Tumgik
#nelly unlocks her mind
unlockyourmind-wp · 2 years
Text
OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER SEVEN
Tumblr media
Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.
In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.
When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.
DESTINY IS ALL.
Author’s note: I can’t believe it’s been an actual year since I updated this story. I have no other reason than losing inspiration and motivation to write for this fic. I also don’t really know how or why my inspiration suddenly came back but I’m happy it did! I hope I manage to stay inspired because I have intention of giving up on this story. Tlk is still one of my favorite shows and I still love Eldrid so much. So the plan is to write as many chapters as possible while I’m still inspired and hopefully I’ll be able to update again soon! Please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts on this chapter. I’d love to hear from you guys!
Tag List:  @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk @iamfandomnerd @trenko-heart​  @abzidabzy
Of Storm And Siege Masterlist
―♛―
CHAPTER SEVEN:
✧. ⋆ the will of a king
THE KING’S HALL AT WINCHESTER WAS DECORATED WITH COUNTLESS COLORS. Eldrid was led through the hallways by the priest who, she'd learned because of the many people greeting him, was called Father Beocca. As she walked both paintings and tapestries kept greeting her around every corner. They depicted the stories of wars, of a god hanging from a cross and of men with circles surrounding their heads while the common folk kneeled for them.
Even as her eyes traced the intricate lines of the paintings, Eldrid stayed aware of the route they had taken so far, always prepared for a fight. Especially because she'd been forced to leave her weapons at the door. She respected the reason but still wasn’t very fond of having to separate with her beloved sword. Walking through the castle without it felt like an itch she couldn’t scratch. But it wasn’t like she had any other choice than to obey.
Beocca led her into a large hall, where he finally came to a halt. “Wait here, king Alfred shall be here shortly.”
She nodded at him and watched as he left through a door on the opposite side of the room.
With a sigh her eyes turned back to look at the many paintings. Once again, she found herself torn between curiosity and loathing for the Saxons and their strange ways. She couldn't understand worshiping a god who allowed himself to be killed by humans. Neither could she understand how people could gain an almost god-like status themselves by becoming a saint.
Yet despite her disgust, there was one painting in particular that caught her attention. Many soldiers were gathered upon a hill, their spears raised behind their king, who was seated upon a white horse. They were facing a shield wall with many angry Danes cowering behind it. The very sight of it made her blood boil. Her people would never cower during battle. Yet that wasn't what had drawn her attention about it.
It was the golden rays shining through the clouds above the heads of the soldiers. While on the side of their enemies, the sky was dark. She supposed it was meant to symbolize the presence of their god. The ironic thing was, by painting dark clouds at the side of the Danes, they had placed their god at their side as well. Thor's storm clouds surrounded them like a shield wall, protecting them just as fiercely. How was it that the Saxons knew so little about their religion, while the Danes knew everything about theirs? It seemed like a rather strange and unfair situation to her.
"I wasn't aware the Danes appreciated art," a voice spoke from her right, soft spoken, yet filled with undeniable authority. "Their homes always appear so empty."
Every muscle in her body tensed. She couldn't help herself, not when facing the man who'd killed so many of her people. With her nails pressing into her palms, she turned to look at him.
King Alfred was lean but not very tall. He appeared calm and trustworthy, yet there was a vigilance within his eyes that made him look older than he probably was. It gave him an air of confidence that made it easy to see why so many people spoke of his name with both respect and fear. He wore a simple red robe, his hands folded in front of him as though he was forever in prayer.
“We’re a much more…practical people.” Eldrid was barely able to hide the edge in her voice. If the only reason she’d been summoned here was to be insulted, she would rather leave. And she didn’t plan on going quietly…
Her eyes flickered towards the door where Steapa was standing guard. His gray eyes were following her closely, hands resting on the hilt of his sword. No matter how many drinks they’d shared over the winter, she had to remind herself he was Alfred’s man. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she so much as blinked the wrong way.
“Such is the life of a people always on the move,” Alfred said as he studied the painting. Then, he finally turned to face her, his eyes suddenly cold as he added: “Of a people not belonging anywhere.”
“Such is the life of a Viking,” she said, throwing his words back at him with venom dripping from her tongue.
The king didn’t comment on her lack of respect. Instead he merely nodded, saying without needing words they simply disagreed on the matter.
“Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me, Lord?” She questioned, her eyes briefly wandering to Steapa. Even after all this time, he still couldn’t hide the disgust on his face at the way she managed to say the king’s title with burning mockery. It only made it that much more fun to continue doing so.
“Indeed there is,” Alfred said as he finally turned away from the painting and walked towards the table in the middle of the room. He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same.
She did, though not willingly. If she had to defend herself, a seating position would only make it harder to do so. She clenched her jaw, her muscles wound more tight than the string of her bow. She simply couldn’t allow herself to relax within the lion’s den. Even if her men had been here, ready to storm the castle at the sign of trouble, she still would have been unable to let go of her nerves.
“I have been told Earl Ragnar went to you for help to find his brother Uhtred,” Alfred spoke calmly, though his eyes were drilling into hers as if trying to read her soul like a book.
“You have been told correctly,” she replied, holding his gaze steadily.
“I take it the two of you know each other.”
“We do.” She leaned back into her chair, hoping to fool him into thinking she was slowly letting her guard down. “We spent a lot of time together in our youth.”
Alfred mirrored her movements, immediately letting her know he would not be fooled. “Is that the reason you decided to help him?”
Eldrid narrowed her eyes at him, deciding to stop dancing around what he truly wanted to know. She wasn’t one for playing games and she absolutely despised politics. “You wish to know why I helped to free Uhtred Ragnarsson?”
“I admit the thought has crossed my mind,” the king said with a nod. “A Dane who helps to free a man fighting for the Saxons. It seems quite an enigma.”
“Not an interesting one I’m afraid, my Lord. My men were tired of chasing ghosts and they respect Young Ragnar. I was simply providing them with a battle worth fighting.”
“Ah yes, the matter of your enslaved family,” Alfred said, resting his folded hands on the table in front of him. He appeared to be deeply lost in thought.
His knowledge of her motivations shouldn’t have surprised her, yet she couldn’t help but feel impressed. The man seated in front of her certainly wasn’t the fool so many Danes had often made him out to be. Though she was very curious to the reason he had chosen to reveal the extent of his knowledge.
“Precisely,” she said slowly.
“So, what have you decided to do with your time now that you’re no longer chasing ghosts?” 
Even if he had phrased it as a question, she knew it wasn’t. It was a demand. Finally, the truth of the matter had been revealed. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t planning on plundering his lands now that she no longer had a goal to pursue, or so he thought. Apparently his knowledge was limited after all, or he would’ve heard about her setting her sights on Kjartan. Or maybe that was what he wanted her to think.
