#imagine being haunted like this by your most beloved people for thousands of years

[azlrse]

CW: yandere themes, modern au, murder/suic*de, isolation, stalking & soft!Lucifer.

A/N: I've rewatched an old horror film (pagpag: siyam na buhay) and this caused me to break out of my writer's block. The best yandere for this imagine? The first born himself of course.

Upon watching the film, I was thinking to myself; what if Lucifer isn't an angel but a human who turned into a demon due to his prideful nature? Or what if Lucifer still haunts his beloved even after his death? Is he taking the quote "not even death can separate us" to the next level? Maybe yes-

Now let's get down to the imagine.

In his human life, Lucifer was a prideful and rich CEO who was indeed intrigued by you; just a regular worker who worked countless of hours just to make ends meet for your family. He became curious of you on why you asked so many times about working overtime and finds out that the reason why is because you wanted to save up every dime and penny for your sibling to go to their dream university.

You didn't want them to ended up with thousands of dollars in student dept just like when you're in college. He accepted your proposal nonetheless. The more you worked for him, the more he falls for you even harder. The prideful business man thought that he can win your heart through his money, status and his seduction but you turned those down because you didn't want to see yourself as a desperate human who would date someone just for their looks and money.

He was stunned but quickly does his best to swoon you over (and of course, win your heart and become his) and it didn't take long for his puppy like crush towards you had turned into something darker. That's right, dear reader; it's obsession.

But for Lucifer, this yandere is a very clever one. He hides these red flags, his obsession and successfully persuaded you that he's the kind of man who can provide for you, taking care of your family's needs and for him to love you. His affectionate and sweet words finally convinced you that he's the one for you and the next thing you know, you've become the CEO's significant other.

He indeed kept his words. You couldn't ask for a better lover other than him. He treated and spoiled you like royalty; money, clothes, dining in the finest restaurants he recommended and treated your sibling like his own. And because of him, your sibling graduated in their finally year of college. You couldn't thank him enough, in which he responded "Anything for my love"

Some of your enemies and snobby co-workers even became jealous of you just because you dated the most handsome guy they laid their eyes on.

And after a year of dating him, he finally proposed and asked the question for you to become his for eternity, and you foolishly accepted this sweet, loving proposal of his as he slides the diamond ring to your finger.

And unfortunately, on the day of your wedding, he unexpectedly passed away. This of course breaks your heart, you cried your heart out what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You loved him, you really do. You missed your dearest fiance as you cried and cried on the pillows, soaking wet with your endless tears and imagined that he was there, hugging your trembling form.

A few more years had passed on and his other siblings took over the company in his name while you, as his significant other, inherited millions (even trillions) of dollars from the will he left for you and his remaining siblings. Even you had all this money, you still him. Your loving fiance, Lucifer.

But you've moved past these bittersweet memories of yours and finally gathered the courage to date again but this time, the men/women you've dated were either died in an accident, being murdered or driven to suicide. When the news got out that you are the last person these people being with, they began avoiding you, even your own family for they thought that they'll die if they kept you within their lives.

You've became an outcast, a loner, a human the world knew that you're indeed a sign of their ultimate demise. And what you didn't know is that it was all the entity's doing, or isn't perhaps your so-called "dead" fiance?

Even after his "death", he watched over you after he became a demon. A demon with twisted horns, four ash black wings and a sinister smile.

The reason for his death? He traded his soul to the demon prince himself, all because of his greed for power. He didn't necessarily died, he just became a demon for your sake and of course, for your own protection. He drives all those people away, isolating you from the rest of the world. Don't you get it, (M/C)? He's desperate for your love and he's greedy for your affection and all the love you had, store within deep in your heart.

And if it's too late for you to find out that your fiance, your ever loving Lucifer becomes a demon and the sole reason why all the people you've dated were either dead or driven away to the brink of insanity, let alone your family abandoning you for the sake of their lives?

"Well, there's no escape, my beloved. For not even death can separate us."

You accepted the demon's proposal and finally succumb into becoming the demon's one and only beloved....

For eternity....

[please credit/tag me when you compose a fic with this imagine!]

#tw yandere #yandere obey me x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x you #om lucifer #lucifer x gn!reader #yandere lucifer #yandere obey me #obey me imagines #obey me luci x reader #lucifer x reader

[thetypedwriter]

Gideon the Ninth Book Review

Gideon the Ninth Book Review by Tamsyn Muir 

It would be only a slight hyperbole to say that a million people have either recommended this book to me or have told me to read it. I’ve heard for years now that this book is incredible and extremely well written and beloved by many. So, if that’s the case why did I wait so long to read it?

I don’t have a good answer. Sometimes a book is on your radar, but either the time isn’t right, other books take priority, or in my case, it’s adult fiction and I held slight trepidation that I wouldn’t love it as much as everyone else in the world seemed to. 

Thank goodness, that didn’t end up being the case and I’ll get into why in a moment. 

First, Gideon the Ninth has the most amazing descriptive sentence belonging on any front cover of any book ever. 

I shall put it here for prosperity and awe: “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!” -Charles Stross. 

Now, I don’t know who you are Mr. Stross, but that has to be the best sentence written in the English language since its conception. If that isn’t enough intrigue for you to crack open the novel then I truly don’t know what is or what it would take. 

That being said, Mr. Stross wasn’t entirely accurate, but that’ll be clear soon enough. 

The novel surrounds our main protagonist, Gideon Nav, or, known as Gideon the Ninth, the primary cavalier to the Ninth House necromancer. Essentially, this world takes place in a different solar system with its own sun star known as Dominicus as well as nine planets also known as the Nine Houses. 

Each House has a specific specialty for what is known for, and as summarized helpfully, but also overwhelmingly, at the beginning of the novel, the Ninth House is also known as the keepers of the Locked Tomb, House of the Sewn Tongue, and home to the Black Vestals. 

This meant nothing to me at the beginning and quite truthfully, I still struggled to remember throughout the novel who belonged to the Third House, or the Fifth and what that quite meant, as once again, each House has a reputation and expected skill set that precedes them. 

Not to say that it was poorly written because it wasn’t. Muir just has a lot of characters with specific titles and while she actually does quite a good job of categorizing them and helpfully reminding you who is who, I still struggled with just the sheer amount of information and people. 

Normally, this would be a massive criticism, like it was with the cast of characters in Lore but in this case it’s not Muir’s fault. She’s giving me all the information necessary to understand. It was just my brain that struggled trying to recognize and categorize everyone. If anything, I’m excited to re-read Gideon the Ninth and have it sink in like a second skin eventually. 

Having this large cast of characters, the book revolves around each of the Nine Houses (except for the First House) sending their best necromancer, a wielder of both thanergy (death energy) and thalergy (life energy) in the form of a House Adept, someone who is able to wield this kind of energy either in bone magic, flesh magic, or spirit magic. 

In accompaniment, each Necromancer Adept has a primary Cavalier, a trained fighter that is both protector, companion, and often, necessary energy suppliers to their Adept in both horrendous and acceptable ways. 

The goal of these pairs, having been sent to the First planet, is to become a Lyctor, an immortal servant to the Undying Emperor. The catch is that once the Necromancers and their Cavaliers arrive on the First, the shuttle departs and they are trapped in an abandoned, dilapidated, once-regal and great mansion that boasts hundreds of floors, secret doors, and mystery upon mystery. 

Each pair expects a streamlined process to Lyctorhood once they arrive, a methodical procedure, perhaps some training, and ultimately a test. What they don’t expect is a mellow man by the name of Teacher that claims to know nothing about the process himself, but is the overseer of the First. 

What follows is a mind-boggling search to become a Lyctor and unravel the mysteries of the haunted palace. What the pairs don’t expect is the death of their own, gruesome murders at the hand of someone in their very own positions and an evil danger beyond any of their imagination lurking in the mansion. 

This novel was a great concoction of mystery, action, interpersonal relationships, character growth, dazzling descriptions, and world building. 

The world of Dominicus and the Nine Houses is expansive and rich, something that I haven’t been able to sink my teeth into, and not for lack of trying, but because it is so deep and so layered that I simply need to take several bites to get it all down.

The mystery is fulfilling and strangely, to me at least, reminiscent of a game called Danganronpa. If you know what that is, and even if you don’t, it centers around the idea of a murder mystery, but where the killer is one of your own and the mystery is trying to figure out not ony the who, but the why of what they are doing, amongst a slew of other deadly riddles.

Gideon the Ninth is the same. As people continue to get picked off and brutally murdered, as a reader you find yourself trying to puzzle out not only who, but why someone would commit such atrocities and the motivation behind it. 

The plot itself of Gideon the Ninth was extremely satisfying and alluring. There were times where I personally found that novel bogged down with excessive description, but it was usually broken up with Gideon’s personal brand of crass humor, a very much needed breather with the expansive exposition, that, while extremely well done, well researched, and well written, did get a tad boring from time to time for me personally, even if it allowed for clear imagery as well as adding to already well formed world building. 

In addition to the plot, all of the characters were well done and as fleshed out as they could be considering the amount of characters involved. First, even though this is set in a fantasy sci-fi setting, each of the characters seemed realistic and like they could potentially be real people. 

A large criticism of books I often have, especially in YA, is that the characters often come across like caricatures, and not real flesh and blood humans with both positive and negative qualities. 

Each character, some developed more than others, have both flaws and strengths, even the main characters, which I highly appreciated. Not only does it make the story more real and palatable, but it also is just more interesting to read about as it’s actually based in humanity and the nature of human beings rather than some perfect carbon copy of one. 

Gideon as a narrator was hilarious. She was often crass, blunt, horny, humorous and ignorant. But on the other hand, she was also an extremely talented fighter, actually very sweet deep down, forgiving, and loving. 

This mix in a main character was a welcome one in addition to making Gideon feel like a real person, despite all the bone magic and necromancy, and often her thought process and dialogue made me laugh out loud. 

Another main character, Harrowhark Nonagesimus (What a name!) is Gideon’s Necromancer and main companion. She’s bitter, rude, spiteful, and ruthless. She’s also hardworking, intelligent, and stubborn. 

If you’re catching the pattern here, Muir isn’t just writing archetypes and passing them off as characters. She’s writing complex and nuanced personalities that are intriguing and interesting and well developed. 

I could get into the other plethora of characters like Camila, Dulcinea, Palamedes, Magnus, Judith and so on, but this review would be a thousand pages long so I’ll just settle for saying that every character was well done and lovingly crafted and not one of them, even the annoying ones, were characters that I hated. 

One important thing to note was Muir’s writing itself. It was incredible. Such descriptions! Such characterization! Such detail! Such vocabulary! I was supremely impressed with her writing as a whole and often found myself having to look up words that I had never heard of in my life (always a welcome change of pace). I was blown away by her sheet talent and creativity. 

The last two things I have to note might get me in trouble. 

One, the ending for me was...bittersweet. For fear of spoiling someone, I won’t get into details, but I found it both lacking and simultaneously making absolute sense. I wanted both more and yet, found that everything was just enough. It’s hard to put into words, but if you know, you know. 

I do have a slightly sinking feeling though that the ending twist will somehow be undone in the sequel. I don’t know if this is true (although I will eventually find out), and I can’t decide if I’m going to be happy or dismayed by it. 

Such conflicting feelings are in of itself homage to Muir’s skill as a writer and the complexities of her tale. 

Lastly, the one aspect that might get me into the stickiest of predicaments: Harrowhark’s and Gideon’s relationship. I don’t know if I like it or not. On the one hand, I absolutely love it. It's a hate-to-love slow burn, which really is the only way an OTP makes its way into my heart. I love that they’re so different and yet so compatible, one flesh and one blood and all that other nonsense. 

They see each other as equals, as adversaries, and I adore that dynamic in any pairing. I also love the F/F representation of some badass women and that they’re not traditionally attractive and beautiful. 

One of my favorite lines came from the end of the book where Gideon describes Harrowhark’s face as, “bitter” and “hateful”. I just love when characters aren’t conventionally gorgeous and yet beautiful in the eyes of the beholder and all that jazz. 

Now. Onto the problems. 

Harrowhark’s and Gideon’s relationship is kinda...toxic? It grows into something less so, but it definitely starts off that way. I really hate imbalances of power of any kind and Harrowhark definitely has power over Gideon, power that she creully abuses. I asked myself: if Harrowhark was a man and treated Gideon so abysmally for years, and then Gideon eventually forgave him and loved him despite everything, would I think differently?

And the answer is yes, yes I would. 

Is that fair? Probably not. But I can’t help but think how the dynamics change with the two of them being women, and how in my opinion, I think more is forgiven of Harrowhark because of it, even when it’s not deserved. 

Now, Harrowhark is a complex character and has traumas of her own, but I just can’t help but think of all the things she did to Gideon and the things she took away from her and forced her to do and then think of them together and it’s...not great. 

Overall, my feelings on their relationship are complicated (which is a repeated pattern when it comes to Muir’s writing) and I don’t mind that it’s complicated, it makes it interesting, but I also would be bereft to mention it here. I look forward to seeing how it develops and if my feelings change and grow on the matter as well. 

In total, Gideon the Ninth is a fantastic read. It has everything you want inlaid with characters who not only push the plot along, but incentivize you to read more. It has complicated issues and complicated characters, but that means it’s nuanced and complex and juicy enough to bite into. 

Don’t do what I did and wait years for this novel. If you need a good read, you don’t need to look any further and then let yourself be swept along for the necromantic ride. 

Recommendation: “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!” -Charles Stross. I mean. Come on people, what more can you ask for?

Score: 8/10 

#gideon the 9th #gideon the ninth #tamsyn muir #harrowhark nonagesimus #adult fiction #book blog #book review #Book Recommendations #book rec #favorite books #LGBTQ fiction #lgbtqbook #F/F books #F/F romance #8/10

[awesomerextyphoon]

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​​’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x  Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.  

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings,  of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.  

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.  

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you  to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.  

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,”  Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

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[zmayadw]

Hello to all :)

So, before I run off for the weekend and from this unberable heat to my own little personal Duskwood (by which I mean a house in the woods :D ), I promised to someone I would post the epilogue to my story by friday, and I keep my promises :)

Anyway, I wish you all to have a great weekend! Take care :)

CALL OF THE RAVEN

PART 27 - EPILOGUE

And so a year passed. One year since Hanna was found, one year since I met my wonderful friends. And one year since the most beautiful blue eyes I ever saw stopped haunting my dreams and became my reality.

It's been almost six months since I decided to move in with Jake and make Duskwood my new home. It was the easiest decision I ever made. They all became the most important people in my life, and I couldn't even imagine a day passing without beeing close to them. We shared a bond stronger than anything. They became my family, and family definitely doesn't start or end with blood.

--------------------------------------------

„You said five more minutes. Almost twenty passed!“ Jake announces from the doors. „I know, I know! I'm done!“ Turning in my chair, I just stare at him. „What? Do I look that bad?“ he asks worryingly after a moment. He was wearing black pants and a dark blue formal shirt, wich made his eyes color even more intense. That always amazed me, their color changing from greyish-blue to such an intense blue, I got lost in them so manny times. „Maya?“ His words snaped my attention back. Getting up I smile walking to him „Oh, the opposite, babe. You look very handsome.“ He smiles back. Wrapping my hands around his neck and kissing him softly first, then pulling him closer intensifying the kiss, hinting him more than clearly where I'm heading with this. He moves away raising his eyebrow „Oh, no, no, no.“ „What's a no?“ I ask, biting teasingly at my lover lip. Groaning he takes another step backwards from me „Argh, don't do this to me, angel!“ „I have no clue what you're talking about.“ I say taking a step towards him, playfully twirling a strand of hair arround my finger. „We don't have time for this!“ „Oh, well then.“ I say dissapointed and with a sigh start towards the bedrom. Passing him, I take my shirt off droping it on the floor at his feet „I suppose I'll go get ready then.“ I could feel his lustful stare following me. I barely stepped into the bedroom when his hand comes around me, pulling me to him, his other hand moving the hair from my neck. His soft lips on my skin sent tingles all over me. „You are driving me crazy.“ He whispers to my ear. „And you love it.“ I hum back. Turning me to face him he grins „But just so we're clear, you are going to explain to my sister why we were late to the wedding. And I'm dying to hear what excuse you will think of.“ Laughing I put my hands around his neck „Don't worry, babe, I can get quite creative when needed.“

„So, tell me you two, what was it that made you almost end up late for the wedding?“ Lilly was looking inquisitive at Jake and me. „Yes, Maya, please tell Lilly why we were almost late.“ Jake grins at me. Oh, he is so gonna get it for this! „There was...an emergency with my dress.“ She snorts „Right, I'm sure there was.“ Flashing her the most wonderful smile I could make „Oh, come on, Lilly, don't be like this. Hannah just got married, we should all be happy.“ „You two are impossible. I need a drink.“ She shakes her head before leaving us. „Emergency with the dress? That's the best you could think of?“ Jake raise his eyebrow at me. I grin „Shush it. It worked..kinda.“ „No it didn't.“ He laughs. „Fine, it didn't.“ I agree. „Then next time, you think of something better.“ He chuckles „Oh no, I'm not letting you make a habbit out of it.“ Turning to him with a wicked smile and going for a kiss, but stoping so close our lips barely touch „Whatever you say, babe.“ Without finishing the kiss, I slowly turn and head for the bar. „You are killing me!“ he yells after me. I turn my head and wink, just as Dan shows up next to him. „Troubles at paradise, man?“ he asks him. Jake grins, not taking his eyes off me „Quite the opposite, man, quite the opposite.“

The cool night breeze swirled arround me as I lean on the railings of the terrasse. Watching my friends looking so happy and laughing makes me smile myself. Seeing them like this, no one would ever thought that a year ago their lives turned into a nightmare. Even if the scars of the past events might not be visible to the eye, they are there, imprinted deep into each one of them. With time, they will fade more, and become just a distant memory.

The scars on my body are a different story. They will always be there, a reminder of bad days. But that's all right, I don't want to forget anyway. I want to remember, that no matter what shit life threw at me, I survived, I came out of it stronger. And no matter what might come my way next, I will be all right. They are also a reminder of all the good things that came along with them – new unbreakable friendships, and love, the purest and strongest love. Non of it would be able to exist without all the bad thats happened.

