.

--

Dings took the food that was left and carried Rage to the camp, far enough away that they were hidden. Grillby would get them supplies to last two weeks. Now it was just a matter of waiting. --

It was a long two weeks. A slow two weeks.

Rage recovered strength, much improved from the large meal made with care, rather than the ration packets. By the end of the first week, he was standing steadily on his own. By the second week, he was walking.

He couldn’t climb or run quite like he was used to, but he was well on his way to recovery.

--

When the two weeks were up, Dings handed Grillby the rest of the gold and told him again what he expected, metal plating covering the runes of his brother’s new arms. Then they would wait. --

Grillby went to the smiths, who seemed surprised to have… someone different picking up the arms than he expected.

He didn’t call the guard. Too confused and uncertain.

Grillby returned to their camp shortly after, arms tied securely on his back.

--

Dings took them and inspected the work, pleased. “Do you want to try them out?”

--

Rage looked over, sitting up slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

He was… kind of unsure. But.

He wanted to hold his brother again. These would let him do that.

--

Dings walked over to him and began to fit them onto his stubs, looping the belted straps around his shoulders and chest to keep them up and making sure the fur-lined insoles where the remains of his arms would stay were comfortable. At first they felt like heavy, dead weight on his shoulders and chest, forcing what was of his arms down and into one position. He couldn’t hope to move them with the stubs of his arms. “Activate your magic like you normally would down your arms.” He instructed. --

He didn’t like the weight. Didn’t like the pull of them. His breath caught short before he activated his magic, jittery.

--

The runes underneath the metal lit up. It didn’t feel like any other magic Rage had ever used; purely for function rather than offense or defense. The weight of them didn’t strain his magic as much as it felt like it strained his body and after a moment he would be able to feel which rune was where. Just something about it told him ‘this is where you activate your thumb’, ‘this is how you turn your wrist’. The most uncomfortable part would be learning to move the remains of his arms with the prosthetics. --

His eyes widened a bit at… the strange, not-quite sensation of knowing where his limbs were, knowing where his fingers and thumbs were, without being able to feel them. For a long moment he sat back, just staring at his new arms, shocked and confused.

Then, slowly, he began to raise his left arm.

“....This is like having two elbows.”

--

Dings couldn’t stop himself from grinning like a madman as he watched. He laughed at his brother’s description. “You’ll have to get used to that, sorry.” --

He snorted and let the arm fall back down, grinning up at his brother.

“Yeah. Thanks, Dings.”

‘Thanks’ wasn’t quite the word he needed. But. But still.

“Get over here.”

That was better.

--

Dings smiled and moved a little closer. “Yeah?” --

Rage leaned forward as soon as Dings was close enough, lifting the two arms clumsily, and wrapping them around Ding’s back.

“I missed you.”

--

Dings’ eyes widened in surprise and he knelt beside his brother for a few moments before holding him back. “... I missed you too.” --

Grillby looked away, letting the brothers have their moment. Letting them embrace for the first time with Rage’s new arms.

He didn’t let go for a long time.

When he finally did pull away, he was smiling faintly, looking up at his younger brother.

“...we should probably go before the guard’s called on us again.”

--

“... Yeah.” Dings smiled. “... Do you want to keep them on?” --

He thought a bit, looking down at them.

“...I’ll try to keep them on, yeah. Get used to them.”

He looked a little sheepish.

“....it’s still sort of a weird feeling…”

--

Dings nodded and helped his brother to his feet, wanting to hold him up so he could get used to the feel of them hanging from his shoulders. “It’ll take awhile.” He knew all too well what it was like adjusting to new magic. --

Rage nodded, trying hard to not make a face.

“Yeah. I should… start now.”

It was how he’d always gotten better with magic.

Just keep doing it. Over and over. Until it was your own.

“Where to?”

--

Dings looked at Grillby for a moment, wondering if he was going to split with them not of keep on going for awhile. “... I guess the next town? Just keep getting used to your new arms. We should keep moving. Don’t let the guard catch us while you get your strength back up.” Their funds were dwindling, but at least now they had the gold he had stolen from the dead guards from earlier.

--

He nodded, “That sounds good.”

He turned in the proper direction, ready to go.

Grillby packed his things and made to follow.

He wouldn’t leave them yet. He’d said he’d wait until Rage had recovered.