“I have decided to join Earl Ragnar,” she replied, seeing no point in hiding her plans. “He has a blood feud with a Dane in Northumbria, as do I.”
“Another war,” the king said, sounding suddenly exhausted.
“It must be done.”
“Even if there’s another choice?”
She frowned. “I don’t see I have another choice, Lord.”
He leaned his elbows on the table, still looking at her with that soul-piercing gaze. “Uhtred is my oathsman. He will fight to keep our borders safe and to do so he needs men.”
Eldrid scoffed, unable to help herself. “You’re asking me to fight for you? A Saxon king?”
“In freeing Uhtred you have already done so,” he replied calmly, seemingly unfaced by her disdain. “What I’m asking is no different.”
She got to her feet, pretending she hadn’t seen Steapa reach for his sword. “It is different and I will not fight for a king who cannot see why.” She bowed, never taking her eyes off of him. Then, without another word, she headed towards the door.
“Eldrid?”
With a sigh she came to a halt, looking back with reluctance.
“If you do change your mind, the offer stands.” He straightened his back “If you don’t, well, I would hate for us to become enemies.”
“Lord,” she said with a nod.
With quick steps she left the hall behind. This time, the colors on the walls passed her by in a blur, her eyes only focused ahead. When she finally reached the gate, she all but tore her weapons out of the hands of the guard holding them. Even if the weight of her trusted sword made her breathe a little easier, she was still seething with anger by the time she’d found her way back to the stables.
The small-mindedness of the king infuriated her. Did he really believe she would betray her people, all of her values and beliefs, simply because he asked her to? Maybe she was missing something here. Maybe it was some sort of trick or challenge to measure her reaction. If so, she’d probably failed. Not that she cared much. She preferred fighting with her sword, not with words or tricks. That was what she was good at.
“It went that well?” A mocking voice came from her left.
Eldrid came to a halt and turned to face Ragnar. He had just finished saddling his horse and was now watching her with amusement flickering within his gaze.
“As well as you can expect from a Saxon king,” she replied bitterly, then frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Alfred released us,” Ragnar explained. “Brida has gone already. I told her to gather our men at Loidis, like you asked me to.”
It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. Her anger disappeared like snow melting beneath the sun. “That is good news.”
Ragnar nodded with a smile, though she couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was strange how quickly she had learned to recognize his facial expressions. Now, after spending several months together, it had become a habit.
“That is not all, is it?” She asked, taking a step towards him.
The man before her inhaled deeply, as though gathering strength for what he was about to say next. “Uhtred is Alfred’s oathsman again.”
“So I’m told,” she muttered.
When Alfred said it, she hadn’t even considered why. But when looking at his brother, who so clearly needed him, she wondered why Uhtred had chosen to give up his freedom once again. By swearing an oath, he remained a slave, tied to the wishes of someone else. He wouldn’t be free to choose the fights he wanted, or needed, to fight. Perhaps Alfred had somehow forced him to, but she had no idea how.
“I feared Alfred would not allow him to join us, but he has. He’s sending some men with us to restore Guthred’s authority.” He looked close to rolling his eyes.
A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “I doubt even their god has the power to restore the authority of such a turd.”
Ragnar grinned. “Brida said the same.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I do not care. All that matters now is killing Kjartan and freeing my sister.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Then let us do just that.” She winked. “The will of the king be damned.”
Tumblr media
11 notes · View notes
imeunseoksbby · 4 months
Text
CHAPTER 3
E u n s e o k x r e a d e r
Tumblr media
She wore what she was wearing earlier,they quietly got out and Eunseok lead y/n to the bathroom. He took 2 guns and put them in his pockets,then he took a knife from the bathtub
Eunseok:Okay let's go to the- wait never mind
They got out of the house and went to the garage,they unlocked it and Eunseok saw the motorbike Nelly was talking about. He shot both mirrors and disabled them
Y/N:(whispering) why'd you do that?
Eunseok:Ssh,hop in first
Y/N got on the motorbike and Eunseok was behind her,his hands were on the bike's ears while he tied himself with y/n.He started driving the motorbike and it was so windy
Y/N:Where are we going?
Eunseok:To some airbnb,baby imma need you to come behind me for safety
Y/N:But you tied us up together
Eunseok:Hold on
Eunseok stopped the motorbike and quickly untied him and y/n with a knife,so he got front while y/n got back.He began driving and y/n held him tightly,finally they arrived to the airbnb and got their room
Y/N:So they know you were there?
Eunseok:Yeah but we're safe here though
Y/N:Okay but...won't they track us down?
Eunseok:There's a reason why I broke the mirrors of the motorbike
Y/N:Oh okay,but I'm concerned for your life
Eunseok:Don't be,I'm used to it
Y/N:Something could happen to you while you on your mission
Eunseok got close to y/n and cupped her cheeks and kissed her lips
Eunseok:Don't worry I'll be okay
Y/N smiled and so did Eunseok,then they both hugged each other
Eunseok:Let's get sleeping I'm tired
Y/N:Okay
Y/N pulled down the upper part of her dress because it was also hot,meanwhile Eunseok was left with his boxers and his shirt
MEANWHILE AT THE WAREHOUSE
Heeseung:Looks like we've lost them
Jake:Ah shoot,we're dead
Sunghoon:No,they're going to a restaurant tomorrow so we can shoot our shot
Jake:How do you even know?
Sunghoon:One of them used to be my friend..he told me they wanna fight with us face to face
Jay:Don't we need more people?
Heeseung:Well lemme call boss then
THE CALL:K AND HEESEUNG
Heeseung:Sup boss K:Hey,I see you guys lost track of them Heeseung:Yeah but Sunghoon says those two are going to a restaurant K:Oh really?Which restaurant is it? Heeseung:We're not sure K:I think you'll need to follow that girl's insta,she posts alot K:I'll send Yoshi,Nicholas and Jimin ,or track her phone Heeseung:Great idea K:Good,bye
♡Timeskip:Next Day,08:01AM♡
Y/N woke up and didn't find Eunseok on bed,she got up and went to the kitchen and he was there,he was just sitting there.She snuck behind him and backhugged him,laying her chin on his shoulder
Y/N:Hey baby
Eunseok:Hey baby,how'd you sleep?
Y/N:Erm but you were interrupting me ;-;
Eunseok:How?
Y/N:Boi you know damn well what you did...while we were sleeping
Eunseok:I seriously don't remember...