A raven perched on a tree cawed, calling for my attention. His beady black eyes curiously observed me. It's caw echoes around me again, it's sinister voice carried deep into the forest. That sound was frightening to me, sending shivers down my spine, bad memories resurfacing with it. But not this time. With a smirk I look at the bird straight in the eye „Don't waste your time with me, you don't scare me anymore.“ The raven continued to stare at me, moving it's head from one side to the other, as if searching to find just a hint of doubt in my words. Unsuccessfully. It's wings flapped, it's caws echoing as I watch it fly away, getting lost somewhere deep in the forest. „Everything all right, angel?“ Jake voice comes from the doors. With a smile I move from the railing and turn to him, call of the raven falling more silent behind me „Everything is perfect.“

-----------------------------------------------

„Finaly! I was beginning to worry.“ I almost yell in my phone. „Sorry, angel, I just stepped outside a minute ago.“ „Well that took forever. At least tell me you have good news?“ I ask impatiently. „Let me pick you up, then we'll talk.“ „Oh, no, no, no.“ I protest. „I've been waiting for hours, I can't wait anymore, I'm going crazy here!“ „All right, all right.“ He laughs. „Sooooo, what's the verdict? Is it over?“ I was so nervous to hear his answer. „It's over, angel.“ I screamed so loud from happines, scolding myself instantly for doing so in a place that I was at the moment. „Oh, babe, I'm soooo happy to hear this!“ I laugh „You haven't called back for so long, I was beginning to play the worst scenarios in my head. I know Dan said I can ask him for anything, but I doubt he would agree in helping me busting you out of jail. With a mention of it being a federal one, the chances are even slimmer. “ He chuckles „Yeah, I doubt that, too.“ „Tell me, did they agree to your demands? Is your record clean again?“ „Let me put it like this“ he says „They were more then extremely satisfied with the results they got from the informations I provided for them, that I could have asked for an island and they would say yes to it.“ I burst out laughing „Well, owning an island is a new trend these days.“ He laughs back. „Jake?“ I say serious. „What's up, angel?“ „Do you regret doing any of this? I mean, this was something you were forced to do, and honestly, I don't want you to end up hating me one day for any of this. I know I asked you that before, but still..“ „Listen to me, angel. I would do all of this the same way every time, without hesitation, through a thousand lifetimes, if in the end it would mean I get to have you.“ A tear escape my eye, more threathening to follow „Gosh, don't you get me in tears, silly! Now, come and get me, so we can go celebrate properly!“ He chuckles „All right, angel. And where are you?“ „You don't know?“ I ask surprised. „Don't tell me you stopped tracking my phone?“ „I will never do that.“ I laugh „Good, then you'll know where to pick me up. Love you.“ „Love you, too. See you soon, angel.“

I know why I decided to come to this place while nervously waiting for news from Jake. First time he brought me along, there was such calmness radiating from him, just sitting here, in the same spot I am sitting now. I never seen him being more at peace anywhere else but here. I guess I hoped coming here would do the same for me. And I was not wrong.

Collecting my stuff I stand up and look at the tombstone that I was sitting in front all this time.

Here lies Anna

A beloved daughter and mother

You will be missed forever

„Don't worry, Anna“ I smile at the tombstone throwing my backpack over my shoulder „Jake will be all right, I'll take good care of him. I promise.“

THE END

A/N: All right, so this is it, the end. I want to say a big 'thank you' to anyone who read it! :) I had fun writing it, and I hope you had fun reading it :) And honestly, I am a bit sad it ended, but we all know all things must come to an end eventually. Anyway, thak you again, much love to you all :)

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 8

Any means for a private lunch was dashed in a debacle of a means by Prince Estel to plea his way out of his usual music lessons Elrond was trying to enforce upon him. Trailed by the entrance of a confused messenger who arrived with a pile of notes from Erebor that didn’t seem to make any sense at all thanks to the smudged outer envelopes. That while you finished the first then second helping of the warm honey butter rolls there the King had taken notice of the usual seals he gave lists of the few known possible recipients from those who had written them. Off they darted to try and leave the two bonding Nobles alone for a moment of silence in which the King timidly glanced your way and flashed you a quick grin before his move to finish his lunch and catch up to your emptied plate to snack on a roll on the way back to the clock.

Five pieces was all you managed to move before a hiss left him in a shake of his hand to signal the warning bite he’d been given the day prior that meant it was time to stop. “I suppose we might want to find your Elk then before our clock gets a hunger for your blood and we have to lock it away every night so we won’t find you half eaten by morning.”

Throatily he chortled and set the piece in his left hand down in a scoot of his chair to stand and help you to your feet. “What a colorful image of a monarchy under attack.”

“It would explain why there are no clocks here. Natural enemies, have to draw a line somewhere.”

Smirking to himself he stepped back to allow you at his side for the stroll to the front doors, “We have clocks. They are reserved for our families and beloved Ones, time is precious.” In a sweep of his eyes over your face he asked, “Were there a great deal of clocks in Nunieffe?”

“Oh yes, couldn’t go twenty feet without running into a clock. We might have been the cheese capitol but everything had to be punctual. Schedules for everything. You’d think the boat racers would have some freedoms from it but there’s timed arrivals and if you don’t meet them you’re disqualified no excuses even if by a second. Been a few uproars on that rule including my dad. Got booted half a foot from the finish line half a second past the final marker. No one won that year nearly had an uprise on their hands.” With brows risen he looked over your face in your step through the front door he had opened for you to do so.

“Over a race? It must be quite a prestigious title to win that contest of sailsmanship.”

“Well the race is 14 months long.” That had his mouth drop open in shock, “Trip around the world have to collect tokens from each Noble along the way and gain stamps for your travel papers. Not much of a prize beyond bragging rights and a spot in the naval forces that moves higher each time you participate and rank higher than the time before.”

“Naval forces are prized then?”

“Higher ranked you are the less likely they send you out in a row boat in the middle of a siege. Best winner came in first three times with five participation ranks above tenth place out of hundreds. He retired as a general and never had to leave the dock last war in his lifetime. Our lands are the sacrificial lambs up for slaughter. We bred faster and no one really wanted our ranks to win but we put the top social tier out of the race every time by the second stop. They already enter the wars in leader positions anyways why do they deserve another foot up away from the bloody ground.” Your eyes scanned over his steely face in a means to not cling to you for how miserable the fate your old world had dealt you and your kin. “Sorry. I get a bit cynical, and heartless about the top tiers.”

“You are not heartless. They are the ones who should hang their heads in shame. I am beyond comforted that you are free from that pit of death and despair.”

“More a chasm than a pit,” you replied and a smirk ghosted across his lips.

“Chasm then. Let us think of better things and enjoy a long ride on a fine day in this sun painted forest.”

“I see what you did there,” you said and he chuckled in the first step towards the stables away from his closed apartment.

“Did you not grow around many trees?”

“There were trees. Just not a lot higher than your shoulder, thirty feet at the most. Until you got to the outer edge of town but no one goes into those woods,” he glanced your way and you said, “Haunted and full of holes.”

“Ah, well no danger of finding holes today.”

Again you glanced up at him in a move that drew his eyes to yours for a pleased grin that had you ask, “I was meaning to ask, your throne has antlers on it?”

“Yes,” he said a bit puzzled about what the exact question was.

“I mean they aren’t like feathers that just come off on their own or wool that can be sheered,”

“Elk and deer lose their antlers annually.”

“Really?” You asked and he nodded with a relieved chuckle at what you might have imagined of their means to extract the antlers from the stubborn creatures and somehow still they would be left alive afterwards.

“Yes, in the spring I will remind you and we can set up a picnic and watch the herds startle themselves when they shed them.”

“But they seem so, like bones, you wouldn’t think they’d just fall off.”

“Nor do they until their first shed and still each year you’ll see them sneeze or reach a certain way to a bush or tree trunk and the antler will come loose and hit their side on the way down. Tuo nearly leapt six feet last year after his startled sneeze triggered loss.” He chuckled again to your amused grin, “within the next month the new set begin to grow and the meantime allows them safer head sparring practice with their young ones in the first signs of their first tips.”

“Why did you pick an elk over a horse? Are they faster?”

“Tuo was a difficult birth. His mother was found injured and barely survived the night after I helped ease her struggles. I helped to secure a female to nurse him with her own daughter however due to his father who was head of the herd none of them could claim him outright without his approval so until he deliberated a good match I spent most of my days and nights in the stable with him.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Lowly he chuckled and stated, “I do have to admit Celeborn had just left from his latest trip to show off his youngest set of twins and I was a bit jealous and missed those parental moments. Thousands of years have passed since my son left my palms and shoulders.” Curiously he stole a glance your way and asked the question now burning in his head, “What were your dreams for a family, prior to the betrayal of course? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Truly I haven’t,” softly you sighed and in his full gaze on you with head tilted slightly for a better angle on your puzzle of an expression when you looked away. “We have Seers we are taken to when we are able to conceive, they tell us how many children we will have. They read it on our palms.”

“What did yours say?”

“She said my palm read sunrise. No number, just sunrise, and since it is illogical of an answer, I don’t know. I looked it up in a book and I didn’t have that line,” his eyes sank to your hand palm up in front of you in a tap of a finger on the other hand to what he took as just a normal wrinkle on your palm with meaning of nothing else past that now having him question what his own palm might say. “But now I do,” you sighed again, “Which according to the book now says sunrise and blue.”

“That is odd. If you had to guess a preference, had you imagined a son or daughter?”

“Um,”

“I myself was a bit baffled for a preference. A daughter however might have proven a bit difficult as my mother most likely would never have let me have a chance to hold her, as she always wished for a younger sister to raise alongside me. Though she would have been no less loved even from a distance until I was allowed to hold her again.”

“Maybe one of each, three are the usual goal expected of women but the husbands normally choose how many children-,”

“I can guarantee that will not happen here. You have full power here, did your father encourage that belief that you would be prey to your husband’s demands and expectations?”

“Well, my parents, my mother did what she was expected to even against her hopes to have had me with her child sweetheart,” that had his eyes on yours in a sharp shift. “They weren’t in love, and the longer it went without a son that became clearer to me when we weren’t in the shop where they seemed to be able to play happy couple for the public.”

“I am so sorry you had to face that.”

“He seemed pleased at least when I was taken.”

“I cannot ever imagine that to be a parent to a heart like yours that moment could be a father’s single proud,” softly he huffed in irritation, “To barter you off I assure you that afterwards there was ample remorse on the loss of his only child hefty sum of silver or not. Several of our people have various moments of pride for your person. Including myself, I am very proud of my dazzling One.”

In a smirk up at him you teased, “I am about as dazzling as an Elk is stable crossing a lake of ice.”

That had him chuckle and shake his head and then catch your eye again, “Deflection will not serve your case, a few stumbles and slides does not negate majesty from and Elk. Tuo is head of the herd and has gotten his rear end stuck in ample situations while growing and learning our forest.”

Upon being in sight of the stables your eyes shifted to his hands that above the slit on his maroon outer robe that button by button it revealed more of his dark silver pants that his white tunic was tucked into the waistband in a careful move to not lose his maroon and deep silver wrap folded over his forearms. “It has buttons?” That had him grin in the reach out to shift the front flap on the side closest to you over his arm while his other hand continued until he undid the jeweled clasp at his collarbone. “Oh, it’s thicker than it looks so it hides the buttons.” You said then gave his arm mild pokes to test the fabric on his arm for thickness to not be groping at his chest, “I suppose it helps keep you warm.”

“It does. While the cold does not normally affect our kin layers are comfortable for myself, though the length can bother Tuo while we ride.”

Down the steps you strolled with fingertips brushing the leather paneled skirt over your black pants contrasting your brown knee high boots. Comfortably in your pale orange blouse secured by a black and orange vest at least you seemed to be a good choice for a ride. Tuo already was on his way from the line of trees to join you inside the Elk stables you hadn’t entered before. Past the open front entrance towards the large section on the end with a crown etched into the half door that was propped open that you stopped outside of to watch his easy move to the cupboard inside he opened. Off his arms the wrap dropped to his fingertips that in front of him he folded in half then quarters and then eighths to add to its usual home next joined by his outer robe that was hung on the hanger inside he took the armored dark green robe that like the other had a split in the part that hung nearly to the knee.

The stare from you however in your stroll closer to his button of the robe had his eyes fixed on you right to the stop a foot away that had him smirk at your tap on the end of the hilt of his sword strapped to his right hip that was a twin to the one on his left. “I didn’t even see your swords.” Up to his your eyes shifted and you asked, “Are they heavy?”

Around the right sword his left hand fixed and in a smooth motion he unsheathed the solid metal sword that along the etchings in the top of the blade near the hilt your fingertips tapped. “Not heavy at all once you have trained enough to build up the muscles in your arms and wrists.” He said and eased it closer to your hand that was joined by your other to timidly lift the blade with fingers and palm fixing around the hilt with the other. Both you shifted up and down for an awkward feel of the balance while he finished buttoning up his robe.

Back to him you offered the blade and over the back of your hand his eased to take hold of the grip in its release that spread a grin across his lips that spread in the smooth motion of your hand to tap his middle to feel the solid armored layer he added while his sword was sheathed with ease. “What is this made of?” you asked with one set of fingers in a second press that was joined by your other hand that widened his grin at the innocent contact that didn’t come close to making him sway but did test the give of the scale like material that didn’t budge at all. “Feels like metal?” You asked and then turned your head to the layered plates that laid from the tops of the shoulders down the tops of his arms over a layer of more scales.

“They are made of mithril plates layered in thick green wool. Mithril is the strongest and lightest metal in these lands.”

“You need armor and swords for this?” You asked with eyes on him again and he shook his head.

“No, merely a habit. I can leave them behind if this bothers you.”

You shook your head then gave his middle another grin spreading poke and said, “No, if you’re comfortable with them it’s fine.”

Your poke however had Tuo upon his entrance bop the King in the chest with his snout to join in on the fun that had the chuckling King shift on his feet to say, “Let us get you dressed Tuo,” with a glance at you he asked, “Would you like to learn?” With a nod he extended his hand you laid yours on top of to walk with him to the large compartments along the wall where he said, “Tuo prefers his saddle first,” the leather saddle he lifted with ease and carried over to the Elk that turned sideways and eased over the Elk’s back. Every piece was explained while he adjusted it then reached down to grab the opposite strap that he said in easing it to the proper notch, “Not too snug but you have to ensure it isn’t too loose or you will spin down off their back. Usually a finger space between the belly and strap will be comfortable but some steeds prefer a notch looser and will make it clear to loosen or tighten the strap.” The stirrups were adjusted down straight then he collected the reins and bridle that he eased over Tuo’s head and helped you to secure the buckles then dropped a hand to your upper back that was used to guide the way to the saddle.

“I don’t think I can lift my leg that high,” you said eyeing the stirrup that made him smirk and ease his left hand over the back of your wrist to reach for the knot on the saddle, “Just reach up, I’ll lift you.” Around your hips his hands settled and with a warning lifted you to where you could plant a foot in the stirrup. “Now, ease your right leg over,” his hands remaining fixed in place until you were halfway over the saddle and when you had settled in place he stepped away to gather the reins that he crossed in your hands his had given a mild cup to release the hold of them.

In a step back he said once at your side when you moved your foot that had slid from the stirrup in its drop again at your leg being shorter than his to rest in them. “How do I not be in the way?”

To himself he chuckled and he replied in an ease of his raised foot in the stirrup, “You are nowhere near in the way,” his hand fixed on the knot over your arm. And fluidly up he rose and used his long legs to his advantage to move around your back to settle on the extended rear seat of sorts on the saddle that had come of use when Legolas was younger. With legs situated around the sides of yours over your shoulder he peered and reached for the reins that you released then promptly tucked your hands back and he asked, “Are you comfortable with the height?”

“Yes, just, not going to look down too often,” you said and he smirked in a low murmured confirmation to the watching Elk that looked forward and began to walk to the entrance.

“Just a slow trot to begin with,” he hummed near to your ear after a careful glance at your braid that hung to the saddle he ensured the curls in it or the jeweled beads tucked throughout would get caught on his outer robe. Straight to the trees while you remained straight as possible to continue not being in the way, “You are not in the way, relax you will not fall. When we get deeper on the path I can show you how to steer if you would like.”

“I don’t know where we are going.”

Again he chuckled and he said, “I am right here,” he said to your glance at the speckled mare that halted with a glare then turned back to storm to her usual pouting tree to lie down underneath. “I will not let us get lost should you take control.”

The first turn was taken and a rounded pathway was laid out for the trotting Elk and up your eyes shifted to the endless trees, “Were the trees always this tall, you said you moved here from your old home, have they grown? I can’t imagine they grow very fast. And they all seem even, so who planted them or did it just rain acorns one day…”

Again he smirked at the curious ramble from you and answered each that you could think up between shared facts and gestures to various things along the way. Hours you rode and chuckles soon gave warning to guards above on where their King had reached along the pathway and after a passing inspection of the guard post he had warned you where Thranduil helped you down to let Tuo take a break at a small stream. With hold of your hand Thranduil smiled in a head tilt to the side, “One more surprise.”

Curiously you smiled and strolled with the King away from the amused guards who chatted once you were out of earshot of the newly bonded Ones that had been kept so far apart for so long. Around a series of large boulders you hurried to catch his stride and then caught signs of the shift from tree surrounded grassy pathway to an open clearing that cut off to a rocky ledge that just led into the sky. “A cliff?” You asked and looked up at him when you stopped a bit afraid of what he brought you here for.

Widely smiling at you he said, “There are nests below, unless you wish to head back?”

Tentatively a few feet from the edge you stopped and crouched down with him inching closer to your side with his hand still clutched in yours just at the edge his arm extended and you saw the large nesting grounds of large owls that the parents were offering their catches to their chicks. “Our Great Owls nest here, sacred creatures none here dare hunt. We do not approach them but occasionally we are welcome to peer down at their home while when they fly over ours they do the same.”

“Does your brooding keep them away as well?” you teased and he chuckled again and joined you in a pull backwards.

“No, just merely an issue of territory.” He said in helping you to your feet again for the turn back again after your sweeping glance out into the endless sky and forest around you. “Tuo should be ready for us.”

