#myself out of this pit and find the light and stay in it and never go back to this place again except in memory!

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Deep in the Woods in the Dark of the Road

Everyone talks about the fear of hitchhikers. Parents and urban legends repeat, Never pick up someone on the side of the road. Like food from the floor, you don’t know where they’ve been. Smiling ghosts, prison breakouts, serial killers on the lam. Very few stories talk about the edge of the road, the place where you lose yourself to these strangers in a stranger’s land. The ones that pick you up. I tell the story to anyone who will listen.

First, I have to tell them, “of course I don’t hitchhike anymore,” condemning my youthful folly for them before they will consider me a credible source. As someone worth listening to. My sister likes to remind me I was on the type of adventure only clean-shaven young men can get away with in the first place.

I like to remind her that I’m not sure I got away with anything.

May 12th, everything else shifts around it like the light, but that date might as well have been printed on the back of my hand. 

May 12th and the small Canadian town I had been staying in had a high school graduation, the place swelling with relatives and well-wishers. There was only one high school and their hockey team seemed to be the one big rallying point the people shared. Everyone became a grandkid to every aging adult and I knew it was time to move along in the same breath.

I meant to leave early in the day. Meant to leave earlier in the week too. Nonetheless, when you're on a country-long trek you do start to appreciate the little things and the Johnsons’ had a high-pressure shower. The Johnsons were a family of pit-stop angels for hikers and bikers, turning their home into an invitation. Hippies, aging athletes, and former-vagrants were the main types of pitstop angels–literal angels in my mind at that point. I told myself a second shower was indulgent and then I gave myself another shower. Me and time we’re never really on the friendliest terms, especially when I was a thru-hiker that had lost the trail.

I stood under the burning hot spray and melted. During the first shower, the water always runs brown and muddy, sloughing off layers of dirt and dead skin. I think I understood religious resurrection after showers like that. 

This one though, a second shower, ran clear and crystalline and perfect. 

Hot, steaming water and a steady drumbeat of pressure. Heaven. Heaven though, eventually turned cool and then freezing. A cold river from every faucet. I jumped out and had a mild freakout session. Leaving someone’s worse-off than when you found it was a big taboo. 

Plus, I was young and still embarrassed by everything. I wrote a hasty apology note, and then packed up as quickly as I could. It’s the type of age where you’ve started to realize you are responsible, but not old enough to know how to go about doing it correctly. I left a note. I scrubbed their counters and stripped the sheets off the pull-out bed. I scrubbed the counters a second time and then tripped out the door before they could get back. The day had turned into late afternoon. A spring chill seeped across the land and I took a backroad to the highway.

Originally, I had told my parents I’d be back by the end of season. Then I told them I deferred my college start date to the second semester. Then deferred again to next fall. Bumming around ski towns during the winter and making just enough money to get back on the trails in springtime. I had been skipping around different trails since then.

I needed to get on the road. I needed to find another car.

One of the tricks to getting picked up is to be clean, so I had that much going for me. Boiled like a lobster in oil, I felt new and good and I walked confidently backward with my thumb out. The second trick is to smile. I smiled and waved and walked along a long stretch of highway bordered by dense conifer forests.

If worse came to worse, I’d set up my tent somewhere among the tree trunks. A dampness coated my skin. Strong wind rustled the branches. A minivan approached and I smiled wide enough to make my eyes water. The van passed.

I took a break to chew down an energy bar and some Slim Jims. Drivers normally don’t stop if you’re chewing furiously and an internal sigh was building in my core. I wondered if the Johnsons’ were toasting their daughter right now. Giving a cheer. Making plans for dinner. I’d miss their dinner.

When I stood up again, the sun had dipped toward the steep mountains. I shielded my eyes and scowled. How the hell did so much time pass? I hurried to the side of the road, thumb out, smiling, rehearsing some of my best stories in my head. I liked telling stranger’s stories, a “thank you” for the ride. I had learned the best ways to spin terrifying encounters with mountain lions and the chipmunk trapped in my sleeping bag. Most drivers seemed to like it too. 

The sun disappeared behind the first peeks and the temperature plummeted. Pockets of darkness spread out before me between the shards of sunlight quilting the land. My teeth chattered.

The dusk had a feeling to, a weight. A car approached from behind me and I whipped around, hands too cold to be out. A beat-up Hyundai, off-green and compact. A tacky Sasquatch air-freshener hung from the mirror and the person behind the wheel wore sunglasses. He looked like a young guy, early 20s, with long brown hair down his shoulders. The hair reminded me of a girl, curly and well-kept, shiny in the dying light. The dusting of a beard offset the look. 

Several cars lined up behind the Hyundai. Their lights were all on, shining like a procession of lanterns. This is where they all were apparently. Figures, I thought, and I stuck my thumb out.

My stomach sank when the Hyundai swerved off to the side of the road. I was hoping he would pass and let one of the others pick me up. I usually preferred families, women, couples, and the like. I would like to say it was the romantic in me, wishing for ladies or aging lovers, but the truth was I had never really gotten along with guys my own age. But beggars can’t be choosers.

He honked the horn once and grinned at me. I checked over my shoulder like the trees might turn into a Holiday Inn, and then approached the window. 

He cracked the door. “Where you headed?”

“Vancouver,” I said, which was true enough. He gave the horn a second honk. “Alright, alright, alright, my brother. Going to the same jungle. Hop in.”

I gave him a crooked smile and avoided responding by opening the back door. Storing my enormous backpack was always a challenge, but the back seats were down and I slid Jessica, my pack’s nickname, right in. 

“How’s it going?” The guy had both a California accent and swagger to him. I ran a hand through my hair, already on guard.

“Cold as a witch’s tit out there.” I might as well get the bro-ing over with. The driver had holes in his faded band shirt and board shorts. Sandals probably too. 

“Only if you're walking down the side of the road like a lost kitten, my man. Here.” He cranked the heat in his car and I exhaled, gratitude shining from my center. 

“Thanks,” I said, showers and warmth and soft beds having changed me. I swallowed a couple times, not sure if bros even thanked each other. “So, what are you doing out here?” I asked, already formulating my story about the mountain lion. And yes, I do embellish just a bit.

“You know, this and that. What are you doing getting yourself ax-murdered all the way out here?” I shot him a look. “You know, this and that.” I cleared my throat, mimicking his tone, “Ax-murdering. Collecting hooks for my right hand.” He lets out a big laugh and that’s a relief. I grow emboldened. “What are you doing to avoid getting hook-handed this late at night?” He chuckles, chest rumbling like a car engine. Taking off his sunglasses, he places them in the cupholder. “Distract them. Ask them what ACDC they are into.” His gaze flicks to the back as he says it.

I noticed for the first time a guitar case wedged into the back. My eyebrows raise. “Sweet. You playing gigs?” “Just coffee shops and anywhere that will take a burnout with a dream.” I copy his tone. The swagger. “You any good?”

“Hell if I know. Coffee shops aren’t Juilliard.” He winked. “But don’t tell my mom that.”

My arms gooseflesh and at least my teeth stopped chattering. “Good to know. You have an LP? CDs?”

“Not yet. Still working it out.” “Nice. Well, I’m Ben. Not really a music guy, but an appreciator.” I realized I had gotten all jumbled by being freezing and messed up my usual intro. “Hailing from Boston by trying to be anywhere else.” He chuckled again. “Christopher.”

“Not a Chris, I take it. The whole thing?” “All the way through, brother. Think you can handle it?”

I clicked my tongue. “I usually stick to single syllables, but I’ll make an exception for you.” “From my new friend Ben? Can’t complain about that. Damn, can’t complain about a long night on the road. Nice to pick you up.”

“Nice to be picked up.” I realized too late the way that sounded and rubbed the back of my neck. “Beats walking. Or have to hook-hand my own damn self.” “Heh.” His inky eyes flicked my way and then he grins. I looked away at that, gently embarrassed in a way I couldn’t explain. I had gotten pretty good at the chameleon act but still wasn’t finding my footing here. His eyes were deep brown, inky-almost, and deep-set in his face. 

The beat-up Hyundai rumbled up a mountain pass and the sky turned the blue-black of a bruise. I tear my eyes back to the window. The conifers appear larger–like everything does at night, and pass in a blur on the back-forth mountain road. I spy a river through the trees and birds taking flight from somewhere in the distance, lights of tucked-away homes even further up.  

Christopher turns the music up at that. “You ever listen to house music?” “Can’t say I have.” I turn back, mountain lion stories forgotten. “Ben, my guy, you’re missing out. You don’t do German house music either, I take it.”

I put a hand over my heart. “Purely provincial.” “I’ll play the good stuff.” He grins. “Make an exception.” “You usually play your hitchhiker’s mediocre playlists?” “Exceptionally mediocre. The last one didn’t even make it beat drop.” “I’ll sit and take notes.” “Don’t let me down, Benny.”

“Now who’s not going all through?”

His dark eyes flash. “Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“For you?” I gave a sardonic half of a smile and then let it fall.

Noises with bumps and chs played out over the speakers and I had to wonder why Christopher had a guitar instead of a DJ soundboard. Maybe he had both. A hand placed on my knee and I jumped. I went to brush it off, God, I didn’t need this to get unpleasant, but when I looked down nothing was there. Christopher’s hands were lazing on ten and two and he raised an eyebrow.

“You still headed all the way to Vancouver? It is a long drive.” he asked slowly and I nodded, unwilling to say my real plans. To just keep going. I started on the east coast and wouldn’t mind making it to the other ocean. “Good.” He turned the music up a second time. Despite the grating techno and sense of still not having found my feet here, the heat of the blowers washed over me. The rocking of the car and dull humming of the driver next to me. The lights of cars wound through the roads behind us and my eyes fluttered closed.

You don’t sleep in stranger’s cars. It’s rude for one thing and dangerous for another. Yet, the cold leached out of me and a drowsiness sent me over the edge into a deep abyss.

—----------------------

I heard humming now and then, dreamlike and threaded through my personal abyss. I cracked open my eyes, glanced at Christopher, humming to himself and tapping a beat on the wheel. And then drift off again in the very way I shouldn’t.

—-----------------------

A hand shook my knee. I had no idea what time it was and the weight of night startled me awake more than anything else. A pair of headbeams blared into my face and I brought up one hand. “What the hell?”

“Hey, Benny, buddy,” the driver, Christopher, said. It took me a moment to turn toward him. His sunglasses were back on and he was frowning. “Do you think you could mess with my phone? I’m not getting anything up here. Do you have service?” I blinked rapidly and pieced together the back of tail lights in front of us and head beams behind. “Traffic?” I croaked, rubbing my throat. “Here?” Only three cars ahead were visible, disappearing up a mountain bend into who knows where. However, I get the sense of lights lined up like little soldiers through the night, long and duckling-like. 

“I know, it’s whack. I was looking for a sideroad or something to get us out of this.” “How is there traffic in the middle of the mountains?” I rubbed my eyes until I saw spots, feeling groggier than ever.

“Probably a rockslide up ahead or a truck fell over, who knows. I think someone’s cleaning it up now but at the pace of, like tomorrow morning.” “What the hell?” “Now you’re getting it.” The line inched forward and Christopher refreshed his phone with one hand. I fumbled for my own phone in my small pack and cursed under my breath. “What?” Christopher prompts me.

“Out of battery.” I shake it like that might do something. “Hold on, I have an Anker in my pack.” I turn to climb into the back and dig through everything for my charger. 

“Wait, wait, I think I see a road. Put your seatbelt on.”

“We can’t just,” Christopher grabs the back of my shirt and tugs me back to my seat. I inhale sharply, remembering I am in a car with a stranger–maybe getting too close for comfort. I sputter out my protests, “we don’t know where we are. Where that goes.” Christopher was already turning off the side. “I bet I’ll get some signal if we head down the mountain. That’s headed down. Don’t worry about it. Put your seatbelt on Ben from Boston.” The nose of the car dipped down and I clenched my teeth, clicking my seatbelt in place. We rocked, boat-like, and the wheels fought against the dirt until we were level again. 

I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about Christopher at that moment. I wish I could charge my phone or maybe get out and walk. There were plenty of cars to hitch a ride from by then. Too late to make up my mind, the car’s wheels crunched on a new gravel road and our headlights streaked against an empty dark. The car behind us drove forward to take our place.

“Don’t you think other cars would go this way,” a bump in the road sent me jostling, “if it leads to the main road again?” “I’ll just get us some signal,” he mumbled. “Better than sitting in traffic.” I huffed, “Right.” The gravel road had the feel of a worn-down side street, probably leading to a series of fancy mansions or off-the-grid weirdos. Nowhere real. Christopher took off his sunglasses all over again and met my eyes.

“Sorry to get you take you on a side adventure.” He cleared his throat. “And wake you.” I remembered myself all at once and ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry,” I said, giving a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m normally a better house guest. Promise I don’t normally pass out in stranger’s cars.” “What do you normally do?” I shift in place. “Convince them to go off-roading in the middle of the night,” I deadpan. “Keep things interesting.” “That’s my line.” He laughs. Before we can really get back to normal and I can push away the dark flick of his gaze, Christopher slams on the breaks. “Holy hell!”

I grip on to the seatbelt, jostling back and forth, eyes go wide. “What?”

A line of cars appeared up ahead. My whole system tingled. “Were those there before? I didn’t see those before,” I repeated the phrase like a fool, “I didn’t see any of those cars a second ago.” A long line of cars, trailing off ahead and into the hills. “Out of the frying pan and into . . .” he trailed off. Christopher’s gaze lost its humor. He put his sunglasses back on. “Get out.” “Excuse me?” I definitely shouldn’t have taken that nap. “Get out.”

The hairs on my arm stood on end, breath catching in my throat. I glanced into the woods. The trees were tall here, leaving little undergrowth, and a sliver of moon lit barely penetrated the textured black. I could still make out headbeams, bright here, blaring, and moving through the trees. I reeled back, watching the lights bob in place. A few minutes ago, I had been chomping at the bit to get out of the car and find someone else to ride with. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Head Beams swayed. Oddly. Unnaturally. Too far off the ground. Head Beams that couldn’t be headbeams when I squinted and looked. I gulped.

“Sure man, just give me a second.” I clutched at the seatbelt. A hand squeezed my knee and I glanced down, almost grateful if he was going to keep me for this reason or that. Nothing was there. 

I buttoned up my jacket, readying myself to walk until I couldn’t walk anymore. Get ready to be eaten by a mountain lion because I sure as hell wasn’t setting up camp any time soon.

“Nevermind.” Christopher grabbed the back of my head. His hand was large and firm around the nape of my neck. “Too late. Get down.” The lights bobbed and weaved around us and I didn’t need to be told twice. Better to be hunkered down than out in the open. A second later, a knock came at the car window. The type you might hear from an officer in a tv show. I hoped. Just a regular official telling us the roads weren’t clear, the rockslide was too big. Go back, go home, all of this was explainable.

“Can I help you?” Christopher’s window rolled down. I tucked myself into a tighter ball in the foot space. 

“Do you want to be loved?” The voice was sharp, a splash of cold water cloying through my senses. Branches against glass, more garbled than real. Then the words righted themselves in my head and I wished I was back at the Johnson’s. I could be with their family right now, however out of place, holding up non-alcoholic champagne and telling her life after graduation wasn’t so bad. Didn’t have to be.

“No, I’m all good.” “Do you want to be loved,” the voice said in an insistent tone.

“I don’t want any.” He cleared his throat. “We’re running behind, anyway. Have to go. You could tell th–” “Seven years. To be loved, do you want to be loved,” I peaked up from my fetal position, a thing bent into the car, “Seven years and a day. To be loved.” Christopher rolled up his window, slow and deliberate. “No. No,” he said, “not that.” I caught a glimpse, however briefly, of a head of something impossibly tall and with a singular eye, blinking and glowing and bobbing in place. My heart sang, briefly, called out, wanted. Then, the thing at our window turned and disappeared.

“That’s what I get for thinking it’d be someone important.” Christopher’s gaze lingered on my own, keeping me there and for the first time, I heard him humming, gently, in the back of his throat. Inky eyes, dark as night, and holding me there. 

“Stop it!” I clawed at the air back to the door. My chest heaved.

He swallowed, looking away. “I really was just trying to give you a lift,” he muttered, gripping the wheel. “I don’t even think they’d want me back so soon.” “Who?” I lapped the roof of my mouth, realizing I was parched.

Christopher leaned his head back against the headrest, looking above. “Don’t tell my mom,” he adjusted his seat, “I’ve been playing music for mortals.” —---------------------------

There are ghosts and ghouls and monsters and many things that want to eat you. I was a fool, not recognizing what types of things might want to eat me. Traffic was barely moving, whatever this traffic was. I was getting thirstier.

I swallowed, again and again. A steady stream of knocks came at the window, but Christopher waved them all off. “No thank you, no thanks.” 

Music spilled in the distance, faint and dreamlike, just like the soft humming Christopher had let out. I could see streaks of light against the seat, Christopher’s face, the trees up above. Once, impossibly, something passed overhead. An enormous head you might see displayed on mantles. Big as a house, mighty and towering up above. A long white nose and antlers thick as redwoods. Great tendrils of moss seemed to hang from the antler’s alongside lanterns. Lights strung up among the foliage and impossible prongs.

An elk, an elk enormous beyond imagination, passed and I exhaled. I really wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

“Do you have any water?” Christopher glanced down, eyebrows arching and eyes wet as dogs noses.

“None for you,” he said but in a tone that somehow did not convey rudeness. “Trust me.” “Trust you,” I muttered, “after being cramped and hiding for over an hour? God, it must be sunrise soon.” “No. I’m afraid not.” He heaved a sigh. “Fairy market and all that.” I gaped at him. “Would you like to run that by me one more time?” He shook his head. “Ben,” he said, tasting the name on his lips, humming, “sturdy name. Useful. You’ve got strong fate lines. You won’t die here tonight, as long as you do as I say. Well, won’t die or be stolen if I can help it.” I set my jaw and Christopher put his sunglasses back on. “Happy?”

I kicked out, deciding if I was going to have a delusion, I might as well have it sitting. I rested my back against the door, head peeking up above the windows now. “I want to go back to the main road.” 

Christopher didn’t reply. 

It could have been an hour or only a few minutes, before a face appeared in the window. At first, I didn’t recognize it as a face, a smooth moonlike token in the window. Then, it gathered itself into two sparkling eyes, a clever mouth, and delicate cheekbones. The lady's white hair piled high on her head, adorned with blood-red leaves and berries and she smiled. Her eyes were ink-dark.

“Oh no.” Christopher clutched at the wheel. The lady inclined her head, clever mouth remaining closed but eyes beseeching. A pang went through my chest, unbidden, I felt bad for Christopher. Lord have mercy on a fool. “I have to take this,” he said in a monotone. Air whooshed into the car, cool and light against my skin, tasting of mint or something sharper.

“Wasn’t expecting a visit so soon. Is dad here?” The woman didn’t seem to speak, but inclined her head. Christopher leaned forward, blocking my view or maybe blocking her from me. He got out of the car. 

The second the door closed, taking Christopher with it, I decided to make a break for it. 

—---------------

I racked my head for what I knew about fairies. Cinderella’s godmother, the tooth fairy, Peter Pan. Tinker Bell was probably not going to help me much unless, of course, pirates became relevant in the near future. Which they might, given the night I was having. I opened the door a crack. Sweet brisk air filtered in.

I contemplated the ground below. No longer gravel but rich black earth. My spine prickled and I held very still. The only thing I could come up with half-way relevant was a 11 grade project where we had to choose a poem to analyze. I had picked The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti. As a 16-year-old I had chosen it for the racy content and riskier presentation in class.

Looking at the dark soil, I muttered to myself, “We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil, they fed their hungry thirsty roots?”

I squeezed my eyes closed. I had already spoken to the dark-eyed man and listened to his music, I suppose. I didn’t remember much else of the poem but the heat rising in my cheeks and Lizzie walking into the market. 

I kicked the door open, kept my eyes down, and went for my pack. My heart beat at the pace of the hummingbird's wings and my hands slipped on the door handle. Voices, whispering, indistinct. At the third try I wrenched the back open and got my pack out in one swing. The whispering grew louder and my eyes caught on the lights and the forest.

I knew the Canadian Rockies. I tripped over pine cones and hard stone, drank from crystalline lakes, ran my hands over Alpine forget-me-nots, froze and sweated and bled. This was them and so much more. The trees were the whitebark pines and firs, tightly knit together and crowned in ragged peaks. Voices called to me.

The darkness between the trunks bled into hands, red and mangy, like huckleberry shrubbery waving in the wind. Faces appeared in the shards of moonlight, lanterns bobbed and lurching heaving mountains of things moving in the far distance. Elk perhaps. Mountains. 

I pivoted in place, keeping my eyes away from stalled cars that made up this place. Voices called and righted themselves into words this time. “Young man. Mortal son. Hello.” A sheet of misty rain appeared to my left, melting from the dark and blinking handsome golden eyes. A sturdy nose. A pretty mouth.

“Would you like–” “Thanks. No.” I copied Christopher, not meeting the thing’s eye, and began to walk. The underbrush was not empty however, the forest moved with creatures big enough to crush. I wondered if any amount of walking would take me home.

Another voice broke through the murmuring. “You’ll never make it that way.”

I turned. And there were cars. Glowing bright as stars and windows cranked open. Figures sat inside alongside various goods. Twinkling soda cans and pearl necklaces hung next to each other on string. Stuffed bears and empty plastic bags filled baskets hanging out of car windows. Paint brushes, old CDs, and pine cones set out on car hoods. 

Market stalls. Of course. Some of them appeared as cars, others were old barrels and broken-down train cars off to the side. The beckoning of hands felt like it was coming from all directions.

“I don’t have any money!” I called like that would matter. “I’m, I’m a hiker. A traveler passing through.”

“We don’t take money. Those things,” a clump of white moths, fluttering around and around in a mass, spoke. Ink eyes. Beautiful, tumbling curls. She pointed at the empty soda bottles and stuffed animals, “not for you.”

I backed away. “I don’t have anything you might want.” 

The clump of moths smiled. “My darling, sweet boy . . . Would you like to be loved?”

I gulped down air. “I have to, have to go.” Weaving between stalls one moment and stalled cars the next, I hurried to where there must be an end. There must be an end to the market. 

Fruit the color of sapphires piled high on discarded card tables. Sardine cans and quilted blankets. Water bottles. Canisters and other hiker’s camel backpacks. God, I was thirsty. And I could hear all of them now. 

“Boy, would you like unfading beauty?” “Ten years of glory and a lion’s heart. Heart of lion’s for only ten years.”

Calling. Beseeching. A market you could understand the poem’s sisters getting lost in. My sleeve snagged on something in this endless market. I stumbled into what felt like a rock face.

“Hush now, sweet thing,” thick lichen, flaking and upright, spoke, “I will give you a belonging you have never felt before.” My heart went double time and the thirst ached. I knew it was aching. I knew I was Lizzie about to have her skin pinched and clothes torn. Sullied. Or perhaps, like Laura, changed. I wondered about my sister then. I wondered about being home.

“Belonging for thirteen years and thirteen days,” she smiled. My heart raced and I searched the fairy's face. “You deserve to belong just like anyone else, don’t you? Thirteen years and nothing more.”

“Of my life?” She smiled wider and placed a hand on my chest, fingers spreading like a mold. “Or your heart. Your soul. Memories. Wakeful hours. A song.” I shook my head, slowly and then vigorously. I took a step back.

“A bargain then,” her voice crooned in the groaning of old wood, “Twelve years. Twelve days.” Her hand spread, soaking into the flesh of shirt. “And a kiss.” 

“Thank you!” I nearly shrieked. “I’m not, I’m not. No.” I stumbled back, teetering away from the bright lights. I ducked and dodged into the darkened wood where smaller, stranger things dwell.

I stepped out of the light. The fairies called after me and their voices, luckily, faded into the murmuring of brooks and bird calls and rustling once more. I turned and felt the despair leach into my center. The line of stalls appeared endless, a train, a caravan, a curse.