Y/N:Then let me remind you
Last night when Eunseok was begging y/n for both of them to sleep,later on (maybe a hour later)y/n got thirsty so she got up to drink water.She got back to bed and Eunseok pulled her closer to him by the waist,she didn't mind but some minutes later she felt something poke her butt. And she realized it was Eunseok's cock,so she kept moving and moving to make him uncontrollable,he couldn't help himself but squeeze her harder and pressed his cock more into y/n's butt.Y/N tried not to moan or whimper
"Don't you wanna do it again?" He whispered into your ear,before you could say anything he flipped you over making your body face the ceiling."What are you doing?" You asked in a quiet tone,he just smirked and his hands were between your inner thighs. He took of your panty and inserted two of his fingers,he was going on a slow pace and y/n was moaning
"Oh my gosh~" you moaned out of pleasure,suddenly he stopped fingering you. "Why'd you stop?'' You asked him sounding annoyed
Eunseok:Just
You saw him take down his boxers and he inserted his tip in,he covered your mouth and you gripped onto the sheets.He put all of it in and your stomach was tangled up,he went on a fast pace and while holding back your moans tears started rolling down your puffy cheeks. Each thrust got faster and faster,he eventually stopped and your pu$$y was paining.Eunseok put his boxers back on and he grabbed your round ass
Eunseok:Ohh that...you were grinding on me..
Y/N:It's still sore
Eunseok:Sorry baby
8 notes · View notes
feverinfeveroutfic · 5 months
Text
The Red Flannel Dress | Kinktober 2023
title: lip gloss
prompt: praise kink (courtesy of @flightlessangelwings)
pairing: eric/christine (as the seasons grey)
word count: 3532
masterlist | ao3 🍎
Tumblr media
All this time, Christine was certain that she and Eric could remain friends as long as there was no funny stuff between them. It snuck up on her like a thief in the night, and she had no other means of finding her way out of it all, either: the boy watched her from afar down by the front door to his apartment complex with those big brown eyes from under his filmy, light bangs, and she only believed that he only did it because he was a good friend and he wanted to see her home again.
But she never believed that there was anything more than that, however. She never believed that he could have something more than that whenever he so much as looked at her. Christine had her mind and her heart set on Alex, and she was certain that Eric understood this as well. A tease was a tease but to her, she only did it in the name of good fun rather than because her body told her something that she was unaware of, that is feelings for him. It wasn’t until they had a moment alone together when she began to wonder if he did in fact hide something more there, if he withheld a secret that he was too afraid to share with her.
Alex hung off her right arm and he kept his arms around her waist in response to that, but Eric lingered off in the shadows like a forbidden avenue of her mind, something that she feared to tread and access on a certain day such as this. It brought her to a crossroads of sorts, something so alien to her given her history with Chris as well as the fog that followed her around from that day in July. She never believed that she would have to prefer one or the other.
Why have one when you can have both.
It was a cool autumn Friday afternoon, the first following their first fresh week of a new school year, and Eric offered her a ride home: Greg and Louie had taken the bus home together, and thus, she had some time alone with Eric. They walked side by side to his car parked in the back lot of the school, right behind the registrar’s office, and right near where Valentina had parked as well.
“See you on Monday, Val,” Christine called out to her, and she flashed her a wave. “I’ll try and get that taken care of for you and Sabrina.”
“No pressure, Chris,” she called back to her as she adjusted the brim of her cap. “The two of us will work things out and we’ll try and meet up at the coffee shop up the block from Nelly’s place together.” Valentina blew her a kiss and then stepped on over to her car. Eric awaited Christine with his key in hand and his long black hair drifted all around his head as if he had been caught up in an updraft.
“I got a project for the first weekend after school, too,” he told her as he unlocked the doors for her. “Five hundred words of writing.”
“Oof, fun,” Christine remarked as she climbed into the passenger side. Though it wasn’t that cold outside, she still closed the door and rubbed her hands together as a Nor’easter had rumbled into New York City. Eric climbed in next to her and ran his hands down the crown of his head.
“Phew.” He rubbed his hands together and rested them on the rim of the steering wheel. “Remember the winds out in California a few months back?”
“God, how could I forget,” she declared. “And then there was the fact that it was kind of chilly, too. ‘June gloom’, they called it.”
“‘June gloom’ and the fact that we’re not used to it, either,” he added, and then he fired up the car. They both put on their sunglasses, even though it was four o’clock in the afternoon and dusk was upon them within an hour or so. They rolled out of the parking lot and wound around the campus until they reached the bus stop: the bus would be lumbering up within five minutes but Christine nodded and smiled to herself at the thought of riding home with Eric. They rolled down the windows and let the sights and sounds of the city guide their way back home to Queens.
“When’s Alex coming back, by the way?” he asked as they headed away from the campus.
“Monday,” Christine replied. “Something about having to hear back from New York University within the next two days or something. It’s a long story, but that’s as far as I know, though.” She rested her arm on the top of the door right as they turned the next corner, and a draft of cool autumnal breeze swept over her arm. “I miss seeing him.”
“I miss him, too,” he said. “He’s a great teacher and a good friend to the both of us.”
“I love him to death,” Christine declared.
“Really?”
She turned her attention to him, and the fact he held onto the steering wheel with one hand and kept his arm over the top of the seat next to him. The wind flooded through his black hair, and the sun kissed the rims of his sunglasses.
The unsung bad boy.
“I do, yes,” she said in a soft enough voice for it to carry on the wind. She turned her attention to Eric and the nonchalant look on his face.
“He’s your ghost and you’re his haunting,” he declared.
“I’m his haunting?” she asked him.
“Yeah. You’re like the church basement to him.”
“What’re you saying?” She cracked him a mischievous smile.
“That you’re his choice of haunting,” he told her.
“Nah, I think there’s something here,” she quipped back.
“Like what?” He flicked on the turn signal, and he merged to the right lane: a big long straight shot back home to the bridge over the East River.
“I don’t know,” she confessed with a shrug.
“You don’t know? What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“The way you called me a church basement to Alex.”
“Have you ever been in a church basement before? It’s like one of the spookiest places you can ever visit. The church may be far removed from a cemetery but it’s got the same feeling, though. It’s got that same sense, like the dead are there and watching your every move.”
“So you think Chris reincarnated as Alex and now he’s haunting me?”
“It’s possible,” he said with another shrug of his shoulders. “You and Chris are way younger than Alex, but fate works in mysterious ways.”
“You’re a very interesting fellow, Eric,” she remarked.
“You should see me in the darkest wing of my personality, Chris,” he pointed out. “There’s this really big part of me that wants to go all dark sometimes.”
“You should,” she suggested.
“You think I should?” he asked her as they made the next green light and cleared out a series of taxi cabs and a couple of buses.
“Yeah. Why separate yourself from certain aspects of yourself when you could be everything that you are? I say this because I struggle with it, and I struggled with it big time after Chris died.”