“So fast?” You asked and he grinned at you.

“Elk can run for days at a time from our herd if need be. However for our steady trot he will have ample energy to get us back.” The Elk in question was pleased to see you back again and came closer to have you lifted on his back again knowing that for the broad looping path back the King would allow you to take control of the reins if you felt comfortable and once Thranduil was behind you Tuo turned for the path and heard Thranduil offer. “Would you like a chance at the reins?”

“Um,” Already your heart was racing in the velvety hum he had given near to your ear and down your eyes dropped to the reins.

Outwards he eased his hands for the reins to be seen resting on his fingers with palms out, a motion that had yours ease closer. Brief and gentle fingertips eased against his palms to shift against the leather straps that you almost let go of until his hands melted around the back of yours to guide them into the proper hold. Kindly he guided you on needless tugs on the reins for the next several turns in the path that Tuo could travel in his sleep but welcomed the chance to take part in lessons. Each turn widened your smile and lured soft excited giggles in the first stages of control for a steed. Though he hummed post chuckle, “There is a jump ahead, we will have to speed up though.”

“We can both jump?” You asked in the slack of your hands that eased back that signaled his left arm to leave the reins in his right to lay it across your belly to press you into his chest in Tuo’s change in speed. Around his hand and arm yours gripped in a melt around your back to keep you steady in the race up to, the leap and landing and afterwards in the calmer pace until the body in his hold untensed. Even then he still kept a loose hold until a clearing on the right had you bravely reaching out to change course to see the beautiful flower filled hideaway where some colorful birds were gathering food for their nests.

From far above a whistle had Thranduil hummed in a guide of the reins saying, “Ah, nearly time to ready for the feast.”

“I hear tonight is the big sparkle night.”

That had him chuckle again, “Yes, I presume our Seamstresses had created a dazzling gown for you to shine in tonight.”

“They did quite a job in the beading. Must have taken all of them to get it done in time.”

“Well they had completed everyone else’s attires months in advance there were ample hands free. I can guess it will look perfect alongside the swan crown.”

“I thought since it is the big sparkle night I should wear the larger crown, unless-,”

“The larger will be welcomed and I cannot wait to see the final look tonight.”

“Can’t imagine you having a much flashier robe than I’ve seen you in, Dew Drop.”

“You might have organized part of my wardrobe however there are a few pieces that you have yet to see.” He replied playfully not pressing the term you had referred to him by to subtly express an approval of its use, however puzzling as to the source or reason why. “Tonight there is a performance from our choral troupe tonight followed by our fable performers that will certainly add to the splendor of the evening with more performances in each night beyond this one.”

.

Pink, sleeveless, backless and beaded strips in angled and arranged to fit the curves on the full chest covering gown that hugged you to the pool of fabric around your feet with a delicate woven set of chains draped down the back opening. Teardrop stones surrounded by arched rows of lasgalen stones in an elegant arch formed the crown you had been gifted that sat gracefully on top of your hair that was braided back with shimmering decorations.

Back to your seat again beside the shimmering robe donning King with his same wrap from earlier to help disguise the shimmer while in the shows, that once the food was through and the performances began to a noticed shiver in the move of the tables he eased from around his back to yours. Nice and warm to the dim of the glow in the hall you settled in the oversized wrap with a failed try to withhold your dopey grin to the gesture. All of this was so odd and now near to the end of this month in this new home of yours for the first time since you had been taken now you were beginning to feel safe. Mainly due to the actions and time with your One who every so often through the performance would steal glances your way to ensure that you were enjoying the show. Subtle actions that had his son and Lord Glorfindel on his other side unable to keep from openly grinning for how the private bonding sessions had been doing wonders for the duo they knew to be a courting pair soon enough.

From a few blushing quick grins in caught gazes when you would look back at his staring breaks to the fable being performed that upon a certain point required a loud flash and smoke that had his hand daringly drop from the arm of his chair over yours to ease under your hand in time for it to be a welcomed thing to clutch until the jolt of your heartbeat had slowed to its former steady rhythm. Polite, again the doubts had sprung up and much like the deep ache you hadn’t realized to be there in the time on Tuo’s back in the arms of the King the hand that refused to let go with thumb bravely smoothing up and down the back of yours only locked you in place more. You couldn’t kiss the King again, he was being so polite, no matter what Ones did grow to be eventually for Elves it was only him being polite. Publicly you were known to be scarred and damaged by the husband turned captor and he was simply preventing a show disturbing meltdown. And still you couldn’t force yourself to take your hand away. Even if it was just a daydream of more than just a silencing hand to hold you didn’t want to let go, and to be completely honest that terrified you more than smoke or a sudden flash ever could.

Desserts in small bite sizes on foot came in a round of wine on the way back to the ballrooms that led to more dances through which an Elleth carried to hang up the wrap Thranduil had said you could leave in your chair that among the others was taken away to make more room for couples to dance. Another break for air however found you contrasting your fellow Wizard Radagast who was dancing excitedly in a hushed hum to the tune with eyes upwards mid twirling step that in a giggle ended to a plop back onto the bench there you didn’t know you were that close to.

“If you are cold I will fetch you my wrap, unless you merely wished to stir envy in the stars for your glow.” Thranduil hummed on his way over with two wine glasses in hand, yours still smaller and with your favorite blackberry wine while he sampled the newest cherry and strawberry blend his people had been perfecting to be sampled this year.

From his hand you accepted the glass offered to you and before you could scoot over he had turned and taken up the spot just big enough for him to fit and be snug against your side and took a sip of his glass you mirrored with yours. Once the glass was lowered and your lip loosening sip was swallowed onto his shoulder your arm shifted to drape there and down his back with a plop of your chin on his shoulder that had his sip halt so he could lower his glass and catch your gaze curious of what you were up to. Onto his chest a finger extended from around the side of your glass tapped and tugged the corner of his mouth upwards to your statement of, “You know, I figured out where I’ve seen the color of your eyes before.”

Once his head was turned and he swallowed his mouthful of the wine now among the bottom of his list of favorites to sample on he would tolerate to encourage the brewers to continue tweaking it to face the bitterness it was chased by. “Oh?” he asked truly curious if you were referring to some dream that had warned you of the travel here and to him with no expectation of what you would actually say.

“You’ve seen dew drops at sunrise,” there was that term again, dew drop and now he had something of a reason why. It was his eyes you had complimented and from a being with such impossible eyes as yours that meant something that stunned him to silence. “That chilly blue that has a hint of a glimmer to them unlike any other blue. Dew Drop.”

From the doorway to the gardens Elrond’s voice split the silence by asking, “Now the two of you tucked alone out here can only spell a plot is afoot. Spill your secrets now or we will be unrelenting in our payback.” The grin on his face doubled in his wife’s lean into his side with a plate of snacks she had gathered for the pair of them he chose a piece from that was popped between his lips.

Thranduil however replied to the rest of your cheek to his shoulder to look at the couple joined by Lord Glorfindel and his deepened smirk at the position you had relaxed into that made Thranduil almost lean in right there and kiss you on the top of the head and stroke the wrist attached to the hand holding the glass still rested against his chest. The King’s response however heightened that amused response in the widening of your eyes. “You are mistaken, Elrond. No espionage here.”

Right through the haze of the wine those words hit the panic button and in a lift of your head. Behind the trio an Elf you had promised a dance to arrived and you said, “Ah, Ringwe, I owe you a dance.” Up you stood and in mock ease to the waiting partner you walked with a trade of head nods once you had taken another sip of your wine as the question circled on if the King knew or not. He said he hadn’t, well, not exactly, he hinted he didn’t know. And to be honest, espionage was not that common a term to use day to day. The glass was taken along the way and several dances later to your apartment you strolled beside the King who managed to catch a signal you were about to leave who cut you off in the hall. This time he was lost to chatter from nerves and again with a press of lips to your knuckles the night was ended when he got you safely across that threshold.

Pt 9

@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

#Ride with Tuo #Feast of Starlight #How Much Does He Know? #Bonding #Thranduil x OC

[msbluebell]

Dramatic Opera Adaptation 

You’ve seen Disaster Wedding, now get ready for...Mittlefrank Opera Company’s production of the grand love story!

“Mittlefrank Opera Company Presents, the epic love story, Dance of The Fell Stars! An epic story of how his Highness King Dimitri Alexendre Blaiddyd fell in love with Byleth Eisner, the mysterious mercenary that would become a professor at Garreg Mach!”

Sylvain is the first to hear of this production. He doesn’t know how it happened so fast, or way, but it was enviable a play/opera would be written about the war. Still, he didn’t expect the Dimitri marrying teach to be the first rendition. He laughs all the way back home and immediately pins a letter to EVERYONE. He is GOING to see this show no matter what.

Dimitri dies a little on the inside when he sees the flyer Sylvain oh-so-helpfully included in the letter. He spends a good couple of minutes just staring at the wall, hoping this is a trick. It’s not, and Sylvain is going to see it. He’s doomed. He can already hear the mockery. Sylvain will NEVER let this go.

Dimitri is ready to throw the flyer into the fire and jump off the roof of his own castle just to avoid going to the play. It’s too late though, all the Blue Lions know. He can feel it. And something tells him this is just the beginning. 

He is absolutely right. Everyone is planning to go. Everyone. “It’ll be fun!” Annette’s letter says, “I haven’t seen you all in a bit! We should meet up!”

“I’ve always wanted to see an Opera.” Mercedes concludes, “And maybe I’ll be in it!”

Ashe thinks it’s a wonderful reason to meet up, and he loves stories, and he’s interested to see what they get right. Felix doesn’t say it, but Dimitri knows he’ll go just so he can mock him. And, suddenly, everyone is class is going because Ingrid agrees she wants to meet up and see what they do too.

Dimitri could honestly die.

Byleth, of course, is curious. They’ve never actually been to an opera, besides knowing Manuela and Dorathea, which doesn’t really count. And they’re always willing to meet up with the Blue Lions for a reunion. 

Dimitri knows he’s doomed before his beloved is even half way through the letter. Dedue, a sympathetic soul, pats him on the shoulder. Dimitri can only sigh mournfully and pin a letter to order reservations for the class.

...the turnout is worse than he feared...

The Opera Company made no secret of how excited they were that THE KING HIMSELF and his beloved were coming to see the production of their story with all their friends. Hundreds are here, maybe even thousands. And, oh no, is that the Golden Deer house? Please no. Oh Goddess, is that Claude? Dimitri thought he’d left Fodlan.

Oh Goddess, all their classmates are here and dressed in their best jewelry and clothes. Is that Ingrid wearing make-up? Is that ALOIS? Is Seteth here with Flayn? Oh no, everyone he knows is here. Why is Byleth’s Gatekeeper friend here? No, please, not you too Gustav, you and your wife are too reasonable to be here.

Alas, this isn’t a nightmare, everyone came to watch this.

The inside of the theater is packed (and oh dear goddess he killed Edelgard here), but he and Byleth are given the best seat in the house, and all his classmates/friends are given priority seats. He can see the stage perfectly. He isn’t going to miss anything. Dimitri despairs.

The show is more awful than he imagined.

It’s also terribly inaccurate while also sticking to an accurate timeline and getting some things waaaaaaay too close to home.

Manuela comes out wearing a green wig and Rhea’s old clothes and begins the thing. Dimitri lost any hope right then and there.

Somehow, Byleth is the child of both Jeralt and Rhea in a secret affair that he swears has someone weeping. There’s a tragic love song about being ripped apart by expectation, and Rhea being a mother forced to give up her lover and her child while Jeralt fakes his death and runs off. He SWEARS he hears Leonie crying.

He has to blank his mind during the evens of Duscar. But, luckily, after that things get right to him enrolling in school. But one the way he, Claude, and an obviously evil Edelgard meet Byleth. Dorathea (assuming she either defected or survived and has no bad feelings) comes out in her own costume playing Byleth, and it’s love at first sight, and somehow they’re already at their first love song? He’s so embarrassed.

Is Alois crying now? What?

Then there’s a whole plot about their tragic secret feelings because Byleth is his teacher, and he’s a student, and it’s forbidden, just like Jeralt and Rhea. By now Dimitri is starting to get a terrible feeling. Also, Jeralt and Rhea have a song about lost years gone by and not getting to see your child grow up that he swears gets a sniffle out of Seteth and Flayn. 

Everything is so dramatic. Somehow Byleth has a lot of very dramatic lines, and so does he, and the scene where she’s blessed by the goddess is somehow so over the top that he has to blink dumbly at it, and Dorathea!Byleth gives a long speech about being holy, and why is she floating? Is...is she going to be suspended in air for that whole song? Why are all the other characters just staring dumbly?

They play up the forbidden love, and add several stolen kisses that never happened, and somehow they knew a little too much about the goddess tower. Oh, and they somehow knew about Claude being Byleth’s first dance at the ball and played that up as well, romantic rival. He swears he can hear Claude and Hilda giggling. 

There’s a few conversations that seem like the actually happened, like when Byleth smiled, or...wait a moment...

He’s going to kill whatever traitor has spying on him and been feeding these people information. How do they even remember all of this? It doesn’t matter, they’re going to die. Or muck stables. Whichever he feels like by the time this show is over.

The scene where Garreg Mach is invaded gets horrifyingly accurate with his devastated reaction to Byleth’s seeming death. His character is frantically searching while fighting off soldiers, only to give a devastating cry and beat his fists into the ground when he realizes Byleth is gone. It’s...very close to what happened, and he hopes no one thinks that actually happened, but the sniffles around him say otherwise. 

His character has a song about missing Byleth and how all the stars seem to dim without them.

Luckily, they skip the five years of war.

But that just means the reunion song is here.

It’s the most awful thing he’s ever heard. It’s...also pretty close to home. There are people crying, but still awful to watch such an over the top dramatic version of their reunion. 

His character singing about feeling like a ghost unworthy of Byleth’s light, and how they haunt him, hits hard.

The rest of the play is so over the top it’s absurd, and there has to be ten more songs just between here and the epic climax with Edelgard. The whole theater must be weeping, and Dimitri wants to go home.

Unfortunately, as they’re finishing the love song, and the curtain is closing and the cast is bowing and he’s about to run away, the Opera Company spotlights him, drawing everyone’s attention. They thank him and Byleth and everyone else for coming, and hope they enjoyed it, and he’s so mortified, and people are clapping, and he’s so fucking embarrassed.

Claude and Sylvain waste NO time mocking him with over the top and sappy lines from the play. It’s totally the worst class reunion ever.

P.S. Claude and Annette were the traitors that both conspired to write the play with Manuela.

#fe3h #byleth eisner #Dimileth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri x byleth #sylvain jose gautier #Blue Lions #Blue Lion Route #claude von reigen #Manuela #Dramatic Opera Adaptation #disaster blue lions #Someone save them

[marmolady]

The New Taylor: Part 1

READ PART 2 HERE

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending).  Saving the world takes a lot out of a person. For Taylor, growing into her new self beyond La Huerta can only happen as fast as her exhausted body will allow her....

Word Count: 5541

Tagging:   @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,  @greengroove

______

The light of the rising sun filtered through the thin curtains of Estela’s childhood bedroom, gently rousing Taylor from her slumber. She grumbled softly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and snuggling into her wife’s chest and belly. Somehow, she could just never get enough sleep. It was as if her body’s batteries were still relearning the art of recharging, some three?-- four now, weeks after Vaanu’s energy departed her. In exchange for looking forward to a lifetime of waking up in Estela’s arms, a little tiredness was a small price to pay.Some days, though, it felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Full lips brushed Taylor’s cheek and jaw, whispers of kisses. How could she not smile? Her eyes opened to that beautiful, scarred face. “Mm… morning, babe.”

Estela beamed. It was hard not to when she had her arms around a miracle. Back home with her tio, the promise of a happy future was tangible, a hope that she could just about believe in.

“Good morning, hermosa.” She nibbled the lobe of Taylor’s ear. “Did you sleep better?”

Taylor yawned noisily, and took her time stretching out her body, enjoying the press of her back against her lover.

“Better, yeah.”

Nightmares had been an ongoing problem for Taylor for about as long as she could remember. Every now and then she’d have stretches where she couldn’t even seem to close her eyes without being bombarded. Images of her friends’ deaths… dying in a thousand different ways. The worst, though, the worst by far, was a memory of her own; Estela’s eyes going dull as she took a last, rattling breath, Taylor cradling her in blood-soaked arms. It haunted her in sleep; the feel of blood on her hands so horrifyingly real, usually waking her with a violent shiver up her spine.

“Mmmm…” she turned to press a kiss to Estela’s lips. “I’ll take every good night of sleep I can get. You sleep okay?”

Estela’s face was soft with affection. Her own nights’ sleep had been badly impacted by the traumatic period of Taylor’s recovery from Vaanu’s leaving her. After seeing the love of her life stop breathing again and again… letting go of the fear wasn’t something that came easy, and it made for restless nights.

“I think I made it the whole night. We might just be through the worst of it. I guess you’re not gonna die on me in the middle of the night after all.”

“Like I keep saying; you are stuck with me, Estela Montoya. No way you’re shaking me now.”

With a happy squirm, Estela squeezed Taylor from behind. “Nope-- you’re all mine.” She placed a big smooch on her wife’s rosy cheek. “Come on; I can smell breakfast cooking!”

 ________________________

Several weeks in, San Trobida remained a brand new world for Taylor. It was to some relief when it quickly became apparent that she didn’t especially stand out and draw attention. She slowly got to grips with her place in a world beyond La Huerta, and no one seemed to pay her much notice. Estela had told her, with a laugh, that San Trobidans were not an especially chatty people, and that this shouldn’t come as a surprise. One might expect a polite smile of greeting, but the general population were about as likely to strike up small talk as Estela was-- which was to say, not very.

Initially, Estela had been stuck to Taylor as if by glue, letting her presence be a safety net as her wife grappled with her identity in what was an often overwhelming environment. And it hadn’t just been for Taylor’s benefit. Reunited with her uncle in a post-war San Trobida, her beloved partner by her side, it seemed inevitable to Estela that the other shoe had to drop at some point. Life wasn’t this easy. It just wasn’t. Every other time she’d believed that the struggle was over, she’d been hit with another wallop to the gut. Trusting in ‘happily ever after’ wasn’t something she could turn on like a switch.