I slumped down and put my head in my hands. No matter where I had looked, there was no sign of sun. I counted back from ten before I pried my eyes open again. “Christopher?” I called once and then shivered in place, perhaps the most lost I’ve ever been.

“Would you like to be good?” I didn’t look over when it spoke. “Good and know that you are good.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I want to go home.” I groaned, still not looking down. “Or at least for my ride to come back.” Christopher, at least, had not tried to make any deals. 

“Hmm. Not home. No.”

I saw her hop up from beneath a crop of twisted roots. This fairy was smaller and less beautiful. A dainty clump of mountain ash that was only a hands-length tall. A bushel of delicate white flowers crowned in dew-like hair. She reminded me a bit, only a bit, of Tinker Bell. 

“You’ve been running from something,” her voice was more of a squeak. I was tired. 

“You could say that.”

She patted my knee and my throat throbbed hard enough to make me groan.“You could be good. And know that you are good.” 

I leaned back against the tree trunk. “How much?”

“For good?”

“For home.” “A year or two.” She shrugged. “For being good and knowing you are good. I’m not sure about home.”

I chuckled without humor. “Less than a decade. You’re not much of a bargainer.” “The others know I am small. And crushable.” Dew leaked down her shoulder tops. “So, I’ll take just a year or two of your heart. That’s all.” “My heart?” She shrugged once more, the water making its way down her fluffy skirt and dripping on the ground. “No love. No opening of it.” She put a hand over her chest. “And you’ll be good.” “Good. Huh.” “And know it!” she chirped, “so when you ask yourself, am I doing alright? Am I enough? When I am not earning or making or promising or getting a wife or standing big. You will know. Know that you're good without wondering.” My eyes burned and I rubbed at the corners until I saw spots. I cleared my throat, knowing I needed to steer away. “Where did you come from?” “Silly question.” “Sure.”

“I am like you.” “Not good then?” I raised an eyebrow. “In need of being good, apparently.”

She laughed, shrilly. “No. Not very good at all. Small. Crushable. Small and crushable are not allowed in the queen's caravan.” “That does sound bad,” I said, quietly, staring up. “I’d like to say I know how you feel, but . . .”

“But I do know things. And little boys like, they don’t have to make their own lives so difficult.” “Ha.” My gaze drops to hers. “You’re offering to make my life easy?”

A smile across the face of the little ash fairy, spreading all the way across her face like a jagged wound. “Good.” 

My breath wheezed out and I dropped closer. I was tired, eyes heavy, body aching like a kicked dog coming back to sit at your feet. “It wouldn’t hurt, would it?” She held up a cup made of her own petals. A cup of deep water and lapped at my cracked lips. “All you have to do is drink your fill.” The moonlight caught in the shallow dip and I tipped my head back. Three droplets passed down my lips, fresh as spring, cold enough to strike from my chest to my fingertips. I screwed my eyes shut and clutched at my chest.

The cold blossomed and it was what I imagined a heart attack might feel like. Or perhaps the opposite of one. 

“Wait, shouldn’t we, shouldn’t there be something to sign–” I choked and sputtered and then pain burst from my middle finger on my left hand. The fairy, small and crushable, dug her teeth into my flesh. Gripping ruthlessly, she attached to an open wound, drinking her fill. Dew perched on her head turned red and she made a supping, singing noise in the back of her throat. 

“That’s enough!” I shook her off and another sharp prick went through my wrist. A sting in my neck and then another by elbow. “Stop it!”

A chanting went through my head, a child’s chant like a nursery rhyme. You are good, you are good, you are good. I covered my ears with both hands.

“Stop it!” I bellowed. “This isn’t what we agreed to.” What had we agreed to? The creature tittered and others gathered around it, sharp and hungry. The roots and the rot and the writhing soil. 

I stood, world spinning and heart crushing together into a perfect aching cold. Are fairies allowed to be liars? A tingling spread to the ends of my fingertips and a dizziness overwhelmed me. I covered my mouth with one hand and stopped myself from heaving.

I might have blacked out, blacked out and not come back, and then a light parted the darkness of the wood.

“What have you done?” The words echoed in my head. The face of man, inkdrop eyes, and shining curly hair, looked down on me, pitying. “No,” he said simply. “You can’t. He is my guest.”

Blood seeped out of the cut on my hand and I think I might faint, actually faint like in the movies. Strong hands caught me and then two fingers, clean and warm, human even, pressed to my mouth. Light like the moon poured off of him. “Swallow,” he said. The light burned away the sickly chill. A white fire, burning a path down my throat and into my chest and leaving new life in its wake. 

“Better?” A crown hovered around the man’s head in a halo, stars, the moon even. 

Maybe I could have stayed, made clean and whole, and neither good nor bad. Could have stayed to be made better by the prince of fairies. But I wasn’t that type of person. Voices, again, of birds and wind and roots. I tuned them out. My eyes fixed on lanterns in the distance, meaningless words rushing over me. He spoke of being clean now, healed. The lantern flickered, floating there like something from the stories. 

I looked down at my veins, spiderwebbed in light. They glowed from the inside out. A light, poured from the outside in. A hand was on my knee. Like it had been in the car and I saw it was my own, digging into my flesh. My own hand clutching my own knee and taking me back to myself.

“Can we get him a blanket?” Christopher turned his face. I bolted. No packback, no thoughts, only feet on the ground. Light blared into my face, branches gripped at my clothes, tearing at seams. My nose began to bleed, tasting heated and metallic. I didn’t stop to mop it up. I kept the light of that bobbing thing in my vision, running and bleeding like I never had before.

Later, I would learn a will-o-wisp will is a type of fairy as well, meant for travelers. A light that will get you lost or drown you, if it gets the chance. Though, I was already lost. I ran until my shoes lost the ground. One moment I was sailing ahead, the next I burst through the surface of a lake. Cold engulfed me from all sides, plunging me back into my flesh. I kicked for the surface, up into the fresh night. The trees surrounded this lake in beetle-worn packs, brown and small. Mud caked the banks of the water. Stars were distant and small overhead. I laughed. 

I tore at my shirt and shoes and pants and rubbed deep dark mud across my skin. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

The water ran muddy. Ran red. Then, at least, ran a bright horrible glow, bleeding out and out and out. I bled out the glow of the fairy prince. I washed myself, heaving enough laughter until it turned into a whimper. I scrubbed myself raw until the water, with the sun rising among the peaks, ran clear. 

—----------------

I thought of the prince now and then, how he saved my heart from closing. How he looked at me. How he poured light down my throat, burning me up from the inside out and taking with it a curse. I should be grateful. I went home after all, I hugged my sister and my parents. Hell, I even re-signed up for classes, even as I knew I’d eventually drop out again. Went on a few dates. Gained some roommates I loved and a dog I liked even more. I told stories and stayed. My heart was my own. But I didn’t come back the same after hitchhiking into the depths of the woods in the dark of the road. It was hard to be grateful. Hard for it to feel like a favor to have my heart kept open when it was only replaced by a worse sort of feeling. Longing and longing and longing for inky depths and impossibility, memory that grips you by the throat and murmurs, what if you had stayed?

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

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#urban fantasy #short story #spilled ink #fantasy #fairies #original story #campfire story #long post

[pepprs]

just was in a scenario where i could have spiraled (and felt like spiraling) out of control with anxiety. but i switched off my phone and i cleaned the kitchen and rth w whole time i told myself i was going to trust fall into the universe bc the universe always catches me even though i doubt / forget / lose sight that it will every single time. and then when i was done cleaning the kitchen i checked my phone and the situation got resolved. and i still feel all the anxiety symptoms like my heart pounding and my gut in knots and shaking a little (but not my head spinning thankfully lol i sure hope that is gone forever!). but i did it. i didn’t spiral and i told myself i wouldn’t panic and that everything was okay and it turned out that it was and i didn’t make it through perfectly bc im still feeling the anxiety in my body but i did that and im really proud of myself. now i have to just keep doing it

#purrs #i have a long long LONG way to go. but i have the power to do that. i have to develop (or rebuild) my foresight and be able to reassure the #terrified newborn / child selves within me that everything is okay and i don’t have any reason to spiral and to hold them safe until the #threat has passed. i need to look up more abt how ppl who get triggered by the same things i do / have the same kind of history i do have #dealt w it but i did that alone andi won’t have to do it alone if i find ppl. like there is hope and i can make progress and get better and #maybe i won’t heal completely but i can heal enough so that i am not anxious and on the verge of panic spells every day. that is possible. #i was in a really horrible place for most of this month and with god as my witness(<- saying lightheartedly / half jokingly) i will claw #myself out of this pit and find the light and stay in it and never go back to this place again except in memory! #reminder

[darkened-writer]

imagine | Star

This is based on a TikTok by @ / hamrikaa , their art piece is so stunning and I hope I can capture the sadness and beauty of it. This imagine was also made with Mitski's 'Star' in mind, so please enjoy.

PAIRING || Astarion x Tav (reader)

WORD COUNT || 881

PART TWO

Old and withered bones, the smell of old wood, and the quiet of night as red eyes were trained on the sleeping body of Tav.

Who knew that seventy-two years could pass so quickly?

As each day passed, their body aged and aged, while he stayed still so young and bright.

Like a star.

But, the years spent together were never, ever in vain, as marriage happened, nights wrapped up in eachothers arms, gentle caresses and whispered nothings. Reassurances and soft kisses on every exposed part of skin.

He never knew how much he need to be touched in a soft manner.

He never knew how much he needed to be held.

If anyone were to tell him back before their journey that he’d find someone to live for, he would’ve laughed in their face.

Their chest rose, up and down, up and down, hoarse and shallow. Tav knew it, He knew it too, it wasn’t long before they’d pass on. It was creeping up on the two of them like a deadly darkness.

The darkness was something that he was used to, but gods, did he want to stay in the sun for as long as possible with Tav.

“My Sweet, wake up…”

Their eyes opened slowly, the muscles frail and feeble, their gaze shaky.

“Would you come with me? Just on the balcony, My Dear.”

“Isn’t it almost sunrise…?”

There was a knowing look shared, Tav’s head shaking, the most movement he’d seen from them as of late.

“No… No…”

They’re lifted up into his arms and carried promptly despite the barely strong pushing against his chest, but they give up, just leaning their head into the crook on his neck until the cool night air hits their skin, eliciting chills. The sky was subtly lighting up, so slow, and yet the pit in Tav’s stomach was heavy.

Astarion couldn’t live without them.

So, he’d go with them.

He sets them down next to him, wrapping an arm around their shoulders, pulling them in as his eyes stay focused on the colors that have started to paint the skies.

Red, Purple, Orange.

“Ideally, even when I was just a spawn, sometimes I thought about walking into the sun to end my suffering. Dissipating into the air, alone, hopeless, missing my old life.”

A beat of silence.

“But…” He looks down at Tav’s resting head, a adoring look in his apple red eyes.

“I was taught, by someone, who was my favorite little travelling companion that… life was worth living for. And, I found myself living for them. Without them, I could never… would never.. Make it another day.”

His voice wavers into the crisp morning air, the dew upon the grass and leaves of trees sending an earthy smell into the atmosphere.

“So, I cherished every single hour, minute, second, and fleeting moment with them because I knew that the day that they were set to die, I’d have no choice but to go with them.”

“Astari–”

“Shh… let me finish, Darling.”

They let him continue.

“I’d move mountains for you to live for another century, to live for ions with me, hand in hand, watching others pass, get old, live their own lives while we continue our together but… our story– our story has come to a close, My Dear.”

His hand shifts to hold Tav’s.

“As I see it, we are a star that has burnt out. We’re tired, aren’t we?”

Tav erupts into a coughing fit, in which Astarion holds them close until they calm down.

The sun begins to rise, slowly, the beams hitting the grass as it slowly moves to cover the entirety of everything, all at once.

“I think we lived well, all things considered.”

He looks down at them, listening to them speak.

“That knife to my neck was quite the impression. And the seduction. But, I knew that all you needed was compassion.”

“You were always a wicked little thing, but your kindness knew no bounds.”

His skin began to flake, a gasp rising from his throat as he held on for dear life, cold hands grasping his lover.

“I never knew love until I met you, and I hope if there is another life after this, we may reunite and continue where we left off, My Treasure.”

A tear fell down his pale cheek, heat radiating from him as he begins to fade into the ether. His head leans down to connect with Tav’s, eyes open, looking into theirs as the last thing he wanted to see before he truly disappears, is the first thing he noticed about Tav. Their eyes.

“See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

The red is gone and now replaced by the view of an empty chair, Tav now sat alone as the sunrise graced their wrinkled skin, but nothing could ever replace the warmth of Astarion. Nothing.

A week later, Tav’s body was discovered curled up on Astarion’s side of their shared bed, a small smile gracing their face, as if satisfied with their life, all the ups and downs, battles won and lost, blood shed and wounds patched up. All of it cultivated to a love that would transcend past their last breath.

Even a dead star can be made anew.

In another life.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x you #baldurs gate astarion #self indulgent angst #xreader #fanfiction

[lu-sn]

pete is an early riser. this irks vegas to no end, especially since he's needed twice the amount of sleep after getting shot and he's not very keen on doing that in a cold, desolate, pete-less bed. but pete is a creature of habit, accustomed to training at the crack of dawn from a young age, and he refuses to budge. "i need to stay in shape," he'll say apologetically as he tugs his wrist away from a clingy, cranky vegas. "i'm not about to let you get shot again."

vegas has many problems with this statement, starting with "i got myself shot, idiot," and ending with "you're not my bodyguard, so stop fucking acting like it," but somewhere in between he always ends up twisting the knife too deep, and pete will smile that strained, empty smile that vegas never wants to see again. so vegas has learned, with great difficulty, to let this fight lie.

besides, vegas has discovered a silver lining in all of this: post-workout pete is hungry.

he's sweaty and disheveled, too, if vegas can manage to lure pete to the kitchen before he wanders off to shower, and vegas has always liked him like that. so when vegas has the energy, he'll make tom luad muu from scratch with all of the trappings, slicing up pork blood and intestine and liver in the early light of dawn, leaving them to simmer and burble pleasantly on the stove. he'll pull out strips of chicken he left to marinate overnight (he loves feeding pete meat, he loves it), grill them over open flame, and the enticing scent of it will fill up the kitchen and the hallways beyond. it works like a charm; pete will stumble in nose-first, and the look of awe of his face will settle like contentment into vegas's bones.

and then vegas gets to watch pete steadily work his way through a ridiculous amount of food, humming with satisfaction and moaning in pleasure as he slurps up soup and tears through chunks of meat, licking traces of grease off the corners of his mouth, and something warm and heady will curl in the pit of vegas's stomach -- and he'll get hard. sometimes he'll do something about it, leaning over to taste the salty sweat on pete's neck and the lingering spice on pete's mouth; but most times he finds himself doing nothing but sitting in the intensity of his own love for pete, basking in the warmth of pete's delight, and thinking to himself, this must be what happiness feels like.

-

inspired partially by a convo with @fleet-off about vegas's passive horniness and partially by this bingqiu fic about making obscene sounds while eating. hehe

#on days when vegas doesn't have the energy he'll at least manage to whip up an omelet for pete #it will feel eerily like failure #but pete never seem to mind #kinnporsche #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #mine: notfic

[confused-wanderer]

How would Jason react, or even know about Bruce nearly killing the joker?

He doesn’t hear it from Damian, Dick nor Barbara. It’s only when a few years have passed and relations between Bruce and him slowly start cooling that he starts being able to return to the Manor more often without feeling pangs of guilt, longing, nostalgia and overall the Lazarus Pit screaming to be let out.

However, he isn’t dumb. Whenever he complains to Tim about how Tim’s been treated better and loved more than he was, he’s quick to notice how Tim’s jaw tenses, with fingers spastic as if they wanted to curl into fists. Nor does he miss what Tim whispers under his breath twenty minutes later.

If only you knew..

Bruce keeps trying to make amends, tries engaging with him face to face before a few bullets got the message across and he retreated. But Jason could still feel him waiting, hovering, for the signal to light up and let him know he was needed.

He could go to hell though.. Every single time he looked at Bruce he felt safe, followed by fierce anger burning through his veins. He hated that he felt at ease when Bruce entered. Hated that he almost fell back into their old banter. Hated that he missed him. Hated that he still trusted him.

Hated that he still loved him.

One night, after giving Bruce the cold shoulder the entire time and watching in satisfaction as Bruce’s shoulder slumped in defeat, he felt the sudden need to comfort him. He’s the batman, he chided himself. If he could get over your death, he can get over this.

Standing out on the balcony, he never spoke to the presence already there.

“Master Jason..”

“Hey Alfred, it’s pretty cold out you sure you’d be fine?”

“I’ve faced worse winters.”

Jason sighed. That old man always had an air of expectancy around him, just like when he was robin, like a mother waiting for their child to tell them what they did wrong.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what the bloody hell you think you’re doing?”

That caught Jason’s attention. Hatred and stoic ness quickly melted and all he could do was stare at him in shock.

“Why are you tormenting him?”

“Are you fucking kidding me??-“ “Language master Jason.”

“Alfred. You were there.”

“There was nothing master Bruce could do to save you-”

“I DONT CARE ABOUT THAT ALFRED! He-“

Shoulders slumped, he looked down.

“He replaced me.” Jason whispered. “He didn’t even wait till my body was cold he just fucking went ahead and replaced me. Even after knowing I died, he still put another child in that suit, MY suit! And then, HE DIDNT EVEN AVENGE ME!! He just took Joker back to Arkham, which is basically just like a vacation for him, and LEFT. After all these-”

A shivering cold current of electricity ran through his body and he could feel the Lazarus Pit rising, making his body grow colder by the second.

“After all this time.. he never did anything.” Jason muttered. “So yeah, not only was knowing I was dead for four years a slap to the face.. but to come back home to find another kid in my room and business as usual? As if I never existed? That just made me realise I didn’t matter.”

CLINK

The tea cup in Alfred’s hands was shaking, and a wave of concern overtook Jason. He was about to reach a hand out to steady it when Alfred put the cup down, sighed and looked at the moon.

“Master Bruce never gave Robin to Tim. I did.”

“.. Come again?”

“I gave it to him myself. After you died.. he was a shell of himself. He started pushing himself more, brutalising criminals to the point of hospitalisation. After you died.. a big part of him did too. He refused to be around people, friends, to be happy, to eat. He was punishing himself for your death by refusing to live. And I never forgot you either my boy.. Every night for months I stood by the windows, staying awake and looking outside..hoping to catch a glimpse of you. For the first time in my life I prayed for you to be beaten and bruised, but alive. Locked myself in your room, in your memories, as if standing over your bed was guarding you even in death..Master Bruce missed you so much he played tapes of your missions, just to hear your laugh.”

The older man shook his head and refused to look at him.

“He rejected Tim, but I couldn’t watch him destroy himself. I’d already lost one son..” Alfred paused, looking at Jason with such fondness and pain. “ I wasn’t going to lose another.”

A long pause lingered in the air, and Jason could hear his heart racing as it processed what he’d heard.

“As for Joker,” Jason looked up, and saw the most terrifying scowl he’d ever seen before, with eyes filled with hatred and a craving for retribution.

“Jason Bruce almost killed him too. Like you said, I was there. I was always there. He had chas- hunted Joker down, torturing him slowly and violently until the air was thick with his screams. How every bone was shattered, with so much blood you couldn’t even tell the tiles underneath were white.”

Alfred closed his eyes, and Jason couldn’t help feel that though he was remembering the scene, he was also reveling in it. “His body shattered, smile gone replaced with pain and the howls of misery that he emitted that night.. alas-”

“He didn’t kill him.”

Alfred’s eyes bore into his, and reflected the darkness of the shimmering sky.

“You’re not hearing me. He damn well nearly did. There are things worse than death in this world and Bruce made sure to make Joker feel every single.one. But Superman.. heard him. He heard the roars of fury and grief, and stopped him. All while Bruce stood over the broken body of what once was human. All while muttering your name over and over again, like it was a prayer that kept him grounded. With every hit he took, with every ounce of pain he delivered, he did it with your name on his lips.”

They both just stood there.. shadows in fading moonlight as the noises of life started waking the world with their song.

“Unfortunately, his voice was recorded on one of those surveillance cameras. Tim wiped it, but we kept one copy.. and though the footage is corrupted, the sound is crystal clear.”

Alfred hesitated, before gently cupping Jason’s hands and placing a cold weight on them.

“I hope you never hear it..my boy. I’d rather you burnt it. But if you want to hear the raw truth.. I wanted you to have proof.”

Sunlight burst through the horizon, and with it came the dawn of a new time.

Jason heard the tape as soon as he left.

And burnt it right after.

Alfred was right.

All he had heard were the guttural cries of a broken man..

A father, grieving for his son.

Jason finding out Dick killed joker post:

#dick grayson #batfam #batfamily #batman #jason todd angst #jason todd robin #batman angst #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #red hood angst #badass Alfred pennyworth

[nolovelingers]

NOT TOO CLOSE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ethan landry !!

⋆ ★ you remember the first night you met. the shared lingered feeling of a message you couldn’t quite decipher, something telling you all signs were red and pointing in the opposite direction; away from him. it’s too bad, you always had a thing for pretty boys. — short blurb !!

cw ᝰ.ᐟ sfw ,, ghostface!ethan ,, mentions of alcohol ,, first meeting ,, fem!reader ,, swearing

PURPOSELY LOWERCASE 🎧 &&. written on iphone , sorry if the formats funky !

——————————————————————————

maybe it was the way the lights were strobing, the haze of the chattering college students lost in their own conversations; the smell of cheep booze and the familiar tinge of marijuana finding its way to your nose and leaving you with a twisted knot in your stomach, the effects of the own alcohol you previously consumed somehow contrasting itself by both numbing half your senses and heightening your other ones.

in the eyes of blackmore university, there was never a holiday too small nor an event too hyped to not celebrate in everyone’s own little way; a halloween party suited for what felt like a small village as you navigated the house packed of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, students laughing and socializing their way through their own buzzes.

not ethan.

clinging onto his roommates side, chad almost wanted to be annoyed by the way ethan couldn’t bare to branch himself off and meet new people but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so as a feeling often described as pity clouded his intoxicated senses.

“dude, we gotta get you a girlfriend.” chad joked (but not really), feet firmly planting on the ground next to the curly haired boy who leaned himself on the doorframe in front of the stairs; the two observing the party in their own little world.

chad wanted to meet new faces. ethan did not.

ethan rolled his eyes, clutching his red solo cup closer to him as a look contorted on his face that of annoyance and disgust before quickly letting his features fall flat and conjure a forced one, embarrassment.

“if it’s that much of a bother to you, you can go talk to some girls. ill just stay here.” he mumbled, looking like a child who just got rejected from buying a toy from their parent. deep down in the pits of his twisted heart he hoped chad would opt out of leaving, not wanting to appear like a loser as he stood alone and drank his embarrassment away.

“really? thanks bro, i was hoping to score some digits tonight.” chad smiled gratefully, already trying to turn away and leave the second ethan gave him his own sort of permission.

“what?! come on, dont leave me here by myself. i look stupid.” immediately ethan felt his heart drop of the idea being seen standing alone at a party, and no matter how much he had disdain to his so called ‘friends’, no matter how badly he wished nothing more than to see chads face as he plunged a knife sharp enough to cut through metal like cheese through his body; to see the life leaving his eyes and the wound oozing that beautiful crimson red color ethan couldn’t seem to get enough of, the last thing he wanted was to look awkwarder than he already was perceived to be.

“you just said i could go!” the dark-skinned boy argued, turning back around to face the taller brunette who gave him the most panicked look in return.

“yeah, cause i was hoping youd say no!”

“how does that make any sense?! if you didn’t want me to leave, just say that!”

ethans face turned into a bit of a pouting look as he silently pleaded for the martin boy to stay by his side.