He was still not nearly in his old health.

--

Off they went.

Dings would watch his brother closely, try and determine whether or not he was having any sort of discomfort with his new prosthetics, or any more discomfort than what would be assumed already. The wood was heavy, but that was something he would have to get used to. It needed to be heavy to withstand what he did with them. --

He tired quickly, despite his best efforts. The runes may have lightened it for him, but it was still a lot more weight than he was used to carrying around, and he moved slower for it.

Still, he didn’t complain, doing his best to walk alongside his brother and Grillby as if nothing were wrong.

He was determined to make it to the village without having to be carried all over.

--

Dings wouldn’t offer to carry him, but he would suggest resting once his brother started to huff a little more than usual. Then during their lunch break he would hand his brother something large and easy to hold to eat, so he could attempt to feed himself for the first time in months. --

His hands were shaky, and it was hard to hold the food steady, much less bring it to his mouth without dropping it.

Sometimes some fingers would jerk without his knowing input. Sometimes one hand would be ahead of another. It would take a lot more practice before he would be able to hold something effortlessly or move without thinking hard about it, but--

But he was holding something. He was feeding himself fairly easily, compared to previous attempts.

He was grinning.

--

Dings smiled as he watched, eating his lunch beside his brother. Struggling or not, he was feeding himself. All three eyes were mostly focused on him as he ate his own food.

It was a happy moment.

His brother would gain control of his arms in the same way he gained control of his eye, through a lot of hard work and tons of effort.

--

He finished his meal after his brother did, but he’d finished it from start to stop on his own.

He took a moment to rest and savor this.

They didn’t really have a lot of time to spare, and he was still on the mend technically, but…

It was nice to have something definitively going right for once

--

Dings would let him rest for a little longer, only helping him up to keep on walking once he was sure he was good to move again. Having him walk on his own meant more breaks, but that was alright. It meant Rage was walking on his own. Building up his strength. He let his older brother set the pace. Let him direct where to go. He knew he wanted to make those pay who did this to him, but wasn’t sure how much he wanted to get his strength up before doing the deed.

--

They stopped staying in one place quite so much. They’d go in and get resources from town, but be moving again before anyone had a chance to alert the royal guard.

A few more weeks passed like that. Stopping at villages. Purchasing supplies, or having Grillby go in their stead. Rage slowly grew more and more accustomed to his prosthetics, using them more and more casually and becoming definitively more comfortable with them than without.

Finally, though.

Finally came a morning when he woke and realized he could summon a blaster and it wouldn’t crumble in front of him.

--

Dings would keep a close distance to his brother no matter where they were. Whether they were walking through the forest or in a town, he was always within an arm’s distance from Rage. His brother was beginning to get his loud, boisterous nature back and Dings was always the silent protector, stood beside or behind him looking like something straight out of a novel with dark eye lights and heavy armor. He was beginning to have to adjust some of it to account for his growing legs and arms. Now that he wasn’t spending so much magic on the battlefield he was playing catch-up with how tall he should have been. It seemed like every day Rage would have to look up a little bit higher.

When Rage summoned a blaster and it actually stayed, Dings grinned and made sure his brother knew just how excited he was for him. It was as big of a stepping stone forward as walking had been, or growing comfortable with his arms.

--

Rage took a moment to treat his blaster like he had when he was a child.

He let it rest in his arms. His new arms. Got used to its heft and weight again.

It had changed since he’d last really used it--it did that sometimes. Changed, just slightly.

It’d outgrown its more reptilian origins and become something more mulish, more horse-like on the front lines.

Now, the teeth had melded fully with the rest of the bone, sharpened. The muzzle more pointed and small horns protruding from the back.

He liked it.

It looked like it could bite.

“...I think I’m ready.”

[resplendentgoldenwings]

All That Remains, Chapter 4 The Blame Game

rating: teen

characters/pairings: Iris West, Cisco Ramone, Caitlin Snow, Francine West, WestAllen

warnings: language

summary: Iris West pops off.

beta: asexual-fandom-queen

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

notes: see end of chapter

Fanfiction.net link

Chapter 4 The Blame Game

There was always a certain amount of warmth and cheer at a wake. In spite of the circumstances friends, family and loved ones were together sharing a meal and memories, and people felt a certain tenderness. Barry's maternal aunts, Brittany and Jeanette, a number of her cousins, and of course Barry's coworkers had all sought her out offering condolences, hugs, handshakes. All of them giving comfort and support. 