He turned his attention to her again, and that time she looked over at him at the same time. She saw nothing but her own reflection in the dark lenses of his sunglasses staring back at her. She licked her lips, and all the while, she saw him blinking his eyes several times at her. Just like whenever Alex grew silent, she wished to know what he was thinking right then.
“Let me ask you this, Chris—dear Christine,” he began again, that time with a clearing of his throat and a toss of his hair back from the side of his face: the wind made his hair billow even more as if he was at a photoshoot for a men’s magazine.
“Go ahead,” she goaded him.
“How do you like it?”
“Like what?” she asked him, baffled.
“It.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“It?”
“You know. It.”
They rolled over a bump in the road, and she gasped. But he never flinched a muscle all the while.
“Oh, I see,” she answered. “Yeah. That.”
“That, yeah. How do you like it?”
“Low and slow, sensual… hands all over and lips on my skin.”
“Raw?” he added.
“Hm?”
“Raw? You like it raw?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” she told him with a sly smile. “Sometimes, when Alex has had an extra glass of wine and he gets a little sideways, I’ll give him a nice hearty handjob, and he’ll get down on his knees for me as if he’s worshipping me. It’s really sweet, actually. He gets all soft and cute.”
“Does Alex like being told he’s a good boy?”
“As a matter of fact, he does!” she exclaimed. “He always likes being told that he’s doing great, actually.”
They rolled over another bump, a harder one that made her sway closer to him as if she was about to lean on him.
“Easy there,” he advised her.
“It’s like we’re riding a roller coaster,” she declared.
“A roller coaster that goes raw sometimes,” he cracked.
“Oh, man, you should see him,” she proclaimed with a shake of her head. “Whenever I tell him something totally innocuous like… he looks good or even asking him how he’s doing, he gets all bashful and sweet. That stone cold stern face gets all soft like a dog when they see their owner. You know, they get that rounded look to their head.”
“Oh, really?”
“I should demonstrate in front of you,” she suggested. “Or rather, Alex and I should demonstrate in front of you. I should get him a little bit liquored up and I can give him a little loving to where he thinks he’s hallucinating.”
Eric chuckled at that.
“Or you could do it to me,” he quipped.
“What?” she demanded with a bit of laughter.
“You could do it to me,” he repeated with a straight face.
“I could give it to you?” she laughed at that, but he never changed expression. Another gust of a breeze through the skyscrapers on the left let his black hair fly up some more around the crown of his head. The sunlight shone down on the side of his head and down onto his sunglasses to where they seemed to be made of amber. He showed her a thoughtful smile, which he maintained all the way to the mouth of the bridge.
Christine licked her lips, and he glanced over at her again. He never said a word to her as they began across the bridge towards the rim of Queens. She thought about what he had said and she snickered at that.
“What?” he asked her.
“That suggestion,” she replied. “The thought of me giving it to you.”
He stayed silent all the way to her apartment, where he stopped and switched off the car.
“What’cha doing?” she asked him.
“You know, I wasn’t joking,” he answered her in a low voice. Christine raised her eyebrows at that.
“You sure?” she asked him.
“Positive. I want you to do it to me. Show me the same good time that you treat Alex to.”
“Eric, I’m with Alex,” she declared. “I can’t do that to him.”
“Chris, your whole relationship with him is based off of cheating. I think you can.” The sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose to where she could see his eyebrows as well as the tops of his eyes. “I think you can. Remember the passes I made on you when we were in Monterey?”
“How could I forget,” she quipped. “To be fair, I did the same things to you, too. And to be even more fair, we were just fooling around. Like how we like to fool around sometimes, the friends we are.” She paused. “You were… fooling around, were you. Right?”
Eric never said a word to her. Christine pursed her lips as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
She climbed out after him, and she took her key out of her jeans pocket for the front door to the building as well as her own front door. The furthest wing of the second floor smelled faintly of cookies, and she knew that her mother had been home all day: the hallway remained silent, and thus, she knew that Wendy wasn’t home. Christine switched the keys on her ring for the one to her door when Eric darted in front of her. He clutched her by the shoulders and leaned in closer to her.
“Eric, what’re you doing?” she sputtered.
“Please, Chris, I’m begging you,” he said to her in a low voice. “I’m begging you! I need what he gets. I want what he’s having! Please, I need it. I want it and need it. Girls just don’t talk to me—you’re the one girl who I know who’s treated me well. I need the feeling.”
He had never taken off his sunglasses but she could see it in his eyes, however. The bad boy had given way to a wounded boy. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry… I sound weird,” he confessed with a shake of his head.
“No,” she told him.
“Huh?”
“No. You aren’t weird.” Christine leaned into his face for a kiss on the side. He raised his eyebrows and parted his lips at her. “You aren’t weird. Come inside.”
He swallowed at that, and he stepped out of the way for her so she could unlock the door. Christine led him inside of the apartment, where they both set their things down next to her couch and her recliner.
“You’ve just… never really had experience with this,” she assured him. “If it’s any consolation, before Alex and I were a thing, I never had experience, either.”
“Not even with Chris?” he asked her, and he finally took off his sunglasses.
“We were kids,” she explained as she set her purse and her sunglasses on the kitchen counter. “There was no way he and I could. Would you like something to drink?”
“Um… you got any soda?” he asked her. 
“I’ve got ginger ale,” she told him. “My stomach’s been acting up lately, so… I like me a nice glass of it.”
“You got any harder stuff?” he asked her.
“No, I’m not really much of a soda drinker, to be honest,” she confessed. “I mean, you saw me in Monterey.”
“Yeah, you and your lemonade,” he joked. Christine poured him a glass of ginger ale, straight out from the fridge, and she returned to him with a little smile on her face. 
“Guys never made a pass on me,” she told him with a shake of her head.
“Really?” He gaped at her for that.
“Yeah. I was in bad shape back then. There was no way I could.”
She took her seat on the couch right next to him as he sipped on the ginger ale.
“You weren’t joking,” she decreed.
“I wasn’t,” he said, and he set the glass down on the coffee table before them. He licked his lips and turned his attention to her. “I want to know what Alex is feeling with you.” His brown eyes locked onto her own, and she shivered a bit.
“What’s the matter?” he asked her, and he licked his lips at her again. Christine leaned closer to him, and she rested her hand on his thigh.
“You are,” she told him in a near whisper. Eric reached forward for the glass of ginger ale for another sip, and all the while, he never moved his gaze from her. He set his glass down on the table before them again, and then he shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
“I dunno, now that this is unfolding, I don’t really feel right about it,” he confessed to her.
“Oh, come on,” she whispered to him. “We’re friends. We can do it and not talk about it with anyone.”