“look, why don’t you just come with me? i don’t understand what you’re so freaked out about.” chad bargained with ethan who in turn immediately shook his head, planting his feet in the position they were in.

“nope, no way. girls are scary!” ethan spoke in a whiny tone, pausing for a moment before bringing his cup up to his lips and taking a swing of the hard hitting beverage, a stinging in his throat lasting for about a minute as he continued conversing with chad.

“and that’s exactly why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” the shorter boy witted back, causing ethans face to quickly form into what looked to be shock and hurt masking the actual feeling of anger he felt. joke or not, ethan was actually a very hot tempered boy who could get offended quite easily; not that anyone knew that.

the martin boy sighed and decided to rest a reassuring hand on the brown eyed boys shoulder, observing his face which was slightly shaded from the cardboard robot helmet he was wearing, probably another reason ethan was hardly getting any female attention. his costume.

“listen man, stand here and mope all you want, the whole part of a party is to meet people and have fun. i get your shy and you got that whole loner gimmick going on but i don’t want that to stop me from getting my chad on! ill be back here to meet up with you in an hour, maybe try meeting someone new, doesnt even have to be a girl at this point. just.. try, okay?”

chad offered ethan a sympathetic look which only made ethan cringe more before he removed his hand from his shoulder and took off to a group of dancing girls, smoothly sliding in and sparking up conversation almost immediately. how ethan envied that.

letting out an internal (and slightly external) groan, ethan brought his cup up to his lips once again and finished the rest of his drink, keeping his eyes trained on chad who was already talking and laughing with a group of students; entirely girls, that ethan shared a class with.

for almost a minute he didn’t move, suffering in silence and shooting a death glare at chad hidden under the dim lighting of the house. honestly? ethan couldn’t wait to kill him.

he felt isolated. watching everyone mingle and dance with their friends, lovers, and even strangers. he had no other solution than to to drink away his embarrassment, he thought, as he turned around to make his way to the kitchen where the alcohol was, taking one step forward and immediately running into someone shorter than him; their own drink splashing all over the both of them, wetting his cardboard chest piece and their outfit too.

“ah shit- fuck, im sorry about that, seriously.” he’s met with a small voice, not quiet but not extremely loud, gentle enough so that if you want to be able to hear it properly you’d have to tune the blasting music out and focus entirely on them.

jesus fucking christ, give me a break already! ethan thought to himself, annoyance brimming through his entire body as he glanced to the now darker and wet spots of his cardboard chestpiece before finally looking down and at the person who bumped into him, a girl.

“accidents happen, don’t worry about it.” he forced out, trying for the death of him not to want to reach out and strangle you right there; his face was met with an awkward half smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. despite his anger, he was able to take the time to notice that your face wasn’t half-bad to look at.

he continued to stare at you for a moment, waiting for you to say something, maybe to apologize again? to stumble out some stupid excuse? pathetically flirt? well, not that he’d really mind that last part if he was being honest. he liked the idea of having a girl liking him, but he was terrible at initiating anything.

“you all good? you’re not gonna malfunction on me or anything?” you joked, the both of you internally cringing just a bit at the awkwardness but it seemed to calm ethan from his current state of mind as he met you with furrowed eyebrows and a unsure smile.

“oh, the costume.” he spoke, mostly to himself, while scratching the back of his head. “think ill be good.”

you nod, the fainted tinge of pink lighting up your cheeks and ethan studies you for a moment longer.

“are you new? i haven’t seen you on campus before.” curiously, the brunette boy watches your face for a reaction, taking note of your every move while under his watch.

“sorta. i mean, if you consider three months to be new. i transferred here a while ago, it’s always been my dream to move to new york so once i saved up some money i chased my dreams.” you explain, and ethan nods, finally allowing a boyish smile to consume his features. for the most part it was forced, continuing to hold up his friendly image.

he doesn’t have to reply before you hop to the next subject, this time you’re asking the question.

“aren’t you chads roommate?”

“yeah, im ethan. ethan landry. nice to meet you..?” he holds his hand out for a handshake, trailing off the edge of his sentence as he waits for you to finish.

“(y/n). nice to meet you, ethan ethan.” you accept the short handshake, gently shaking hands and noticing the unreasonable strength and grip to his hold that didn’t seem the match the innocent, and dare you say weak look written all over his face while making a bad joke about his name from his introduction that still seems to score a smile from him; and ethan couldn’t help but notice the fact he didn’t have to force this one on his face. it came naturally.

“(y/n),” he repeated, as if trying your name out for himself. he smiled a little, that same shy nerdy facade written all over his face. “you got a last name?”

“does it matter?”

“i- guess not?” he looked a bit caught off guard but there was no actual hostility or mystery in your voice, just some sass. you were honestly entertaining.

“so why’re you standing here all alone?” you switch topics again, which ethan took note of. your mind seemed to wonder fast, moving from one thing to the next with no hesitation.

“ah, it’s kinda embarrassing.” the boy admitted, a small warm blush coating his pale complexion as he found himself not wanting to tell you the real reason why. wait- a blush? no, that couldn’t be right. he must just be feeling hot. all the alcohol was effecting him, or something. “i don’t really know a lot of people here, so i was just hanging out with chad till he left me to go talk to some girls.”

“ah, a typical chad move. literally and figuratively.” you nod, feeling yourself start to relax your body language more around the curly haired brunette the longer you were near him.

he chuckled, looking at you with those sweet chocolate brown eyes of his that gave you the most heartwarming feeling. “you’re kinda funny.” he tries to compliment, smiling now, a more natural grin than the ones he offered you originally. though it could be taken as a compliment or an insult, his tone genuinely sounded sincere, like he had no bad intentions. he was just an awkward guy who had no idea how to socialize or talk to the pretty girl in front of him pretty girls.

“i kinda thank you?” you respond, definitely confused on how to take in his comment.

he smiled awkwardly at you and seemed to look as if he was hiding his face as he glanced to the floor. “sorry,” he mumbled, and you felt your heart twinge as he resembled that of a hurt puppy.

“you’re good. i appreciate the sentiment.” reassuring him, he glanced back up at you with a crooked toothless smile, feeling his guard come down all around him. he had no idea why he was feeling this way, or why it felt so easy to talk to you.

there was a moment where silence fell between the two of you, staring deeply into your eyes he looked like he wanted to say something, an internal struggle of conflict in his mind while you simply watched in utter bliss and oblivion to the situation.

“i guess i should get going, i have to find my friend before they run off with some stranger they just met to hook up with. ill see you around though?” you offer him politely, and ethan felt a strange hollowness in his heart at the idea of you leaving him, but he pushed those feelings back and nodded anyway.

you’re about to turn around, start the search for your your friend in the mass of drunken college students, and you make it about five whole feet away before a voice calls your name. ethans voice.

“hey, (y/n)?” you turn around, meeting his eyes again. there’s something in them this time. it’s noticeable now as he locks eyes without you. something a bit sinister about the way he holds your gaze and his stance now looks like he’s taking over the whole room, confident but dark all the same.

“yeah?” you ask. you definitely notice the way his eyes have lost all emotion except one: danger. but this is ethan, ethans a nice boy. it must be the dim lighting and the short yet further distance between the two of you than it previously was.

“don’t get too close to me.” he warns you, and you feel a strange feeling crawl up your spine. the way he looks at you while he says it. the way his tone has completely voided from the sweet voice you were speaking to before and the aura all around him that now screams danger.

you don’t know what to do, unsure of what to say. maybe he was joking, maybe he was drunk, or maybe he really just didn’t want your companionship.

all you can do is awkwardly smile. “ill see you around, ethan.” and with that, you walk away from him, searching the packed house for your friend and forgetting about the short yet easy-going (up until the end) conversation you held with the landry boy.

and though you’ve pushed your interaction to the back of your head, ethans eyes never once leaves the back of yours.

𓂃  ࣪   ˖ 𖦹 a/n :: the most unrealistic part of scream vi is that ethans a virgin

started 08.04.23. finished 08.04.23.

(о´∀`о)

©️nolovelingers 2023

#𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ／ ⋆ ۪ NOLOVE FILEZ #fanfic #ethan #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ghostface #scream #scream 6 #scream six #scream vi #ghostface x reader #ethan kirsch #ethan kirsch x reader #x reader #scream franchise #first meeting #yandere #tara carpenter #samantha carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #mindy x anika #dark!ethan landry #first fanfic #pls no hate #i tired guys #i haven’t written in so long #drinking

[amyriadofleaves]

outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter three

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

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ao3 : wattpad  ˚　.˚　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader ⌗ warnings : not rly ⌗ word count: 4.4k

You arrive at the Palais a little shy before sunrise. Every step you take is light as your thoughts are consumed with the necessity of signing paperwork before your meeting with Clorinde, and your fatigue suddenly becomes the least of your worries. Your steps speed in a flurry of excitement of the events of today (you are so excited, even, that the whole marriage debacle flies over your head — but you are acutely aware of the uneasiness that brews at the very pit of your stomach). 

Oh, you haven’t felt so happy since you were a meek, frail little excuse of a lawyer, excited for your first day at work. You even wave at everyone present in Palais Mermonia, and smile widely upon seeing Sedene, to which she regards with a questioning look. She scratches her head while she’s at it, almost calculating what she should, and should not say. She decides she will be in your good graces today.

“Why aren’t you early today!”

You sniff, wiping your eyes. “Well, it’s not like I could get any sleep, really — I was as awake as an owl the whole night!” Before Sedene can get a word out, you interject enthusiastically, before taking a sip of your coffee: “You know what they say: early bird catches the worm!”

The Melusine’s expression turns stoic, and almost playful. “Are you merely saying this to hide the reality that you're having trouble sleeping because of the marital arrangement?”

Gracelessly (like there was any graceful alternative), you spit out your drink. Ah, so that was what all the uneasiness was about. The events of last night were a blur, but you briefly recall the bitter taste of alcohol on your tongue and a creeping headache blooming — but what was fun without its consequences? A few painkillers and your day would go on without a hitch. Instead of wallowing in self-pity for too long, you beg a question: “Erm, Sedene? Who told you this?”

To your dismay, her face lights up. “Oh. My. God. So it is true! You are to be my aunt! You are marrying the Chief Justice of Fontaine—” Before she is given the opportunity to say another word, you kneel down to muffle her words with the palm of your hand, hastily looking around to see if anyone had heard her.

“I repeat myself, who told you that?”

She replies in earnest, and you cannot help but feel your heart thawing again. Melusines are infuriatingly adorable, and in turn they are your weakness; You cannot, no matter how hard you try, feel even the slightest bit of resentment for their gullible behaviour. In response to your question, she points to the other Melusine, her head in a book, at the end of the hallway. “Kiara told me so — says that she and Liath were hiding behind the Chief Justice’s couch listening in to the ‘arrangement’.” Sedene brings both of her hands to her shoulders and air quotes the word ‘arrangement'. How cute.

So that accounted for the strange movement behind one of the couches. You crack a smile at the notion that Sedene wouldn't have heard the end of it for so readily spilling such a secret if this was some parallel universe where she and the others were simply humans instead.

Another one’s elation is another’s despair, however, and you lament ever choosing to stay in this hell of a place. “If you keep going on like this I’m going to have to find another post to work at before all my secrets get exposed, Sedene. Well — if you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to.” You give her a pained smile, and ignore the crack of your knees as you begin to stand up. How unfit I am, you curse.

___

Letting your forehead thud against the desk, you bear the weight of boredom and exhaustion settling in the dull ache echoing through your office. You tell yourself that there is only an hour before you can leave to meet your soulmate from a land far, far, away. Clorinde, what a girl she is, so hard headed yet so sensitive all the same. Laughing at this sentiment, you shake your head before dipping your quill in the pot of ink before signing more papers. 

“Pipe leakage… recent case solved…” you read to yourself, humming lightly in the chill of your office. You smirk at the lack of any papers regarding the marriage and wish deeply that what she said was just, purely in jest.  

You eye the two stacks that sit on both sides of your desk with pride: the proportion of signed and to-be-signed papers were in your favour, and you flick through the unfinished stack and find your fingers coming empty handed faster than usual.

The dread you felt this morning settles in once again, and you scrunch your nose in distaste. You pray that Lady Furina has forgotten about the whole proposal, and instead has thought of a better, more rational method of addressing her defamation. Though you find her indisputably repulsive, you clasp your hands together in prayer that she would pity a mere mortal like you and save you the trouble. You omit Monsieur Neuvillette out of the equation since you doubt he quite fits into the bill of a ‘mere mortal’.  People were of the general opinion that he was not quite human. After all, what kind of person is able to live that long? You set the thought aside, and realise your work here is done. Early weekend it is! 

You stand from your seat and make your way to the door to leave — but your pace hiccups at the sound of distinct metal clad boots echoing through the Palais. Who it is is unmistakable. This, you know absolutely. Back to the door, you anticipate the dulling of his steps with great anxiety. You hold your satchel tightly to your chest like a lifeline, not daring to breathe.

It feels like centuries before the footsteps cease, and you take this as your call to leave before anyone can question your early departure. You gulp nervously gingerly twist the knob to your door.

The worst time your intuition can fail you is now, and it does, matter of factly, fail you.

There the Chief Justice stands, just right outside your office, fist hovering where it would’ve knocked on the door had you not opened it mere seconds before he decided to do so. It would be a lie to say you aren’t stunned, and you hope to god he doesn’t notice the surprise that comes to flicker over your face.

He brings his arm down to rest right by his hip, and gives you a tightlipped smile. “Here I was thinking you left already.”

You take in the neater braid he now wears as opposed to the hairdo he sported yesterday, and you do not know what to do but gesture to it lamely. “I presume the Melusines made short work of… whatever style you’re rocking today.” In an awkward attempt to make yourself loosen up, you lean stiffly on the doorframe. What is wrong with me? Who in the hell says ‘rocking’? Am I stupid or am I stupid?

“Why yes, I am very proud of the final product indeed. What ever shall I do without them?” He seems to think deeply at the possibility, and his expression sours a little, like that of a dejected puppy.

You titter slightly. How dense can this man be? “Surely, you’re aware that I'm joking?”

Neuvillette, in fact, is not aware of this. Quite frankly, he is confused at your change in mood, the what seemed to be a perpetual frown on your face turned upside down for once. “Yes, I am aware. Do not worry.” He is confused at himself, too. Since when was he one for white lies?

Clearing your throat, you look him in the eye. “So… what brings you to my office?”

“I presume it would be best to bring this matter inside, if that is alright with you?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You notice that he is as tense as ever, and so you offer him a seat.

As he settles into the cosy confines of your office, he finds himself surprisingly at ease. Surveying the artwork adorning the walls and the cherished photographs adorning the shelves, he detects a distinctly human touch. One image, in particular, catches his eye: a photograph featuring you and your mother. He eyes it for a while, picking out the features that he finds similar between your mother and yourself. What a striking resemblance, he thinks. 

Crossing your arms, you shake your head a little. “I am sorry monsieur, but my schedule is kind of tight today so I’m gonna need you to jump straight to the point.” You slightly wince at the sharpness of your tone, but the man sat in front of you does not seem to acknowledge this whatsoever.

“Ah, yes — I am sorry. And please, just call me Neuvillette. We are to be wed after all.”

If you still had any of the coffee you drank earlier in your mouth, you would have soiled the Chief Justice's robe!  You thank yourself that it happened with Sedene instead of Neuvillette. Not that it was any better with Sedene, but...

You try your very best to hide your clammy hands underneath the desk. “And… where’s the confirmation? I haven’t heard from Lady Furina since…”

Neuvillette itches the back of his neck with a sort of expression you associate with the likes of something unpleasant. This is certainly a first. A flustered Neuvillette? “You see, that was what I was to discuss with you.” 

You gulp as he hands you a stapled contract and ignore the flutter in your chest when your hands graze for a second. Despite his previous affirmation to your suspicions, you still persist to deny that this has nothing to do with the proposal. 

You are terribly wrong. Lady Furina hasn’t forgotten. Before taking a look at the paper, you brace yourself for the inevitable.

Matrimonial Accord: This contract is entered into on this by [13/09/XX] and between [17/09/XX]:

Party A: [Chief Justice Neuvillette]  and  Party B: [(Name)]

Whereas, both parties agree to enter into a simulated matrimonial union for mutual benefit; 

Now, therefore, in consideration of the covenants and promises contained herein, the parties agree as follows:

I will definitely find a way to rectify the mistakes of Poisson, so you sly woman — you know who you are — do not berate me so!

You quirk a brow. Peering closer at the paper, you notice that this sentence was penned in between the lines; you come to realise that there is a jarring difference in the handwriting, and realise that it is Furina’s doing. 

Terms and Conditions:

Duration: The ‘marriage’  shall be in effect for a period of six months from the effective date unless terminated earlier by mutual agreement.

Public Appearances: Both parties shall make appearances as a newlywed couple at designated events, including but not limited to diplomatic receptions, state dinners, The Opera Epiclese, and similar functions.

Acts of Public Affection: The parties agree to engage in acts of public affection as deemed necessary and encouraged to maintain the appearance of a genuine marital relationship.

Proposal: A grand and dramatic proposal event shall be staged, adhering to agreed-upon guidelines.

Publicity: Parties acknowledge and accept that the faux marriage is intended for public perception, and both parties shall cooperate in presenting a united front to the public.

Termination:

Either party may terminate this agreement with written notice to the other party if there is a breach of any provision herein or for any reason mutually agreed upon.

Governing Law:

This Agreement shall be governed by and construed in accordance with the laws of Fontaine.

In witness whereof, the two parties hereto have executed this Matrimonial Accord as of the Effective Date. Remember to not be surprised at the publicity; it is the whole point after all — my name shall be cleared!

               SIGNED             

[Chief Justice Neuvillette]  [Date]

_________________________

[(Name)]  [Date]

Abruptly, you look up at the Iudex and notice him staring at you with intent. You hold it unwaveringly, and note that it is as if he’s looking through you rather than at you. “She barely contributed to writing this, did she?”

Neuvillette straightens his frame, seemingly rehearsing what he ought to say, lest something were to come off wrongly and this whole contract be damned. He coughs into his fist. “The first and original copy was… something of no merit, demoiselle. This was the most I could do to mitigate the foolishness of her terms, forgive me if they are still not in your favour.”

You shut your eyes in denial, pinching your wrist to hang onto one sliver of hope, that maybe ─ just maybe — this was a dream. 

You toss the contract curtly onto the desk that separates the two of you. “In my favour it is not, monsieur. I do not wish to sign this.” You flat out decline, dispelling any arguments you know are to be posed if you had elaborated any further.

Neuvillette’s look wavers, and he slightly wilts at your adamance to keep formalities — but he chooses to make no fuss of this just yet. “But you must. Please, this is for your sake.” He fully expected this, yes, but to be flat out rejected with no room for discussion shook him greatly.

You shoot a hand up in the air in exasperation. “Is this for my sake or Furina’s sake? Hm? I just — I can’t do it. I know, I know six months is not long. But to keep up an act — let alone pretend like I’m in love — it’s just too taxing and I know I won’t be able to do it.” You shoot a hand up in the air in exasperation.

The Iudex prepares himself to say what he never expected to in all the years he’s been alive. Do not fret, madame, for it is not your solitary responsibility. I must admit, it's a situation I hadn't anticipated, and I, too, am thrust into it. There's an undeniable obligation on my part, and, well, it's an unexpected predicament for both of us.

This does not do much to shake your resolve.

His eyes plead for you to listen, and you swear on your life that this is the most distressed you've ever seen him. “Lady Furina will surely see to it that you face some semblance of punishment. And madame, I clarify that I have, indeed, tried to convince her otherwise — but she has not relented —”

The steeling glare you shoot him is enough to cease his tangent — but defeated as he is, he still manages one last plea. “Please, kindly take it into consideration.”

Biting your lip, you weigh the infinite possibilities that lie in the palms of your hands. It is strictly only six months, the marriage isn’t even real, you advise yourself, ignoring the other gnawing voice that is screaming at you to say no. But there has to be a catch! another voice insists, and you are stuck in a limbo of yeses and noes for what seemed a little too long for comfort. 

This is a pivotal moment for yourself and your career. It will undoubtedly either embarrass you or elevate your status in the eyes of those who are waiting with bated breath for any error to take advantage of. Not that this is anything new; you recall vividly the expressions of scepticism from those who sat before you at the Opera Epiclese, questioning the veracity of your judgement — your privileged, yet tainted background a harbinger for disaster.

Dragging the contract back to your end of the desk, you give it a brief once-over. This time, your eyes catch onto the lack of conditions set by Lady Furina. How incompetent, whether you are scolding her or yourself, you are unsure. 

You draw in a long inhale, and level your eyes to his. “I’ll do it.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and he lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’ve come to agree with the terms.” You are slightly irked at the breaking of his character, but nod your head nonetheless. You reach for your quill, and your hand hesitates before the ink soaks through the paper. Your heart is practically in your throat at how spontaneous all of this is. 

You hand the contract to Neuvillette, but the paper is suspended in your grasp for a few moments. “However — I have a request to make.”

Neuvillette’s eyes glint in the blooming sunlight peeking through the blinds. “Anything.”

You retract your arm, and now are in full possession of the contract again. You present the first page, the page offered to Neuvillette, poised in your hands. “This contract mentions nothing of the lines we can, and cannot cross. And I’d just like to input my ideas before you return this to Lady Furina.”

“That is a reasonable request. Do continue.” Offering him a quill, he takes it gingerly along with the contract. He flips the page, writing something along the lines of ‘additions to…’ under the signatures. You fully expect him to be calm and collected, but a wrinkle forms between your brows when you notice that his fingers exhibit a subtle quiver, akin to the gentle tremor of a leaf in a soft breeze. A faint falter anyone could miss, yet you find it to be the most profound aspect of his character, peculiarly intimate in its nature.

“Are you alright? You’re a touch too pale.”

What? Were you really as ghastly as he said you were? You clear your throat, tearing your focus off his gloved hands. “I am quite alright. So… onto the terms. First and foremost, each party isn’t obliged to the whereabouts of the opposite party, unless consented to. Sounds good?”

He nods his head, not sparing a glance at you lest he loses focus. 

You take the ceasing of him writing as a sign for you to continue. “Next, I’d like to request that any advancements behind closed doors are to be prohibited, alongside any insinuation of consummation — or having one’s way with the other. Might I add that —” you pause at the silence that came with the lack of the intent scribbling of a quill pen from the man in front of you. Were you talking too fast? He is all red in the face.

“I — uh, did I say something sensitive?”

He lets out a little cough, before he breaks out into a fit. You are clueless in what you must do. Is he choking? Is he sick? Should you offer him freshly acquired water from Chenyu Vale? Your panic only ensues when it dawns on you that you have no solutions for all the possibilities that echo through your head. A teacup is sat solitary on one of your books. Oh, right. You have a crazy collection of Fonta.

You reach for it, before reluctantly offering it to him. “Would you like some Fonta? Though, it might be a few days old, I’m afraid.” He frantically waves his free hand, and you think he means no. Gosh, does he not like Fonta? That is very unlike the Fontainian character. Retracting yourself back into your seat, you can only wait until he stops his fit. To your luck, he stops before he actually stops breathing.

“I,” he starts, “do not think the consummation part is at all —” he sputters again. “— necessary.”

You smile a little, and look away to save him the embarrassment. “I repeat that I did say ‘insinuation’: this pertains to all external parties involved; for example, Lady Furina.”

Oh. My apologies for the oversight. Just — spare me a moment. After clearing his throat into his forearm, he continues to scrawl on the paper. 

Taking pity on him, you decide to help and extend your hand to finish the last conditions. The look on his face tells you he is rather bewildered at the action, and he waves a hand (calmly this time) to refuse your help. “It is quite alright.”

To keep yourself from disclosing the full extent of your reason, you make the decision to tell a lie. “Do not take this into offence — it’s not that you’re a slow writer, monsieur. I just have a meeting with Miss Clorinde in about half an hour and I think it’d be best if I write the conditions to quicken the pace a little.” While the ‘truth’ isn’t necessarily a lie, it is nonetheless effective, so why not utilise it?