But everything hadn’t gone crashing down in flames. Nicolas had welcomed Taylor-- and Jake, for that matter-- enthusiastically into the family. Even for the short years she’d been away, Estela found a San Trobida flourishing without the choke-hold of oppression that she’d always expected to be there. Jake had hit the ground running, having already interviewed for positions with two local airlines to charter tourists-- the thought of tourists coming to San Trobida was staggering in itself. Estela had offered her services to do odd jobs for old acquaintances; something she’d done many years before, when her mother had still been around to prevent her from getting involved in the war. The vast majority of her uncle’s friends had been connected to the rebellion in some way or another, and standoffish as most were, they welcomed her earnest insistence on being useful. Everything around her spoke of recovery, and Estela found herself beginning to believe that she and Taylor were on their way too.

Taylor often accompanied her wife on these errands, taking every opportunity to soak up the essence of San Trobidan life, to make it a part of herself. She was met predominantly with wary looks and grunts, and soon worked out that it wasn’t worth taking such reactions to heart. Today, though, she was striking out on her own. If she was going to come into her own as a ‘new Taylor’, the fully-realised human being that even Vaanu themselves could not have imagined of her, she had to give herself a chance to grow.

“You have the bus timetables on your phone, right?” Estela asked, taking a moment to give her wife’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s still probably best if you don’t go into the city on your own, but you pretty much know your way to the closer towns anyway. And you can call me…”

“...at any time.” Taylor returned the squeeze. “Always.”

Estela blushed. “Yeah… that. Just, be careful. If you’re feeling tired, call. I can drop everything in a moment, but I need you to be safe.”

Whether Taylor’s batteries ever properly recharged these days, was something debatable. Even the simplest activities would knock the stuffing out of her. Walks along the beach were kept short. Afternoon naps were now something of a fact of life. Sex was slow and gentle. It was damn near driving Taylor crazy, and all she could do was tell herself that it would get better, that her lack of energy was a tiny price for the miracle of her continued presence on earth.

She took Estela’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be careful, okay? I know my limits.”

  The bus ride up into the hills east of Estela’s home was a scenic one, and a trip that Taylor had now taken a couple of times during her solo explorations, as well as once, of course, with Estela. Passing agricultural plantations-- cassava, banana and sugar cane, she’d been told-- the surrounding vegetation became denser as the road carried on to the next town. Taylor hopped off at the next stop; if she was feeling up to it, there wouldn’t be too much of a trek back down the hill to the bay off which the Montoya house stood. With that in mind, she kept her ambling around town to a slow pace, and coffee in hand, soon took to the walking trails through the surrounding forest.

Almost certainly as a result of feeling so at home in the wilderness of La Huerta, it was in nature that Taylor felt she was at her best-- it had always been on hikes through the jungle or along the coast that she could really get lost in thought and ponder the big questions. Now, though, her body just couldn’t seem to keep up with her mental needs. When she sat down upon the forest floor for a breather-- surely after not even a quarter of an hour of walking-- her legs were like jelly.

Goddammit.

Frustrated, Taylor distracted herself by taking a picture of an odd flower. She’d been collecting snaps of just about anything in nature she came across that stood out as different to what she was used to on La Huerta. If Estela or Nicolas couldn’t identify it, she’d hit their old handbook of San Trobidan botany. It was a small hobby to keep her occupied; at least she could keep on learning even if she was usually too tired to do a lot physically. She’d also taken up knitting-- though she had a way to go before she’d really got the hang of it. Besides poring over books and keeping up a barrage of questions about life here, there was not a whole lot else for her to do. She’d had a couple of driving lessons, but like everything else, they had to be kept short. She’d usually go along with Estela when she was running errands, but if she wasn’t painfully aware of how weak and vulnerable she presently was, getting a good view of her wife’s vigour and strength did nothing to make her feel any better. Of course, there wasn’t a hint of judgement-- but Taylor was so often left feeling useless and unattractive. Estela had fallen for an energetic woman who had taken life by the horns, and right now, it felt like that woman didn’t exist.

She took her time to recover; sending a couple of pictures to Diego who’d been getting an almost blow-by-blow account of her new life in San Trobida, and doing a few easy stretches. Estela was convinced that working on core strength was the best way forward for Taylor’s rehabilitation; once her body was stronger, then they’d work on cardio and stamina.

Limbered up, Taylor walked back to the bus stop. Dearly as she’d wanted to make the trek home, something that just a couple of months ago would have been a piece of cake, she was not fool enough to think it might happen today. Getting off the bus a couple of stops before home was the compromise she’d have to live with for the time being. She plugged in her earphones and watched the world go by-- listening to a soundtrack she’d inherited as a mish-mash of her friends’ tastes. When she hopped off the bus, that beat kept her putting one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm. From the footpath by the road up the hill, she could already see an easy route home; the sparkling sea providing a beautiful backdrop that she’d never have fully appreciated through a window. She could feel her body flagging with every step, but it was worth it.

You got this, Taylor. All downhill from here.

As Taylor turned the last corner toward home, her legs shaking, a small figure skittered out across the road and towards the beach. A small sickly-looking dog. Strays were not uncommon near the towns and beaches; Estela had said there used to be many more around the place, that with the war over there was more scope for focus on animal welfare. The fact that this one looked like a strong gust of wind could finish it off spurred her.

Well, I guess I can make a slight detour.

She hastily tucked away her earphones and crossed the street, whistling. Most of the dogs that showed up were seasoned beggars with no qualms about approaching humans. Chances were, this little one would come running. Huffing and puffing her way slowly to the beachside village, she found the dog trundling along the behind the now-closed bar. On a longer look, Taylor noticed that its forelegs were oddly bent, facing in opposite directions as it loped, and the scruffiness that had caught her eye was down to great patches of hair loss that accentuated a thin frame.

Poor little fella…. She gave a low whistle and crouched. “Hey, l’il guy… uh, girl actually. Hey, l’il girl. You must be hungry….”

The dog looked around, eyes wary, as Taylor wobbled precariously. It gave a small but gruff bark, and moved further away. Taylor huffed; if the animal didn’t clearly need a vet, she’d have left it be. After her walk down from the bus stop, her head was spinning and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe… maybe she should just come back for the tiny dog later. Then, as Taylor made to get up, she stumbled and fell.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it seemed pretty clear that the mangy little dog was not the one in most immediate physical peril. Taylor gave a weak yell and kicked out the dirt. To her alarm, her vision blurred horribly, and she went from ‘a little bit weak’ to ‘I could faint right here’ dizzy in frightening speed.

Okay, head between your legs. Deep breaths… deep….

The world swam. Taylor could just about make out the dog barking in the distance… then all went black.

  _____________________

Taylor woke slowly, her head aching. The room around her seemed to spin, and it took several long moments before she recognised it as Estela’s bedroom. Propped up at the head of the bed, she’d clearly been brought home by someone after…. Crap, what happened?

“There is water for you on the bedside table,” came the sharp voice of Nicolas Montoya.

“W-what happened? I fainted? I think I… fainted.”

“Thankfully you were found by someone who recognised you as a guest of mine. Now, sit up slowly and take small sips of water. Estelita will be home soon-- I would much prefer she is not coming home to her idiot wife looking like death warmed up.”

Her lips dry, Taylor swallowed, still trying to catch her brain up with whatever had just happened. She’d been chasing after a stray dog, and then…. God, Estela was gonna freak. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ for the water, for the apparent rescue, and tried to hold off from shuddering at the bitter disappointment in her uncle-in-law’s voice. He was pissed. A strong part of Taylor was indignant; she wasn’t a fool, but this was new.

“Drink.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Taylor took a sip, then another. She tried to think. She’d been out walking and… her body had just given out on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she was exhausted, but….

“It happened so fast. I was on my way home, and I was tired, and then I just… crashed. Where’s Estela--? Does she know I’m okay--?”

“I didn’t take you for a dumbass--”

Anger flared in Taylor’s gut. That was not fair. “Hey-- I passed out. I’m not stupid, I just--”

“No? You are ill, wandering around defenseless… by your own choice, no? Knowing that your wife would drop everything to get you home when you are clearly incapacitated. I give you some credit; I assume you know this is not the safest corner of the world? It seems like you are a maldito idiota to me!”

Taylor could feel her whole body trembling uncontrollably. “You can try, but you’re not gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I made a bad call, and I’m paying for it. I don’t expect you to trust me; but I learned a fucking hard lesson today.”

Nicolas turned away, seething.

“If I thought it was a risk, I wouldn’t have done it. I would never put Estela through that kind of worry. Not again.”

“Well, we are fortunate indeed it wasn’t she who found you collapsed in the dirt.” Nicolas’ eyes flashed as he looked back over his shoulder at Taylor. “Do you have any idea--”

A creaking signaled the front door swinging open. There was a pounding of frantic footsteps on hardwood floor and then….

“Taylor!”

Estela rushed in, falling to her knees beside the bed where Taylor was propped up.

“’Stel…” Taylor’s eyes welled as both relief and shame washed over her all at once. I’m so sorry.

“¡Dios! Me asustaste hasta la muerte! What were you thinking? It’s okay, just… just let me look at you….”

The tone of panic and the tears rolling down Estela’s cheeks made Taylor’s heart sink down to her toes. This was the last thing she’d wanted.

Nicolas scowled. “Well, she’s in safe hands now. Estelita, I will be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tio.” Estela did not turn as her uncle walked away; she had eyes only for Taylor. Tentatively, she climbed up onto the bed, settling down gently beside her wife.

“I really thought I had more stamina than tha--”

“Shh.” Estela put a finger to Taylor’s lips. “Let me check you over.”

Too exhausted to struggle, Taylor leaned back against the head of the bed, letting Estela inspect her for any signs of physical distress. She remained quiet, feeling the tension that hung between them, tension that shouldn’t be there.

Finally, Estela sighed, her dark eyes forlorn. “Looks like no harm done. You got lucky. But you can’t just push your luck like that. I can’t believe you’d just--”

“It was an honest mistake. Part of being human, or at least that’s what I’m told.”

“It was a stupid mistake!”

It was as though an icy bucket of water had been dropped on Taylor’s head. Estela wasn’t just hurt, she was… angry?

“Hey! I have been lectured enough by your uncle, and I am not gonna take it from you. I know you’re scared, but this is new to me. I’m still working out my limits.”

Estela winced, immediately looking ashamed for snapping. She curled up her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead. For a long while, she sat that way, unmoving.

Taylor watched her wife with concern. Where was she? Reliving the long nights in the Elyys’tel medical centre, a hair’s breadth from losing her partner forever? Or was she even further away; remembering the shattering impact of loss and fearing it touching again?

“Taylor,” Estela said hoarsely, “I can’t… I won’t lose you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“So, don’t do that to me again.That was irresponsible and dumb, and that… that wasn’t fair.”

Hurt, Taylor tried hard not to pout. She wasn’t doing this on purpose; surely Estela knew that?

“We both know that you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never overestimated what you were capable of. I made a mistake, okay?”

Estela’s nostrils flared. It was difficult to argue with that. Sometime in the future, when he’d cooled off, her tio would no doubt laugh at the thought of her having a taste of all the worry she put him through. “Look, it might seem peaceful here, but beneath the surface, things are still broken. This is not a place that’s forgiving of stupid mistakes. If anything happened to you now, I-- I think it would kill me.”

“I know, ‘Stel. And I was being careful. I thought I was being careful enough…”

As she looked into Taylor’s face, Estela’s expression gradually softened. This sucked. It really sucked. But that wasn’t down to Taylor. She was scared too. Gently, Estela reached out a hand and stroked her wife’s cheek. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Pressing a tender kiss to Estela’s wrist, Taylor felt herself relax. They were okay. Both kind of freaked out, but they were freaked out together.

“It’s like I don’t know my own body anymore. I feel absolutely useless; I can’t even trust myself, not after what just happened. It’s… kinda shit. ”

Estela huffed knowingly, and stroked Taylor’s hair. “It’s a lot shit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. The last thing you need is to be stressing out ‘cause I’m being an asshole.”

“You? Never. You’ve had to be scared for so long; you’d have to be a robot if you kept it together all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, if I’ve gotta let off steam, that’s what a punching bag is for. I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever.” Estela stroked her calloused fingers through Taylor’s hair. It helped to calm the both of them.“Did Tio really chew you out? If he thinks he can lecture you--”

Taylor laughed dryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. It… kinda sucks that he thinks I’m a complete idiot, but I’ll work on that.”

The hurt, though, could not be hidden.

“Carińa, you have nothing to prove. When Tio gets protective he can be… well, pretty damn unpleasant.” Estela sighed softly. “When I found out Mom was dead, it… it’s hard to explain how bad it was. I was unreachable. And obviously it took a long, long time for me to even be close to the person I was before. I think when he found you like that, he must have had a moment when he thought it was happening again. It doesn’t excuse him being an ass to you, but you should know it’s not your fault. You’re not what’s wrong here. Jesus, you’re the opposite of what’s wrong. Okay?”

Taylor found her wife’s hand and squeezed. “I know.” For a little while, she was quiet, just taking comfort in Estela… her being there, her touch. That love was a privilege. “Your tio just… absolutely loves you to pieces. Like you’re his everything. For him to feel as though he’d lost you; it must have been something like torture.”

Her eyes closed, Estela breathed deeply against Taylor’s head, soothed by the scent of her hair. She’d let go of the guilt, but profound sadness lingered. The years since her mother’s death had been little but immeasurable pain for Nicolas, making even the triumphant rebellion hollow.

“I could never thank him enough. No matter what, he supported me, he had my back. Even when I was stuck on a mission that would take away the last person he loved.” She found herself enveloped in a hug, Taylor gently bringing her to her chest and cradling her head there. “I love him. More than I can say. More than I think I’ll ever work out how to show him. But I think… he knows. We’ve been through too much for him not to. I know I fought it; I didn’t wanna risk you even if it meant the world… but he gets to heal now. With me.” Estela looked up, pink dusting her cheeks as she looked into Taylor’s shimmering blue eyes. “You did that. And there’s nothing that anyone could ever give to compare to that. You’re my hero.”

Taylor found herself sniffing, faced with shining sincerity. She didn’t feel like a hero, but for as long as Estela needed her to be that person, she’d try to live up to it. “You’re mine.”

“So, mi querida, it’s gonna be okay.” Estela pulled herself up, so that Taylor could lean on her in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually, not so bad. Like, I desperately needed rest, but at least I seem to be able to bounce back pretty well.”

Estela sighed thoughtfully. The ordeal had been a fright, but it looked like no harm had been done. “You should tell Michelle what happened. She’ll want to know.”

It was hard for Taylor not to groan at the thought of causing even more worry, but she nodded her agreement. Ever since Vaanu left her, she’d been nothing but a burden.

“Actually, what did happen? Tio said you were passed out on the beach-- I thought you were going up into the hills.”

“I did. And I was all pumped up to trek back down from the town--,” Catching a horrified look, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle. “--cool your jets; you know I’m not that stubborn. I realised pretty quickly that my ambitions were way too high. So, I got off the bus a little ways before our stop, and I walked it. I did it. I mean, it knocked the stuffing out of me, but I did it.”

“...And then, something possessed you to take a stroll along the beach?”

Taylor felt her cheeks flush. Okay, this was the part where I get a little foolish. “There was this little stray dog. Tiny thing, and it looked so sickly. Apparently, the bleeding heart in me jumped out, and then I was on a mission. I think the thought of actually helping someone, and not just being this weak, lost little person just… just sparked something in me. Pretty sure the adrenaline just from that got me to the beach, because when I stopped moving, the fatigue hit me like a train.”

A little smile came to Estela’s face, and it made Taylor blush all the more.

“I know, I know, apparently I’ve got myself a hero complex. Maybe a little bit stupid, but my heart’s in the right place?”

Estela just laughed and held her wife even tighter. “How am I meant to argue with that? One pig-headed crusader to another; it’s not the worst thing you can be. I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity, the comfort, that came of having Estela so near. Her whole world, her everything. All that she had to give in return was so… small. Helpless and small.

“Hey…,” Estela said gently. “It is going to be okay. I know you’re all right physically, but… you’re sad.”

“I thought I was getting better. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress for the rest of my life. It’s not as if I even know who I am now, but that ain’t it.”

Estela tenderly kissed Taylor’s brow, her own furrowed with concern. “You are getting better. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but from where you came from, this now is amazing. You’re stronger even than just last week. However long it takes, I’ll be there with you. You know, ready to give you a fireman-carry to safety.”

“I guess there’s gotta be some perks to being a damsel in distress. I can’t deny it; that would be kinda hot.”

“Kinda?”

“A lot. A lot hot. I’m sorry, have you seen your arms?”

To Taylor’s relief, the atmosphere had shifted; Estela waggled her eyebrows and giggled, eliciting a weak but grateful smile.

“You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time. If it helps, we can focus more on your physical training-- at least once you’ve recovered from this little, uh, episode. But, um, that little dog you found….”

“If we can find it, I really want to help. Maybe there’s the selfish aspect of me wanting to feel capable of being at least a little bit helpful to someone, but I want to get it fixed up. It-- I think it was a girl-- looked pretty bad.”

“I always wanted to bring home strays when I was little; Tio Nicolas thought he had enough responsibility with a kid around the place, so that was never gonna happen. I’m sure he won’t mind another guest, now. Or at least, he wouldn’t say no. Do you want to get a dog, mi amor?”

“It hadn’t actually crossed my mind what we’d do with her once we brought her home and got her healthy, but… yeah. I think I’d like to have a dog.” Despite all her worries, all her fears, all her shame, Taylor couldn’t stop the small smile that lit her features. If she could somehow claw her way back to a semblance of her old self, what lay ahead looked amazing. “Look at us, ‘Stel; already growing our family.”

A giddy grin plastered across Estela’s face served to sweep Taylor back up into her own insecurities; those voiced and those yet hidden. This was supposed to be their happy ending; after everything her lover had been through, it was all Taylor wanted to make it happen. But now… was she even enough?

This might be as good as it gets. Can you really expect her to be there to catch you when you just can’t stop falling?