“You think so?” He knitted his eyebrows together.
“Absolutely.” Christine moved her hand up onto his knee, and then she slid it down towards the crotch of his jeans. Eric straightened his spine so she could see his chest as well as his stomach.
“I like to touch Alex here,” she began as she slid her fingers down onto his crotch for a good feeling. She moved slow on him, from the tip and inwards to his body. He held still as she leaned in closer to his body. “And I like to tell him that he’s good at what he does along the way.”
Eric straightened his spine some more, and to where his chest was right in her face. Christine leaned in closer to his collar as if to neck him there, but she decided to hold off on it.
She thought of using her free hand to take off her jeans, but then he reached up to the back of her head and tugged her head down into his lap. She yelped out into his jeans, and then she held onto his shoulder and tugged him down onto the couch, almost on top of her. She could feel him sitting up behind her as if to ride her from the back, but then she wormed around and reached for him.
Christine nudged him back onto the couch arm.
“You’re not going to get out of this,” she breathed to him with her thumbs on his throat. He cracked her a smile. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you, big boy?”
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“Big boy?” he choked out.
“Yeah.”
“You should blow me for that,” he sputtered out with a lift of his head to escape her grip.
“I ain’t gonna blow you,” she scoffed. “Not if you do it for me first.”
“For you?”
“If you’re my good friend, you’ll do it for me first,” she said to him. She felt him swallow, and then he slid off the couch, to which he missed the leg of the coffee table by an inch; Christine caught herself on the arm of the couch.
“Whoa,” Eric breathed out.
“You okay?”
“Yeah…”
Christine reached down and pushed back her jeans. She stripped them off all the way with only one hand, and then she slowly sat back down on the couch. She stripped off her panties and opened her legs for him. Eric swallowed and sat up so he could be face to face with her lips.
“You want me to?” he sputtered.
“If you wanna be a hot stud like Alex is,” she quipped to him in a singsong voice. Eric put one hand behind his head and pushed his hair back out of the way. He licked his lips and brought his head in between her legs. The tip of his nose brushed her crotch first, and then he slithered his tongue in under her hood.
Christine gasped and giggled from the sudden feeling on her clit.
“Good boy,” she told him with a pat on the back of his head. She leaned back against the couch with her hands rested on the crown of his head as if to steady him there between her legs. He bowed his head and dug in deeper on the head of her clit. He moved in so hard, as if he really wanted that praise from her.
“You feel so good, Eric,” she cackled out. He moved in so deep that she burst out laughing at the feeling of her nipples tightening. She was going to come quick, and right when he kissed the rim of her hood.
“Phew, boy—good boy,” she stammered out, and he lifted his head and ran his thick fingers through his black hair.
“Damn,” he coughed out, and she couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the light sweat right across his upper lip.
“So funny seeing you with your lips all soaking wet like that,” she chuckled.
“It’s like I got lip gloss on, isn’t it?” he sputtered.
“You do! You have your very own lip gloss now, Eric.” She chuckled at that and brought a hand to her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping across the hall to her mother’s apartment: the door closed across the way, and she knew she would have to keep things down from that point onward.
“So… me or Alex,” he asked her with a cough.
“Huh?”
“Which one did it better, me or Alex?”
“It wouldn’t be right to choose, to be perfectly frank with you,” she told him with a little kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Did you just kiss my nose,” he said in a flat tone.
“I did, yes,” she replied, and she couldn’t help but laugh. If this was going to be a three-way relationship, she would have to keep their desires separate from each other.
4 notes · View notes
nuagederose · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Seven: Grey Street
ao3 link
Christine changed into some clean white pajamas, and then she made her way over to the window that overlooked the street out there. If only there was a way that she could run into him again, and without having to resort to going to school just to feel his presence again.
She dared not think of those four girls as well and their words to her. Maybe they were right about him, but then again, the daydream came from her: she needn’t let the thought intervene with real life. But she also wished to see him just to prove to herself that their suggestion was right. It would only be for her, anyway.
She lounged there in her chair, and her bare legs lay upon the cool dark leather on the footstool part of the recliner. If only there was a way to see him. If only there was a way she could speak with him.
She had broken the ice with him at the school, and she knew that she could further tickle his fancy at some point in the future. To stimulate his mind as she found her way in the world at the same time. He did say he lived in Brooklyn, not too far from her there in Queens. But to scour the streets of Brooklyn for a helmet of black hair penetrated by a streak of silver at the crown seemed like such a daunting task for her to undertake on her own.
She could only hope to see him the next day at school, lest a silver lining find its way to her over the course of the night.
Christine woke up to low-hanging clouds and the feeling of autumn in the air, and then she remembered that she didn’t have class until later in the day.
It was early in the morning, and thus, she knew that she could take a bus ride over to Brooklyn after she had her breakfast and a cup of coffee. Once the main bus turned around, the feeder bus showed up and made its way over to Brooklyn and she could perhaps work from there until it showed up again. If all else failed, she could take the next bus back up to the school. A quick swipe of the hairbrush through her dark hair, and a wrapping of her green coat around her body, and she headed on out for the bus stop down the sidewalk. Eric, Greg, and Louie were nowhere to be seen there, and she wondered if they were worthy of the secret as well.
They wanted to take her on a road trip: she would have to tell them regardless of what happened to her and Alex.
She thought about Nelly and what to tell her once she saw her again later that day. She hoped to see her again, anyway. Nevertheless, she had one thing on her mind at the moment and that was to see him and keep up the momentum between him.
She needn’t tell Wendy where she headed for the day, especially since it was a school day. It all checked out.
The bus lumbered up to the stop and, after a flash of her card to the driver, she took her spot near the front there. Despite the overcast sky, she kept her sunglasses on, and she peered up to the sky overhead.
Christine had unlocked something inside of him, and she found a secret hallway behind that secret door as well. The next one down had to have some kind of key to it: the challenge of course was finding the key in question.
The bus pulled up to the stoplight, right at the boundary of Queens and Brooklyn, a cozy little neighborhood of brick buildings and tall, scraggly trees along the sidewalks, perhaps more trees on a single block than she had ever seen up in Queens. She peered out the window and, on the sidewalk, with a guitar case propped up next to him, was Alex, wrapped in a purple shirt and faded jeans. He sat on the front steps before a building and strummed the strings. 
Her heart skipped a few beats at the sight of him.
Lucky for her, the next stop was right on the side of the street there, and she rang the bell in one fell swoop. The bus lumbered over to the right side of the street and, once it jerked to a stop, she stood up and lunged for the squeaky front doors. She thanked the driver and padded out to the gray morning with the cool breeze at her side and the butterflies in her stomach.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she rounded the back of the bus to the crosswalk. She spotted him there on the steps, those glasses perched upon his aquiline nose and his long lanky fingers spanned across the fretboard, right near the head of the guitar.,
The light turned green, and she bowed across the street with one hand clasped onto the edges of her green jacket, even as it streamed behind her every step of the way. She reached the curb on the other side as the sound of his guitar entered her earshot.