He quietly relents, handing you the slightly crumpled piece of paper. You scan his words, and to your astonishment, his penmanship is still precise and tidy, a stark contrast to the fit he showed just seconds ago.

Except for the last few words he wrote, of course. You strike through the whole sentence and rewrite it properly.

Additional Terms to the Contract that all parties (including external ones) are expected to adhere to:

Romantic advancements behind closed doors are prohibited — and this includes:

Any insinuation of consummation.

Covert displays of affection beyond reasonable social boundaries.

Innuendos or suggestive remarks.

Excessive or prolonged physical contact behind closed doors.

Each party isn’t obliged to the whereabouts of the opposite party, unless consented to.

These guidelines are to be strictly followed for the duration of the agreed-upon contract.

Placing the contract onto the table, you push it slightly forwards. Your heart beats in a crescendo, and you almost berate yourself for selling your life away. Six months! it said; but the silence that hangs between the both of you is knowing. No one is going to forget. You are, for lack of a better word: imprisoned. Every solution is an illusion of sanctuary and this is the one that grants the most mercy. 

You are parched. The words that come out of your mouth are awfully feeble, and you can only manage to croak out whatever dignity you have left.“Now, monsieur, if you’ll excuse me. I have something I need to attend to.”

He nods his head and stands from his seat. “But of course.”

You both exit your office in unpleasant silence. 

Finally, after all that back and forth, Neuvillette finally accepts the contract, and bows before returning to his own office. In his absence, you swear you feel your eyes water a little. What exactly have you just gotten yourself into? This sends you reeling to when you were a child, thrown into fencing classes with people twice your age — except the intensity of it all is multiplied tenfold. 

It is times like this where you want to reach for your mother. You miss her terribly, and you wish to do anything to feel her warm embrace and to hear her whisper words of reassurance to convince you that everything was alright. 

“And of what of Father’s tenderness? Is that not proof that he loves you?”

“But my dearest, tenderness is the very proof you have been ruined.”

You blink, and the tear that had pooled falls and is caught by the apple of your cheek. You chew on your lip to prevent a quiver from it. Not here, you chastise yourself.

Hearing someone approach, you hasten your stride while wiping the tear with such aggression you feel your makeup smear and linger on the base of your wrist. The Gardes that stand by the doors regard you with indifference, and for the first time, you appreciate that they pay you no mind. One step outside and you curse under your breath at how today is awfully gloomy, a pitiful beam of light peeking through the clouds. A gust of wind curls through your hair, painting your cheeks with the cool droplets of imminent rain. Blasted Hydro Dragon.

You decide to steal a glance at whomever it is that is behind you and almost let out a whine. Why is it always him? Whether it is a figment of your imagination, he seems to slow when he sees you slightly turn to him. You, however, feign ignorance, turning your head away, yet a small part of you harbours a minute hope – the hope that he might choose to fall into step beside you. And indeed, he does.

His next move is abrupt, albeit a bit awkward. “Allow me to accompany you to your destination. My schedule for today is quite unoccupied, and, well, I was thinking it might be an opportune moment for us to engage in some conversation. If that is fine with you, of course.” The offer lingers in the air, awaiting your response.

His request blurs into the backdrop as you catch the glare of multiple cameras gleaming at the both of you outside the Palais. Foolish you are not, and you come to the grim understanding that they are waiting here for you. Of course, the Chief Justice is the primary priority; you are simply his paramour .

How convoluted could all of this be? You've seen a plethora of operas. This is not any more different. You take a glance at Neuvillette, but he is gazing ahead, his expression inscrutable.

A contemplative look floods through your eyes, and you are given an instant to make a spontaneous decision. The intricate dance of human emotions, the thirst for scandal, the insatiable appetite for drama — they claw at anything if it means it will quench their foolish desires. They're looking for bravado. Drama. With everything in them, they yearn for it. It is merely human hubris, an inexorable sin. Lady Furina wants an act? You’ll have her beg for more.

You whirl around to properly face him and smile. “Why, I’d be most delighted, mon chéri.” You relish in his widened eyes as your hands shakily reach for the hem of his collar, and you adjust it just enough to ruffle the fabric of his blouse.  Looking at him with all the tenderness you can muster, you place a palm to his chest and another to your side, and still, he is nothing short of hopeless. So, you decide to help him a little; would it hurt to give them a little more of a show?

Guiding him further into the act, the heels of your feet are lifted off the ground, and you wrap your arms around his neck to gently press your lips to his ear. “Act,” is the single word you whisper to him; a command — a curse —  before you pull away, grinning cruelly as the cameras flare.

a/n : TEEHEE I wanna kiss him sb its not funny anymroewse

taglist : @sek0ya

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact #neuvillette fanfic #enemies to lovers #marriage of convenience #neuvillette genshin #lolololofwl I WANt him

[eclipse-rain]

Fwel Tsaheylu (Broken Bond)

Reader is part of the Sully family

Lo'ak's younger twin and eldest daughter

This is my first post and first time writing one of these so please be nice ♡

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Masterlist~

The light of the stars shone down onto pandora far below them. The bioluminecent plants glowed many diffrent colors in the darkness of eclipse. The leaves shiffted, moving lightly with the small wind that blew through them. It blew upwind, a crucial piece of knowledge for any hunter to know. Couldn't have your hunt being able to smell you before you caught it. Any movement out of place would lose you your catch. Stay still, stay quiet, make as little movement as possible when you notch your bow in your arrow. Place the bow, pull back, make sure your in the right position, exhale, keep an eye on your target, aim, release. And try not to miss.

Like i just did.

Startled, the animal quickly ran away from the arrow that shot past it.

"That was so off" i whispered to myself, i was glad none of my siblings were around to make fun of me for missing the most simple shot. I was too caught up in my own thoughts. I came out to hunt at night to clear my head when i couldnt sleep and ended up being caught up enough in my own thoughts that i didnt even hit it at all.

It had become some what of a normality for me at this stage, the sneaking out of the village, sneaking out of my hammock where i would sleep near my family at night. At least i had my own hammock when i used to have to sleep with my parents and siblings. Sometimes i needed more time to myself, to sort through my thoughts without interruption and i couldnt do that while lying still as my family slept around me. My mind was far too active, my guard was still up, my tail still forced to silence at my side instead of being able to freely swish back and forth in annoyance or anger or any other emotion it portrayed that i couldnt show to my family without being questioned a hundred diffrent ways of what was wrong.

They ment well, i know they did but that didnt make it any less hard when they looked at you with pity, with anticipation or knowing. When they looked at you like they could see through your lies and into your soul. See through the barrier you put around yourself, that you used to keep people at a safe distance in hopes that that way it would hurt less if you let them down.

It would hurt less if they never had expectations for you at all in the first place but it was impossible for that to be the case with my family. Even if it wasnt the type of expectation that my eldest brother had to mold himself into or even the expectations that my second brother had tried to fit himself to while following in the footsteps of our eldest brother.

No,no. The expectations set out for me were probably the simplest and yet the most impossible thing for me to do. But i guess thats how everyones problems are. They may not seem like all that big of a deal to another person, mabey that person could even find an easy way through that problem. But your problem is a problem because it is tailored to fit you and only you exactly and that creates the feeling of isolation of lonleyness and despair.

Because then you feel like no one else would be able to understand, no one else would be able to help you through the problem so in the end you have to find the correct path on your own. Even if that means you feel those emotions and many more while you try to claw your way back out of that dark pit and back to the light. The problem with this is that while some can accomplish such a feat, many cannot. Even faced with that realisation many still chose to try, because thats all you can do until you can try no more.

"Ah..."

"I did it again..."

I mentally hit myself for zoning out once again. I figured that with my latest failure it was time to head back. I ran to retrieve my arrow from where it had landed a few meters away. It was in a very small clearing surrounded by trees with just a patch of grass in the center. A sudden memory came flooding back to me and i got sucked into my thoughts once more.

The memory of laughter, of comfort and happiness a memory i cherished and relished in but also with the passing years felt now somewhat bitter. We used to lie in this place, it was the only clearing in the forest where you could see the stars without them being covered by the thick foliage of the canopy of trees up above. Kiri and i used to come here almost every eclipse just before bedtime . We would lie in the grass and look up at the stars, take in their magnificence. Kiri would tell me about how she could feel the nature all around her, feel the life of the forest.

I slowly lowered myself down to the ground and onto my back to relish in the memory, the stars shone down onto the forest far below. And like it always does that memory that i cherish, the bit i can relish in ends and the bitterness comes creeping in. I loved spending that time with Kiri, we were closer to each other than to our older brothers when we were kids since she was the only other girl my age in the family. But the way she could feel the forest, feel it around her, feel its heartbeat and feel eywa, it couldnt help but make me feel like i was diffrent. It made me feel like an out cast, like an alien...like a human. I thought it was unfair and i'll admit i was even somewhat jealous of her connection to eywa. I still am. Even though i know thats something she struggles with and for that i cannot help but hate myself for being such a bad sister and bad person. Mabey i am more human than id like to admit, i heard theyre selfish and only think about themselves.

See i had and still have the complete oposite problem to Kiri. While she feels a great connection to eywa beyond even the normal na'vi peoples understanding, i barely feel a connection to eywa at all. This was something i learned gradually as i grew up, like when Kiri would talk about what she felt or when my parents, siblings and the other na'vi people could talk about what they felt regarding eywa so easily.

As i grew i gradually learned how i was diffrent from the others in my village, even in my own family. Nevermind having Kiris connecrion to eywa, i barely had the connection to be one of the people. Of course since i found this all out as i grew older and became more aware of what that would mean for me, i took precautions, you could say. I reclined back into myself and put up a wall.

And when my parents started to give me those looks of pity, anticipaton or knowing, like they could see into my soul, see that something was bothering me, that something was wrong. I learned to calm the swishing of my angered tail, stiffen the annoyed twitches of my ears, the anxious movements my body made. So that even they would not be able to see past my barrier and into my heart. So that they would not question as to why i was suddenly angry or annoyed or anxious. So that they would not find out the truth, so that they would never think of me as one of those demons, as my mother called them. One of the humans.

Instead of letting the bitterness envelop my heart completely i pulled myself back to reality and back to the stars. The one piece of this world that i truly do feel connected to. That i feel myself always being pulled towards instead of the forest like everyone else. Mabey thats why even after i stopped coming out at eclipse with Kiri to star gaze, hoping to completely close that part of myself off, i still could not help, even now, for my gaze to always seemingly be drawn upwards, towards the stars. Towards the sky.

My heart gradually recovered as it always does and as i always expect it to in the future. But that didnt last long. I brought myself up to rest on my arms so i could get a better look at what i was seeing. As if i couldnt believe my eyes, i stared dumbfounded at what i saw before me. A star that was shinning brighter than all the others.

No, a new star.

And all the na'vi people, even me, know that a new star can only mean one thing.

"Humans...!"

...

A new star ment a new war.

A war my parents hoped would never come. With their hopes dashed, preparations were made. A hunting party. A war party. With our parents leading it. The plan was to ambush a train that was transporting human suplies. My older brothers and i were also going along with them to observe from up above and keep look out.

Its not like we never had drills for the possibility of the humans returning. We were trained to hunt and to fight so that it was burned into our heads and bodies until it had become a reflex. We trained and trained until we went through our own right of passage to earn our place as a hunter and to earn our own ikran which the four of us had already gone through.

My eldest brother Neteyam was taught by our father. He strived to perfect his hunting skills and became a great hunter to the point that he could rival our parents in the near future.

My second brother and older twin Lo'ak followed in the footsteps of our older brother and had our father teach him how to use a bow and hunt. Although his desire to learn faded as quickly as it came in his finding that he was not as great as Neteyam in that area.

Kiri who was only a small bit younger than Lo'ak and i never wanted to become a hunter and join the hunting party and decided to remain at home and become a healer instead. She was taught by our grandmother, our Mothers mother and the former tsahik of our clan, Mo'at. With Grandmother as her mentor, for guidance, Kiri was steadily on her way to becoming a great healer.

Tuk followed lightly in the foot steps of each of us, observing, while trying to figure out what path she would take in the future.

I however always wanted to become a hunter like my older brothers who i admired since i was a kid. I was also the only one in the family who was taught to hunt by our mother. I guess it had something to do with me being the first born girl in the family. But even if i was not a natural at hunting or using a bow like Neteyam, i would not give up as easily as Lo'ak. My flame to learn would not burn out as quickly and was only stoked, sparking a bigger fire under my small wings.

I would practice and practice in secret until my fingers bled and scabbed and calloused over. So that i could make my mother proud when i was the only child she taught in the family. So that even if i wasnt the best, at least i wasnt the worst. So that i was at least average, i was normal. So that i could blend in, so that i didnt look like an outcast or an alien or a human like my mother and all the other Na'vi people hated.

We flew high in the air on our ikrans, weaving in and out of mountain tops and cliffs. Everyone was armed with weapons and donned in war paint. Our parents lead the attack up at the forefront. My father was armed with a gun, my mother with her fathers bow. They hollared and shouted to boost the moral of the others in the party.

My older brothers and i were higher up and more at the back of the party since we were only there to observe and not get in the way.

We came upon an elivated train track and the train carrying the suplies soon came into view at a fast speed. It was flanked with two aircrafts on either side, probably to protect it in case of an attack like what was about to unfold i thought. My father signaled to the war party on the ground and soon after the track right in front of the train exploded. The train was sent flying and broke into multiple sections, turning over in mid air. It exploded with parts flying in every direction.

The war party on the ground cheered in triumph and my father signaled for our party to move in. The three of us circled around the scene from above and i watched as my father took out one of the aircrafts with his gun while my mother took out the other with her bow and arrow. She cried a war call in triumph while raising her arms, bow still in hand, above her head.

The three of us watched as the rest of the people flocked to the wreckage of the train to raid and distribute the gun supplies of the humans. My father stood to the side, still armed, watching over the situation, urging people not to slow their movements.

And suddenly my twin brother had a bright idea.

"Bro, we have got to get down there!" Lo'ak exclaimed

"No way dad would skin us!" Neteyam countered

"Come on dont be a woose" Lo'ak said calmly while veering down towards the wreckage

"Lo'ak get back here you...!" Neteyam called after him before shouting in annoyance

'I bet he was going to say skwang' i thought to myself observing the exchange from the other side of Neteyam.

"Stay here, dont follow us, just do what dad said" he shouted over to me

I didnt get a chance to reply before he dived after Lo'ak.

I was going to do what dad said even with out Neteyam telling me to. I really hate when he orders me around. I know he means well but does he really think id do something dumb in this situation. Im not trying to get myself killed! Although the same cant be said for my twin so i guess i see where he's coming from at least.

I watched them land on the ground while continuing to circle over head and farther forward toward the cliff side. That was until my attention was shifted to my ikran who started to act weird. It was suddenly swaying left and right instead of straight ahead like i was telling it to.

"Steady girl. Woah! Steady!" I called out to it

I started to panic and began to lose control of my ikran even more. We suddenly started to lose momentum and veered towards the ground. I knew it would be bad if i didnt do something now and i would not come out unscathed if i fell from this height all the way down to the ground.

With what control i had left over my ikran i veered it towards the cliff side. It lurched forward and slammed us against the side of the cliff before latching onto it with its talons. I quickly got over the momentary shock of how hard we slammed into the cliff so i could find out what was wrong with my ikran. I knew what danger i was in if i was not able to fly and more human reinforcements came.

I looked my ikran over as best i could. Did it get hit by something and i just didnt know? Was it injured? If not then what was wrong with it? I could not see anything wrong with it externally. Was it something i did? I was about to focus on our tsahaylu to feel what was wrong with my ikran when i heard a call and more shouts from the party down below.

Seeing them, some of them had scared faces while pointing their guns to the sky and others ran in the opposite directions than the guns were pointing. I turned to look back at the gap between the cliff where i was latched onto and the opposite cliff. I was faced with a human aircraft flying into the clearing not far away from where i was placed on the cliff.

"Great Mother" i said under my breath in shock

I heard my father order a retreat, the war party followed the command and started to fall back. Panic arose in me once again, i didnt know if i could properly fly again to get myself away from the danger. I mentally cursed and thought about contacting my father through the communication device around my throat. I hesitated and cringed back into myself as i knew i would be questioned a million diffrent ways as to what i was doing and why i couldnt fly by both of my parents if i let them know about this.

Both my parents also had other priorities as clan leaders and the leaders of this party. I couldnt just have one of them come rescue me because i suddenly couldnt fly my ikran even though it wasnt injured at all, so there was technically nothing wrong with it. I would be made fun of relentelessly by my siblings as well since this was one of the most basic things to do as a hunter and i had already gone through the right of passage of choosing and getting my own ikran. So why would i be having problems now?

Of course i was pretty sure i knew the answer to this but they didnt have to know.

I opted for the quickest course of action since even if i told my father what was happening he would not be able to get to me quick enough when i was all the way at the top of a cliff. And would most likely just tell me to fly away to a safe place, so i planned to do exactly that. I had to get myself out of the way and out of any possibility of danger on my own.

So that i would not hinder my parents or the war party. I didnt know if i could fly properly again but i had to at least try because thats all i really could do in this situation. It was either that or get spotted by the aircraft and get blown to smithereens. And my problems werent bad enough right now for me to want that to happen so i opted to try to fly the f*ck away instead.

This was all decided in a matter of seconds. Afterall flying with your ikran was all about your tsaheylu, your connection to them on a deeper level. No connection, no flying. So thats what i focused on. I first focused on trying to feel what was wrong with my ikran like i was trying to do earlier before the reinforcement airship arrived.

Of course, i was right when i figured i probably knew what was wrong because this wasnt the first time something like this happened.

Although it was the first time it happened in a place where other people and even my family members could see and of course it also had to be when we were all in a dangerous situation.

I mentally cursed and prayed to eywa to be able to keep my tsaheylu connection a little longer. It was fading again, my tsaheylu connection, like it does sometimes randomly and without warning. I still dont know why this happens and it barely ever happened before but in the last few years it has become more frequent.

Its not just my connection to my ikran but the same thing has happened before with our steeds and my connection to eywa has never been that strong in the first place. Its gotten worse as I've grown older but how could i tell anyone about it? I mean really how could i!

I dont have any human attributes like my twin or my adoptive sister, like having four fingers instead of three or having eyebrows when normal na'vi people dont. But iv seen how it affects my siblings. I hear the infrequent murmurs about them being more human than na'vi compared to Neteyam, Tuk and I. I dont think it bothers Kiri all that much but i know its something that Lo'ak struggles with even if he doesnt want to admit it.

But theyre all wrong, the on lookers, the people who murmur those things. Even if thats how they look in apperance, they have never shown any signs of being anything other than true Na'vi people. They have never acted in any way that is unlike the na'vi because its normal for them to act just like the people. While i on the other hand have the exact opposite problem.

I may look like the na'vi people but i could not feel any diffrent on the inside even if i dont want to admit it. I know deep down that i am diffrent, i guess i am like Lo'ak in that sense. We are twins after all, it would be wierd if there werent one or two things about us that were alike. I remember father once said to us when we were kids that twins run in the family, his side of the family, and that he and his twin brother were not that alike either.

I know how much the people and especially my own mother hate humans. And i dont blame them, how could i! Look at what they've done, not even once but now twice. They're demons. Just like my mother said.

And with that thought i tried to force my concentration to my tsaheylu, to my bond with my ikran and through that connection i told my ikran to fly. To fly away, away from the danger, away from the clearing, from the war zone.

I tried, i really tried but it didnt work, like i had expected it not to deep down. Instead now my ikran seemed to be panicking, scared by the loud explosions and cries from below and without instruction or comfort from our tsaheylu.

It was thrashing around as it became increasingly agitated and my panic spiked once more. I froze not knowing what to do, the sounds of the comotion still rang out far below me. My ikran was scaling the side of the cliff going up a bit and then back down, trying to figure out which way to go on its own.

Our tsaheylu was still not working and suddenly my ikran let go of the side of the cliff and took flight of its own accord. It soared up higher in the air and then circled back down closer to the ground and the fight. All the while i was desperately disconnecting and reconnecting the bond to my ikran hoping against hope that it might actually work one of the times it reconnected.

Everyone was occupied enough with the attacks from the new aircraft that they didnt see my not being able to fly my ikran properly which i was somewhat relieved about. But of course my relief didnt last long. As my tsaheylu was disconnected and i was once again trying to reconnect our bond, i was not holding onto my ikran with my hands.

I had only been holding onto it with my legs while trying to form tsaheylu so when one of the na'vi people took down the aircraft and it fell to the groud creating the biggest explosion yet, my ikran flung me right off its back in fright. Thankfully we were lower to the ground than before so i at least wouldnt die on impact.

I vaguely saw my ikrans retreating form fly higher into the sky and away from the explosion seeming to have finally made up its mind to get the f*ck out of here.

'Wow thats a great idea. I wish you would have thought of that before when i was still on your back!' I thought to myself annoyed

I averted my attention to the bigger problem i was now facing as i was free falling to the ground. I reached out to try and grab a piece of the wreckage of one of the train sections as i was falling. I successfully did so, slicing deep gashes into both palms of my hands in the process but lessening the impact of when i hit the ground.

I layed still for a while after, trying to get over the shock of my fall.

But i knew i could not waste anymore time. I remembered back to something my father made sure to always remind me of. So that it would be ingrained into my mind. So that if i chose to follow in his and my mothers footsteps and become a hunter in the future like my brothers would, even when i was in crisis i would not forget his words.

'You cant hesitate! Because a split second is all it can take to mean the diffrence between life and death. Weather you live or die.'

When i was a kid i thought dad had learned that when he became Toruk Macto and fought in the war against the humans but father said it was something he learned when he was a marine. A warrior of Earth. The humans planet. The place he came from and was born and raised.

And so with that in mind i blocked out the slight ringing in my ears and the streaks of white fading in and out of my vision. I heaved myself into a sitting position before pushing myself to my feet. Ignoring the sting in my bloodied palms and my bruised back. My adrenalin kicking in and putting my body in survival mode.

"I have to try and find cover" i whispered under my breath

'If more human reinforcemnts come and i cant fly away or run away i should at least find somewhere to hide myself. At least that way i will be more protected than if i was out in the open' i thought to myself

I looked around for a split second before deciding on crouching behind a big piece of wreakage that was just a little ways off to my right. I grabbed a bloodstained bow i found inbetween small pieces of the wreakage and a single arrow that was stuck in the ground on my way.

Armed and hidden, crouched behind the wreackage i didnt have time to think any farther ahead before I heard my fathers voice come over the device around my throat.

"Y/n where are you? Are you okay?"

My head finally cleared from the slight ringing in my ears and the streaks of white in my vision as i heard the sound of my fathers voice.

"Y/n respond!" Jake urged with a more forceful tone to his voice

I took a moment to gather myself before i brought my hand up to my neck to respond.

"Yeah, im here. Im fine" i said in as calm a voice as i could manage at the time

"Well where are you then? I dont see you up above. Are you heading back home with the others?" He asked more calmly this time

I didnt know how to respond to that. Mostly because i was embarrased to be in the situation i was in when it never should have happened in the first place. Because i knew better than to do something dumb in the middle of a battle and just couldnt control my ikran, but how could i tell him that? The other part was that i didnt really know where i actually was on the battlefield to tell him my location.

When i didnt respond i heard him call my name again and was startled back to reality by the sound of his voice.

"Y/n, where are you right now" he said with a little more urgency to his voice

I heard who i assumed to be Neteyam in the background of my fathers end mutter something along the lines of "Im sorry, sir".

I slowly raised myself up from my hiding spot to look around to see if i could see any landmarks that stuck out to me that i could possibly relay to my father for him to be able to find me. Thats when i heard that familiar call.

"Its alright i can see mom" i relayed to him

I saw my mother flying on her own ikran around the battlefield. She had probably also noticed her childrens absences and went to search herself.