At least the random people who must've come to the burial for The Flash hadn't come here to convey their sorrows as well.  

She couldn't have taken it, stranger, after stranger, shaking her hand, saying how sorry they were, observing her grief. It wasn't like their condolences would bring him back.It was too much. The nauseating smell of the food, people wanting to talk to her about Barry. Between the church and cemetery, Iris was drained and exhausted.  

Watching them lower Barry's casket into the earth she had been seized by a sudden desire to throw herself in. Iris had found that writing part of her brain that was always wondering asking questions. Had Shakespeare felt that way upon losing some loved one and so Hamlet acted out that desire? She understood it. It had seemed like madness in that moment to let them bury Barry, to hide him away from the world. Seemed like madness that this was simply it that there was nothing more to do.  

He was the Flash, after all, it didn't seem possible that he could have just died in a house fire. She had wanted to fight suddenly to win him back from...death? But death was not a force to be fought.

Instead, she found herself hiding in her childhood bedroom, while friends and family filled her parent's house.

There was a floor to ceiling bookcase with all of her favorite books, an old Destiny's child poster on the wall along with Rhiana, Kanye West, and The Jonas brothers. Her white writing desk and composition books filled with her teenaged musings were still in place.

The old bed sagged a bit under her weight, but she stayed there, staring up at a universe of glow in the dark stickers decorated the ceiling. Barry had hung them for her nearly a decade ago.

Memories jumped out at her in this room, but no tears came, no overwhelming sense of sadness. Numb wasn't exactly what she felt. Drained, wrung out would be more appropriate, but so impossibly heavy.Memories jumped out at her in this room, but no tears came, no overwhelming sense of sadness. Numb wasn't exactly what she felt. Drained, wrung out would be more appropriate, but so impossibly heavy.   

"Iris." Her mother's voice was accompanied by a knock.   

"Come in mom."   

Iris sat up as the door opened drawing her knees to her chest and tucking her arms beneath her thighs.   

Her mom's entry was accompanied by the warm, rich scent of soup filling the air and Iris felt both hunger and nausea stir.   

"I brought you something to eat."  

"I feel sick."  

"I know, but that's because you haven't been eating. You have to eat."  

'Not true. I could waste away.'   

"Try just a little, okay sweetheart."  

Iris looked at her mother's face, saw pleading in her dark eyes and the heavy circles underneath them, noted the way her mother gripped the tray with tightly in her fists. Francine and Barry had been very close. Barry had needed a mother during the year and a half he'd lived with them, and Francine had been happy to fill in. That was what Francine did, throw herself into the lives of others, a way to hide from her own suffering. Her father had once called it an addiction.

Iris straightened her legs and let Francine settle the tray across her lap.   

It was just a bowl of plain, clear broth, probably chicken. Iris took a cautious sip expecting she'd retch it back up immediately. Instead, warmth spread through her, soothing her raw aching throat and stirring an almost instant and ravenous hunger. She ate spoonful after spoonful, lifting the bowl to her lips at the end to drink the last drop.  

"I guess I was hungry."   

Francine smiled, and Iris' stomach rumbled.   

"I'm still hungry."  

"I'll go make you a plate."  

"Thanks, mom."  

Francine wasn't gone long before there was a knock at the door.  

"Who is it?"  

"Caitlin and Cisco."   

Iris frowned she'd wanted to be alone.

"Come on in."  

The door opened, and Caitlin sidled in followed by Cisco. She'd seen them both at the church, dressed appropriately in black Caitlin's doe eyes dull and distant, marked by a mash of bluish circle hiding beneath face powder. Cisco's expression was grim, dampened as if a great weight sat on his shoulders.   

Cisco strode in a determined look on his face and sat down across from her on the love seat. Caitlin stood a moment wringing her hands before joining him.  

"Listen, Iris," Cisco leaned toward her. "Barry became my best friend over the past two years, not because he was the Flash but because he was a good man, a great man. I loved him-"  

"We loved him," Caitlin put in.  

"Yeah and we just want to extend that friendship to you. If you need anything, anything at all we want to support you, be there for you ok?"  