Estela stood up and stretched, but gave Taylor a look when she made to follow suit.“We’re not going anywhere until you’re properly rested. I’ll make you some lunch. But then, we’ll see if we can help out your little friend. What do you think?”

Taylor frowned.

What do I think?

I think… I’m scared I’m going to hold you back, when you’re capable of so much.

I’m scared your uncle’s only ever gonna see me as another burden for you to carry.

I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise I’m not the same person you fell in love with.

She swallowed hard. There was so much love in Estela’s dark eyes, and it was shining there just for her.

I won’t stop fighting to be what you deserve. We’re so close to happy ever after, and I won’t let you down now.

“I think I’ll be up to that. We’ve got saving the world under our belt; rescuing a stray dog is gonna be a cakewalk. Let’s do this.”

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #estela montoya

[yeollieayheehoo]

Thunderheads

Authors note: Hey guys! This is the first chapter for Baekhyuns’ story in A Tale Of Fire And Ice. The stories do all coincide with each other, so please give them a read as well! Please note!! Each chapter will have their own individual warnings, the warnings posted on the mini masterlist apply to the story as a whole!

Summary: Centuries after Gigantomachy, the Titans of legend grow restless, a prophecy set in motion by the shared breath of a long since forgotten God and mere mortal, by the lonely god who sings to the girl made of clouds, and the dead who refuse to grow. 

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader (female)

Genre: mythology!au, 

Rating:  PG

Warnings: explicit language, minor mention of character death, 

Word Count: 2.8K

Chapter 1

You find meaning in the thunderstorm.

The way the thunder rolls across the sky in a seamless harmony with the pattering of the raindrops against the tin roof of your home is a lullaby that you could never get tired of. But, it’s the lightning that crashes across the sky that makes your soul come alive, the light almost pink streaks shining light in the black ocean above you.

You’ve been this way since you were younger, in love with the storm. Back then, you would sit in the garage and watch the rain until the storm died, the mist against your skin and smell of the earth mixing with the rain a near religious experience. Now that you’re older though, you find yourself curled up in your reading nook. You’re thankful to have your own place, enjoying the cool breeze that blows in through your open bay windows, something you would have never been able to do in your parents’ house.

You yawn as the tempest lulls you to sleep, curling up under your afghan as the sound of lightning echoes in your mind.

 “Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?”

Baekhyun smiles, looking down at his brother as he prepares to lose another lightning bolt. “Hera has always loved when I go overboard.”

“Mhm, and I’m sure the mortal she left you over loves it too.” Baekhyun sighs before dropping his bow to his side. “Do you really have to ruin all of my fun, Jongdae?”

“She doesn’t even know you exist, why would you pine over here instead of fixing the relationship with the Goddess you’ve literally spent eternity with?” Jongdae regards him with a curious look on his face as Baekhyun jumps down from his spot in the clouds.

“Because she adores me.”

“She adores what you do. If she knew you, she’d ask how something so beautiful can come from someone so…you.”

“I’ll pretend like that didn’t hurt.” Jongdae shrugs as he puts his coat back on.

“It wasn’t meant to be rude, just an observation.”

Baekhyun follows Jongdae to the Realms entrances, leaning against the door to Jongdaes’ scrunching his nose. “It always smells salty by your door. What happened to the little smell good trees Hermes gave you?”

“You mean the air fresheners that the mortals use in their cars? I threw them away. It’s the ocean, what do you expect?”

“You don’t smell salty.”

“Will you move?” Baekhyun rolls his eyes before pushing himself off of the door, giving Jongdae the freedom to leave. “Be honest, why are you so obsessed with that girl?”

“Something the Fates said.” Jongdae scoffs as if he’s offended by the very idea and dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “You can’t believe everything those old fools say.”

“They were right about you and Medusa.” Jongdaes’ face flushes, the male coughs to clear his throat and shrugs. “That’s old news. They haven’t said anything relevant in ages.”

“We’re all in it. You, me and-“

“Don’t’ say his name.”

“You know, he’s technically the one who has the right to be mad, not you. Besides, are you really going to hold that grudge when the world ends?” Jongdae laughs, an empty and joyless sound. “This wouldn’t even be in the works if the mortals still knew we existed.”

It’s an argument the two of you have had countless times over the centuries and it always comes back to the same result.

Baekhyun is tired of being feared.

Before, back when the Greeks knew of the Olympians existence, it was a pure, unadulterated worship. There was no fear, apart from the one that is hardwired into every human beings make up, the fear of disappointment. But even that doesn’t count to Baekhyun as anything in the comparison with the fear of inferiority.

When the Romans came, with Gods of their own things changed. With the battle of Corinth, that led to the destruction of the city in what the mortals called 146 BC, the people of Greece feared what their beloved Gods would do to exact revenge on the Romans, and their worship changed from one of adoration to one of necessity of fear and destruction.

That’s when the visits to the mortal realm stopped, and with them, so did the belief in the Olympians at all, apart from the stragglers that were few and far between.

“You know why.”

“A little fear never hurt anyone.”

“You’re starting to sound like Chanyeol.”

“Goodbye Baekhyun.” Jongdae presses his palm against the distressed white door and Baekhyun watches in amazement, as he always has, as the door slowly turns from wood into a wall of water. “Find something more productive to do that pine over a girl who won’t live a fraction of your own life.” Jongdae passes through the water with a wave, not a drop of ocean falling out of place.

Baekhyun stares as the door reforms and long after that. He knows Jongdae means well, has always been the wisest brother, but sometimes, Baekhyun wishes the Sea God would stay in the sea. Though that would mean he’d always be alone.

When Hera finally got tired of his shit, she left their clouded fortress at the top of Mount Olympus and with her, so did their children. So then, their great trophy from Gigantomachy, the battle of young Gods, the Olympians and the Titans, became another empty thing to join Baekhyun in his loneliness.

Part of him missed Hera, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of adoration, or if he missed the familiarity of her.

He has always been bad at being alone.

A glow from the door to the Underworld pull him from the thought path he’s been traveling down a lot lately, since a year ago when he found you; you who he believed to be the answer to everything.

“What does he want?” Baekhyun mumbles to himself more than to the empty house before pressing his palm against the dark green door. The color always brings up something melancholy in him as he remembers Persephone’s excitement when she finally got to repaint the door.

Her rose bushes, that have long since wilted, line the path to Chanyeol’s cottage, fitting in perfectly with the eternal night that covers the Underworld.

“You rang?” Baekhyun regards Chanyeol curiously, staring at his stretched-out figure, lounging in his favorite hammock, overlooking his domain.

“I figured you were lonely now that the storm is over. Jongdae usually darts pretty quickly.”

“How do you know that?” Chanyeol gestures lazily to the floating, black orb at his feet. “Oh yeah... the faeries.”

“Yeah… the faeries.” Chanyeol can’t help but to sigh at the nickname given to his messengers by his late wife.

“How are you holding up?” Baekhyun knows the answer to this, it’s been the same for the last century, but he asks anyway as he settles into the patio chair next to his brother. It’s almost pitying the way Persephone haunts the Underworld, traces of her existence refusing to fade away.

“As well as expected. You’d think her plants would have wasted away by now, without her here to tend for them. She’s not coming back, I don’t know what they’re hoping for.” There’s a trace of anger in Chanyeols’ voice, like he wishes her ghost would disappear, but he can’t bring himself to erase her.

“There’s always-“

“Don’t, Baekhyun. You’ve been holding on to that prophecy since she died. Still watching that mortal?”

 “You know, when they turn out to be right, like they always are, you and Jongdae are going to look really stupid.” Chanyeol scoffs and turns to face Baekhyun.

“Baek. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you honestly believe that you are supposed to be with some mortal and that we are supposed to stop the Titans from rising again, which by the way, there’s almost no possible way for them to escape their prison. Tell me that you believe Hera, who has put up with all of your adultery and lies for the last some odd millennia that we’ve been alive, isn’t who you’re meant to reside on Mount Olympus with for the rest of our days.” Baekhyun meets Chanyeols gaze, almost mesmerized by his brothers brownish orange eyes and sighs. “I thought so.”

“It’s not that I doubt them Chanyeol. It’s that I can’t afford not to. I cant think about how I’ve given everything I’ve known for it not to be true.”

Chanyeol nods like he understands but doesn’t say anything. This is how his relationship has always been with his brother. When the two were younger, they’d stay like this in the valley most days to hide from Cronus, their father. Jongdae was always the more serious of the three, following their mother Rhea around like a lost puppy at her heels.

“Can I be honest with you Baekhyun?” Chanyeols’ voice is soft as he looks over the amber glow from the souls of his realm and Baekhyun almost doesn’t hear him, the whine of the wind carrying it away. Chanyeol doesn’t wait for him to answer before he speaks again.

“I need them to be wrong, the Fates.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can handle another loss like Persephone. It’s hard enough, still seeing the echoes of her everywhere. If what the Moirai say is true, then I have 70 years top before I’m right back here.” It’s the most open Baekhyun has ever heard his brother be. He knew the death of Persephone still tormented him, but he never imagined it would affect him like this. In the thousands of years that he’s been alive, he’s never seen Chanyeol be this; be afraid.

“Maybe you should come spend time with me and get out of this literal graveyard for a while.”

“And see Dae? I think I’ll pass.”

“So we won’t have another storm for a while. The mortals are already destroying their realm, a few weeks without rain won’t change anything. You need fresh air, without the constant reminder of Kore.”

Chanyeol cocks a half smile, brushing his blonde hair from his forehead as he contemplates. “And what exactly, will I do in Olympus?”

“Who said anything about Olympus?”

 You’re waken by the sun coming through your windows, and the warm breeze as your air heater kicks on. You could barely sleep last night, tossing and turning at the too quiet world in the absence of the rain.

It’s always like this for you.

Begrudgingly, you climb out of bed, making quick work of a shower and dressing before eating a breakfast your mother would have scolded you about and walking out the door. The weather is turning, a cool breeze blowing in from the East. It kisses your cheeks, sending a chill down your body that causes you to pull the lapels of your petticoat jacket tighter around you as you walk to work.

The tattoo parlor you work in as a receptionist has been like your second home since you moved out to Portland four years ago and your co-workers never fail you make you feel like family every time you walk through the door. “Hey Cloud Walker, how’s your morning?”

“Morning, Fanny. It’s been going pretty good. How about yours?” It’s warm in the shop and you’re quick to shed your jacket and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack before checking the appointment book at your counter. “You’re on walk-ins today, yeah?”

“Correct. And considering my 12 canceled, I need them.”

“Did Sunflower mention if she was coming in early today, or is she not coming in until her appointment comes in?”

“She didn’t say. Patch is coming in early.” You hum in response as you erase Fanny’s appointment for twelve oclock today, writing walk ins across the top of her name.  “Your newest addition is still looking good. Do you think it needs a touch up anywhere?” Her hands are warm against your wrist as she looks over the stratocumulus clouds you added to your sky sleeve last week. “No, I think it’s okay.”

Fanny grins and pats your wrist before letting it go, turning away from you as she heads back to her station, working on some of her latest tattoo ideas, leaving you up front to go through emails and appointment requests.

  You’re just finishing ringing out Patchs’ 2 o’clock appointment when the bell above your front door rings, pulling your attention to the two men that walk in.

Their height difference amuses you for some reason, yet at the same time you find yourself enthralled by their presence. The taller one has his hands shoved in his pockets, blonde hair pushed back framing his undercut. There’s an amused look on his face, corners of his lips twisted up into a smirk as he looks to the shorter one.

He looks nervous. His white hair is in small waves atop his head, peaking over his eyebrows slightly, which are slightly furrowed as he approaches the desk. “Hi, welcome to The Parthenon.  Did you have an appointment?”

The taller one laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s a great name. No we didn’t have appointments, we were wondering if you took walk-ins?”

“Yeah, we do. Fanny is with a client right now, but I can see if Sunflower wants to take one, what are you looking to get?”

“I was wanting something else added here, another flower maybe.” The taller shrugs out of his hoodie to reveal a sleeve of flowers decorating his left arm. The detail is exquisite, and it all still looks new, lines dark and colors saturated, but something tells you that he’s had them forever. “My brother though, he’s not sure what he wants. Maybe you could give him an idea?”

“Yeah, let me go grab Sunflower and get the two of you set up, and I’ll be back with a few of our books and we can look through them together, how’s that sound?”

The white haired male nods, flashing you a smile as you move to grab an artist.

“What the fuck, Chanyeol?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this silent. I think this was a great idea.” Baekhyun goes to open his mouth, but stops when he sees you coming back, followed by a black haired girl. “This is Sunflower, if you want to follow her, she can do some free draws in that empty spot on your sleeve and discuss a price with you.” You look at the taller one who has a grin on his face and nods. “Lead the way.”

  Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol can feel the way he tenses ever so slightly beside him as the older brother plasters a grin to his face and following the girl you brought back. “If you want to come sit on the side of the counter, we can go over a few ideas. Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“Uh, no, I’m not sure. I do like your clouds though. I take it you’re not a fan of the sunshine.”

You laugh and Baekhyun swears that not even the Muses could create a sound as beautiful. He’s almost entranced by the way your chestnut hair sways back and forth as you shake your head. “No, storms are my happy place.”

“Wow, same honestly. I love the lightning.”

“So do I! The heat lightning is my favorite, though we don’t get much of it here.”

“No, I would imagine not. It’s pretty cool here.” You nod, humming to yourself as you flip through the books, trying to find Baekhyun something that he could care less about. You bring a few to his attention, different types of ideas being brought to his attention, before he notices Sunflower say she’s ready to start with Chanyeol’s tattoo and he stands. “I think you’ve inspired me.”

“Oh? Well let me go get Fanny and you can tell her what it is you’d like.”

 The sun has barely moved in the sky by the time Baekhyun is done with his tattoo. You smile sweetly at him as he walks to the counter, curiosity painting your face. “So what’d you get?”

Baekhyun holds out his hand. Between his index finger and thumb, on the back of his hand sits a small, black lightning bolt. The grin that breaks out on your face reminds him that it was worth the trip from his oasis. “Cloud Walker, do 50.”

“Cloud Walker, huh? I take it that’s not your real name?”

“No, it’s Y/N. It’s a nickname I’ve had since I moved here.”

“I think it suits you.”

“And how about you? What’s your name?”

“My name’s Baekhyun.”

#byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #mythology au #zeus au #zeus #fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop ff #kpop au #kpopwonderlandtag #exo au #exo fanfic #exo ff #exo #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun au #byun baekhyun au #exowritersnet #kpoptrashtag #yeollieayheehoo #greek mythology #greek mythology au #exo mythology au

[chiseler]

A Palestinian Guide to Surviving a Quarantine: On Faith, Humor and ‘Dutch Candy’

Call it a ‘quarantine’, a ‘shelter-in-place’, a ‘lockdown’ or a ‘curfew’, we Palestinians have experienced them all, though not at all voluntarily.

Personally, the first 23 years of my life were lived in virtual ‘lockdown’. My father’s ‘quarantine’ was experienced much earlier, as did his father’s ‘shelter-in-place’ before him. They both died and were buried in Gaza’s cemeteries without ever experiencing true freedom outside of their refugee camp in Gaza.

Currently in Gaza, the quarantine has a different name. We call it ‘siege’, also known as ‘blockade’.

In fact, all of Palestine has been in a state of ‘lockdown’ since the late 1940s when Israel became a state and the Palestinian homeland was erased by Zionist colonialists with the support of their Western benefactors.

That lockdown intensified in 1967 when Israel, now a powerful state with a large army and strong allies, occupied the remaining parts of Palestine - East Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

Under this lockdown, the Palestinian freedom of movement was curtailed

to the extent that Palestinians required permits from the Israeli military to leave the Occupied Territories or to return home, to move about from one town to the other, and, at times, to cross a single Israeli military checkpoint or a fortified wall.

In Palestine, we don’t call our imprisonment a lockdown, but a ‘military occupation’ and ‘apartheid’.

As for ‘shelter-in-place’, in Palestine, we have a different name for it. We call it a ‘military curfew’.

Since I was a child, I learned to listen intently to orders barked out by Israeli military officers as they swept through our refugee camp in Gaza declaring or easing military curfews. This ritual often happened late at night.

“People of Nuseirat, per orders of the Israeli military you are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately,” the terrifying words, always communicated through a loudspeaker in broken Arabic, were a staple during the First Palestinian Uprising (Intifada) of 1987.

The period between 1987 to 1993 was a virtual ‘lockdown’. Thousands of people, mostly children, were killed for failing to respect the rules of their collective imprisonment.

In Gaza, even when a full military curfew was not in place, we rarely left our small and crowded neighborhoods, let alone our refugee camps. We were all haunted by the fear that we may not be able to make it home by 8p.m., the time designated by the Israeli military for all of us to return home.

Every day, ten or fifteen minutes after the nightly curfew set in, we would hear the crackling and hissing of bullets as they whistled through the air from various distances. Automatically, we would conclude that some poor soul - a worker, a teacher, or a rowdy teenager - missed his chance by a few minutes, and paid a price for it.

Now that nearly half of the population of planet Earth are experiencing some form of ‘curfew’ or another, I would like to share a few suggestions on how to survive the prolonged confinement, the Palestinian way.

Think Ahead

Since we knew that a complete lockdown, or a military curfew, was always pending, we tried to anticipate the intensity and duration of it and prepare accordingly.

For example, when the Israeli army killed one or more refugees, we knew in advance that mass protests would follow, thus more killings. In these situations, a curfew was imminent.

Number one priority was to ensure that all family members congregated at home or stayed within close proximity so that they could rush in as fast as possible when the caravan of Israeli military jeeps and tanks came thundering, opening fire at anyone or anything within sight.

Lesson number one: Always think ahead and prepare for a longer lockdown than the initial one declared by your city or state.

Stay Calm

My father had a bad temper, although a very kind heart. When curfews were about to start, he would enter into a near-panic state. A chain smoker with obsessive, although rational fear that one of his five boys would eventually be killed, he would walk around the house in a useless rush, not knowing what to do next.

Typically, my mother would come in, rational and calculating. She would storm the kitchen to assess what basic supplies were missing, starting with the flour, sugar and olive oil.

Knowing that the first crackdown by the Israelis would be on water supplies and electricity, she would fill several plastic containers of water, designating some for tea, coffee and cooking, and others for dishes and washing clothes.