"Good. Signal to her and ride with her back home" Jake commanded

And i ended up doing just that.

#avatar #avatar way of water #jake sully #neytiri #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully #kiri sully #tuk sully #jake sully x daughter reader #platonic #platonic x reader #platonic sully family x reader #jake x reader #neytiri x reader #avatar x reader #avatar x you #father x daughter #neteyam x reader #pandora #eywa #fanfiction #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x y/n

[unbidden-yidden]

So here I am, unable to sleep again, because of the horrifying attack on Israel.

The stories keep coming out and for every new detail I find out, another part of my soul shatters.

[***massive trigger warning for the rest***]

I feel like I'm living in a parallel world to everyone who is not affected by this situation. It's been surreal to go about my work day and regular life as if the images of blood-soaked cradles, burned corpses, raped and wounded women, captives of all ages being taken away on vehicles, video of a small child being taunted for crying for his mother, body bags lined up in rows on the ground, torched cars and homes, and the raw grief of the surviving family members aren't burned onto the backs of my eyelids.

One account I read from a family member of the deceased was that she was beaten, raped in multiple ways and sticks shoved into each place, and left for dead. Another I came across spoke of a small child being forced to watch his parents tortured, killed, and hacked apart. Still another I saw was a report of several children bludgeoned to death so as not to "waste the bullets."

How can I possibly begin to process this?

These people look just like the people in my communities and the friends I've made across the sea. They have my Hebrew teacher's hair, my rabbi's cheekbones, they sound like the shinshinim kids we have each year. They look like the baby nephews of my fellow congregants. I could have davened next to any of them and never known. It is only sheer dumb luck that I don't personally know someone who has died or lost close family.

There has been a pit of dread in my stomach since Shimini Atzeret that will not go away. I find myself on the verge of tears at all times, yet have not been able to actually cry (which is not a good sign; an inability to express sadness in tears is a known post-trauma response for me) and I cannot rest normally. Sometimes I can distract myself for a bit, but the pain and grief rush back in immediately when I remember.

I can feel, in real time, this Jewish cultural trauma sinking into my bones.

And you might think I might be able to separate myself from it since I'm not there and don't have family there. But I can't, because I don't want to. I can't, because some tether bound me forever to the land as soon as my feet hit the ground there, and some part of my soul stayed behind when I left. I don't want to, because these are my people and so they are my adoptive family, even if I do not know them. I am my brother's keeper.

And so here I stand, half a world away from the danger, nervous and scared and grieving, searching our perfectly blue sky for signs of missiles that are not falling here and being startled constantly by the normal and unbroken landscape. The lush beauty of Midwestern autumn woods is juxtaposed in my mind with Middle Eastern walls painted in the blood of my people and their broken bodies beneath them. I see it in the waking light of day as clear as anything in front of me, and walk around like a person divided, in both places at once yet not being fully present in either. I cannot unsee it.

How can I possibly explain this? To myself? To the people actually having to live this nightmare? To the other people removed from the immediate physical danger but who do have blood relatives and/or other family there that they're just praying stay safe and come home at the end of the day? That they are constantly checking their phones for updates or even minimal signs that they're still alive?

The words fail me, but I the closest thing I have to an answer is love. I love my people and I would rather absorb this pain with them and carry it in my soul forever than look away from Jewish suffering. That is a promise I made by joining this people, that my fate would forever be bound up in the collective fate of klal Yisrael. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people, and your G-d my G-d. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may Hashem do to me if anything but death parts me from you.

אַל־תִּפְגְּעִי־בִ֔י לְעׇזְבֵ֖ךְ לָשׁ֣וּב מֵאַחֲרָ֑יִךְ כִּ֠י אֶל־אֲשֶׁ֨ר תֵּלְכִ֜י אֵלֵ֗ךְ וּבַאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּלִ֙ינִי֙ אָלִ֔ין עַמֵּ֣ךְ עַמִּ֔י וֵאלֹהַ֖יִךְ אֱלֹהָֽי׃ בַּאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּמ֙וּתִי֙ אָמ֔וּת וְשָׁ֖ם אֶקָּבֵ֑ר כֹּה֩ יַעֲשֶׂ֨ה יְהֹוָ֥ה לִי֙ וְכֹ֣ה יוֹסִ֔יף כִּ֣י הַמָּ֔וֶת יַפְרִ֖יד בֵּינִ֥י וּבֵינֵֽךְ׃

[רות א]

I do not take that lightly, and I feel it in my bones. Some core part of me shattered at the same time as the rest of my community.

I cannot, and I will not look away. I will not close my heart or shield myself from this tragedy. And I will not forget.

עַ֥ל נַהֲר֨וֹת ׀ בָּבֶ֗ל שָׁ֣ם יָ֭שַׁבְנוּ גַּם־בָּכִ֑ינוּ בְּ֝זׇכְרֵ֗נוּ אֶת־צִיּֽוֹן׃ עַֽל־עֲרָבִ֥ים בְּתוֹכָ֑הּ תָּ֝לִ֗ינוּ כִּנֹּרוֹתֵֽינוּ׃ כִּ֤י שָׁ֨ם שְֽׁאֵל֪וּנוּ שׁוֹבֵ֡ינוּ דִּבְרֵי־שִׁ֭יר וְתוֹלָלֵ֣ינוּ שִׂמְחָ֑ה שִׁ֥ירוּ לָ֝֗נוּ מִשִּׁ֥יר צִיּֽוֹן׃ אֵ֗יךְ נָשִׁ֥יר אֶת־שִׁיר־יְהֹוָ֑ה עַ֝֗ל אַדְמַ֥ת נֵכָֽר׃ אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלָ֗͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃ תִּדְבַּֽק־לְשׁוֹנִ֨י ׀ לְחִכִּי֮ אִם־לֹ֢א אֶ֫זְכְּרֵ֥כִי אִם־לֹ֣א אַ֭עֲלֶה אֶת־יְרוּשָׁלַ֑͏ִם עַ֝֗ל רֹ֣אשׁ שִׂמְחָתִֽי׃

[תהלים קלז]

#personal post #not trying to claim that I am in any way affected at the level others are #most other people are way more directly affected than me and I don't intend this to take that focus away from them #this is more of a diary post than anything #but I'm posting it anyway because I suspect others feel similarly and I do think it's one (of many) conversations that should be had #ארץ ישראל #jumblr

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Two

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

wc: 2.6k

My hands go to their wounds and I try to stop the bleeding. But there's too much blood, there's too much.

A tapping on my shoulder wakes me up, and I open my eyes to see Lucas' shadow standing in front of me. He's clutching his plush dinosaur close to his chest. He probably had a nightmare or something. I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up, facing him.

"What's up tough guy?" I whisper and grab him, sitting him next to me on the bed. I turn on my bedside lamp and see that he's been crying. With careful hands, I wipe his tears and wait for him to tell me what's wrong. His bottom lip trembles and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together.

"The noises." He says through staggered breaths. He starts crying again and I bring him in close to me, hugging him tightly against my body as he cries. My fingers rake through his hair in an attempt to calm him down, and try to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

There are police sirens nearby, maybe down the street? Which is odd, seeing as how they were there when I fell asleep. A few moments later I hear helicopters overhead, sounds like there might be two or three but I can't tell for sure. An uneasy pit in my stomach surfaces, and I nudge Ryan awake. That man can sleep through anything, so it's no surprise Lucas' presence didn't disturb him.

Ryan groans and rubs his eyes, squinting them open in the soft light. He sees Lucas and I on the bed and sits up, suddenly alert.

"What's wrong?" He asks, clearing his throat. I usually never wake him up when Lucas comes to our room, unless Lucas specifically asks for his dad to put him back to bed.

"The noises." I repeat Lucas' words to Ryan, giving him a pointed stare as to tell him I am also concerned. Ryan must hear the sirens and he pushes the covers away, going over to our bedroom window to pull the curtains back so he can see outside.

"Holy shit." He sounds surprised, and I am as well. Ryan never swears in front of Lucas. Quickly, Ryan pulls the curtains back and I hug Lucas into my body, so that he can't see the silent conversation that I'm having with Ryan. A simple shared glance is enough to tell me that something is wrong. My heart drops to my stomach, but I force myself to stay composed for Lucas.

Ryan opens our closet and grabs our travel bags, unzipping them on the bed. His intense demeanor lets me know that something is seriously wrong, Ryan is always laid back and typically underreacts to situations. So if he's openly packing our bags, something is incredibly wrong. And I'm willing to bet the police sirens and helicopters have a lot to do with whatever is happening.

I grab Lucas and carry him through the house, sitting him on his bed and drying his tears once more. He sucks in sharp breaths between cries and holds his beloved plushie to his chest. I smile at him, trying to act casual and collected. I rearrange his hair and kiss his forehead,

"Do you want to see if you can go potty for me? I'll give you whatever sticker you want." I encourage him to use the bathroom before we leave, and I know he loves his reward for using the bathroom "like a big boy" he says. He nods his head and toddles off to the bathroom, giving me time to find a bag for him.

My hands shake as I open his closet and grab a duffel bag we use for his travelling needs. I set it on his bed and go through his wardrobe, picking short sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts, long pants, short pants, pajamas, and plenty of extra socks and underwear. Luckily, his clothing is small and I can fit almost all of it in the bag. I don't know where we're going or how long we'll be gone, but I want to be sure Lucas will be taken care of. I zip the duffel bag and grab an old diaper bag out of his closet, packing some pull-ups for emergencies if we need them and make room to pack some snacks for him.

While Lucas is still in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen and pack his favorite puff snacks, fruit snacks, and anything else I know he likes that won't go bad in the bag. For good measure, I pack some water bottles as well. When I return to Lucas' room he's back from the bathroom and I smile, picking him back up with trembling hands.

"Good job buddy! Let's go pick out your sticker." I say with false excitement and grab the sticker book that sits atop his dresser. I flip through the pages and let him pick his favorite one and I stick it on his shirt. He smiles down at the sticker as I place him back on the ground.

I grab one of his jackets and help him put it on, and I make sure he's got a good pair of socks on his feet. Knowing he hates wearing shoes, I put his little slip-ons on, knowing that if I can help it, he'll be attached to my hip and won't have to do much, if any, walking on his own.

I toss the diaper bag on my shoulder and grab the duffel bag in one hand, and hoist up Lucas on my free side. Encumbered by the bags and my son, I meet Ryan out in the living room, who looks terrified. He rubs his hands through his hair and paces back and forth, blowing out a sharp breath. Lucas has his head resting on my shoulder and Ryan gives me a wide-eyed look before he speaks in a low voice.

"Don't let him see what's out there, cover his eyes. When we walk out of the door, keep your eyes on my back. Please trust me on this one, Noelle. Put the bags in the trunk and sit with Lucas in the backseat. The quicker we can get out of here, the better." I don't think twice to question him, knowing that his judgment is sound in this moment. I lick my lips and swallow the bile rising in my throat, ready to follow Ryan. He takes a deep breath and grabs our bags before he goes to the front door. It looks like he takes a moment to hype himself up to open the door, but once he does, all hell breaks loose.

I hear sirens and see the flashing lights down on our street. People are screaming.

"Hey buddy look at me okay? We're going on a surprise vacation!" My voice wavers as I speak, but I need Lucas to keep his eyes on me. His grip tightens on my shirt, he's scared of what he hears. I look over to him and meet his watery blue eyes, pushing all signs of fear off of my face.

Ryan opens the trunk of our car and loads our bags into it, taking both bags off of me while I keep Lucas' attention with whatever words I can find. Once the bags are off my shoulder, I waste no time in going to the driver's side back door of our car and opening it, placing Lucas in his car seat.

As I buckle him in, my gaze lifts through the passenger window which is facing down the street, where the commotion is. In the middle of the road I see a body laying there, illuminated by red and blue lights. My breath catches in my throat and I fumble with the latches of his car seat, too disturbed by what I'm seeing to pay attention.

"Noelle, come on." Ryan's eager voice breaks my gaze away from the body and I successfully get Lucas strapped in. Quickly, I cross the car and get into the back passenger side, just as Ryan told me to.

Without hesitation, Ryan backs out of our driveway, letting me observe the body in the road. Whoever it is, is most definitely dead. Their skull is cracked open on the pavement, brains and blood pouring out of the extensive wound. My heart thumps in my chest and my mouth goes dry. Whatever this is, is nothing good.

Ryan speeds out of our neighborhood and I quickly notice how many cars are out on the road at this time of night. Helicopters and planes crowd in the sky. My blood turns to ice in my veins as a dreadful thought crosses my mind. What if this is related to the sickness on the news? What if it finally made its way here?

Lucas' sniffles break me out of my downward spiral and I take his small hands in my own, rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hands. His dinosaur now sits on his lap. To distract him from the chaos outside, I just start talking to him about anything and everything.

I notice that we drive down back streets and dirt roads, avoiding town and any main avenues. However, the back routes are just as crowded as the main ones usually are. It's almost as if everyone is trying to get out of here at the same time. Horns blare as we come to a standstill on the only road out of this small town. I hear car doors slam and people start shouting at one another.

Ryan and I make eye contact with each other through the rearview mirror, fear equally present in our eyes. A sudden commotion right outside the windshield breaks our gazes apart, and we watch the unfolding scene with wide, terrified eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing man? Use your big ass truck and go through the field dumbass!" The man's words are full of anger and desperation. The driver of the truck yells back,

"I can't you fuckin' moron. Jam is all the way up there to the exit." He motions down to where we're headed. If the exit is jammed up, the highway is full.

My mind starts formulating a way out of this town without the highway, but nothing comes to mind immediately. Any way out of this town requires getting on the highway. Another yell from further up sounds out in the night. A piercing scream, one that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Seconds later, people begin running past our car, away from the exit and back towards town. People fall and stumble as they try to flee, and nobody helps them up, they all keep running. Whatever is up there is terrifying enough for people to abandon their sense of compassion. It's anarchy out there.

"Stay here." Ryan's voice is strong and decisive. He gets out of the car and stands on the hood to get a vantage point of what's going on. I turn to Lucas and try to comfort him the best I can. Tears are falling down his face, and I wipe them away.

"It's okay Lucas, I'm right here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I'm here, mommy's got you." My voice is soft, and I mean the words I say with every fiber of my being. I lean forward and put a delicate kiss on the top of his forehead.

It doesn't take Ryan long to get off the hood, and he goes straight for Lucas. With desperate hands, Ryan goes to unbuckle Lucas and gives me more instructions.

"We have to go on foot. I'll explain later, but something bad is happening up there. We have to go, now." His voice is strained and loud. Without a second thought, I lean over the backseat into the trunk and search blindly for Lucas' diaper bag. Luckily, it's small enough to fit through the gap between the seat and the ceiling, and I sling it on my shoulder. I take another second to grab Lucas' dinosaur plush and then follow Ryan through the crowd.

They're a few steps ahead of me, but I'm right behind them. Ryan keeps Lucas on his hip, one hand protectively securing his head so he isn't jostled around too much. People brush past me as they run away from the traffic jam, causing me to trip a few times.

We jog at a good pace for a while, until we come back to town; the same place we're actively trying to get away from. The small town is full of screaming, crying people running all different directions. It seems like Ryan has a plan, and goes full steam ahead.

We reach the buildings and see large army trucks barreling down the street, heavily armed soldiers jumping out and shouting orders. My steps slow a little as reality begins sinking in. This is just like what I saw on the news yesterday with Lisa. It is here. I tear my gaze away from the trucks and focus on following Ryan.

We approach the back of the local tire shop, an old brick building where the screams and shouts are only slightly muffled. Ryan stops to catch his breath momentarily and I rush to his side, checking to see if Lucas is okay. Other than being scared, he's alright. I kiss his forehead,

"Mommy's got you." I whisper in Lucas' ear. He grabs fistfuls of Ryan's shirt in an attempt to bring himself some sort of comfort. Ryan looks up to me and I reach out to him, my hand resting on his bicep.

"We're going to be okay." My voice isn't very convincing, but Ryan nods.

"We're going to be okay." He confirms with an equally unconvincing voice. We stare into each others eyes for a few fleeting seconds before Ryan starts moving again.

We run past the back of the tire shop and Ryan goes to turn the corner which would lead us back to the main road. I'm a few paces behind them, and Ryan turns the corner before I do.

Within seconds, I hear agonizing screams.

When I turn the corner, it's as if time stands still. Ryan is on the ground, a man is on top of him and blood is pouring out of his shoulder. Lucas is trapped underneath Ryan's body, screeching out. Before I can move a muscle, the man on top of Ryan pounces on Lucas, and I watch in terror as the deranged man bites Lucas in the neck.

Gunshots ring out, the man falls limp.

Ryan has stopped screaming, Lucas has stopped moving. Their blood flows out of them and stains the pavement. My body begins hyperventilating and moving on its own, crouching down to my loves.

My hands go to their wounds and I try to stop the bleeding. But there's too much blood, there's too much. Frantically, I try anything to save them.

"No, no no no no no no." My sobs rake through my body as I see Lucas' lifeless blue eyes staring up at the night sky. Ryan's eyes stare straight at the side of the building, equally as lifeless.

I feel hands loop around my arms, dragging me away from my family. I fight back, thrashing and screaming. I feel the bag around my shoulder get taken off, and Lucas' plush ripped from my hands, leaving only a scrap in my possession.

My body is dragged backwards and I'm tossed in the back of a large armored truck as I scream and cry for my family. I see their lifeless bodies on the ground one final time before the door of the truck is slammed in my face.

Part Three

#joel miller #joel miller series #joel miller x oc #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfic #the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo

[theragethatisdesire]

quick bright things - teaser 2 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"So quick bright things come to confusion.” - William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream Act I Scene I

MY TOP SECRET WIP HAS A NAME NOW!!! welcome to the world of quick bright things !! here is a little sneaky surprise :) i still don't know when it will be done or even if i should be posting this but i can't stop myself i love you guys i love this eren i never want to shut up about it ANDDDD i think part 1 should be postable soon.....if only you guys knew what i had in store for this uni truly. anyway.....tell me what u think hehehee enjoy<3

teaser 1 here if you missed it

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment, Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.”

-

come hang in my inbox if u have questions or thoughts or literally anything at all hehehehehehe i love you guys!!! enjoy him <3

#quick bright things #I CAN'T WAIT TO POST THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING LIKE- #no one understands but shep and mel #qbt #eren jaeger x reader #rage.rambles

[cael9m]

GERARD A. WAY, “WE NEVER LEARN, WE’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE.”

loving you is embarrassing. i don’t want to fail. SUMMARY: all of gerard’s i love you’s, and the moment it all payed off.

WARNINGS: unrequited love, angst, obliviousness, slow burn, long read, male (gn if you want) reader.

— WARPED TOUR, ‘03

The adrenaline is high, the ringing is loud, they go hand in hand after a while because you forget the person you used to be. What’s the use of a life so far away? The stretch of my smile hurts my cheeks, and I stumble my way back stage when we take our final bow.

Gerard is electric, he always thinks it’s a good show, a habit I’ve known longer than he has. He jumps, he smiles, he holds me. His arm hangs around me comfortably, I try not to care about the added heat that comes with him, because I’m grateful for anything from him at all. “Holy shit.” He breathes, voice cracking, and he looks down at me. I smile back, because he’s beautiful.

This tour reminds me of California, and makes me admire being young. The humidity doesn’t itch me anymore, it’s a comfort that I took for granted before I realized its existence. So I ignore the groans from the others about it, because it brings me home. The muted light from the tent engulfs us, an uncomfortable shade. “That was great, that was fucking amazing. That was..” I toss him a water, and his words walk off. Another habit of his that I’d find annoying on anyone else.

The grass is awkward against my ankles, my shirt sticks to my skin, and when it’s becoming too much for me, the rest of the band have already gone back to our bus. I stay. I open my water bottle and try to remember how to breathe because you never really get used to all those faces, all those voices.

“You always play a great show, man.” He tells me, and there’s this strain that he puts in ‘always’ that makes me think he means it. I shake my head, “You’re always good, you’re our star.” I don’t mean it to be as careless as I make it sound, is there a way for him to know this with meaning? “No, I mean it. You’re.. you’re fucking amazing.” He recycles old words.

I look up at him with this sudden nausea in the pit of my stomach. I hum as if I didn’t hear him. “Really, (name), you’re great. You’re talented, why don’t you ever believe that?” There’s a concern that takes over his face, and an embarrassment that takes over mine. I laugh, because there’s nothing left for me to do. “It’s not that hard to play drums,” “I’m serious.” “I know.”

“Can you say it?”

“What?”

“Can you say you’re a good fucking drummer?”

“Can we just have a good show?” I don’t know how we ended up here, how we can go from laughing to this in some words. I want to get angry, I want to fight, but I know that when I’m in front of him I can’t be anything but innocent. “Why do you care so much? It’s not that important—” I don’t want these words, I don’t want to carry this conversation anymore, if I could leave I would. “Because I love you.”

He states it as something I should know, something that’s honest and factual and it’s muscle memory that I find comfort in it. For every day I’ve woken up to him, he’s never looked this pale. I haven’t seen him this close to nausea, and his eyebrows have become more defined. It scares me as well, and I tell myself it’s fear that finds its way to my eyes, making everything blurry.

It’s unfair for him to say that, he says it out of pity because he knows how to get me listening. He uses me to his advantage and when those venomous and dangerous words, everything is unfair and I find that burn back in my throat. Maybe he knows, of course he fucking knows, that I could never say no to his eyes, and that he has me wrapped around his finger, maybe he just wants me to listen and isn't as nice as this perfect portrait is in my head.

I'm so caught up in this image I've worked up in my head that there are no longer divisions between reality and my mind, so I tell him he's mean. The worst insult a child can make up, that you're rude. That is what I have decided to fight with, to defend myself, or more my heart. A word that stopped meaning anything when you grow past 7. Still, it hits him. I'm glad, because I don't want to hurt him but I want him to understand me, to hear me, to listen, this isn't from a place of anger but of desperation.

"(name), I mean it, I do," He steps forward, I step backwards, "I care about you and it fucking blows that one of the most talented people I know can't appreciate their work." He extends his hands and it makes me ashamed, because I want to take them in mine. "You love me?" When I ask, I make him stutter. "Of course. " He finds his voice through this veil of humidity, but it isn't enough. "How?" I forget everything he has ever done in this moment. I forget where we are, what was said, to forget is to forgive, I step closer. "However you want." Is the wrong answer. I don't want his love to be flexible, I want him to firmly believe that his heart beats for the same reason as mine. I turn around before I cry, so he doesn't see, because my tears are my secret, and I leave.

— ANYWHERE, ‘03

It's dark, I don't know when this started. Maybe it did as it has every other time, with me stumbling my way through the night to get to him because whenever I get to this state Gerard’s all I remember. But we're talking, and I can't care about anything else when I'm hearing his voice.

"I never see you with your glasses." I think he's changed the subject, I can't remember anything. I try to think about his question, but I can't keep my mind on a path. It doesn't turn the way I want it to, I can't keep it under control, I'm sent on these spirals that leave me breathless. "Wearing them right now." I mumble. I'm on my back so I face the roof of the bunk, his collection of stickers substitute the stars in the sky, and I map them out like constellations. "Other times, I mean. Like every other time. You never wear them." I try to focus on a patch of worn out, faded stickers in the corner that I can form into the cancer constellation.

"Yeah I do. Just not when I'm on stage." Is there a reason I sound disappointed when I mumble? "You don't wear yours." I argue. "Don't have any." Gerard sounds as if he's won, there isn't anything to win. "You need them, I know that." Maybe I've won, there's still not anything to win. "You know a lot of things about me." He responds immediately, he's been waiting to say it. I heard him shuffle beside me, and now I feel his breath and eyes, I try not to think about his mannerisms, why he'd turn. "I know a lot about a lot people." I lie to him, my eyes are always on him.