Alex then raised his head for a flick of his hair, and he glanced to his left. His face lit up at the sight of her.
“Oh, hi!” he greeted her with a clasp of his hand onto his head. He showed her a smile, albeit a slightly surprised one. “What brings you here, Christine?”
“I was just in the neighborhood, and I wanted to find out where my favorite substitute teacher lived,” she explained. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
He chuckled at that and leaned back a bit.
“That’s alright,” he assured her. “It’s going to be revealed soon enough—being neighbors and having had a few lunch dates and whatnot. I wished we had another lunch date—I would’ve told you then.”
“Where do you live?” she asked him with a slight lean into his face, and he gestured back to the building behind him, specifically to the little red door right behind him.
“Right here on the ground floor,” he told her, and he showed her a smile. “I figure that it’s a nice day. I’ll come out here and busk a bit before the rain comes in.”
She chuckled at that, and she glanced down at his purple Frank Zappa shirt and faded jeans. “God, I imagine that you could be the biggest rockstar on Earth right now and you would still do something really humble like this.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“I could never be a big time rockstar,” he told her. “I’m just a guy.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she teased him. “You taught us a hell of a lesson in Mr. Hansen’s class. You’re a star in the sky. You’re… the shoreline.”
He knitted his eyebrows at that. “The shoreline?” he echoed her.
“Yeah. You’re the shoreline and I’m the mermaid.”
“Mermaid? Wouldn’t you be the ship?”
“Nah, my ship left,” she told him with a gesture over the shoulder, and he burst out laughing, big hearty laughter that came from deep inside of him. “Besides, if I was the ship, you’d be the lighthouse, not the shoreline.”
“Yeah, I’d be the lighthouse, alright—” He ran his fingers through the streak of silver at the crown if his head, and Christine pictured the glimmers of stardust embedded at the pale white roots. He then showed her a thoughtful little smile. “So, what’s on the agenda today? Do you have class?”
“Yeah, just one. Geography. At one, no less.”
Alex glanced down at his wristwatch right then. “It’s almost ten right now,” he told her.
“Feeder bus comes back in an hour,” she said. “And then I’ll take the main bus back to school, and I’ll get there right on time.”
“No, no,” he told her with a shake of his head and a little wave of his hand to her. She froze.
“No?”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and locked eyes with her: the sheen on the lenses accentuated the blue of his eyes.
“I’ll drive you,” he offered her.
“You want to drive me to school?” she asked him, and he nodded.
“Yeah. Let me drive you there. Yeah, it’s so not New York to drive somewhere, but I want to do it, though. I have to go in today, anyway.”
“Um… yeah, we could do that,” she replied, and she couldn’t resist the smile on her face. He strummed his guitar again, in all its warmth and all its inviting power to her. Christine lingered next to him with one elbow rested upon the railing, and he jammed for her for what felt like only a few minutes. His fingers sprawled and crawled all over the neck of the guitar as he played a little bit of progressive rock to her. At points, he slowed down and let the echo of the street be his effect.
Christine thought about the daydream she had had the day before, and she pictured them dancing in the blackness of space yet again.
A few minutes of feeling, and yet, when he checked his watch again, he gasped.
“Oh, shit, it’s almost eleven,” he told her, and he stood up, still with his guitar before his body. Christine lingered off to the side as he tucked his guitar back into the case and he slung the case over his shoulder. He then gestured for her to follow him to the little black car parked up the curb from there.
Once Christine was in the front seat, she shook her head about. Alex tucked his guitar case in the back seat, and then he slid into the driver’s seat and put on his sunglasses.
“Does it feel like an hour went by at all?” she asked him, and he paused for a second with his fingers on the ignition.
“Not at all,” he told her. “In fact, I got that exact feeling when I had lunch with you the first time. Time just seemed to disappear.” He fired up the car, and he made his way to the far end of the block. Christine peered out the windshield to the gray sky overhead: even with the tones of gray up above, she pictured bits of stardust up there. He rounded the block at the next corner, and soon, they were on the expressway, headed right for the heart of the city. Indeed, the drive into the city seemed a little less strenuous as well, even with the bits of traffic here and there, and the whole event of driving across the bridge. Everything seemed a little bit brighter than usual, all capped off by the ephemeral view of the Statue of Liberty off in the distance before she disappeared behind the buildings.
A couple of stoplights and they were back at the school. Alex pulled up to the curb and ran his fingers through his black hair.
“Would you like to come on over for dinner tonight?” he offered her.
“Please,” she said. “I’ll take the bus home so I can—you know, freshen up and get ready.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he told her with a flash of his eyebrows. “Come on over at around… six-ish?”
“Sounds excellent.”
“Run along, dear Christine.” He flashed her a wink, and she showed him a smile before she closed the car door. She was so fixed on her dinner with him that she actually forgot to tell Nelly. 
She had no time, anyway: she had to go to class and then take the next bus back home to Queens. Eric wasn’t there that day, and thus, she rode the bus home alone.
While at home, she wondered if she could further break the ice with him. Before she changed into nicer pants, she put on her white girl boxers: they were short and snug enough that they could fit in there with utmost comfort. She wore a low cut black blouse over that little white satin bra, and she knew that he would love it.
She wondered what she would tell Wendy should the opportunity come up, but it never did.
The next feeder bus over to that funky little neighborhood with all the trees, and it was right then she realized that she could walk to his place should the opportunity arise. Christine climbed off, crossed the street, and padded up the steps. She knocked on that red door three times and waited.
There was a little click on the other side, and he emerged with a grin on his face and the soft soapy smell of cologne on his neck. His hair looked wet: he had just climbed out of the shower and changed into a black button-up shirt.
“There she is!” he declared, and he put his arms around her. “Oh—good to see you, Christine—” He held back and beamed into her face. “Come on in.”
She strode into his humble little apartment, right into that cozy little front room with a plush blue couch on the right side, a narrow little coffee table, a rickety black baby piano on the left side of the room next to a small television and a radiator: on every wall of the room was a guitar. The single corner to the right of her was a rack crammed full of guitars as well as a bass.
“My goodness,” she noted.
“Yeah, I… like to play,” he told her with a little chuckle and a hasty running of his fingers through his hair. Christine sniffed the air.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I literally just got home,” he told her with a shrug. “They… literally were not going to let me leave when I wanted to. Then there was traffic, and I barely had time to get ready and look nice for you, and…” His voice trailed off.