Per her orders, we would rush to the nearby stores to make small but necessary purchases - batteries for the flashlight and the transistor radio, cigarettes for my dad, and a few VHS videotapes which we would watch over and again, whether the curfew lasted for a few days or a few weeks.

Lesson number two: Take control of the situation - do not panic - and assign specific responsibilities to every family member. This strengthens the family unit and sets the stage for collective solidarity desperately required under these circumstances.

Preserve Your Water

I cannot emphasize this enough. Even if you think that a water crisis is not impending, do not take chances.

It is easy to feel invincible and fully prepared on the first day of quarantine - or military curfew. Many times, we lived to regret that false sense of readiness, as we drank too much tea or squandered our dishwashing water supplies too quickly.

In this case, you have a serious problem, especially during the summer months when you cannot count on rainwater to make up for the deficit.

Years after the end of the Intifada, my father revealed to us that many a time, him and mom used the rainwater they collected in buckets throughout the house, including the leaked roofs for our drinking supplies, even when there was no electricity or gas to boil the water beforehand.

In retrospect, this explains the many bouts of diarrhea we experienced, despite his assurances that they had painstakingly removed all bird droppings from the salvaged water.

Lesson number three: Cautiously use your water supplies during a quarantine, and never, under any circumstance, drink rainwater or, at least, keep diarrhea pills handy.

Ration Your Food

The same logic that applies to water applies to food. It goes without saying that any acquired food would have to cover the basics first. For example, flour, which we used to make bread, comes before bananas, and sugar, which we consumed abundantly with tea, comes before Dutch candy.

I made that mistake more than once, not because of my love for the imported Dutch candy which we purchased from Abu Sa’dad’s store, located in the center of the camp. The truth is, my brothers and I played a strange form of candy poker which kept us entertained for many hours. I dreaded running out of my precious supplies before the curfew was over, thus subjugating myself to potential humiliation of having to auction everything else I owned - including my small radio - to stay in the game.

My poor mother was devastated numerous times by the horrible choices we made when we rushed to buy ‘essentials’.

Lesson number four: Agree in advance on what classifies as ‘essential food’, and consume your food in a rational way. Also, if you are lucky enough to locate Dutch candy in whatever version of the Abu Sa’dad’s store, in your town, do not gamble it all in one day.

Find Sources of Entertainment

If electricity is still available, then you still have the option of watching television. For us, Indian movies, especially those starring Amitabh Bachchan, were the number one option. Imagine my disappointment when our beloved movie star, who helped us through numerous military curfews in Gaza, was photographed grinning with right-wing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during the latter’s visit to India in 2018.

If electricity is cut off, be ready with alternative options: books, free wrestling, living-room soccer (with the ball preferably made from stuffed-up socks contributed by all family members), and, of course, candy poker.

Lesson number five: The key is to have more than one form of entertainment and to be prepared for every eventuality, including power outages as a form of collective punishment.  

Find the Humor in Grim Situations

Don’t focus on the negatives; there is no point or wisdom in that. Emphasizing the grimness of a situation can only contribute to the feeling of defeat and powerlessness that are already generated by the lockdown. There will be plenty of time in which you can look back, reflect, and even bemoan your unfortunate circumstance.

But, during the curfew itself is when you actually need your sense of humor most. Take things lightly - laugh at your miserable situation, if you must. Forgive yourself for not being perfect, for panicking when you should have been composed, or for forcing your younger brother to gamble his underwear when he runs out of Dutch candy.

Difficult situations can offer the kind of scenarios that can be interpreted in two extreme ways: either extremely tragic or extremely funny; opt for the latter whenever you can, because as long as you laugh, as long as your spirit remains unbroken, your humanity remains intact.

Lesson number six: Be funny, don’t take life too seriously, share a laugh with others, and let humor inject hope in every hour and every day of your quarantine.

Hold Tighter to Your Faith

Whether you are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or any other faith; whether you are an atheist, agnostic, or practice any form of spirituality, philosophy or belief system, find comfort in your faith and beliefs.

Since all mosques in our refugee camp were shut down, if not raided during a military curfew, the call for prayer, which we heard five times during each day, was permanently silenced.

To keep the call for prayer going, we would sneak to the roof of our houses, carefully scan the area for any Israeli soldiers, and collectively make the call for prayer whenever it was required. Volunteers included my English teacher, who was communist and claimed that he did not believe in God, myself, and Nabil, the neighbor boy with the massive head and the most unpleasant voice.

In curfews, we developed a different relationship with God: He became a personal and more intimate companion, as we often prayed in total darkness, whispered our verses so very cautiously as not to be heard by pesky soldiers. And, even those who hardly prayed before the curfew kept up with all five prayers during the lockdown.

Lesson number seven: Let your values guide you during your hours of loneliness. And if you volunteer to make a call for prayer (or recite your religious hymns) please be honest with yourself: if you have no sense of rhythm or if your voice has the pitch of an angry alley cat, for God’s sake, leave the job to someone else.

In Conclusion ..

I hope that under no circumstances you will ever hear these ominous words: “You are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately.” I also hope that this COVID-19 quarantine will make us kinder to each other and will make us emerge from our homes better people, ready to take on global challenges while united in our common faith, collective pain and a renewed sense of love for our environment.

And when it’s all over, think of Palestine, for her people have been ‘quarantined’ for 71 years and counting.

by Ramzy Baroud

[makistar2018]

Taylor Swift’s Netflix Special Is the End of an Era

By Amanda Petrusich January 3, 2019

While Taylor Swift isn’t the most instinctive dancer, she is practiced and spirited, and has surrounded herself with a crew of world-class athletes. Photograph by Matt Winkelmeyer / TAS18 / Getty

Last summer, the pop singer Taylor Swift began a stadium tour in support of her sixth LP, “Reputation.” It was a wildly successful jaunt, and, on its final night, in Arlington, Texas, more than a hundred thousand people filled A.T. & T. Stadium to watch Swift perform. The two-hour show was filmed for a Netflix special and released on New Year’s Eve. If it’s been a while since you witnessed that many human beings gripped by what appears to be complete and utter joy, “Taylor Swift: The Reputation Concert Tour” is a quick fix. Swift’s fans—beaming, sobbing, gasping in a kind of deranged ecstasy—receive her desperately and gratefully. Even through a screen, the heady, collective love is palpable.

Swift first appears onstage wearing dark lipstick, lace-up knee-high boots, and a hooded, sequinned black leotard. While she isn’t the most instinctive dancer, Swift is practiced and spirited, and she has surrounded herself with a crew of world-class athletes. Their routines are elaborate and inventive. Swift is constantly accenting her lyrics with physical flourishes (eye rolls, jazz hands, hair flips), all of which seem intensely pre-plotted; the relentlessness of her choreography allows us to briefly imagine a universe in which nothing plain ever happens and no moment is unproductive. Her tours have always felt more like elaborate theatrical productions than concerts, in part because Swift is not the sort of artist who is prone to spontaneity. Her limbs snap dutifully into formation, over and over. Pop music isn’t exactly predicated on bold expressions of authenticity—there is no reason why, in 2019, any grown person should be griping about the relative “realness” of pop stars—and stadium tours are always tirelessly rehearsed. Still, I winced when Swift and her backing dancers looked at each other and heartily fake-laughed in the middle of “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” Truly, I winced so hard.

Swift was an early adopter of the faux-intimacy afforded by social media, and she has mastered, if not pioneered, its weird, chummy cadences (“You guys!”). She is terrifyingly expert at addressing millions of strangers as if each were a cherished and familiar confidant. It’s easy to be cynical about this way of communicating, which favors a kind of dopey, manipulative warmth. In my darker moments, I fear that it portends some kind of societal collapse, in which we are all seduced into complacency by robots giddily announcing, “You guys!” It is more likely that this is simply what happens when powerful women are expected to be both sweet and savvy, nurturers and entrepreneurs—eventually the line between the two fades, and friendliness and salesmanship become inextricable. 

The narrative premise of “Reputation,” both the album and the show, is Swift either shrugging off the gossip and innuendo that have followed her for much of her career or leaning deeper into them. (The latter is represented by a large cobra motif.) But Swift never quite manages the snarling belligerence of Joan Jett, whose “Bad Reputation,” from 1980, remains the definitive text on not giving a shit: “And I don't really care if you think I'm strange / I ain’t gonna change,” Jett promises. 

Swift cares a lot, even when she’s strutting and flipping her hair. To be fair, she has been subject to plenty of sexist bellyaching—what might read as ambitious or confident in her male counterparts is derided, in Swift, as shrewd, conniving, callous. But the fact remains that she’s not exactly enduring endless, seething comparisons to Pol Pot, which sometimes makes her boundless self-pity feel odd. “Reputation” is a resurrection story—there is even a film-within-a-film that figures Swift as a kind of gossamer phoenix, overcoming persecution to stand and love again!—but it’s hard to know what Swift is rising above, exactly, beyond some moderate embarrassment and the usual celebrity hounding. A montage at the start of the film features inane chatter from entertainment hosts and radio d.j.s—the sort of idle, trivial taunting that every superstar contends with. The worst thing anyone says about her is, “All this drama is exhausting.” 

But drama is, of course, the pop star’s stock in trade. Swift has always been proud of the extent to which she transparently mines her own life for lyrical fodder. The songs on “Reputation” toggle between tender and boastful, as Swift recounts various professional and romantic entanglements. “I Did Something Bad” revels in the (satisfying) idea of being a jerk to a jerk (“If a man talks shit / Then I owe him nothing”) but nonetheless contains moments of real vulnerability—like when, in the second verse, she offers the deeply sad advice “You gotta leave before you get left.” 

One of the gentler moments of the film is Swift’s performance of “All Too Well,” from the album “Red,” from 2012. The song was never a proper single, yet it’s one of Swift’s most beloved ballads, and she plays it solo, on an acoustic guitar. The song is about being haunted by memories of a bungled love, maybe for a little longer than you should be. “I know it’s long gone / And that magic’s not here no more/ And I might be O.K. / But I’m not fine at all,” she admits—so go the scars of love. What’s most striking about “All Too Well” is how Swift validates and reaffirms her experience; when a complicated relationship ends, it’s easy to feel bewildered and betrayed, unsure of everything that happenedprior to the moment of collapse. Were you swindled? Or, worse, did you somehow invent the whole thing? Swift’s repeated assertion—“I was there”—begins to feel like a kind of corrective to whatever unkind maneuvering her ex (in this case, the actor Jake Gyllenhaal, according to Swift lore) was up to. Though later in her career she would become more brash about broadcasting her own empowerment, “All Too Well” might be Swift’s most quietly feminist moment. 

The show ends with a medley of “We Are Never Getting Back Together” and “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things,” two buoyant singles about holding your ground. It’s worth sticking around through the closing credits, both to watch the stadium empty out—enterprising fans stuff their bags with scraps of confetti or “Reputation”-themed newsprint from the floor—and to watch a few minutes of backstage footage, in which a surely exhausted Swift and her dancers climb into golf carts and zoom off. 

The critic Jon Caramanica, writing in the Times, recently argued that pop music—which he defines as songs that strive for “gloss, pep, ecstasy, spectacle”—has faded as a dominant cultural force. “Pop, the genre, is no longer pop,” he writes. Instead, pop music has been replaced on the charts by hip-hop and more niche or global sounds (which are usually inspired, in one way or another, by hip-hop). This shift was surely quickened by what Caramanica refers to as “the largely frictionless Internet,” which makes it easy for listeners to acquire precisely what they want and nothing else, and for smaller or regional genres to spread quickly. Pop, as a sound, has always been guileless and optimistic; these days, chart-topping songs tend to be morose, melancholy, and angry. The massive pop stars of yesteryear—Katy Perry, Justin Timberlake—are fading from the public consciousness. Their work seems corny and off-center now. In that context, “Taylor Swift: The Reputation Concert Tour” will soon either be regarded as a museum piece or as a testament to Swift’s era-defying longevity. I suspect it will be the latter. 

The New Yorker

#taylor swift #reputation tour #the new yorker #2019.01.03 #netflix

[safrona-shadowsun]

Ghosts on the Harbor

{Writing between me and @renwyck in Discord that was...a long time in coming. Thank you for reading if you do. }

The sun slipped down to the horizon on Stormwind's Harbor, ships fully stocked, most waiting to sail at first dawn with fresh cargo. The sailors second-guessed their thought about inviting Renwyck for a round, not keen on hearing about his drunken woes of the lost Sin'dorei redhead he pined over. Most groaned, didn't believe him, some were left yearning to find their own woman for the night. Some had teased that he drunkenly stumbled on a nest of Naga Sirens, and insisted he needed some help. But all left the former Watcher with his late dinner tonight, to watch the sun set in peace. ...or so he had thought.

Reality seemed to tear right in front of Renwyck as the dark form of a Void Elf stepped through, a mere silhouetted shape with points of otherworldly light fixed in its starry darkness. As the tear would close behind it, the Dark would melt away from the muted lavender of her skin tone, the deep, burgundy red of her long braid, loosely falling down to her waist. Absinthe eyes now set with glinting amethyst pupils stared unblinking on him. The Void Courier. "You know," Safrona started, wine lips faintly curved to a ghost of a smile. " it can be dangerous to speak a name so many times, especially to so many ears. You might actually get the thing to appear." The smile faded as she gazed in silence on Renwyck in the flesh now, the familiarity of those chestnut brown eyes, now barren of their light. "Hello, Wyck." The faint echo of the unnatural accompanied a now somber tone.

The human's eyes drew wide in horror as the vision appeared, Renwyck stumbling backwards only to run into a large stack of crates left on the pier. His heart fell to his stomach, each beat twisting his innards into a nauseating lump. His hands clawed at the cargo as he attempted to catch his balance for fear of falling from the wooden planks to the sea below. His face remained fixed on the image of Safrona, his hands trembling, yet he managed to stay upright. Was it truly her? Or was another late evening of whiskey getting the best of his addled mind. No... It can't be... Safrona watched like a rock as the former Watcher...well. Made a fool of himself. A part of her, voices that latched to her sadism, enjoyed the sight of him cowering. This mortal boy that had dug into the walls of her heart, forced them open like a stubborn whiskey, and then left it on the floor of her being, stabbed with lies of loss, then abandonment. ₕₑ ₛₕₒᵤₗD Bₑ ₐFᵣₐᵢD. Wₕy dₒₑₛ ₜₕₑ bₒy ₚᵢₙₑ ₙₒw? Wₑₑₑₑₐₖ. ₕₑ ₘₐdₑ yₒᵤ ₛₒ wₑₐₖ. A breath swelled in her chest, Safrona casting a gaze out to the roving ocean with her deceptive calm. ₗₒₒₖ. ₕₑ wᵢₛₕₑₛ ₜₒ fₗy ₐgₐᵢₙ. Gᵢᵥₑ ₕᵢₘ ₜₕₑ fᵣₑₑdₒₘ ₒf ₜₕₑ Dₑₚₜₕₛ. ₚₑᵣₕₐₚₛ ₕₑ wᵢₗₗ ₑₙⱼₒy ₜₕₑ wₐₜₑᵣy gᵣₐᵥₑ.