He gets closer, I can feel his hand on my arm now, eyes shut. I turn over with pupils blown out, to be met with his compliments. "You look pretty with them on." I'm grateful there's no light, that I told him to close the curtain, that nothing can leak in here and put my blush on display. "Can you stick to one subject?" I smile, he can't see it.

We're facing each other, I eat my earlier words, I just want to see him, but maybe smelling his perfume is enough. I think this is where it ends, the words. Now we enter this silence that we both understand, maybe he's too busy looking at me as well. I can hear the breath entering in and out his nose, as well as his heartbeat, and I think I need to. Just to remember that it's real, Gerard’s real. Maybe this is how it would be all the time, if I weren't scared and if he were sure. The spiral is coming back, and I'm falling, and I can't help but wish there was a part of him that wanted to keep me stable, as much as everyone says that.

I'm too tired to be scared, I paint this as though he heard me, because his hand reaches out to me, freezing and reassuring, and all I want to be is his. Even when I'm half conscious, I can only focus on wherever his hand goes. Gentle finger pads brushing away my hair so he could see me, and then he lands on me cheek.

I can barely feel his hand at all, I try to stay awake, and he's acting as if I'll break. “You’re gorgeous.” My voice is somewhere between a whisper and a hum, it breaks. Closing my eyes becomes tempting, but I don’t want the sight of him to go away.

I eventually let my eyes fall and stay grateful. “I’ve always thought that.” Gerard leaves this space for me to talk, so I take advantage and let everything I held in my stomach out in the form of foggy words. “Since..” I shift, “Since we met. I saw you and..” I feel myself growing farther away, and more comfortable, I settle into the warmth. “I stopped breathing.” My final words whisper.

After a moment, when I wait for sleep to hit me in the same way you wait for the hit from a drug, I feel his thumb across my cheekbone. I smile, his touch is sweet. Suddenly, there’s a kiss placed at my forehead, and “I love you.” is whispered. I don’t remember when, but I put my own hand atop his, and in the morning our fingers intertwined.

— CHICAGO, ‘04

I’ve never liked how bright the lights they put in our dressing rooms were, resulting in eye strain. I’m stuck squinting while I paint my lips with femininity, it’s darker in some areas. Gerard snuck his way into my room before I even settled, and began dressing in his suit.

He walks over and crouches, running his fingers through his hair for volume, before I feel his focus on my lipstick. “It looks like blood.” His index and middle are out for my own, trying to transfer the tube. “That’s why s’my favorite.” I run over the edges of my lips with my pinky and rub it off with a tissue so I can be perfect. He turns away from the mirror, and looks at me, preference for reality. He’s close, he never knows he is. Our noses are close when I turn around so I have to tilt, I hum him a question.

“You’re pretty.” His face doesn’t twist into the smile I’m expecting, he’s serious once again, and the way his brows furrow make it seem as though he’s hurt.

I smile at him, I take the place where he should be. I don’t say anything, I can’t think in time, and I’m tired of this place that we’re in. We are nothing and everything, I believe it to be unfair to let someone that special go. It’s hurtful to have them slip past your fingers because of your inability to speak. That leaves our bodies in this space, uncertainty replacing the taste of pre-show drinks. “I never stop thinking about when you told me I was gorgeous.” He tells me, which leaves us as two beautiful people.

He leans in, I don’t push myself the other way, he messes up my lipstick. He’s quick, but he wants to push himself further as if to brand evidence of himself on my mouth. When Gerard steps back, his fingers are already in my hair, fixing it for me. I take in the sight of him, the look of myself in him, and I let something out lighter than a laugh.

“What?” He smiles, I turn his head back to the mirror so he sees our mess, but he loves it. He takes me again, almost leaving me off my seat, he takes multiple kisses so we’ve transferred enough lipstick onto him. When we disconnect, I feel a smile on my lips, he turns around so he can see himself but I can’t keep away from him, I leave my final mark on his jaw. This attention is returned to me when he looks down again, “Look at us.” is giggled.

I can’t let him go yet, and my selfishness presents itself in needing more of him, so I steal his tie. Now I have him wrapped around my neck, lazily, as a scarf, in bold red. He looks at me, fixing my clothes, and there’s a hand at the back of my head so he can take more. His lips stay longer, his scent makes home in me, his hand becomes warm on my cheek.

When he’s gone from me, there’s still some warmth left from him, and I ask why. “Because I love you. I want everyone to know.” He’s very close, his fingers found the end of his tie that lays on my heart.

And I ruin it all, “I wish you meant that.”

— LOS ANGELES, ‘04

There will always be nights where I wake up before everyone else. Those nights will always have their own special place in my heart, because it's one of the things that are solely, truthfully mine. In my eyes they're always perfect, when the morning is a baby blue and the cold counter refreshes my palms, to fight the warmth of my mug. It's sweet, it's domestic, and it's all mine.

Right next to it, you will find a tradition between me and Gerard. Music is my most precious thing, it has always brought me good fortune and opportunities, and a place to hide. In the lyrics of Morrissey, or the strings of Brian May. Music for me is comic books to Gerard, always in his head and heart. They provide an escape for him as well, and gifted him with an imagination where everything makes sense to him. I'll always be jealous. So it's the most meaningful thing we can do to slide vinyls and issues under the other's door every once in a while. When we find something good, or when we want to help.

When these two collide, expect euphoria.

It was 4:00 am, and I love you. I found out Gerard was awake by the sound of my vinyl playing from his room, I shared my heart with him. With his comic in my hand, I made noise with the unstable wooden floor until I reached the cold kitchen tiles.

Everything was blue, the hours outside began to leak in. I settle into the comfort of the music far away, I turn on the lamp in the kitchen so I can read. There's a flat soda in the fridge I remember from yesterday, the cold becomes familiar in my hand. With my headphones connected to my phone, I don't care about what I listen to, I open the window to hear the people and I sit on the sill so I can feel the morning air. I’m humming before I know it, words become the story, and I forget where I sit. I’m only reminded of my place on earth when I hear footsteps where I entered.

Looking up, I meet with tired hazel eyes and colorful hands. I smile my best at him, the warm light that fades in the corner of the room allows him to see that. “Good morning.” I'm no louder than the passing cars outside, taking out one of my earphones. "It's still night." Gerard laughs at me, searching for a dull tasting Arizona tea in the fridge. "Okay then, good night." I fix the issue on my lap. He laughs again, and my eyes trail down to his hands, colorful and a mess. For a moment, I imagined a scene where he held me how he did when I slept, and the paint would transfer to my cheekbones. He notices, bashful at his green and purple knuckles, “I was, uh, painting.”

"You're reading." He sounds as if he didn't expect me to. "You're listening." I observe just as well. He walks over to me, I swallow the beat of my heart, and he crouches down to read with me. "You're at a good part.." He mumbles out of sleep, the only thing keeping him awake are the colors. "Did you know this guy here," He points a specific part, and he doesn't realize I'm not looking, "he actually showed up in another uh, issue, in like this foreshadowing type of thing," He continues on, speaking out memory all while my eyes run over his lips again, and again.

I take in all of him, the rare low tone of his voice, occasionally graveling, his long eyelashes, and his blessed lips. The music in my ears take over, the guitars hit better than any pill, and I'm sure my pupils are blown out because I love you and it's getting worse. Love is a scary thing, forever, you feel yourself fall, and there's an uncertainty for what waits. It's a terrible thing, and a hurtful thing, and the one thing people keep it for is for that addictive feeling you chase when you kiss someone, dance with someone, sleep with them, look at them. Gerard turns over to me, he's finished with his ramble, and expects an answer out of me.

There's a silence between us at first, the registration of how close we are to one another, I know because his eyes won't stop looking at mine and his smile has become a thin line. He lets a breath out of his nose, and I bring up my hand to his cheek, I'm warm despite everything around. Gerard lets out this sound of content, a safe moan or hum, before I even press my lips. He always keeps the window open, and welcomes the cold, he forgets the unconditional love for warmth.

When I break, I take a look at him, and my thumb rubs just under his eye. "I love you." Gerard whispers again. He's so beautiful, and generous, and unique, and wonderful, and not at all mine. I don't want to move my hand, because when I do he will leave and this will all go away. "It's late..." I remind him in this quiet time. "You're perfect." He stops me. As if this is a goodbye and not a Sunday morning, I cry. There's a burn in my nose and the ugly selfishness I keep bottled up in my heart that screams about want returns, as it forever will when he gets close.

You can read concern in his eyes, and shame in mine. It gets worse when he turns to leave, and I think it's permanent so I cross my arms over my face and my knees meet my chest. Maybe he asks what's wrong, I don't care, I don't listen, I don't let the air pass through my lungs. I rip out the wire from my ear, so music sits abandoned. He comes back, I hear him, with a tissue in hand to erase our mistakes. His hands are gentle in coaxing me to lift my head, cooing at me and trying to fix this. "What is it, sweetheart?" The nickname pierces me in a way that rolls my eyes and turns my head, away from his attempt at cleaning me up.

"I'm tired of us." I speak in this moment of honest vulnerability. I see it has hit him, in the hesitation of his movements now. "What?" Gerard has become significantly quieter. "I'm fucking sick of this, Gerard." I have forgotten how good the truth feels, it leaves me as refreshing as a deep breath. "Stop letting me kiss you, and stop kissing me, because this might be fun for you, but it's my personal limbo, to think there's something and then be met with nothing." Through it all, he still dabs at my continuous tears.

"What? I don't understand." He speaks softly, and carefully. "I love you. I love you! I fucking love you so much, and it hurts, it hurts, to not have you. I want to be yours, I want to be called yours, and you always just let everything go." I remember why I haven't said it back to him. "You act like this," I hold his wrist that hangs on to the tissue to show him, "But then you go and do something else, and I want you to tell me this means nothing so I can move on!" I lie to him, I'd never be able to stop thinking about him, because I don't believe in soulmates, but I believe he is mine though I might not be his.

"Sugar, I do love you." I know he does. He loves me as he loves everyone else, I want to stand in a different place. I shake my head, and he takes me with both his hands so I look at him. "You have me," He wipes the tears that come out as much as my words with a curled index, "-wrapped around your fucking finger, and you don't understand." He talks in a way where I listen.

"I've been in love since we met! And this," I feel his hands get tighter around my face, he means us, "-hasn't happened because you have never said it back to me. I didn't.. I didn't want to force you to love me." I don't want to admit that I can see the tears in his eyes, they shine so pretty with the city lights behind us.

"I wanna be yours." He brings me closer, I can sense his nose near mine, I want to taste his lips again. I want to take away his tears, to bring his smile back, to wish this never happened and I kept my mouth shut. My breath rattles in my throat, I can't feel my nose anymore, Los Angeles has frozen it over. "You're honest?" I can't ask any other words. "With all," He presses a kiss to my cheek, "-my," a kiss to the other side, "-heart." He seals his promise with his lips to mine, warming me up with all his being. I can't complain about anything here, I can't speak and think, I don't want to let go. Air disappoints me, I need it when we break apart and I'm finally allowed to want more from him. He begins to stand up straight, and I meet him there, with my arms around his neck and his around me, we're back, I chase warmth.

"Call me yours," I speak, through the kisses that he has trailed down my collarbones, "-and I call you mine." I breathe for the first time in a while, I let my chest go as he kisses my neck, his lips are sweet to me. Euphoria finally hits me in this moment, when he leaves his mouth on me wherever he please, and he tells me that he is mine.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #my chemical romance #mcr #mcr x reader #shifting #aesthetic #shifting realities #desired reality #three cheers for sweet revenge #danger days #the black parade #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #yes that's a harry styles reference in the title #I love him #revenge era #black parade era #danger days era #bullets era #<3 #gn reader #cael9m

[atticrissfinch]

Yaaaaah. It’s Recap Time. 2023 edition.

Buckle up, bitches.

I’m positive I am about to write far too long and reveal far too much in this post, but fuck it we ball. (TWs for depression, brief suicidal ideation, general mental health talk, parental death, a lot of juicy stuff, but a happy ending)

To appreciate 2023, I have to go back to 2022.

2022 was probably the worst year of my life. The lowest of lows. I started off the year falling headfirst into my first relationship in years, and subsequently had my heart shattered in a way I’d never anticipated. I had my trust betrayed in a manner I’d never experienced. And that heartbreak would crop up and drag out consistently the entire year.

While dealing with that crippling heartbreak, my father very unexpectedly got sick and then passed away within a few months. And as anyone could probably assess from my fics, I did not have a great relationship with my father. We had a very complicated relationship with a lot of trauma inflicted on me. It all was very disorienting, guilt-ridden, but ultimately revelatory.

On top of my romantic and familial lives crashing down around me, I lost every coworker I had developed a good relationship with as the job I’d been at for 3+ years and had them all replaced with people I couldn’t fucking stand.

All of this led to me having a complete fucking breakdown in therapy. All out sobbing to my therapist, terrified that after two years of therapy, nothing was working. Nothing helped. I was incurable. I would be depressed until I died, and that might be coming sooner rather than later at my current rate. Burnt out from work, hating my coworkers, drowning in my own emotions, I had to have a serious talk about getting admitted. The closest I’ve ever come to that, to this day.

The year came to a close, my meds were on the fritz, and I was determined to sink no lower than I already was. I was going to love myself, love being single, and find friends for the first time since college. And it just so happens that a certain show was released, based on one of my favorite stories of all time. Starring one Pedro Pascal.

And I have no fucking idea what happened, but I started crawling out of the pit of despair I had been in for a literal decade. I hadn’t had a hyperfixation in equally as long. I was so run down, so depressed, I hadn’t been able to truly enjoy anything in years. And suddenly…I was feeling shit again. Watching hours of Pedro tiktoks, crying over TLOU EVERY GODDAMN WEEK. That broad, baby cow-eyed, Chilean fucker wriggled his way into my heart. To the point where I HAD to find somewhere to express it in a manner as unhinged as I was experiencing it (I’m so sorry Pedro subreddit, you were just not cutting it for me).

I went back to my tumblr roots. And Jesus Christ. What a fucking roller coaster it’s been. So much drama, so many friends. So. Many. Fics. And so much genuine joy, happiness, laughter, all that fucking obnoxious shit.

So here we are.

First person I’m gonna shout out is Paige @pr0ximamidnight. Paige, thank you for being my first friend in the Pedro fandom. Thank you for giving me a space to talk about my feral fantasies, about Taylor, about monsters 👀. Thank you for being a real one. I love you, babe.

Second…hoo boy. Emma. @walkintotheriveranddisappear. I’m gonna struggle to put shit into words here so just bear with me. Um. I love you so fucking much. You put up with my obnoxious, rude ass when you probably shouldn’t. You talk with me for hours, you watch movies with me, you drag my ass and then kiss it better. I added you on discord at the end of August and there has not been a single goddamn day that we haven’t talked since. You stayed up until midnight with me on the night of my birthday, knowing I had no one to ring in my 30th year with, and you were so eepy, but you stayed awake with me. We’d only just started to become friends at that point. And I knew you were gonna be something special to me. You are such a fucking light, I don’t deserve you. Thanks for sticking around, thanks for jacking me off in our DMs when I have a bizarre idea about something like Joel being a sleazy gas station clerk, and for every idea I’ve had before or since. I love you. Thanks for being the glowing halo around my year. I will never be this sappy again, I swear to god.

Ok I cannot wax poetic for every fucking person I’ve befriended on this site in the past few months, but. Special shouts out to @chloeangelic daddy thank you for listening to my bullshit and thirsting after mmitb!joel with such fierceness. I’m so goddamn proud of how much I’ve seen your writing improve over the last few months, culminating into fics that devastate my heart and make me cry while I masturbate simultaneously. You’re a fucking superstar. Tell Papa Joel to call me. @macfrog baby thank you for agreeing to marry me next June and for writing some of the best fics I’ve ever read and dealing with me fangirling over you when you followed me. I’ve got your back, baby. Just say the word.

@5oh5 Liv you’re a new friend but I love you so much already, you’re such an insane talent, thank you for matching my vibes so flawlessly and thank you for plant daddy Joel 🙏🏻. @papipascalispunk Iris you are so fucking fierce and so goddamn sexy and I’m so so sorry that my grammar in this post is probably pisspoor. I don’t apologize for my very sexual relationship with commas, however. Meet me in my DMs about it. @hier--soir Jess. FUCK. Your writing is so incredible. ALP is tearing me apart at the seams. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and laughing at my stupid jokes. Yahtzee, babe ❤️

@swiftispunk Hannah you’re so fucking dope and I’m such a goddamn fan, thank you for putting up with my screaming, thank you for your baller, sexy ass fics. You’re A1, a class act, and so fucking real for tapping into my medical/glove kink with gyno!joel. Keep on your bullshit, baby. I’ll eat it all up. And I would be remiss to not also shout out @joelscruff as well. Cat, you are such a force and I don’t think you realize it. You’re so talented, so sweet, and seeing you expand into darker fic makes me so goddamn happy. I hope you fucking thrive in 2024. Make next year your bitch. May Joel’s dick always be “somewhere specific” and may you always take sick pleasure in “dealing w it.”

Ok I’m getting too chatty so honestly, to all my moots, I love y’all so fucking much. To anyone who has ever read my fics, reblogged them, liked them, made an unhinged comment, sent a feral ask, complimented my work. Thank you. Thank you for loving mmitb!joel, thank you for supporting my plots, even when it wasn’t initially your cuppa tea. Thank you for letting my love for darkness bring you light. I didn’t know when I would ever write again. I’m so proud of what I’ve done this year in such a short amount of time. The fact that so many of you love my work is so humbling and I’m fucking honored. I hope to bring you more depravity in 2024.

#2023 recap #sry about this being kinda heavy btw ily all

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 4

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

"Fall in your ways so you can crumble

Fall in your ways so you can sleep at night

Fall in your ways so you can wake up and rise"

Solange—"Rise"

N'Jadaka stood close to Yani. She had backed herself against the library reading table that faced a window and he stayed rooted in front of her. The shimmer of tears in her eyes compelled him to cradle her cheek with comforting reassurance. His ire was not with her at all. She accepted his touch and her face became smooth like untroubled water. Her kimoyo beads displayed the blank avatar. They both watched Lady Ime's Image appear.

Peach pit hard brown eyes encased inside a charming oval face peered back at them.

"King N'Jadaka…"

Ime pried her eyes off of Yani's dour expression and lowered her head at him.

"Why were you trying to contact my fiancé so late?" he said with cold vigor.

"Forgive me Your Highness. I have been unable to reach Princess Yani through her team, so I asked a favor—"

"From whom?"

His tone rendered Ime speechless. She didn't lift her eyes to meet his at all. Her evasiveness oozed through the transmission.

"Was it your fiancé, Ramatla?" he asked.

Ime raised her head and tried to look pleasant. Her voice stayed steady.

"Yes. I took a chance at reaching out before tomorrow. I apologize for doing so at an inopportune time. I see that I have upset you and the princess."

"You have," he said.

"What did you need to speak with me about that couldn't wait until after the banquet?" Yani said.

She kept a clipped sound that brought out her accent any time she was annoyed with someone.

"My apologies to you, Princess Yani. I just wanted to know…I wanted to know what I have done to make you hate me…"

Ime burst into tears startling Yani and N'Jadaka.

"I have tried to be your friend…I know I am not as outgoing as Lady Zola and Lady Ilana, some may even think me cold because it takes me a long time to get comfortable with people, but I have always shown you respect and supported all your endeavors outside of Wakanda. When Ramatla gave me your gift I was devastated and so filled with sadness. What can I do to change your negative perception of us?"

Ime wept and wiped at her eyes. Clutched in her hand was the jewelry box Remy had brought to N'Jadaka's office. The waterworks continued and Yani sucked her teeth and glanced at him. He folded his arms and gave the crying woman no words of absolution. Yani struggled to find an appropriate response and he saved her from having to speak.

"We have a busy day starting early this morning. It is after midnight and we'd like to get some sleep. Do not call Queen Yani this way ever again. Use the proper channels in the future and wait for her to contact you as she chooses on her time. I will not speak to Ramatla about this because it's better to have it forgotten. Are we clear?" he said.

"Yes, King N'Jadaka."

Yani lifted her wrist higher.

"We will take the earrings back tomorrow since my taste and my jeweler's work upsets you," Yani said.

Ime's eyes switched between Yani's and his quickly and she tucked the jewelry box against her chest and shook her head.

"No, no, I will keep them. This was a mistaken assumption on my end. I see now that I jumped to conclusions. You gave this to us with thoughtful consideration…your personal jeweler…that is an honor Princess Yani."

"Goodnight, Lady Ime," he said.

She winked out first before Yani said another word to her.

"Did you see how that woman acted?" Yani huffed. "The fake crying? That was all for you. Had I been by myself her true colors would've spilled out of these beads."

"She did lay it on thick—"

"Thick like my ass," Yani snorted.

He nuzzled his chin on top of her head.

"Kinda wished it was Remy though," he said.

"You say you'll let it go…but I know you. Will you tense up every time my kimoyo beads vibrate or light up with a strange signature? I would never do anything to break the trust we've built. He loves me, there's nothing I can do about that. Will you really be okay working with him and not thinking he's plotting to sabotage us? Or what about events where we have to interact with all the nobles? I don't want to be responsible for your potential outbursts or feeling like I have to worry over every little thing that happens outside of my control."

"I trust you. I don't trust them."

She touched his chest with both hands and rubbed his pecs through his overshirt.

"If that's true, then you need to let me tell you things when I'm ready to tell them or if I think it matters to speak on it."

"I'll try, but sometimes it's hard. You know I can read energy and body language. If I feel and see you acting nervous or anxious I'm gonna think the worst."

"Then I will work on not overthinking things when they happen or agonize about you reading too much into stuff. I'm yours. No one else's."

"You mine?" he said

She held his face still and kissed him. Her soft warm tongue steadied him as it always did. His nature was to be territorial over his women, and Yani was his most prized gift from life itself. No matter how strong, powerful, cunning, confident, or persuasive he could be in any given situation, she had a way of untethering his moorings if she were under stress or afraid of him. He never wanted her to be afraid of saying anything to him no matter how unpleasant.

"I put too much pressure on you with my issues. I'll do better and follow your lead," he said.

"Thank you."

He smiled. She grinned back at him.

"You spoil me and I go nuts," he said.

"You spoiled me first, so I can only reciprocate in kind."

"You are just like Aunt Leona."

"She raised me well."

She housed her lower lip between her teeth and stopped rubbing his chest with the tips of her fingers.

"The closer we get to marrying each other, the more I feel like an ungrateful daughter," she said.

"Why do you say that?"

She lifted a leg and rested half of her rump on the desk. Tugging on her thin-chained necklace, Yani sighed.

"My parents are gone. I should feel sad about them missing this day, but to tell the truth…I'm relieved that they won't get to see me walk down the aisle. I had a dream about them the other day. Just some old memories of ducking from them when my mother was vex and lashed out at me. My father never stood up for me and I lived most of my life dreading their presence. Now…on the eve of my wedding…I don't feel any sadness about them never seeing our special day. Is that a horrible thing to think? They don't get to have this and I'm glad."

"Your relationship was not good. You're grown now. It's fine to feel that way."

"Even if they were still here, I'd feel ambivalent about them witnessing it. They turned me away at my lowest and would probably expect to be front and center at our nuptials as if all was forgiven."

"You don't have to forgive anyone. Not even your parents. And guess what? You're still a wonderful person that I love…the mother of my children. My life partner. My pushy friend…my everything…everything I never knew I could have when I left Oakland. Happiness has been a long time coming for us."

"Yes Lord!"

They laughed together.

"Tomorrow is for us and our babies, okay?" he said.

He hugged her and she slumped into his chest.

"I want to have fun today. Get through the morning activities, rehearsal, fittings, lunch…and then the banquet. By this same time tomorrow I want to be sleeping peacefully and nothing on my mind except getting into my wedding dress," she said.

He palmed her backside and they rubbed noses. Her scent lingered all over his body like a second skin. He pressed kisses along her temple and ran a heat-seeking trail down her neck. Yani leaned back giving him space to find his way back to her lips where they parted once more and she nestled into slow kissing him. Their tongues swept back and forth between their moist lips with familiar reassurance that nothing would come between them ever again.