“I’m okay with—pizza or Chinese or whatever,” she assured him.
“Oh, good!” He rubbed his brow. “That makes it so much easier on me. And I just going to tell you that I just ordered some Chinese.”
“It all checks out,” she said as she set her purse down on the arm of his plush couch.
“All checks out,” he agreed as he rubbed his hands together. “Uh… have a seat.” She took her spot on his couch, and she nearly slid all the way back into the cushion. She spotted his black coffee mug there on the table before her, and she was greeted by the warm aroma of the black coffee in there. A spot of warmth in an otherwise cluttered living space.
“I made some coffee, if you’d like some,” he offered her from the doorway before her.
“Maybe when the food comes,” she replied with a glance around the room.
“I’m bit of a slob, sorry,” he confessed as he took his seat next to her.
“That’s okay,” she assured him. “I’d rather you be messy because that tells me your mind is in the right spot.”
“Clean desk is a sign of a disordered mind,” he told her in a low, welcoming tone.
“By the way, has anyone ever told you that you have a really sexy voice?” she asked him.
“A really sexy voice? Me?” He was stunned.
“Yeah. I love how warm and deep it is. You just sound sweet with it.”
“I’ve been told I sound like Ray Romano,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Gentler and softer,” she said. “Way more California, too.” She leaned back against the back of the couch and extended her legs out before her. “I feel like, if given the right context, you could do some phone sex.” He raised his eyebrows at that, and then a bright pink blush crossed his face.
“No, no, no, no,” he sputtered. “No way.”
“Why not? I think it would be fun! You could talk dirty to me and you could do it without trying.”
“I don’t really know, that feels like a skill that certain people have.”
“You learned to play guitar, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a skill. Same goes for dirty talk or anything, really. Sexual or not.”
He showed her a thoughtful little smile.
“You’re an interesting gal, dear Christine,” he remarked. “Taking a normal conversation and turning it into about sex for seemingly no reason.” He chuckled at that again.
“I have a big imagination,” she told him.
“Big imagination, I would imagine that you would make a great artist.”
“I dunno… now, that’s something that most other people have,” she quipped.
“You’re human, aren’t you?” he asked her with a slight raise of his left eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re an artist. Art is a human thing.”
“Like—” She leaned in closer to him and pressed her lips on the side of his neck. “That?”
“I don’t know…” His voice trailed off. “Do that again.” That time, his voice lowered enough to where it was right above a whisper. Christine leaned in once more and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, her pinkish skin on his smooth skin, as smooth as porcelain.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have the nicest skin?” she whispered to him. “It’s like bone china. You know, I think of playing around with clay and whatnot.”
“Nope. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” Indeed, Christine took a glimpse down at his hand rested next to his thigh only to find his fingers curling from the feeling of her lips there. She moved up a bit, closer to the base of his jawline: the minute bit of stubble there brushed against her lips, which only made her heart flutter. He stretched his legs out before him: out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his toes curling from the feeling. He was going to be ready soon if he wasn’t already.
“Let’s do it,” she whispered to him.
“Do what?”
She kissed him a third time on the side of the neck.
“It,” she reiterated, and she opened her eyes for a look into his face, right as he raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, that. Um… about that.”
She held back for a look into his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked him, slightly hurt.
“It’s not you, I promise. It’s the fact that I don’t know if I can do this.”
Christine held back with one hand rested upon his shoulder as if he was about to get away from her. She peered past the side of his head to the green guitar mounted on the wall over the couch. They were all alone in that tiny apartment, and she wondered as to how in the world that woman could find a spot in there for herself when there was barely enough room in that single space for the two of them. But there was that cozy little bedroom off to the left there, and they could find the right moment there in the living room. 
Make use of the small space around them.
She glanced down at her little white shorts and her bare feet, and then she directed her gaze over to the long, pure white curtains on the window on the other side of the room. She thought about the daydream that she had had the night before, and she wondered if there was something that she could utilize there.
“I have an idea,” she quipped with a raise of her finger to him. “I’ll get your gloves. Keep them on until I give the word.”
“What’s the word?” he asked her.
“‘Avalanche’,” she blurted out, to which he chuckled.
“Avalanche?” he echoed her.
“Yeah. I just think of a bunch of snow barreling down a mountainside to better describe how we feel for one another.”
“A bunch of snow to consume us and bury us under a veil of sin,” he followed along: he took off his glasses and breathed on the right lens, and he wiped it down with the bottom hem of his shirt. She lunged for the little sliver of exposed skin on his lower belly, when he lunged back towards the arm of the couch.
“Don’t be doing that now,” he teased her with a sly smirk on his face.
She climbed off the couch and doubled back to the bedroom to fetch his gloves, these little black leather gloves that looked as though they had just come out of her daydream. While she was in there, she peeled off her shirt and glanced down at her white bra. She reached behind for the hooks, and she tightened them up to the next one up. She pushed her breasts together for a bit more cleavage, and then she bowed her head forth, and she gave her dark hair a good ruffling. She then flipped her hair back as if she had just emerged from the ocean, his very own mermaid to take him to a new life at sea.
Christine nudged her shorts down a bit to show off some more skin, and then, with an extra sashay to her hips, she swaggered back into the living room with his gloves in hand. She emerged right then and there at the corner, right behind the couch, and he peered up at her with both eyebrows raised and his blue eyes bright as ever.
“Paging Dr. Green—Dr. Green, your patient is ready,” she announced to him in a low voice, and she handed him his gloves.
Alex stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth, and then he leaned to his right side with one arm extended out for them. His shirt rode up his body all the while: when he landed on the couch cushion, his belly hung out like the belly of a dog. He lay down on his back as he put the gloves on, and then he peered up at her, upside down, and with his mouth slightly agape.
“Dr. Green wants to write you a prescription,” he told her: that time, his warm, round voice lowered into a husky, silky whisper, as if he enticed her right then and there. It was a fleeting thought, but Christine wondered if there was any chance she could relay this to Nelly without telling those four girls that they were right. First things first, however.
She leaned forward with her hands pressed upon the arm of the couch: she pressed her upper arms against her breasts to further push them out and to accentuate her cleavage.
“What would you like to prescribe me?” she asked him with a lean into his face: a few tendrils of hair sprawled down onto his shoulder and his chest.
“A little cream for your lips,” he replied, still in that husky voice, as smooth and deep as silk straight off the loom. He hooded his eyes and reached up for her breasts. The leather of the gloves caressed over her skin, such that it sent a chill down her spine: she swayed her hips a bit from the feeling.
“I don’t think my lips need cream, though, Doc,” she quipped in a singsong voice; she rounded the arm of the couch and stood over him with her hands pressed to her hips. He reached up to caress her belly and her thighs, and he showed her his tongue as he struggled to better reach her.