"You know-" Iris could hear the tremor in her voice as she spoke. "I keep trying to understand- I can't stop thinking about it.  Like how could someone with Barry's powers die in a house fire? He was so fast." Iris bit her lip and blinked back tears. "I studied The Flash.  I don't get it. I need to understand."

Caitlin glanced at Cisco who nodded. She took a deep breath before speaking.  

"He was using a sedative." Caitlin's words were a whisper.

"A sedative?" Iris felt a sudden twisting dread in her stomach.

"Barry has-" The geneticist took a deep breath "Had a very high metabolism being a speedster."  

She nodded, remembering just how much Barry could eat in a sitting.  

"His cells were also in a state of constant regeneration so he healed really fast and could take a lot of punishment."  

Iris flinched at the thought of Barry, her Barry being hurt.

"He got into a lot of fights as The Flash, he would heal fast even from serious injuries, but he was often in a lot of pain." Caitlin's voice shook as she spoke, hands twisting in her lap.

"I synthesized a pain medication for him-"

"-You synthesized a medication for him?"

"Y-yes. It -um, also served as a sedative." The final words came out in a whispered rush. "Something to let him sleep through the healing process. Something that wouldn't be processed as quickly by his metabolism. That medication was in his system at the time of death."   

Caitlin finished her explanation eyes trained on her lap.

"So this is your fault."  

The other woman looked up eyes flooded with guilty tears, lips twisted and Iris nodded as realization dawned on her. She'd known from the beginning that Barry would have needed help to die in that fire.

"It is. He wouldn't have been sleeping if you hadn't drugged him?"

"You can't blame Caitlin-"

"-Shut-up Cisco! If you really cared about Barry, you wouldn't be defending her."

"Barry was my friend, and I cared about him too," Caitlin insisted.

With that one phrase, something in her broke. Iris sat up straight, and some vicious, savage part of her that she'd never known existed until Barry's death stirred, surging, urging her to yell, scream, slap Caitlin Snow's face until it glowed red and it must have shown on her face. Cisco and Caitlin drew back.  

“You didn’t care about him at all!”

Iris screamed and leaped to her feet, skin hot with rage, vision fuzzy, body trembling with it. The tears and anger that had disappeared before returned surging. When the pair on the couch sat staring at her Iris felt her anger surge into rage as stars shot across her vision. The pair on the couch got to their feet, and Cisco imposed himself between the two women.

"You're protecting her?"

"Iris, you need to calm down," Caitlin's voice was calm, professional and it only angered her more.

"You frigid, fucking bitch you never cared. It's your fault my fiance is dead. My best friend is dead! The person I loved more than anyone in the whole world is gone because you and you want me to believe you  cared.” Iris shoved Cisco out of her way with all her strength. “You killed him!" The final words came out in a shriek, and she flew at Caitlin determined to drive her from the room, from the house. She didn't belong here-

-And suddenly it was hard to breathe. Iris staggered, her vision blurred and the world went black.

A/N- You can faint from anger. If you’re exhausted like Iris and your body is too weak to sustain the emotion you will pass out. Also I’m kinda proud of this chapter that scene with Iris at the end was a lot of work, asexual-fandom-queen is a great beta.

Hope you all enjoyed chapter four. Chapter five will be up soon. Please feel free to comment, shoot me an instant message me or inbox me.

[growningupgeek]

There for You

PROMPT - Bon Jovi's "I'll be There for You"

 WORD COUNT- 1954(including lyrics)

 SHIP- Saileen

CHARACTERS- Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, and a couple of surprises.

 A/N- Written for @d-s-winchester 4K celebration/ Bon Jovi Challenge and my own need to fix BuckLemming's screw up. I'm not the least bit sorry. Tags below the cut. Please send an ask or message if you want on or off my list With tags being so wonky I can't guarantee I'll see the request otherwise. Love ya! ****"*******

I guess this time you're really leaving

I heard your suitcase say goodbye

Well as my broken heart lies bleeding

You say true love is suicide

 You say you've cried a thousand rivers

And now you're swimming for the shore

Left me drowning in my tears

And you won't save me any more

Now I'm praying God you'll give me one more chance girl.