Yani licked a curving arc across his lips and let her head fall back. She inhaled the cloying aromatic oils perfuming his locs and he watched her glassy eyes give up on focusing on anything else but him. He opened her coat and cupped a breast, squeezing it before holding the other.

"Titties so perfect…big…soft…heavy…"

He sucked on each nipple like candy drops, groaning along the suction of his lips moving around her areolas. She moaned at the fingering of her clit and the dipping of his two fingers inside of her wet opening. His semen stayed warm inside of her. He lifted her legs up and planted her feet on the edge of the desk.

"Wait, let me put my wig back on," she said reaching for it on the desk.

He pulled her hand away from it.

"No. I don't want Toya…I want my wife…Yani…"

He took off his layered shirts again and only lowered his pants enough to release his dick. Their kissing made his pipe stiffen and he plunged into a pussy coated with his cum and her slickness. He held her legs up and she used her arms to balance herself on the desk.

"I want to cum inside my wife…look at my dick inside you…fuck…shit is so hard, Yani…hard for you, baby…just you…fuck, this shit is so deep. I feel all that cum I put in you…pussy is so good on my dick…look how you doin' Daddy's dick! You like that? Huh? Lemme give you some husband dick for a minute…ah fuck, you feel that weight? Damn, I'm fucking the shit out this pussy…you in trouble when that honeymoon get here. I'ma fuck this pussy so much. Take you back to the island days, Yani…shit! I used to fuck you so much…this tight pussy was always riding this dick…"

Yani tried to keep her attention on his face, but her mouth had fallen open and her eyes kept watching his slick pipe go in and out. He started teasing her by pulling all the way out and tapping the girth against her labia and clit before plunging back in suddenly knocking the wind and sense out of her.

"Stretching it out, Ma…damn…look at those pussy lips squeezing me too…you feel that weight? Huh?"

He forced his dick to jump inside her pussy without moving his hands or wiggling his hips. The muscle control made her pussy throb all around his thickness. Her walls were beyond engorged. His semen rendered it twice as slippery and her pussy twice as noisy with all the splashing sounds they created with their intimate bond. He stirred his dick inside her like a big spoon mixing a pot of hot gumbo. Her whimpers and helpless pleas to keep fucking harder flew over his shoulder in hot breathy gusts. N'Jadaka was a useless king inside Yani's pussy. His balls contracted with the urge of release riding his body close to the edge.

"Look at this pussy! Taking all this dick!" he shouted. "I'ma start skipping work if you keeping giving it to me like this!"

Yani yelped and her walls contracted, making his dick throb rhythmically. He held her breasts and used slow methodical thrusts to please her even more. She twisted her lips and they stared at one another.

"First time I touched you…I wanted this…you made me want you…remember?"

Yani gasped with her eyes locked on his.

"This pussy showing out for Daddy…see? It likes this husband dick. Got me balls deep…make me cum, Yani!""

Yani's toes curled and her pussy squirted all over him at that moment.

"Fuck me…fuck me…" she moaned.

"Daddy is on it, baby. There you go….ooh, Yani look how you're squirting all over my dick…you want Daddy to cum now? I got a lot to put in you, baby."

"Fuck me…s'deep…so deep…my pussy is cumming again! I'm cumming…Killmonger!"

His dick exploded, and he helped push out his orgasm with a roar that stretched his vocal chords. Yani took his thrusts, squirted again, and accepted the cum flow his dick vanquished her with.

"I'm still cumming, Yani…fuck!"

He gripped his dick and pulled out, shooting semen all over her breasts. Shuddering and cursing, he stood back to watch cum spill out from her and drip all over his shirts. He played in her pussy, smearing creamy warmth all over her labia. He rubbed it all over her tits pleased with how she looked to him. Soaked and sated.

He stretched his back muscles and his dick bobbed. Unlike her, he needed to top off his night with one more sexual act. She already knew the drill and slid down from the desk onto her knees. He stroked his dick and studied her expression as she took off her coat and unwrapped her hair. This was ritual for them, something he suspected all Udaku men did. For him, cumming on Yani's face wasn't humiliation but his solemn duty to let her know she was his. It was ownership not of the bullying patriarchal kind, no, it was something deeper than that. Primal. Ferocious and raw. Petty even. Marking her with his semen gave him power over others who wanted her too. Knowing Remy hovered over his woman compelled N'Jadaka to paint Yani's delicate face as a reminder of who her man was. On her knees, his dick looked like a scepter blessing her. She kept her eyes open and sucked on his balls at the seam knowing it heightened his pleasure. Looking down at her he stroked and twisted his fingers under the ridge of his dick, trying not to blow his load haphazardly. He needed to control this release and show her his physical prowess. The load flowing through his dick ignited a passion in him that needed no words to express what she was to him.

He drenched her.

Hot heavy ropes purged from his balls, striking her dewy skin in long white stripes. Yani knelt before him pious and silent, accepting the cum falling like fat raindrops. The grinding of his teeth as he surpressed any shouting escaping his lips forced a pressure into his heaving chest. He beat on his dick and reveled in his good fortune at having her and it extended his carnal aching to cover her more.

"Fuckkk!"

He nearly choked on the word as his balls throbbed with its final outpouring. Panting and gasping, he stared at Yani. She gave him what he wanted. Absolute submission. His semen turned her into living art. He probably could've made love to her on the floor covered in his jizz, but his body grew tired from the adventure.

"You leave first," she said, touching his hand.

He couldn't get over how extraordinary she looked soaked in cum with a smile on her face. She gathered her things again and scurried to the restroom. He put on his shirts and left the library with swift feet.

A quick shower made him drowsy back in his grandfather's suite. He crawled back into bed with Riki and slept the rest of the early morning feeling exalted.

Yani couldn't believe how fast the day sped by.

She expected to be frazzled and exhausted by the time she dressed for the banquet, but instead, she felt invigorated and longed for a new morning to rise. The family breakfast was a rollicking good time. As she admired the coming together of the Udaku-Stevens clan and the fragments of her smaller family line at the closure of their betrothal march, Yani knew for sure that her place at the head of the throne required her to move with composed stealth when she faced the nation as queen. The Udaku elders accepted her as one of their own. There were a few cousins and in-laws in the royal family that remained cool toward her place at N'Jadaka's side because of her unconventional public behavior with him that they felt was unbecoming of a proper stoic queen, but they would back the family from outside skepticism about her representing the monarchy. Any internal strife among them would be squashed by Umama anyway. Yani liked being touchy-feely with N'Jadaka no matter where she was. If the public saw them kissing or N'Jadaka's hand fondling her butt or holding her tight against him, they would have to get accustomed to more of it in the future.

No matter what they thought about her throughout the royal bloodline, one thing was for certain: they adored N'Jadaka Udaku.

The king seemed to glow around his family. His close bond with Shuri had blossomed into a transition of sorts. He took on an elder brother role as opposed to a cousin, and Shuri was never far from his company. They whispered together secret jokes and spoke with great affection toward one another. The new sibling bond helped Ramonda not worry so much about her daughter. It had been revealed a few months back that she had suffered the loss of a boyfriend in the Infinity War that no one in the family knew about. She grieved for her brother openly, but her young lover had been mourned hidden away from them all.

After final fittings, lunch, and hair appointments for the children and herself, Yani sat in the dressing room with her two sisters and Ladies-in-Waiting as Twyla smoothed the last bit of hair oil on her newly clipped and dyed scalp.

"You look like you did when you met him," Twyla said.

"Stunning," Zola added. "The platinum color of your hair…the dark eyebrows."

Yani puckered her lips and stared at them in the mirror. Touching her face, she admired the darker hue of her skin from the afternoon sunbathing session. The rich bronze glow gave her a fetching quality that hinted at summer and sensuality. Her kimoyos lit up with N'Jadaka's signature.

"We're late! N'Jadaka wants us to meet him at the East Palace exit. The media are being allowed to photograph us leaving for the banquet," Yani yelped.

She jumped up and her Ladies fanned out the small scallop-shaped train on her indigo dress and helped her put on the matching indigo puffy cape with a deep gold lining. Yani felt like she wore a cloud around her shoulders and back. They followed her at a clipped pace, traveling across the palace bridge, and made quite a commotion with staff as they headed toward the ground floor where N'Jadaka waited for her. Twyla nudged her with a soft jab into her elbow.

"Notice anyone special?" Twyla teased.

Mpilo, Bibi, and N'Jadaka's close friends from America were present. Shawn and Walter were dressed in fashionable dark suits. M'Baku and Ayomide rounded out the bunch, and…

Yani blinked twice.

A man with tawny skin and thick glossy black hair stood next to N'Jadaka. Clean-shaven and dressed in a black velvet embroidered dishdasha and trousers, the corners of his lips turned up at the sight of her.

"Ah! There she is my goddess from long ago…"

"Tahir!"

Yani ran up to him and let protocols fall to the wayside. She hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. He pulled back from her and grinned.

"I see now that it was a good thing that you never listened to my advice about this guy," Tahir said.

He winked at her, and she clasped his hands in hers.

"I can't believe you're here…Twyla…you were able to keep this from me?"

Twyla laughed and pinched Yani's cheek.

N'Jadaka playfully slapped Tahir's hands away.

"Watch yourself man, I saw her first!" N'Jadaka said.

"How is this possible?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka placed a hand on Tahir's shoulder.

"I recently made Tahir Wakanda's first Middle Eastern Ambassador. He'll be working closely with our people on the outside. I'm covering our bases, and that part of the world needs some prodding by us."

Tahir nodded and held out his hands using them to punctuate his thoughts like he used to do with her back in St. Thomas.

"I was as shocked like you are now when he found me. Yet…here I stand in this fabulous country of the future attending pre-wedding parties," Tahir said.

His eyes tracked the women behind him and his grin widened.

"Perhaps I will get lucky tonight and finally find my own goddess like you. I'm so glad to see you again. I often wondered how you turned out and alhamdulilah…look at you…about to become a queen!"

Umama and Ramonda kicked up a bit of fanfare with their arrival and the entire party was swarmed with Doras and kingsguards. Tahir was taken aback by the dazzling display of power both older women held as queen mothers. N'Jadaka introduced a nervous Tahir and Yani giggled to herself. A mercenary and friend of the infamous Killmonger acting flummoxed by Wakandan women. Umama put Tahir to work as her escort, peppering him with questions as they all moved outside. Flashes of lights and shouts met them as the media were permitted to film them from a distance.

N'Jadaka walked Yani down the stairs toward a line-up of transportation that would cross over the large moat and head them to their destination following the curve of the river.

"I can't believe you two are back together," Yani said.

She climbed into their transport and waited for her Ladies and relatives to join them in the first car. N'Jadaka held her hand while security made sure their entire party was secure in all the vehicles.

"Took some time to track him, but I started the moment I was released from cryostasis. There are some places our War Dogs can't infiltrate easily, and he'll help us with that."

"What about his family?"

"He's an orphan like me. There's a married half-sister who lives in London and no one else. Many others were taken in the blip. He's single. No children…that he knows of."

Yani rolled her eyes and N'Jadaka kissed her cheek.

"He has no allegiance to any country and he's always had my back. Even when I kept secrets about myself away from him, he stuck with me. He's a loyal dude, and honestly, baby…I missed him. Just like I missed Shawn and Walter. Men don't really stay connected the way women do, and I want to rectify that. Since T'Challa's been gone, I miss male companionship from my past."

"I'm glad he's here. I know Wakanda has tripped him out."

Okoye opened the passenger door and glanced at N'Jadaka.

"Your Highness, Mpilo has offered to give up his seat for your guest," Okoye said.

"I don't need any special treatment Killmonger," Tahir said.

"Get in," N'Jadaka said.

Tahir climbed into the empty seat next to Zola. He gave a bashful look at Yani and took his special place comfortably inside the front car. Okoye took her seat in the front passenger space and the driver ferried them through the heart of Birnin Zana.

Tahir looked out of his tinted window. He craned his neck observing the splendor of the golden city's skyline.

"Incredible. This place is so…magical," Tahir said.

Yani pointed out landmarks and the temple she would marry N'Jadaka in. The streets were already in prep-mode with decorations going up for the parade after he wedding. A few citizens stopped on the sidewalks and watched the royal procession of cars speed by.

"They tell me you had a child by him," Tahir said.

He spun his seat around to face them.

"We have a son, Riki," Yani said with pride dripping from her voice.

She tapped her kimoyo and Riki's static image floated before them. Her son was caught running toward N'Jadaka's arms for a hug. Tahir stared at the image and then looked at N'Jadaka.

"You didn't give this woman any chance of sharing her genes with this child?" Tahir said.

N'Jadaka chuckled and admired his son's picture. Tahir sank back in his seat. The other women chatted and ignored their conversation out of respect.

"I am happy that you have found your way back together," Tahir said.

He studied N'Jadaka's face for a moment. His lips quirked a bit as he gave Yani his full attention.

"I will be at your service, Yani. Your husband-to-be has given me a new life…one filled with possibility again. I was lost in a wilderness when he disappeared…no, Killmonger, let me finish, don't interrupt me in front of the goddess…"

N'Jadaka looked at Yani. She leaned forward to give Tahir her full attention.

"This man is special…listen to me, Yani. I never met a man like him in my life before. In my line of work, there are ruthless people…dangerous people. Sometimes you are blessed to see the makings of a legend in the midst of horrible circumstances. Killmonger moved in ways that told me he wasn't some ordinary person. His drive and focus was unmatched…now…it is clear why. I feel honored that I watched him fall in love with you."

N'Jadaka held up a hand to hush Tahir. The man ignored the gesture.

"I never saw him smile until he was around you. Allah has his hand on this union. I will make sure he lives up to your expectations."

"He's doing okay so far," Yani said.

She stroked N'Jadaka's shoulder. Tahir's intense eyes watched her.

"You have become the woman your Aunt dreamed you'd be," Tahir said.

"Really?"

"Oh yes. We used to talk…she and I. I'd eat her food and she would speak of a future that she imagined for you. We both pretended not to notice you and my friend falling for each other. She knew it. From the moment she witnessed you in the same room together. Miss Leona told me you were a salty girl to him, but underneath… it was the need to be near him. The bad man on the hill…ha, ha! That's what your people called him behind his back! You sang to him in that club…remember that little club, Killmonger? He couldn't take his eyes off of you all night. He barely spoke to me looking for you all over that room. My feelings were a little hurt, but how could I compete with this vision here?"

Yani sighed and rested her head on N'Jadaka's shoulder.

"That night started off perfect and ended so bad," she said.

"Bad for who? You? This guy? No. Allah moved the riff raff out of your way to clear a path for this time now."

Tahir turned his head and his eyes grew big watching the scenery go by.

"I am in awe of this place…."

The driver took them into a chic and densely populated section of Birnin Zana's finance district with towering buildings and slow-moving crowds enjoying a warm spring evening dining at night cafes and upscale private clubs. Heads turned and kimoyo beads were lifted to catch sight of their entourage arriving in front of a high-end venue. Their security flanked around them in a tight formation and ushered them inside a laughter filled lobby. They worked their way through the excited buzz of their entrance to a reception area where festive cocktails and savory hors d'oeuvres were served. A burnished bronze and gold color palette in the décor screamed money and affluence.

The royal arrival kicked up another stir of excitement and Yani clutched N'Jadaka's arm tight. All eyes drank them in and the royal party swept through to greet elders and high-ranking nobles who gave them the most support. Yani caught a glimpse of the lavishly decorated dining room where long rectangular banquet tables were set up in a herringbone style on opposite sides of the cavernous room, all facing a hollow square grouping of tables and chairs in the center. Servers and posh chef staff prepared for their entrance. Live traditional string music played over speakers and Yani relaxed into the lively ambiance.

N'Jadaka stood beside her like a shining beacon in the cocktail room and she reflected the light of their pairing. The Council of Elders each approached with their spouses and Yani made grand gestures toward them that delighted the heavily traditionalist crowd. The Court of Nobles in that space represented every upper class family that maneuvered for power and influence with the king.

Everyone present looked resplendent in tailored raiment. Their ubiquitous jewelry, flamboyant hairstyles and even placement around the room signified their clan status and their tribal affiliation. The odor around them reeked of rich, decadent, and calculated stunt queens bubbling with great pleasure mixing with their own kind. The women traipsed in spectacular dresses of every rainbow hue that made whooshing noises at every turn, but Yani's indigo dress was the grand dame couture of the night. Blue and gold had become her signature colors when she made public appearances ever since the King's Ball. She decided not to wear anything too modest. The deep plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination with the swelling of her breasts peeking out, even with the sheer piece of material that went down the center to keep any direct skin from being exposed. She kept the décolletage of semi-precious jewels on the back of the dress's train instead of the front to keep a sleek silhouette look that complimented N'Jadaka's flowing black robes that were an exact copy of his father's. She slid the cape down the long sleeves of the dress with the king's help and handed it to a coat check too nervous to look at her face. There were a few feral nods in a corner from her smiling detractors who admired the dress despite disliking her.

Her eyes ghosted over the hundreds of faces until Zola and Ilana nudged her arm after handing her a glass of honey wine.

Remy and Lady Ime stood across from them near the dining hall entrance.

Ilana whispered in her ear.

"Notice how she's wearing big twists tonight to cover her ears," Ilana said.

"I see."

Yani slid her hand from N'Jadaka's arm down to his hand. They intertwined fingers and spoke to a few admirers who asked about Yani's book tour and her plans after the wedding. Her social card became booked and she shook her head thinking of all the private teas and luncheons she was asked to attend within thirty minutes of schmoozing.

Hand in hand she and N'Jadaka mingled among the elite, sipping more wine and smiling so hard that her jaws began to ache. N'Jadaka introduced Shawn, Walter, and Tahir to important families. All three men acted right at home in the cocktail party despite having to use language translators. Luckily for them, most of the nobles understood and spoke English.

The pomp and circumstance became more exuberant and louder, drowning out most of the conversations swirling around. M'Baku and Ayomide meandered over to them, their Jabari-styled clothing bulky and extravagant. Several older couples carried on conversations with the mountain couple drawing out the commanding voice of Ayomide who had them enraptured with her lively eloquence and tall stature.

Yani gulped down her second glass of wine and reminded herself to watch how much she drank the rest of the evening. Her reputation held high social capital at the moment because of her book and all it would take was for one noble to clock her drink intake and tally it up for the gossip grapevine. N'Jadaka nursed a glass of purple fermented wine made from red grapes and the petals of a pink flower found in the Wakandan valley near Birnin Bashenga. He finished his drink as Yani kept a watchful eye on Remy and Ime.

"Better to talk them now before the children arrive for the dinner portion," N'Jadaka said.

"We can walk past as if we want to look at the dining area."

"People are already filtering in there to find their seats so it won't look confrontational."

He squeezed her hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

More people flowed into the reception cocktail hour and Yani didn't want to be bombarded with the same questions from the new influx of nobles.

"Ready," she said.

N'Jadaka took the first step forward and Yani matched his pace. They skipped past eager guests and strode toward the couple.

Remy and Ime nodded to them in a respectful fashion and Yani looked up at N'Jadaka's face to allow him to speak first and set the tone.

"Enjoying the party?" N'Jadaka asked.

He held out his hand to Remy and the younger nobleman clasped it with a firm shake.

"We are having a great time. You both look amazing," Remy said.

Yani looked at Ime who wore a beaming face as she listened to the men chat.

"Your hair is very pretty, Lady Ime," Yani said.

Ime gave a furtive smile and lifted two twists to show Yani and N'Jadaka the earrings they gave her. They looked stylish and quite flattering on her ear. Remy wore his too, and from a distance one could barely notice the design until they were close upon him. Yani gave the couple a broad smile that she was pleased.

"They look lovely on you," Yani said.

"We look forward to the wedding tomorrow," Ime said. "Thank you for the invitation. I know so many people want to be there and it is a great honor to actually witness your nuptials in person and not on the vid screen at home."

"Queen Mother Niyilolawa and Queen Mother Ramonda had a large hand in helping me choose the list of guests. King N'Jadaka has been impressed with Ramatla's work and as you know, he was once my nanny for a few months."

Ime's eyes darted over to Remy.

"I did not know that Remy worked for you before his current position," Ime said.

"Oh? You never told her? Our children loved him. They will be here for the dinner tonight," Yani said.

Remy wrenched his eyes away from Ime and gazed at Yani. Clearing his throat, he gave a disarming smile.

"I am excited to see them again. So much has changed since I cared for them," Remy said.

"We'll see you both inside," N'Jadaka said.

The king led Yani away, but Zola and Ilana, who stood a respectable distance behind them, cornered Ime and Remy by the entrance, chatting them up.

"They swooped in fast," N'Jadaka said.

"They are truly petty. I'm sure they're pretending to see the earrings for the first time. This is all so pretty…"

The dining room engaged all the senses and she admired the floral centerpieces and garlands decorating lit candles. The odor of fresh incense filled the room as a few servers removed brass burners that were no longer needed. Yani sniffed and the smells filling the air reminded her of the royal garden in summer when the fresh petals of new lavender and purple sage were cut to make potpourri for many of the palace common rooms.

"King N'Jadaka, Princess Yani, this way please."

A young woman in an elaborate venue attendant uniform led them to their seat at the center table. Ramonda and Umama sat on either side of them. M'Baku and Ayomide sat beside Umama and the rest of their entourage filled out reserved seats behind them. There were five open spaces left open for Dante, Leona, and their children. From her peripheral, Yani glimpsed Remy and Ime sitting at a table to their left with their esteemed family members dining together as part of their public betrothal march.

The rest of the Court of Nobles filed in and took their seats. The din of voices, clinking glasses, and the rustling of movement all around them gave her pause to refocus her attention on the other guests at their table. All six of the tribes, including the Jabari, were represented by the highest ranking members of their elite. So many eyes regarded Yani and N'Jadaka. It was a rare privilege to dine with the royals up close and bright curious eyes studied their every gesture and hung onto every word uttered from their mouths.

"Doing okay?" N'Jadaka whispered in her ear.

Yani stroked his beard and he patted her thigh under the table. He puckered his lips and she pressed hers against the fleshy softness. An older woman from the Merchant Tribe quickly looked away in embarrassment after catching the intimacy. Calm dining music swelled in the background as a master of ceremonies approached a dais and welcomed all the upper crust.

Dante and Leona entered the dining room with the children.

"Hi Mama," Sydette said, waving at them.

Once they were seated, the emcee introduced the non-binary priest Dinani who would perform their wedding ceremony. Dinani prayed over them with a solemn tone in their voice, and the host went over some housekeeping details as the first course was served.

Yani broke a piece of dinner roll and dipped it in the broth bowl she ate from and inhaled the delicious aroma of her food. N'Jadaka became the charming head of state, keeping their non-family dining companions chuckling with his stories about meeting the American President, and seeing Tony Starks again. A flurry of questions were presented to him concerning Stark Industries and his trip to the U.N. Their rapt attention to N'Jadaka made it easier for Yani to enjoy her meal peacefully and watch the children cared for by Dante and Leona. She paced her eating so her belly didn't fill up before the last course was brought out. She dared to sip on another glass of wine during the presentation of the dessert plates piled with all sorts of cake, pie, and fruit slices.

A room separator was pulled apart revealing a sizeable dance floor and bandstand. A young woman in a skintight black and red body stocking studded with spikes along the sides of her arms and legs shook a tangle of long locs. Half of her face was painted with red dots and the rest of her band were dressed the same. She stepped forward holding an electric guitar and addressed the nobles.

"Hello esteemed guests, and the royal family. My name is Pemmy Yengeni and this is my band. I was told by the Grand Queen Mother of the Nation that Prince Riki was unable to enjoy the festivities of the S'Yan Country Fair today, so she asked us to perform a set for everyone here to wish King N'Jadaka and Princess Yani a happy wedding day tomorrow. This first song I wrote for our brave king and our soldiers who fought to save us all. We are honored to be here and graciously thank Queen Mother Niyilolawa for the invitation."