Drawing her eyes closed, she rose a moment later, smoothly moved toward the toppled crates. Leaning down near the panicking Renwyck, she put her focus to trying to set his mess right, though the crate was much too heavy for her to move alone. "Are you...quite done? Gods...Renwyck..." the sigh unraveled on her breath as she shut the 'passenger voices' in her mind back behind their door. "How," he muttered weakly, a slight waiver in the single word. All further attempts of speech caught in his throat, his breath strained by the churning of his stomach. But it was her. It was actually her. He had dreaded the moment that their paths would cross again, but the form before him turned the dread into a chilling fear. 'What have I done? What have I done?' The pained words echoed in his mind. He pried his gaze from her, a deep sense of shame not allowing him to look upon her face. He stood motionless, the broken man resigned to accept whatever fate his beloved deemed appropriate. His life was penance for how he had wronged her. It only seemed fitting that she should decide his ultimate punishment. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind as the quick, shaky question of "How?" still rung in the air for her. The detail of another bump of change in the road of her multifaceted life was on the tip of her tongue, another hurdle in her twisted existence she wanted to confide in…someone. But these were explanations that he did not deserve. He had left her. Alone. In a world of fire, of of demons, of loss, and vengeance, without him. Her teeth clenched, trying to fight the tear he reopened in just seeing him. It was important to be still, not reach, not knowing if she wanted to embrace him, or drain the rest of his soul until his heart stopped against her. "I...have been watching you a while. Out here. It took me days to just--" His refusal to look at her started an ire in her heart that was burned by his silence. How did one touch something so deeply and then leave it alone with their mark?! "LOOK AT ME, Gods damn you!" Her bellow stretched out between physical reality and the Void, entrenched in a sorrow that came flying back at her, setting her breaths to quicken. She could feel the tendrils in her hair writhe, eager to strangle, to cause something pain. "You've been silent all along. You gave me NOTHING. Well, now I am here.” She shook her head slowly with a soul-scorching glare. “Don’t you DARE make me feel that I am not." His focus snapped back to her face, his features paling as her words pierced through his very soul. He drew in a quick, trembling breath in an attempt to steel his frayed nerves. His eyes silently pleading with hers, he managed to find his voice. "What do you want me to say?" He spoke timidly, though a burning rose in his chest with each syllable. "No words could justify the pain I've caused you." Safrona paused, the wave of her ire receding in the face of his admittance. He was admitting his wrong. It was a start. She knew that he could not be blamed entirely. Something had traumatized the man to give him this paleness, to give him his haggard appearance, to kill the light and life in his eyes. To lay him low here, stripped of his Watcher pride. This was a man broken, and haunted. Like so many on Argus. "...I could not find you,” she whispered, a finger stabbing into her own chest.  “Me. A...courier, and...you would not let me find you. That, that is where the pain is." She lowered her tones to a tight whisper of, “Why? Tell me.” The slight shift in Safrona's demeanor seemed to ease his rolling stomach. He hadn't spoken to anyone about what happened after the fall of Darkshire. But he owed her that much. Nodding slowly, he started to speak. "I was found near death on the border of Duskwood. A field medic and his young granddaughter. They took me in... Saved my life." The three words were bitter in his mouth. "When I had enough strength to sit up, they helped me pen that letter to you. I was afraid to relay my location in fear that my..." Renwyck paused, closing his eyes to take another breath. After a moment, turned his attention back to the elf. "For fear that the Night Watch would intercept the letter and finish the job. I couldn't put the people who showed such kindness to a stranger in harm's way." With a deep sadness in his eyes, he nearly took a step toward her, but hesitated. Keeping distance between them, he shook his head. "Months dragged on before I was recovered enough to leave them. Months of being confined to a bed with the memory of what happened in Darkshire haunting my every minute." The void elf was quiet, eyes downturned, taking in each hard word Renwyck could manage at her demand. The silence continued to stretch from her afterward for a few paralyzing minutes, moments where it seemed she was thoroughly done, ready to turn heel, to leave him with no words as he did for the past two years. But slowly, Safrona eased down to make a rest of a nearby crate, leaning against it. The strength seemed to have left her, leaving her looking quite delicate, as opposed to the darkening ire she approached with just a moment before. "...I did not think for a moment you joined their slaughter. But...many nights I imagined you sacrificing yourself. Just trying to protect your people. Still." Her voice grew softer with her remembered lament. "...I had nightmares each night that the demons breathed my name when they cut you down. I felt for a long time I brought them to your door. I...wanted to rip out each tainted, corrupt soul that smashed into Azeroth. But..in that insanity, living off the dark grace of soulstones when I threw myself at them? I knew nothing I could do would bring you back." Eyes flitting back up to Renwyck's face, the slight sourness returned to her expression. "Even...after you sent me the letter, I mourned. I buried you in Westfall, with your cloak, your clasp, and I nailed my heart shut. Tried to move on." A deep exhale, words now unfurling on her breath as she folded her arms across her chest. "...I have never returned to Duskwood. All I can see are possible cultists, wearing your Watch's colors." With a slow nod, his gaze followed her. His entire frame wilted with her words, but he didn't dare look away. He struggled internally, his mind and heart both fighting for control in a frenzy of emotion. "You... you did right to bury me." There was so much more he longed to tell her, but nothing would right his wrongs. Instead, he continued as a few silent tears fell. "I died that day..." "No..." she whispered, tears too, welling in her eyes as she gazed on him. Tears spilling for the sad, hollow shape of a man he had become. "It is easy to die. People do it every day." "You...you have only changed. And you are here. So, you must live." He couldn't. He couldn't look on her as she cried. It rended his heart from his chest knowing that he couldn't hold her. He had given up that right years ago. Bowing his head, his eyes snapped shut in a fruitless attempt to quell his own tears. "That is my punishment," he whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of his suffering. "To live a life that I gave up long ago..." Safrona came forward, a slump of foot to foot, not knowing quite what she wished to do once she was there, standing before the broken man. She had words, but her hands did not know what to do but clench into her garments. "Life...lived as a ghost is no life worth living. Believe me, I know." Voice dropped to another whisper, tremulous. "You taught me it could be more...And...I do not hate you for that." The sound of her approach caused Renwyck to look up. His entire form trembled, fighting to hold back the flood of anguish that threatened to overtake him. "I'm sorry... I wasn't strong enough... I--" He only barely kept himself from speaking it aloud. 'I love you. I never stopped loving you. And it kills me that I can't say it. I can't live like this Saf... I just can't...' A sudden gasp of breath shuddered with a sob as the broken human buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he managed to whisper through the tears. "I'm sorry..." "....I know," she spoke with quiet reserve, though she did not know the anguish in his mind, what went unsaid.  There was an acceptance here regardless, but one that had grown cold to let the grieving pass, to grow beyond it. "I...forgive you.” She admitted with her cooled wisdom. “But it won't matter if you can't be strong enough to forgive yourself." A business card was gently left on the crate she had leaned on, back turning to him, her voice taking back up its professionalism. "I am never far now in this city. We can talk more, when...if you wish to." She knew somehow she would not see him again. Something broke in him just at the sight of her. Things would never be the same. They could not be. Maybe it was a sign from the beginning, she had been no good for the sweet, easy to love Watcher Darrow. Silently, she said her goodbye, began to walk away, but her words were different, the offering of at least, a truce. "A courier is always here. And...I am glad you live, Mr. Darrow."

{ Goodbye, Safwyck. I loved writing this coupling, but things change, or do not last forever, painful as it might be. Wyckers, you are one of my favorite Rp partners I have ever had. I know this does not mean this will be the end of writing for us, however, and I look forward to what we can write in the future.  Thank you for giving me these wonderful stories though. Though it hurts now, your character has been such a positive experience on mine, and that is such a rarity for Saf. I love your character to pieces, and I hope he finds his happy one day. Renwyck Darrow deserves the dream. <3. }

#Warcraft #Alliance #Safrona Shadowsun #Renwyck Darrow #IC #Canon #What has been broken #What can never be the same... #Safwyck #ilu #still my favorite otp

[sorryforbeingcrazy]

PART 2 “Two do not connect if...” (Reylo short story)

Hello people!!! Here I am with the second part of my new Reylo short story. If you haven´t read the first part here it is: 

Part1

http://sorryforbeingcrazy.tumblr.com/post/172732756657/visions-and-feelings

I hope you enjoy this chapter. :D Let me know your thoughts in the comments. 

ENJOY!

The burial ceremony was one worthy of royalty. But not the one she deserved. There were no honors or words that could make justice for Leia´s military trajectory and life. She had been way too important and indispensable for so many people that it was almost unfair that she had to die.

The news of her death had been like a gunshot for every single one of the members of the Resistance. All of them had felt Leia´s death as if she was their mother. She had marked them all forever with her courage, understanding and endless wisdom. Leia was one for the history books. Her legacy must be passed from generation to generation and beyond.

Poe´s speech had been beautiful and full of respect and admiration for her. He was one of those fortunates who had been very close to Leia for a very long period of time. At least longer than Reyn and Finn´s. His voice had cracked more than once while delivering his words, above all when he had finally said Leia´s famous “May the Force be with you”.

A very long round of applause had taken place right after that line to be followed by a deep and dead silence the moment they had set Leia´s remains on fire. It had been fast. Way faster than Rey had expected. The wind had helped the flames to spread all over the pile within seconds and soon enough Leia´s body had been reduce to ashes.

Everyone had already left the place heading back to the buildings except from four people and three droids. Chewie, Poe, Rey, Finn, R2, C3PO and BB-8 stood for a while staring at what was left of their beloved friend.

Poe was the first one to leave their petit group.

Now that Leia was gone and there were no other high ranked leaders in the Resistance Poe had accepted the burden of being the new leader of the Resistance. And with that burden came new responsibilities.

“I have to go back, guys. We´ve started to send messages to our allies and I need to be there in case we make any contact”. Poe said. His eyes never leaving the burnt pile.

“Do you think they will hear us? Even when Leia has…” Finn couldn´t say the word.

Nobody could. It was way too painful and real to say it out loud. It made it definitive.

“Let´s hope that her memory is strong enough to sustain our cause”. Poe said turning to face his friends. “I´ll see you later, guys”.

“See you, Poe”. Finn nodded. “If it was difficult to get help for the Resistance before imagine now that Leia is not here anymore”.

Cherie murmured something and Rey laughed a little. “Yeah, I definitely believe that”.

“What? What he said?”. Finn asked curiously.

“He said that if they don´t help us her ghost probably will go around their planets haunting them all”. She said looking first at Finn and then at Chewie.

Finn smirked. “I hope she does”.

All of them stood in place but this time with a small smile on their faces.

It was a nice day. The sun was shinning and it was a little bit windy. The soft breeze of the forest felt cool and comforting on their skins and it smell like wood and flowers. The location was definitely stunning. “She would have liked it”. Rey thought looking at her surroundings.

Suddenly, she felt something behind her. Like a presence. She felt her body react, straightening and tensing in alert.

Discretely, she turned her head a bit to her left, trying to have a glance where she had felt the shadow. Then she sensed movement. Scared now of the presence of a foreigner she turned completely around with her hand prepared to reach for Finn´s gun that he was wearing on his holster.

But the silhouette that appeared from between two trees a few meters away was no utter stranger. On the contrary. She was very familiar.

Rey felt the urge to cry and laugh and run and scream all at the same time. There she was. Standing with an understanding smile and signaling her to be hushed and to follow her. Rey looked at Finn and the droids who were completely unaware of Leia´s presence or at least of her spirit.

“I´m…I´m going to have a walk”. She said facing them again.

“Do you want me to come with you?”. Finn asked looking at her and moving a few steps towards her position. “We can talk if you want…”

“No! No. I mean…” She had answered way to fast. She closed her eyes for a second and raised her hand trying to find the right words to excuse herself. “ I…I want to be alone”. She explained looking at him. “I need to…meditate…you know? Jedi stuff”. She had know idea was she was saying. She just hoped it´d work.

Finn nodded in understanding. But something in his eyes told her that he felt rejected in some way. She approached him and embraced him lovingly. “I really need to be alone right now, Finn. You know that I don´t mind at all being with you. But I have a lot of things in my mind and I need to put them in order”. She felt Finn´s arms tightening around her and she also felt what he was trying to show, to express.

She closed her eyes and tried to block Finn´s emotions from herself. Her abilities and knowledge of the Force possibilities grew everyday and not very long ago she discovered that she could feel other people´s emotions and intentions. This was an advantage in some ways but also a problem. Now she knew what Finn´s true feelings for her were and it broke her heart because the only love she felt for him was fraternal.

She smiled at him after breaking the embrace and then she started walking heading were she had seen Leia.

After 10 minutes of wandering around the forest there was no signal from Leia. Rey started wondering if maybe she had seen another of her illusions. Maybe she had imagined Leia calling for her because of how much she missed and needed her. Maybe…

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to get far away enough to be sure that no one could hear you”.

She looked left and sure enough there she was. Sitting on a rock a couple of meters away. Rey smiled and felt tears of joy building up on her eyes. “Leia…”. She whispered. She ran to her and the moment she was close enough she threw her arms around her and embraced her.

To her utter relief her arms did not go through her as she had expected. She was solid, like if she was actually there yet she wasn´t.

“Oh, Leia. I´m so happy to see you”. Rey smiled at her, crying of pure happiness. She was there. She was not forever gone.

“It´s only been two days, sweetheart”. The general laughed while embracing Rey with her arms. She was wearing the blue dress she had been buried with. And she looked as alive as always.

“It´s been an eternity”. Rey smiled leaning a bit back so she could look at Leia´s eyes. “You can´t imagine how we all miss you…”. Rey´s smile trembled a bit. She could see her and talk to her because of her sensitiveness towards the Force, but nobody in the Resistance could. For all of them, their legendary General was completely gone.

Leia nodded sadly. She knew how all of them missed her. She could sense them all. She could see them all.

“I know. But I´m sure that the Resistance will last”. Leia spoke convinced. “Poe has become a great leader. He had a great teacher”. Leia smirked jokingly making Rey smile again. It felt like she had not smiled, like truly smile in years.”Everything will be fine. I trust you all and I believe in you all”. She said with a warmth that only she could transfer with her words. Even from the “other side” she could make you feel empowered by her words.

“I just hope other people listen to us and believe in our cause as you did…I mean do!”.

Leia smiled and stood up. “Let´s have a walk, shall we?”. She took Rey´s left arm in hers and they started walking with no final destination.

Rey still could not believe was she was seeing. She knew that the Force could bridge minds and show you people that were thousands of kilometers away from you, but she could not fully grasp her mind around the fact that she was walking around with someone who was…dead.

“I know. It´s weird. But the Force truly is something magical”. Leia answered Rey´s unspoken thoughts.

She looked at her shocked. “Can you read my mind?”. She asked awed.

Leia laughed. “I can perceive just small pieces of what you are thinking but it´s enough to figure out the whole idea”. Leia said shrugging her shoulders. As if it was the most common thing in the world. “That´s why I know that you have been having very vivid visions of my son”.

Rey stopped abruptly and she felt like face palming herself. “Of course she can see that”.

Leia nodded at her like if it was very obvious. “Apparently my son is the owner of the 90% of your daily thoughts”. Leia grinned mischievously.

Rey felt how the blush covered her cheeks and felt like hiding herself behind the nearest tree. Yet she looked up to her and somehow spoke her mind. “And can you blame me??”. She said placing her hands on her hips. “First, he captures me and enters my mind to get information from me letting me, in the process, to enter his”. She started moving her hands, numbering with her fingers her different points in the matter. “Afterwards the Force, for a reason still unknown to me, starts connecting our minds letting us see each other at very random times and very inappropriate others. And NOW…” She was now yelling with exasperation. With her arms moving in the air frenetically. “ ..I see him. EVERYWHERE! At any given time! He doesn´t talk to me. He doesn´t move. He just stands there. Looking sad or lost or whatever at me, and making me feel nervous, stressed, sad and anxious”. She felt like if some pressure had been released from her chest. It felt great to speak those things out loud. It felt great to talk to her.

Leia laughed and she looked at Rey as if she know something that she didn´t. “What?” Rey asked frustrated.

“It´s funny”. She said simply. As if that explained everything.

“What? How me going insane can be funny?”. Rey asked crossing her arms looking like a sulking child.

“The fact that you think that the Force was the one who connected you both or that it is the one showing you my Ben”.

Rey frowned. “I…I don´t understand”.

Leia raised an eyebrow at her. “You don´t understand or you just don´t want to?”.

Rey let her arms fall to her sides and then she stared at Leia concerned. Then she diverted her eyes to the ground and her brain immersed itself in deep thought. One part of herself knew the truth, but the other one, the emotional one did not want to admit it. Yet she knew that it was pointless to lie to herself. She had proved that method before, with her parents, and it hadn´t helped at all. So she just simply said it.

“I am the one connecting myself to him”. She murmured feeling a little bit ashamed.

Leia walked to her and she took Rey´s chin with her right hand. “Both of you”. She said softly.

“What do you mean?”. She asked confused.

“Do you think you can just simply connect with someone because you want to?”. Leia asked sarcastically. Rey still looked clueless. “A Force connection cannot happen if both parts are not willing to have it”.

Rey´s eyes opened wide in shocked. “You…you are saying…that…”.

Leia nodded. “You can see my son because he´s also thinking about you”.

And it´s over...for today. I hope to keep updating daily. It´snot for sure so if I don´t post the next part tomorrow do not be afraid, I´ll post it later.

Lots of love and hugs my dear Reylo fam.

Xx

#reylo fam #reylo fanfic #reylo fan #reylo #reylo trash #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #kylo x rey #star wars #star wars tlj #star wars the last jedi #the last jedi #fanfic #star wars fan

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Rambles, not reviews

I saw:

Creation- Charles Darwin’s labor on his book On the Origin of Species becomes difficult because of the emotional implications on his personal life. In a world where a little girl could be forced to kneel on a pile of rock salt for a long period of time as punishment for saying dinosaurs existed, clearly his book would cause trouble. But there is also a theological divide between him and his wife. His beloved eldest daughter (the little girl in that anecdote) has died leaving him haunted, and this is the actual source of the emotional turmoil. He’s unwell, physically and emotionally, and one of the most significant books in history depends on him finding the strength to finish it.

Well, obviously he did! Sadly, though, people are still fighting over it. Back when I was in high school the science teacher would begin the subject of evolution by saying “I have to teach this by law. I don’t believe in it, and I know none of you do, but we have to do it” She was wrong, of course, when she said “none of you”. I could never understand their objection, since natural selection doesn’t speak to religion. It doesn’t say your god or goddess of choice isn’t responsible for this system. Since it seems not unlike the breeding of plants and animals humans have done for thousands of years, just without the hand of humanity being required, why do they act so horrified by it? Just see it as your god as a farmer on a planetary scale and accept the science. 

I guess it doesn’t work very well if you believe in absolutely literal rather metaphorical view of religious texts. Some people aren’t all that acquainted with those texts anyway but just take the word of their spiritual leaders. I remember the uproar in a class my senior year in high school when the teacher pointed out the fruit of tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the Bible was not specified as an apple. Some of my classmates were sobbing and shaking with rage because it contradicted what they were certain of. Sometimes it can be very difficult to even discuss certain subjects if there is even a perception of it not fitting with a deeply held belief

Personally, I have experience with a household of differing religious views. My father was an atheist and my mother is christian. To be fair, her form of Christianity is not one I can easily catagorize. Her very religious father was also a science teacher, and she ended up with a scientific bend of mind that had her studying chemistry and always regreting life got in the way of her PhD. She’s a sort of free thinking christian not bound to any particular branch, so much so I occasionally forget she doesn’t entirely think like me. Her mother, the grandmother that lived with us, was a very devout Baptist. Every day she would wake before dawn to read her Bible, which because of the peculiar stucture of the former rooming house we lived in meant light would stream into the large bedroom the rest of us shared through a glass window on the door between rooms. (Long story why the other bedrooms were unoccupied) She was active in her church, always full of prayers and gifts of Bibles....

So imagine being a little kid sitting at the kitchen table as occassionally the truce would break and my father and grandmother would go at it, with poor Mom stick in the middle. Grandma would always end the same way, declaring “You hurt my feelings!” and rushing off to her room crying. Mom would sigh and feel annoyed. Pop would be angry because she would do that leaving him the bad guy. And I ... well I just went back to eating with the entertainment over.

 It didn’t upset me like you would expect. I realized they both had irreconcilable religious differences, and while she showed little judgement in innocently (my grandmother had a strange childlike innocence) in provoking Pop she was also going to retreat rather than engage in the debate Pop liked.  I wished they wouldn’t argue, if that’s the word for it, because for Mom it was her mother vs her husband/best friend. She could agree with a point Pop made about the age of the Earth, agree with Grandma about there probably being a god, and end up pained for both of them. Mom hadn’t even realized that atheists existed until she started college. I’m not joking. She had just assumed Pop believed in god, that everyone did. She laughs about her ignorance now. But for me, I grew up with this as the world. People have dramatically different views, they might needle each other, voices might get raised and tears shed, but no one can win. It’s a brief storm pass, and we all go back to normal within an hour. 