The Winchesters made arrangements with a local funeral home to retrieve Eileen's body.  The owners weren't hunters themselves but the knew the life and hunter traditions.  Then Dean called YN, an old friend who'd gotten out of the life several years before and owned a farm one county over.  They had kept in touch with her: using her research skills when they didn't have time to do it themselves and crashing at her place when they were in the area. Sam had introduced her to Eileen shortly after they met to give the women another backup if she needed it.  Dean knew they had become close friends and really wasn’t looking forward this conversation.

       “Roadkill Cafe, you kill it we grill it “ she answered her phone on the second ring.

      Any other time Dean would have laughed but not today, “YN, it's Dean.”               “Hey, Winchester, what's up,” she asked laughter still in her voice.

      He replied with the code they'd set up years ago, “We need to use the back forty.”

      The other end if the line was quiet for a few seconds, then in a broken voice, “Who? Please not-”

      “Not Sam,” he interrupted her. “I'm sorry, kiddo, it's Eileen.”

      Dean heard YN take a deep breath, “No, I saw her just about a week ago. She was on her way to the bunker. She was scared, I could tell, but she wouldn't tell me of what.”

      Dean let her babble for a few minutes before telling her where they were and how long it would take them to get there, ending the call just as Sam came out of the funeral home cradling Eileen's body.  Gently, he placed her in the Impala's trunk and closed the lid before climbing into the passenger seat.  Then they drove to YNs farm in silence.

 I’ll be there for you

These five words I swear to you

When you breathe I want to be the air for you

I'll there for you

I’d live and I'd die for you

Steal the sun from the sky for you

Words can't say what love can do

I'll be there for you.

      YN was waiting for them in front of the house.  She wasn't crying but her red eyes gave away the fact that she had been.  She hugged Sam as soon as he was out of the car. Dean didn't hear what she whispered into his ear but Sam nodded before he let her go.  They came around the back of the car as Dean opened the trunk.  While Sam lifted out the body, YN hugged Dean. Then she led them around the house and down a path that ran behind the barn and into the woods.

       A few hundred yards in they came to a clearing with a pyre built in the middle of it.  Sam lay Eileen on the wood and stepped back.  YN picked up a basket and pulled out a handful of herbs moving toward the pyre with it.  Sam’s hand on her shoulder stopped her and she turned to face him.

      “Red carnation for my heart aches, pink for I'll never forget you, edelweiss for courage, purple hyacinth for sorrow, lady’s-mantle for comfort and rosemary for remembrance,” was all she said.

      Sam nodded and let her go.  He and Dean watched as she sprinkled the mixture over the body and then poured oil over it.  She picked up a torch, and lit it,  handing it over to Sam before walking over to stand with Dean.

      “Are you sure about this,” Dean asked a whisper.

      “No, but I think he needs to do this,” she answered flatly. “After all you guys have been through I'm terrified this may be the thing that breaks him.”

      Dean nodded turning his attention back to Sam as he thrust the torch into the wood of the pyre.  When his younger brother dropped his knees in the dirt he moved forward and put a hand on his shoulder but Sam shook him off.

      “Just leave me alone,” he said his voice rough. 

      Dean's shoulders dropped as he turned away, YN could see the pain in his face.  When he was close enough she wrapped her arms around him.  He returned the gesture, tucking her against his chest.  Neither of them would ever mention the tears that fell into her hair they held each other.

      “Go up to the house, there's beer in the fridge,” her voice was choked with emotion. “I'll watch him.”

      Dean headed back to the house, a bit unwillingly, but he was never much good with emotional stuff and YN was.   YN watched Dean until he was out of sight then turned her attention back to Sam.  She went over and crouched near him, close enough that he would know she was there but far enough away not to intrude on his grief.  In spite of the tears running down his face she didn't say anything or touch him. She knew eventually he'd speak and when did he was going to break down like he wouldn't in front of Dean. She lost track time, letting the crackle of the flames lull her into a trance and almost jumped out of her skin when Sam finally spoke.

      “We never had a chance,” he said barely above a whisper. “It's not fair, we never had a chance.”

      YN moved closer and draped one arm around his broad shoulders.  Instead of shaking her off like he has Dean, Sam turned and buried his face her neck, his body shaking with silent sobbing for what might have been. She held him, stroking his hair, until the fire died to grey ashes and the sun was coming up.  Then Sam moved away from her, running one hand over his face and through his hair. 