Pemmy raised her arm and brought her hand down hard onto her guitar blazing into the hit song that electrified the youth of Wakanda. Riki leapt from his seat and raced to his great-grandmother, hugging her fast before dashing off to the dance floor among the other young people that danced and clapped, squealing at the sight of a singing star. Sydette and Joba joined their brother. Yani leaned over and gave Umama a hug, surprising her. Decorum be damned, the older woman brought Riki joy. She stood and clapped to the music, watching her children hop and dance. Umama tapped her hand in time to the music on her leg.

"This music is very catchy…not as obnoxious as I had feared," Umama said. "My great-grandbaby has good ears for music."

"He will remember this day forever."

Umama grinned and watched all three of her great-grandchildren dance.

N'Jadaka shocked everyone when he grabbed Yani's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor where they rage danced with their children bringing delighted shouts of encouragement from the young nobles bopping along next to them. Pemmy held out her mic for Riki and the little prince sang his heart out on the wild chorus making N'Jadaka and Yani laugh at the sincere attempt to sound like Pemmy. The singer helped Riki and Joba climb onto the stage to dance next to her as she roared out stirring lyrics and aimed them at N'Jadaka, M'Baku and all the other men and women in the room who fought in the Infinity War.

N'Jadaka lifted Yani off her feet and spun her around. She laughed and grabbed for his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

"Put me down," she said, patting his chest.

He lifted Sydette up so she could watch Pemmy and her siblings bounce around the stage. The first song ended on a loud crescendo of feedback from the bass. Riki clapped so hard and Joba stared at Pemmy with big, wide eyes. The nobles applauded, appreciating the lyrics despite the raucous nature of the Afropunk vibes. Pemmy bowed and held up a hand toward the older people in their seats.

"Don't worry my beautiful elders, I have music for you too," Penny said.

The band started playing a classic Wakandan courting song and the older people thundered their applause. Many stood and headed for the dance floor to join the youth in a line dance. Sydette sprinted to the front to watch Pemmy up close with Riki and Joba.

"Use your sound shield! Remind Riki and Joba, too," Yani called out.

Sydette nodded and tapped her kimoyo beads to release a protective barrier for her ears with the blaring speakers.

"Shall we continue dancing Queen Yani?" he asked.

"Why yes, King N'Jadaka."

They partnered up close and swayed to the music that reminded Yani of the clipped dub sounds of reggae. Pemmy's voice soared above them. She threw her arms around his neck and relished the closeness.

"In fifteen hours we will be Mr. and Mrs. Udaku," he breathed into her ear.

"Yes."

"Should we forget me staying with Grandpop tonight and spend the night together?"

"No. Stay with Grandpop. The next time you see me will be my walking down the aisle all glamorous."

He tilted his head back.

"Yani, you've always been my queen."

She stared in his eyes. His face looked so kind and loving.

"We made it," he said.

His eyes began to well up and he pressed his forehead onto hers.

"I love you so much…I can't run this world without you," he said.

"You will always be my heart," she said.

Yani hugged his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. They rocked in unison until the song segued into a faster beat that brought more couples to the floor. Pemmy and her band were a rollicking success and the nobles of all ages ate up the music. Yani glanced over her shoulder. Riki shook his hips and held the hands of his sisters participating in a ring dance that Wakandans did for special occasions.

Drifting back to their table, Yani noticed Ime having sharp words with Remy. Their heads were held close to keep their conversation private, but it was obvious Ime was upset. Remy listened to her with an annoyed expression, but his eyes raised when Yani walked past him. Ime followed the direction of his gaze and Yani smiled to them both, her hand secure inside N'Jadaka's powerful grip. Facing forward, she rested in the assurance of her bond with the man she loved…King N'Jadaka. The Golden Jaguar.

Chapter 5 HERE.

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#King Killmonger #King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #Black Panther Fanfiction #Killmonger Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #Namor #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes

[looneyleyle]

bitchy kie ~ j. maybank

synopsis: midsummer's and john b's hospital visit seem to push kie to snap, at her best friend in the world nonetheless. snap crackle pop!

warnings: some kie hate

words: 1882 words

note: from my wattpad account, written april 18 2022

paisley pov

kiara and i rarely ever fought. sure, we'd have petty quarrels every now and again, but never any full blown fight. this, however, was much different than any other time, and i didn't have the slightest clue as to what i did wrong.

kiara had invited me to midsummer's, despite me being a pogue. her parents had essentially taken me in when i started working at the wreck two years ago. they had even lent me a beautiful dress for the occasion. it was short, wavy at the skirt, and light orange, paired with a beautiful moon necklace. mrs. carrera even made me a flower crown, which i couldn't thank her enough for.

everything leading up to midsummer's went just fine. kie and i got ready, throwing compliments at each other left and right. we blasted music throughout the room, dancing playfully like the two teenage girls we are. when we got to midsummer's, we made snarky comments about the kooks, and we had to hold each other to contain our laughter when rose cameron waltzed in with that absolute monstrosity perched upon her head. when pope arrived, the air was still light, the three of us joking around, trying to keep our minds off of the incident with jj earlier on.

i think it all went downhill when jj was being escorted off of the premises by one of the guards. as kie was going to speak up for him, i yelled out about how he was my date, and that they had no right to throw him out. kie had her parents watching, and us pogues were already on thin ice with them. it was best for them to be mad at me for bringing jj than for them to be mad at kie for bringing him and 'embarrassing the family name' or some other bullshit kook idea they have.

when the words escaped my lips, the guard pushed jj my way. i caught him and he put an arm around my waist, making my lie more believable. he then twirled me away from the scene to the music, downed some man's drink, and yelled for a mandatory pogue meeting at rixon's. holding my hand, he didn't wait for the others to follow behind us.

we all whooped and hollered, having a great time, before settling down for this mandatory meeting. john b brought up his treasure hunt again, leading me to look at jj skeptically. he squeezed my hand, motioning for me to keep listening.

i didn't look at kiara at all during the first half of the meeting, but when the name 'sarah cameron' was slipped, she went apeshit.

"you let a kook in on our secret?!" she screamed. they all went back and forth for a bit, kiara not calming down in the slightest.

when john b and kiara were done arguing, everything went silent.

"so…" jj trailed off, trying to find something, anything, to say. kiara raised her eyebrows at him, and then did the same to me. i looked at her questioningly, not understanding why she all of a sudden had beef with me. jj shifted a bit, making me aware of the arm that had been around my shoulders throughout the argument. i didn't pull away, however, and despite kiara's piercing glare boring into my soul, i found myself becoming drowsy. my eyes drooped as my head fell onto jj's shoulder.

when i woke up, i was in roughly the same position, but in the back of the van instead of around the fire pit. john b was nowhere to be seen, pope and jj were immersed in conversation, and kiara sat alone, staring out the window and towards hawks nest. i stayed in jj's arms, still teetering on the line between sleep and consciousness.

if possible, kiara's mood was soured even more by sarah cameron leaning over john b's limp body, crying, kissing his lips as if it were a disney movie. that mood continued as sarah insisted on staying by him at all times, waiting for him to wake up.

"i could honestly care less that john b decided to befriend that snake, but she acts as if she's the only one there for him! hello, he has four perfectly good friends right here who care about him way more than she could ever even fathom!" kiara ranted, the four of us sitting around the château. due to all the injuries agatha caused, there was a limit of two visitors per person in the hospital, and some mystery man and sarah cameron filled up those two spots before the rest of us could have a say.

"at least we know that he's in stable condition. he won't drop dead, it's just a matter of time before he wakes up." i suggested, trying to calm her down. she chuckled bitterly. a burst of anger went through my body, what did i do?

"if you have something to say, by all means, get it off your chest. you've been acting like a bitch ever since we left midsummer's." i told her, arms crossed in front of me. a quiet "ooooooh" came from jj, but i was focused on kie.

"it's easy for you to be all easy-going right now, isn't it? it's only john b in the hospital. but if your boy toy were in there, you'd be raising hell over the fact that we can't go and visit."

"my 'boy toy'? and who exactly is that?" i asked, irked and a bit genuinely confused as to who she's referring to.

"isn't it obvious? you two are practically joint at the hip! all you ever do is eye-fuck each other!" kie yelled. jj shifted against me, nearly glaring at kiara.

"drop it kie." he said lowly. she just laughed sarcastically at that, deflating. i didn't feel like talking to her anymore, so i dropped it and got up to leave.

"paisley? where're you going?" jj asked, also getting up.

"i'm going home. goodnight." i told him, already walking away. i heard him follow me, but i didn't protest.

surprisingly, jj didn't say anything for the whole walk. he stayed in stride with me, occasionally whistling a little tune. when we got to the little house i shared with my mom and siblings, he spoke up.

"you okay? i've never seen you and kie fight like that." a sigh escaped my lips.

"i don't know why she's being so pissy right now. we were fine up until midsummer's! then she's mad at me for trying to calm her down? like what the fuck was that all about?" i ranted. jj nodded, not saying anything.

"and then the whole 'boy toy' comment? like what was that?" at that, jj stayed silent for a bit.

"just give her some time, i'm sure she'll realize she's being crazy after all of this sarah stuff blows over." i nodded. the door to the house creaked open, making me jump. out of the door came my little brother, charlie. i crouched down and picked up his tired figure.

"hey charlie, why're you still up?" i asked, slightly bouncing him on my hip.

"i was waiting for you to come home. momma is at work and i need my night-night kisses." he said seriously, pouting. jj smiled softly at this and took charlie from me, holding him up in the air slightly.

"how 'bout i tuck you in while your sister gets ready for bed?" he asked in a slight baby voice. charlie gave jj a tired smile, nodding. my heart melted at the sight; two of the most important boys in my life together. jj carried charlie inside, holding the door open for me with his foot. i followed after the two quietly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house.

jj and charlie turned into the first bedroom on the right, while i crept further into the house until i got to my room. after wiping off my makeup and putting my hair up, i made my way back to the boys.

peering into the room, i watched as jj delicately placed the blankets around charlie.

"where are my goodnight kissies??" charlie whined tiredly. jj chuckled before moving some of charlie's hair out of his face and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

"g'night buddy." he whispered, staying near the boy until his eyes closed and breathing softened. my heart squeezed as i watched the interaction. jj was so soft and loving with charlie and it absolutely melted my heart. i tiptoed in and placed a light kiss on charlie's head. i put his favorite stuffed animal in his arms and, together, jj and i walked out of his room.

i closed the door ever so slowly as to not disturb the sleeping child. when i turned around, jj was there, staring at me. the cocky smirk he usually held was nowhere to be seen. instead, a small smile played at his lips, his soft blue eyes focused on my face. for reasons i tried to repress for many months, i couldn't look at him for more than a couple seconds before fidgeting nervously. jj placed his hand under my chin and lifted it, gently forcing me to hold his stare. when his hand dropped, my eyes remained locked on his, anticipating his next move. however, after a couple moments passed by, jj looked away and scratched at the back of his neck.

"it's been a long day, let's get you to bed."

i let out a light chuckle at that, but followed him to my room regardless. he stood near the edge of my room as i grabbed my pajamas and, as i reach to take off my shirt, he turned around, giving me the privacy that i didn't even ask for. i stopped for a moment to take in the action before continuing to strip and change into comfier clothes. when i finished, jj was still turned around. off of a whim and slight exhaustion, i walked right up behind him and hugged him, burying my face into his back. all the emotions i had buried for the boy in front of me came bubbling up, making me squeeze the boy a bit tighter. he clasped his hands over mine, letting out a deep, content sigh.

"c'mon," he said quietly, shuffling us towards the bed. he crawled in after me, leaving a sizable distance between the two of us.

once settled in, the two of us simply stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. after a while, i closed me eyes, taking in everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, including what was happening in that moment.

"it feels like everything is falling apart." i whispered, not opening my eyes.

"yeah, it does," he replied. after a few seconds, there was a rustling besides me. i opened my eyes ever so slightly and turned, seeing jj laying there, giving me a soft smile.

"but we always manage to get through it together." he finished.

"together." i repeated, my eyes getting heavier, the weight of everything pushing down onto my body. and so, the two of us fell asleep, just a couple inches closer than when we first laid down.

#jj maybank #jj x oc #obx #outer banks #fanfic

[ghost4meeks]

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊 | 𝐫. 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬

𖤐 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𖤐 * "𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊'𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒊 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕. …𝒓𝒂𝒚, 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖." *

𖤐 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, (𝐲/𝐧) 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮, 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐲/𝐧) 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐬

𖤐 * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌 *

𝐎𝐍𝐄

Casey perused through her small shelf of tapes, eyebrows knit together as she examined each one. 

"You know this stuff better than I do, (y/n/n). What do you think?"

She made no effort to hide her frustration.

"You sure? Last time I picked you made me sleepover with you for a week." I let out a quiet snicker as I ripped the label off the Jiffy Pop and placed it on the burner. We had watched Halloween while babysitting the Kennedys and she practically pissed herself.

"You knew what you were doing picking that movie while we were babysitting," she walked over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter, "and poor James had to walk in right when the guy got killed in the kitchen."

I gasped. "That's why we don't sit for them anymore?! I thought they just got tired of us raiding their fridge."

"Just go pick a movie!" Casey laughed, shoving me towards the living room as I laughed with her.

I smiled, crouching down and squinting at the dark shelf to try and find the movie I was looking for.

I consider myself a horror buff. I've seen too many to count but remember them all in ridiculous detail. Probably because I'm so attentive.

Out of nowhere, the phone rang, making me flinch.

"I'll get it," Casey assured, picking up the phone with a smile. I gave her a nod before focusing on the shelf once more, cheesing when I found the tape.

'Friday the 13th. Never gets old.'

I grabbed it and walked back to the kitchen just as Casey hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" I asked, curious as I placed the VHS on the counter. "Steve call to say hi~?"

"Nah. Just some wrong number caller," she shrugged turning to take the popcorn off the stove when the phone rang again. She grabbed it and I decided to start locking up the house for the night.

I went to the front door, back door, and patio before coming back to the kitchen to see the color drain from her face, the phone still to her ear. "What did you say?" she softly asked, her tone a 180 flip from a minute ago.

"What's wrong?" I mouthed, my concern growing as she speed walked to the patio door, cutting on the lights. We looked but saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than the occasional squirrel.

"Uh, nah, I don't think so," She dismissed, hanging up the phone as she jiggled the door handle, making sure it was locked.

"Case, what's wrong? Who was that on the phone?" I asked again, following her back to the kitchen. This wasn't like Casey, and I don't know if there was something in the air but I had a bad feeling.

"I-I don't know. We were just talking about movies when he said he could see me. I don-." The familiar blare of the phone made her jump and I took it from her, picking up.

"I told you not to hang up on me," the voice on the other side said deeply.

"And I'm telling you now to leave us the fuck alone. Don't call again," I spat, hanging up as soon as I finished.

Casey was shaking, and the popcorn was smoking, long burned.

"Relax, Case. He's probably just a prank caller," I assured her, rubbing her shoulder, "and worse comes to worse, all the windows and doors are locked."

"Don't lie to me, (y/n/n). I feel like something bad's gonna happen. I know you can, too," she looked over to me, fear written all over her face.

She wasn't wrong, I could feel the pit in my stomach getting heavier by the second, but I had to stay strong. For her at least.

The blare of the phone rang through the house and Casey flinched again.

'I've had enough of this guy.'

"Listen, dipshit!" "No, you listen, you little bitch! You hang up on me again and I'll gut you both like a fish, understand?!" The man shouted, loud enough for Casey to hear as well.

She let out a loud sob and I put my finger to her mouth, signalling for her to be quiet.

"If this is some kind of sick joke I'm-." "More of a game, really. Can you handle that, (y/n)?" The guy taunted.

My mind started to race.

'This is actually happening. How the fuck does he know my name?!'

I quickly snapped myself out of it, focusing on the task at hand. I covered the mouth piece and grabbed a carving knife out of the knife block as I squatted down to Casey, who was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"Casey, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? I need your help. I'm going to go check the doors, I need you to check the windows, alright? Can you do that for me?" I asked in a firm tone, giving her an equally firm look.

Don't get me wrong, I was scared shitless. But if I fall apart, Casey's gonna fall apart, and there's no way I'm letting us die tonight.

"Okay," She nodded, shaking.

"Alright then. Take a knife with you. And if we get separated, you get to the road and run as fast as you can towards town, okay?"

She nodded again, standing up and grabbing the chef's knife, "Okay."

"Be safe," I nodded before running to the back door, making sure it was locked, it was. I did the patio, the side door, and then finished with the front door.

I peered out the door window to see if I could find him out there.

"Can you see me?" He asked, almost child-like. As if we were playing a game of hide and seek.

"I am giving you one final fucking chance to call this shit off or I'm calling the police," I threatened, venom dripping from my tone as I started walking back towards the kitchen.

"They'd never make it in time. We're out in the middle of nowhere," He brushed off, his voice getting deeper.

I glared at the phone as if I could see him. "What the fuck do you want, you psycho?"

"To see what your insides look like," He answered simply.

"Not if I see your's first, bitch," I spat, my voice wavering. I hung up the phone and looked down at my hands. They were shaking. And that's when I remembered:

Casey.

But to grant me somewhat of a relief, she ran up to me and latched onto my arm. "A-All the windows are locked," she sniffled, her shaking now uncontrollable.

I gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, Case."

Just then, the doorbell rang and she let out the shriek. I got my knife at the ready and slowly backed us away from the door.

"Who's there?" Casey sobbed, her hands tightening into a vice grip on my arm.

'Dammit, Case! Never ask that!'

The phone rang again and Casey let out another scream as I picked it up.

"You should never say, 'who's there?' Doesn't your friend watch scary movies? She might as well just come out here to investigate a strange noise or somethin'. It's clear you're the smarter one of the two," the man scolded, me making sure to keep a good distance from the front door. But then Casey snatched the phone from me.

"Look, you've had your fun, so I think you better leave or else," She weakly threatened, backing up into the living room.

She listened to him for a moment before responding, "Or else my boyfriend'll be here any second, and he'll be pissed when he finds out!"

'Dammit! You told him you didn't have a boyfriend! Shut up, Casey!'

He could possibly hurt her if he found out she lied.

"I lied! I do have a boyfriend, and he'll be here any second so your ass better be gone. I swear. He's big, and he plays football, and he'll kick the shit out of you! So you better just leave."

She stood there for a moment before her eyes went wide and her mouth gaped.

"What?! Dammit, Casey! What happened?!" I exclaimed, her reaction scaring me.

"How do you know his name?" She asked, barely above a whisper.

My eyes went wide and she used her shaking hand to flip on the patio light, revealing a bloody, tied up, Steven Orth.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, feeling light-headed. This was all like something out of a horror movie. I could watch them all day but living them...that was a different story.

My mind began to quiet, Casey's loud sobs fading in the background as I focused.

'(y/n) (l/n), you will not die tonight. You and Casey are going to live through this whatever fucking means necessary.'

Casey frantically unlocked the patio door and started to open it when I slammed it shut, locking it again.

"(y/n)-." I didn't even let her finish her sentence before I took the phone from her.

"Where the fuck are you?! You better nowt fucking hurt him!" I spat, my knuckles turning white from the anger filled grip I had on the phone.

"That all depends on you. You're going to play my game, or he dies right now!" the man shouted, Casey hearing and falling to the floor, her legs giving out.

"Alright! What's your fucking game?!"

"Turn off the light. You'll see what kind of game."

I gave Steve an apologetic look as I turned off the lights, his muffled screams fading into darkness.

I pulled Casey over to a corner and sat us down, her resting her head on my shoulder. She was crying waterfalls and you'd think she was having a seizure with how much she was shaking.

"Here's how we play: I ask a question. If you get it right, Steve lives. It's an easy category: move trivia. I'll even give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Halloween," the man asked, his smirk practically visible through the phone.

"Micheal Myers," I answered without a beat, my face stone-cold. I was tired of this coward and wanted him to show himself so I could kick his ass. Especially for poor Casey.

"Yes! Very good. Now for the real question, this one is for your friend here," I held out the phone to Casey and she weakly took it, "Name the killer in Friday the 13th."

I had heard the question and looked at her with knowing eyes. We've seen that movie together a couple of times. She has to know.

"Jason! Jason! Jason!" She exclaimed, jumping up from the floor. My eyes went wide.

'SHIT!'

"No, Casey! That the wrong answer!" I shouted, the guy on the other line saying the same thing.

"No, it's not! No, it's not. It was Jason. Listen, it was Jason! I saw that movie 20 goddamn times!" Casey shouted.

"Then you should know Jason's mother, Mrs. Voorhees, was the original killer! Jason didn't show up until the sequel. I'm afraid that was a wrong answer. Lucky for you there's a bonus round," The guy shouted back.

"But poor Steve. I'm afraid he's out."

I frantically stood up and turned on the patio lights to see Steve gutted, his intestines hanging out of the gaping hole that used to be his stomach.

Casey screamed again and I put my hands to my mouth in horror.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to run to the street and escape this nightmare, but I was frozen.

Casey was eerily quiet, her sobs barely above a whisper as she clutched onto the phone. I took it from her and put it to my ear.

"You sick fuck," I exhaled, my voice breaking.

"Final question. Are you ready? What door am I at?" he asked, his voice deepening again.

I was confused for a moment, clutching my knife tighter at the question when I suddenly realized:

the Patio.

Just then a chair was thrown at the patio door glass, shattering it instantly. Casey screamed and I grabbed her wrist and ran, clutching onto my knife like it was my oxygen supply.

I took us through the kitchen, which was now filled with smoke, and over to the small side doors that led outside. Casey unlocked one and we quickly went outside, hiding in the corner next to the door.

I held up my knife and peered through the door window to see a man in a black cloak with a ghost mask run through the house.

'Fuck!'

I turned over to the road behind us to see a pair of headlights. It was Casey's parents.

"Casey, when I say go, we run like fucking bats out of hell you understand me?" I whispered, her nodding in agreement.

I mouthed, "3...2...1-." A fist suddenly came crashing through the window and grabbed me. We both screamed and I punched the fucker in the face, hard.

"FUCKING RUN CASEY!" I shouted as the guy still had a hold on me. She turned around and ran and I don't know what possessed me to do this but I dove into the window, tackling the killer.

I punched him hard in the gut and I heard him wince but he still had enough strength to flip us over.

"Get the fuck off of me, you sick freak!" I shouted, kicking him in the nuts. He groaned again but still managed to raise his knife in the air, bringing it down into my side.

I screamed in pain as he pulled it out and I used the knife I had to try and stab him in the neck, but I missed and slashed his mask instead, creating a split in the cheek. In the background I could hear sirens blaring, and they were getting closer.

I think he knew he was out of time because he flipped around his knife and hit me in the head with the butt of the handle. Immediate waves of pain crashed from the spot on my forehead.

But, despite all this, and the burning in my lungs from all the smoke in the house, I managed to muster enough strength and kick him in the balls again, even harder this time, and push him off me.

I ran outside through the side door, still clutching my stab wound, as I tried to make it to the front lawn. My vision was starting to blur and my ears began to ring as I continued hobbling away..

'Don't stop running. Whatever you do, don't fucking stop running.'

But as soon as I made it to the front lawn I collapsed, my body not able to move anymore.

Out of nowhere, I heard a blood-curdling scream come from in front of me and used the last bit of my strength to lift my head up, seeing a horrified Mrs. Becker looking at something, clutching her chest as her knees buckled.

Even as the corners of my vision darkened, I turned to where she was looking at, only to see Casey gutted and hanging from a tree by a phone cord, blowing in the breeze.

And for the first time tonight, tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Casey," my voice squeaked.

I finally let the darkness close in on me and silence everything.

𝒔 𝒄 𝒓 𝒆 𝒂 𝒎

#scream #scream x reader #randy meeks #randy meeks x reader #randy x reader #meeks x reader #horror #slasher