Unfortunately outside my family differing religious views and rifts between science and religion aren’t so easily dealt with. I was lucky as in my extended family I had a wide range of religious views but the love and acceptance came first. 

It’s possible it’s part of what I enjoyed about the movie was simply showing couple where one is full of religious faith and the other religious doubt yet they love each other. It reminds me of home. 

I had dreaded watching it, to be honest. Pop got the DVD but didn’t get to watch it. The science vs religion conflict was an interest of his, while it always leaves me discouraged. While I have no use for religion myself, I realize that in a head on war for hearts and minds science always ends up loosing. It’s probably best to not frame it that way when there really is no reason to. But the movie surprised me by actually more or less came to that conclusion too. 

It’s quiet and emotion based look at the internal struggle Charles Darwin went through. It’s lovely to look at,  well acted,  and deeply moving. I liked it very much.....

 I wonder if Pop would have?

#movies #creation

[ladyninjaa]

The Story of Us

Imagine: Being the Queen of the North and your children wanting a bed-time story about how their father Jon Snow saved you. (This is completely made up since I obviously don’t know how the Great War turns out.)

Sorry if it’s a bit choppy and shitty. 

It had been many years since the Great War.

The destruction that the battles left was still fresh and so were the horrors. Your beloved had vanquished the darkness and brought an era of peace along with it. Jon Snow was a hero cheered and loved by all. Queen Daenerys reigned in the South and Jon in the north—an everlasting peace between the two kingdoms.

It was late and your children were being handfuls. They were induced with sugars given to them by their Aunt Arya and Uncle Gendry. You would chastise them later for bringing such trouble. You are rounding the two toddlers up when Jon enters.

“Shouldn’t they be in bed?” Jon questions as he looks at his two children with humor.

You huff, “Your children are being beasts!”

The youngest whines, “Mommy, I am not a beast!” The five year old clutches onto your hand.

“Well, you both are acting like beasts. Do you know what we do with beasts?” You question sternly trying to hide your smile of amusement.

The younger girl and older boy glance at each before shrugging.

“Honey?” You look to your husband.

Jon nods, “We keep them in the kennels.”

“We don’t want to sleep in the kennels!” The boy cries looking terrified, “Sansa says that the ghost of Ramsay Bolton lives down there!” You fight your smile. Sansa was more mature and considerate of your rowdy children.

“Then listen to your mother.” Jon tells them gently, “Go to bed and we will tell you a bed-time story, how does that sound?”

The two children light up with excitement and hurry into their shared bed. It was more for the benefit of your baby girl since she feared sleeping alone and would rather sleep with her brother. “We’re sorry mommy!” Your baby boy chimed as your daughter snuggled against him with a stuffed wolf that Bran made her.

You smile down at your children and kiss their foreheads, “It’s quite alright, my dears.” You reassured as you sit on the edge of their bed and Jon sits in a chair beside you, “Now, what story would you like to hear tonight?”

“I wanna hear how daddy met mommy!” Squealed your daughter with her flushed, chubby cheeks.

Your son nodded along, “I wanna know!”

You exchanged amused expressions with Jon. He sighs knowing this tale all too well—he would never live it down. “You wanna know how mommy and daddy met, hmm? Alright, I’ll tell you,” You can’t help but to grin and giggle while Jon scowls at you, “It was during the Great War. My former house used to be the furthest hold to the North in the wooded area of Blackwood. It was there that the first battle with the dead took place along with the Knight King and his dragon.”

Your children listened with awe and excitement—your baby boy resembling your husband so much but yet both children had your lovely eyes. “I remember my father telling me that our King and Queen Daenerys were headed to aid us. I was told to pack some belongings and lead our family away from the blood-shed,”

Those were dark days but in that darkness, you met the light or to be exact saved the light.

You smiled faintly, “I managed to take my people to the safety of another town before I made my way back home. You see, mommy was a warrior who wanted to fight. She didn’t want her home to be destroyed or her people to be killed so, she joined them in battle,”

“I’ve seen mommy fight!” Your son blurted out and looked up at you with pride, “You and Arya fight all the time!”

You chuckle and Jon laughs, “Yes, we do.” Although Arya always landed you flat on your ass.

“The battle was long and we lost many good men including your grandfather,” There is sadness in your voice because you had witnessed your father being cut down by the Knight King. It was an image that would always haunt you in your day dreams, “I remember fighting with my brothers when I came across the undead dragon pinning a man down and about to burn him with ice fire,” Your children gasp and you try not to giggle.

Jon mumbles, “I wasn’t pinned down.”

You give him a firm stare full of amusement before he begrudgingly looks away like a sullen child, “I don’t know what came over me but seeing that man pinned down by the dragon stirred something in me…my heart screamed at me to help this man, so I did. I did fear for my life because this was a dragon about to devour this man and there wasn’t much I could do…or so I thought…”

“The sword in my hands that you see me carry at my side everyday is the sword that every generation of Y/L/N/House has fought it. When my father, your grandfather, was struck down by the Knight King and as he lay in my arms dying he passed the family sword onto me,” You would never understand why your father passed the cherished family sword to his youngest daughter but you were ever thankful. Your older brothers never held any grudge or bitterness against you—which you were thankful for.

“So I held onto my blade with all of my might, with a racing heart, and a frightened mind and charged towards this mighty beast to save this one man,”

You smile faintly remembering the memory quite fondly, “The dragon was too focused onto this man to notice me charging at it. I knew my blade would not pierce its skin but I just had to divert its attention long enough for that foolish man to escape. I struck my blade against the side of its neck and to my complete and utter shock…my blade pierced its skin.”

Your children gasped with excitement.

“The terrible beast gave a cry so loud that my ears almost bleed. I could not hear anything for almost a minute and during that minute; the dragon whipped its head and threw me several feet away. My sword was still stuck in its neck and the dragon desperately tried to get my sword out of its neck. I was shocked, I was dazed, and I couldn’t believe what had happened. The man who had been pinned was smart enough to escape while the beast was occupied,”

“The man was just as shocked as I was by these turn of events. The longer the blade stayed imbedded into the dragon’s neck, its white scales began to darken to black and its eyes began to lose its pale blue hue. It was dying and everyone around could only stand in shock and as the Knight King watched his monster dying, someone managed to pierce the deadly King in the chest with a spear made of Dragon-glass.”

“Did it kill the Knight King, mommy?” Your son blurted out.

You shook your head, “No, my dear, it wasn’t enough to kill him but it was enough to injury him greatly.”

“What about the dragon and the man, mama?” Your daughter demanded with a pout.

“The dragon was unable to get the blade unstuck from its neck and whatever magical powers within the sword were able to spread through its body rather quickly and kill it. The man ran up towards with wielding a sword with a wolf head pommel and struck his sword down the dying dragon’s neck and shattering the tyrant dragon into thousands of black pieces.”

“A sword with a wolf head…” Your son mumbled thoughtfully before gasping, “That’s papa’s sword!”

Your daughter gasped, “Mommy saved daddy!”

Jon chuckled, “Aye, your mother saved me after I made a foolish mistake. I thought I could take on this great beast on my own but was proven wrong instantly. I would have not lived had it not been your mother risking her life to save some idiot man.” Jon’s dark, brooding eyes met your kind and warm ones with tender love, “What do they call mommy now?” He asks his children.

Your daughter squealed happily, “Queen Y/N the Dragon-slayer of the North!”

“And then what happened?” Your son demanded.

You looked at your husband and urged him to finish the story, “After the defeat of the ice dragon, your mother called me a very bad name and ran off to fight,” Jon gave you an amused look and you chuckled. You had called him a fucking dumb cunt not knowing you had been speaking to the King of the North but even then, you still would’ve called him a fucking dumb cunt either way.

“The fight wasn’t over and eventually the Knight King pulled back not long after the dragon was killed. He had lost his biggest asset and with Queen’s Daenerys and her dragons still burning down his men, he knew if he stayed he would lose. I spent that night wondering about the woman who saved me and wondered who she was and where she can from…I knew of the sword she wielded was made of Valyrian Steel so, it wouldn’t be hard to find her. Which she left behind, embedded into the dragon’s neck.”

“I found her…not long after the Knight King retreated…we rested and gathered our forces and went after the Knight King. It was at Castle Black where the last battle took place. That night before the battle…I heard of a woman being revered as the Dragon-slayer and although I desperately tried to look for her, she evaded me.”

You smirked.

“The morning of the battle, I found her.” Jon looked at you again with a smile, “She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen…clothed in armor like some Angel of Death. I had never seen such a woman with such fire in her eyes…not even the Dragon Queen had such fury in her eyes.”

You looked at your husband with surprise. You had seen the Queen when she was angry…you seriously doubted you were worse then the Mother of Dragons.

“And then what happened?” Your children were impatient.

Jon and you exchanged looks of love, “We fell in love.” You murmured gently.

Jon smiles, the same way he always done, and it never fails to make your heart stutter wildly.

Also, guys, I will ask that you guys please stop asking to be tagged into certain imagines. I have been receiving a large amount of requests to be tagged into my imagines. I love that you all feel so strongly of my imagines but please, keep in mind I have other imagines to write, other original stories to update on other sites, and among other things that I cannot possibly remember to tag every single one of you into whatever imagine you desire. So, I ask that you please stop just to make my life a bit easier, lol. 

ANYWAY, 

This was requested by an anon. There will be no other parts.

P.S Thank you all for your support! It just makes me so crazy happy! <3

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #jon snow imagine #jon snow #got imagine #queen of the north #the great war #knight king #love #children

[n0-l0nger-sane-blog]

Happy New Year, My Beloved.

            Pitied souls shall be trampled by the death tolls of hell.  For life in it's certainty is all an illusion bleak from the human mind.  The path you've chosen to take,  never leads you into a world of happiness,  but into a dark void of despair that you cannot relapse back into reality.  Arrogance and foolishness only leads you too far from the path that darkens your fate into a cold abyss but keeping a silent mind will leave you in a perpetual doom.  Life is just a play written by god,  and each one plays his own until its end by death. 

            The coldness of the breeze and it's dampness seeped through the brunette’s long coat.  In the moonlight the building-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. To witness the aerial view of the city at night was like being hailed by the angels,  the lights stole his breath away in the most magical way possible.  Down there were thousands of souls who resembled nothing more than ants.  From here he could see what a maze this borough was.  When levitating to the heavens, the city turned into a two dimensional piece of paper - filled with a child's crayon.  Nothing to regret leaving.  He smirked,  up here he was the king of the world,  untouchable. 

            Man can live without freedom,  man can sway in fantasies,  he can create his own stories and his own fantastical realities,  he can fly,  he can soar in dreams and he can jump off the tallest ledges and survive-in his own imagination.  But man can never escape, no matter how hard he tried,  he can never outrun his own conscious thoughts;  they haunt and yell,  scream in the back of his mind,  until they blur and mix;  leaving every man to rip out his own hair,  for a chance in relief.             Imprisonment leaves you with yourself.  All alone with insects for company,  and that's when the other part of you starts to speak,  blathering,  arguing with thoughts,  screaming for attention.  And that's when prison breaks you, leaving you to break yourself.  Until there is no more you,  but a shell,  a hollow,  reverberate one,  without life.

            So why not break humanity from its cage with sweet death ?

            The dark crimson swirled effortlessly in a small vial.  The serum glinted red under the moonlight in Dazai’s palm.  If he were to drop this small thing ... how many would die once the glass shattered  ?  It was tempting.  Death was the most beautiful truth and the most painless journey towards the eternity.  It's the only friend which never had any expectations in return for the most beautiful gift to us,  freedom from the greedy world.  And thanks to this small vial,  the people of this world could join Dazai in that wonderful journey.  It was the only thing that could set them all free from the cruel planet. 

            The moonlight splashed down its watery white-silver glow onto the city and the vial,  bathing it,  illuminating it. And in the distance the stars were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky.  Dazai would describe the moonlight as his only companion in the darkness. And it's soft shimmering glow held another purpose, it gave him a direction in what would otherwise been a maze of impenetrable blackness.  He knew  SHE  felt the same way too.

           “   Enjoy the New Year while you can everyone, it’s not going to last.  Am I right, my dearest Ajisai  ?  ”

#( Happy New Year everyone ! ) ──☆*:・ﾟ #( I know this is a little late but I still wanted to write it ) ──☆*:・ﾟ #( I feel like the only people who will understand this is the people in the BSD Discord server lol ) ──☆*:・ﾟ

[redkiteradio]

10 Things Steve Jobs Can Teach Us About best piano keyboard for beginners

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote over a decade back, the girl who arrived to be recognised only as being the piano teacher presented what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her very own foreseeable future.

Im moving away currently to a spot so distant, where nobody is aware of my title, she wrote within the lyrics of a tune identified as Shifting.

When she wrote that song, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance new music author who cherished Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, very long walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, by means of Central Park in the brilliant Solar of the June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and made an effort to rape her, leaving her clinging to life. Once the assault, the words to her song arrived real. She moved away, out of Ny city, outside of her aged existence, and all but her closest pals didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the environment, she was — just like the additional famed jogger attacked in Central Park 7 yrs previously — an nameless image of the city nightmare. She was the piano teacher.

Now, about the tenth anniversary of your assault, she is celebrating what seems to be her comprehensive Restoration from brain trauma. She's 42, married, with a small little one. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he desires to inform her story, her way.

Her medical professional explained to her it would acquire 10 years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I feel my lifestyle has been redefined by Central Park, she stated a number of days ago, her voice comfortable and hopeful. In advance of park; soon after park. Will there ever certainly be a time when I dont Believe, Oh, this is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch property inside a wooded subdivision in a Ny suburb. She sat inside a eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by images of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-yr-previous daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed fifty percent the home, and at just one issue she sat down and played. Her playing was forceful, but she appeared ashamed to Participate in quite a lot of bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when questioned the identify with the piece. She requested that her daughter and her city not be named.

She calls that day, June 4, 1996, the working day After i was harm.

Hers was the primary in a string of attacks by the exact same gentleman on four Girls in excess of 8 times. The last target, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning shop, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in jail.

Still the assault around the piano Instructor may be the just one individuals appear to be to recollect probably the most. Portion of the fascination must do with echoes on the 1989 attack around the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened men and women in a means the attack about the jogger didn't simply because its situation had been so mundane.

It didn't happen in a very remote Section of the park late during the night time, but near a favorite playground at three within the afternoon. It might have took place to any one. The strain was heightened from the secret of your piano instructors identity.

For three days, as law enforcement and Medical practitioners tried using to discover who she was, she lay in the coma in her medical center mattress, nameless. Her dad and mom ended up on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Finally, one of her learners recognized a law enforcement sketch and was in a position to determine her while in the clinic by her fingers, since her facial area was swollen past recognition. The police didn't launch her identify.

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Street, then putting her extensive hair inside of a ponytail and heading out for just a wander. She does not keep in mind the attack, Even though she has heard the accounts in the police and prosecutors.

To me its just like a point I figured out and memorized, she stated. Just as if I ended up a college student in class studying record.

She won't think of The person who did it. I may have been offended for just a instant, although not a lot longer than that, she explained. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical professional at New York Clinic-Cornell Medical Center, as it was known in 1996, explained to reporters that she experienced a 10 p.c prospect of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to eliminate her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, to produce home for her swelling Mind. When her mother built a public appeal to pray for my daughter, thousands did.

Right after 8 days, she came outside of a coma, 1st in the vegetative point out, then in a very childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked continuously, at times in gibberish. I used to be obtaining mad at people today every time they didnt reply to these phrases, she explained.

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she had minimal short-time period memory and would ignore visitors as soon as they left the home.

In excess of quite a few months, she had to relearn ways to wander, gown, examine and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented on a daily basis to Perform guitar for her. He encouraged her to Perform the piano, against the advice of her Bodily therapists, who believed she could well be disappointed by her inability to play the way in which she at the time experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets together with her, enjoying the left-hand part while she played the best.

Which was my finest therapy, she said.

In August, she moved again house to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She frequented old haunts and known as good friends, striving to restore her shattered memory. I had been incredibly obsessive about remembering, she claimed. Any memory loss was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her progress was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced dropped the opportunity to cry, like a faucet inside of her brain were turned off. Just one night, 9 months soon after she was harm, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham Film A Time for you to Get rid of. Just right after her father had long gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Males who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, along with the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my moms and dads, my father, and the things they went via, she stated. Small by minimal, my emotion returned, my depth of intellect returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went again to highschool and got a masters diploma in tunes schooling.

Not all the things went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years after the attack, although they continue to be good friends. She dated other Adult men, but she usually informed them with regard to the assault straight away — she could not aid it, she reported — and so they never termed to get a second date.

We've got to seek out you someone, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, reported four many years ago, just before introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and amateur drummer. For the moment, she did not say something regarding the attack until eventually she obtained to find out Mr. McCann, and then when she did, he admired her toughness.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced normally visited her at her bedside even though she was inside the hospital, married them in his Occasions Sq. Business office. She wore a blue gown and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, inside of a burst of creative imagination, she and her friends recorded When Had been Youthful, an album of childrens tunes that she experienced written prior to the attack, including the tune Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, generated the CD. On it, her partner performs drums and she performs electrical piano.

Is her existence as it had been? Not just, though she is unwilling to attribute the variances to her injuries. Her last two piano pupils remaining her, without the need of contacting to elucidate why, she stated. She has resumed enjoying classical audio, but straightforward items, for the reason that her daughter doesn't give her time to observe. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she explained.

She would like to generate much more, sensation stranded within the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She tries to be content with being property and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgery at exactly what is now named Ny-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Medical Centre, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, mentioned final 7 days that her volume of recovery was unusual. Shes generally standard, he claimed.

Other specialists, who're not Individually familiar with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, are more careful.

Regaining the chance to Participate in the piano may well contain an Practically mechanical system, a semiautomatic recall of what the fingers really need to do, mentioned Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation drugs at New York College School of Medicine. When brain-injured, you will be generally brain-injured, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay claimed. There isn't any heal, There's only intense compensation.

The more telling Section of a Restoration, in his view, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and little one as an important victory.

For her portion, the piano teacher is aware of she has improved, but she has built her peace with it. I was type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a Type A, but I was ambitious, she states. Why was I so bold? I was a piano teacher. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im alleged to be.