      “I should make sure-” he started.

      “I'll take care of it. Go sleep if you can,” YNs voice was gentle.  When he looked like he was going to argue she cut him off before he started. “She was my friend; let me do this last thing for her.”

      He nodded and gave her a half smile that didn't reach his eyes, then headed up to the house.  YN turned to the ashes that were all that was left of her friend.        “I'm sorry, Eileen, I wasn't there when you needed me,” she murmured in a low tear filled voice. “I wish you'd have told me what you were scared of. I could have helped.”

      After making sure the ashes cool enough to leave she went up the path. She was just a few yards into the woods when she was grabbed from behind and a hand was clapped over her mouth.  Twisting and squirming she tried to get away.

      “Please don't scream, cupcake, it’s just me,” her boyfriend said in her ear. “And I don't know if you're going to be happy to see me or not.”

        YN stood still and was released. As soon as she was free she whirled and slapped Gabe with all the strength she could muster after the long night. “Where the fuck have you been? I've been praying to you for days to come home and when I pray to you stay away you come home? I told you Sam and Dean were going to be here.”

      Gabe grinned and kissed her on the cheek. “I'm going with not. Maybe this will make you a little happier with me.”

      He stepped aside and YN stared at the figure behind him, then she the her arms around his neck. “You're forgiven.”

 I know you know we've had some good times

Now they have their own hiding place

Well I can promise you tomorrow

But I can't buy back yesterday

Now baby i know my hands are dirty

But I wanted to be your Valentine

I'll be the water when you get thirsty baby

When you get drunk I'll be the wine.

      YN watched the boys from the archway between the living and dining rooms. Sam was sitting in her favorite chair by the window looking at the beer in his hand. A sleep rumpled Dean was watching him from the couch, his face concerned. After a minute she cleared her throat to get their attention.

      “How long have we been friends, guys,” she asked when they both looked up at her.

      “Eight, maybe nine years,” Dean replied.

      Sam immediately corrected him, “Closer to ten, we meet right after that business with the faith healer and the reaper.”

      Dean rolled his eyes and YN suppressed a smile at the exchange, “And neither of you ever wondered why I got out of the life?”

      “I just assumed you'd had enough after Lucifer killed Gabriel,” Sam said slowly. “You never said anything, but how you felt about him was pretty clear.”          “Not exactly, I didn't tell you the whole truth,”  she replied evasively

      Dean finally ran out of patience and snapped,”Look YNN, just spit out whatever you're trying to say. It's been a long couple of fucking days.”

      With a sigh, she motioned for them to come with her and they reluctantly got up.  On the back porch she gestured to her garden.  Even in the bright early morning sunlight they could see the golden glow that outlined the Enochian wards that were everywhere. 

      “He made them visible for you,” YN said in a low voice. “You guys promise not to get mad or pull your guns. He’s here and has something to show you.”             When Sam and Dean nodded, YN looked towards the woods.  Following her eyes the brothers could make out to figures just inside the treeline.

      “You come out first, babe,” she called.

      When the familiar auburn haired figure out of the trees and headed towards them San drew in a sharp breath.  Dean's face fell slack and he muttered “Son of a bitch.”

      Gabriel reached the porch and slipped an arm around YNs waist, pulling her closer with an uncharacteristically soft smile. “One other person knew I was alive.  She showed up unexpectedly a few months back but promised not to tell anyone I was still around.  A few days ago I heard her practically screaming a prayer at me.  I found her being chased by a hellhound that was being controlled by a human, yanked her out and left a fake in her place.  Would have called you sooner but I'm not the healer Castiel is.”

 I wasn’t there when you were happy

And I wasn't there when you were down

I didn’t mean to miss your birthday, baby

I wish I'd seen you blow those candles out

OHHHHH, I'll be there for you These five words I swear to you

When you breathe i wanna be the air for you

I'll be there for you 

     Sam's heart beat faster and his eyes went back to the trees.  Gabriel beckoned the other person there with a gesture and she stepped out into the garden whole, healed, and alive.  Sam was down the stairs and across the garden as fast as his long legs could carry him.  Eileen met him halfway, almost crashing into him as her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his chest.  Sam pulled her closer, holding on like he was never going to let her go again.

 -JediCat 

 The Usual Suspects-

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