“Get down—” he breathed out, and he inched over to the back of the couch to give her room. She lay down next to him, with her body pressed up tight against his own. His belly was soft, his body was curvaceous, and his arms were long and lanky, perfect for holding her.
“Give me the cream, Doc,” she whispered into his face. “The cream of the avalanche.” He took off his right glove and revealed his skin to her. She locked eyes with him as he reached down into her shorts for a fingering between her thighs. Those long, lanky fingers on her warm skin, right underneath the elastic of her underwear. The rough feeling of the calluses on his fingertips sent even more chills up her spine like a shock of lightning.
She anticipated him inserting a finger under her hood, but he never did. He instead nibbled on his bottom lip and closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him, slightly concerned.
“I can’t,” he confessed to her in a breathy whisper. He closed his eyes, and she could see the pain on his face. It wasn’t the feeling of infidelity but something else. Something hurt him. Someone hurt him.
Christine reached up to touch his face, and she pressed her lips onto his to give him a feeling of reassurance. She ran her hand down his chest, only to feel his heart pounding inside of there. He lowered his head a bit, and the tears that brimmed his eyes showed themselves to her.
“She’s killing me,” he whispered in a broken voice. “I can’t get away, but I want to, though. I don’t want her anymore. I don’t—I don’t—”
Christine leaned in closer to his face, such that she brushed the tip of her nose against his own.
“We tell no one,” she whispered into his lips.
“What happens between you and me stays between you and me, my love,” he vowed to her with another kiss. She put her arms around his waist and held him close to her. She didn’t mind if she held him all night long, even when there was a knock on the door.
“Food’s here,” he muttered. “My wallet’s in my front pocket.”
“You’re going to make me go to front door dressed like this to get the food,” she said in a near whisper.
He snickered at that. “Christine, this is New York. I’m sure you’ve seen some things here. If you have, he probably has, too.”
“What happens here, stays here,” she told him.
“What happens here, stays here,” he echoed her, and there was another knock on the door.
“Coming!” Christine called out with her hand down Alex’s front pocket.
9 notes · View notes
butternuggets-blog · 2 years
Text
OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER
@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @adowbaldwin @profoundme444 @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont
Part Fifty-One
Summary: Baldwin de Clermont manages to upset an ancient hag. He wakes up.. different.
Also on Ao3
Liv paused on the threshold of the makeshift nursery.
'Couldn't sleep?'
'Mm' Baldwin was leaning against the side of the cot the hotel staff had set up in the second bedroom. Hugo was half-hidden beneath a bright red blanket with yellow ducks sewn onto it, Nellie gripped tight in one tiny hand.
'I...'
Liv approached him and rubbed his shoulders, digging small circles gently with her thumbs.
'I keep having dreams where I hurt you' Baldwin whispered. Liv wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed against his back.
'I know you won't hurt me when you change back. You wouldn't hurt either of us.'
'I'm just scared that I'll be too hungry to...to control myself. It's been over a year since I fed.'
'If there was even the slightest possibility of you doing that I would chain you up. Feed you deer blood through a rubber tube.'
Baldwin's mouth twitched into a smile.
Liv spun him slowly around to face her, pressing their foreheads together.
'Come back to bed, baby. It's your last day of being human; you need your rest so you can fully enjoy it'
________________________________________________________________
Breakfast was a buffet on the balcony overlooking the city. Viareggio was slowly starting to fill back up with tourists now that Christmas was over and Carnival was looming up ahead. When Hugo started getting restless in his highchair, squirming and squarking and making hands at the street below, they set off to see the sights.
They spent the morning at the Palace of Muses, and Villa Paolina; Liv nearly choked on her own spit laughing as Baldwin dragged both Pauline Bonaparte and her “haemorrhoid-stricken, diminuitive, bloody-minded cretin of a brother”.
Lunch was a cliff-top picnic overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. Afterwards, they took a taxi back into the heart of the city and Baldwin showed Liv some of its hidden medieval secrets.
‘I had a wonderful last day’ Baldwin smiled into Liv’s shoulder as they swayed together gently, waiting among the crowd outside the restaurant they had decided on earlier that they would go to for dinner.
'Mm' Liv leaned back into Baldwin's chest and kissed him on the cheek. 'I'm glad; you deserved it."
When they reached the end of the line they were ushered to an outdoor table. They ordered boeuf bourguignon with potatoes, and drank Kir Royales as the crowds along the foreshore ebbed and flowed with the tide.
________________________________________________________________
The room was pitch black and comfortably still. Baldwin could hear Liv's gentle breathing as she slept beside him; the night cam on the baby monitor showed Hugo peacefully sleeping away.
There were three sharps knocks at the door.
Baldwin shot upright. Liv didn't stir. Barefoot and unarmed, he slipped out from beneath the covers and cautiously unlocked the door.
'Sieur Clermont'
The mocking undertone, from anyone else, would have raised Baldwin's ire, but Verich's growling rasp carried enough weight to her words that it sounded partly like a warning.
Baldwin's knuckles turned white as he gripped the door handle. Their last meeting had been burned into his memory.
Verich stepped forward and Baldwin leapt aside as the hag shuffled into the room. She was as snaggle-toothed as before, her hair a long, unkempt bird nest draped down over her face, but her robes had been washed and she was clutching a blood-red crocodile skin handbag.
'...You're back.'
'A year and a day little prince.'
Verich clasped the baby monitor in a withered hand, nodded, and put it back down. She glanced down at Liv; the younger woman didn't stir.
Verich cocked her head to the side and stared into Baldwin's eyes. He forced himself to stare back.
'So... have you learned much from the year?'
Baldwin blinked.
...'Baldwin, I've brought them'...
...‘SHUT UP OLD MAN!’...
...'I love you too'...
...'You're having a food coma'...
...'I hope you realise how much you're disappointing everyone'...
...‘Open wide’...
...‘-Fix this now De Clermont, or I swear-’...
...'Hello little one'...
‘....thank you..’ 
...‘Perhaps now you’ll come to appreciate our position a bit more’...
The corners of Baldwin’s mouth quirked up in a smile.
‘Yes. Yes I have.’
‘Good.’
CRACK
Verich brought her staff down on top of Baldwin’s head, Rafiki-style. Baldwin collapsed into a heap on the floor. He was snoring gently by the time Verich slipped out the door.
Author’s Notes
Baldwin had tried to swallow some blood before they set off on their own, just in case he could “stock up” before he changed back but it just turned his stomach so they stopped.
One of the stories associated with Villa Paolina is that Pauline Bonaparte used to bathe naked in front of the villa.
I have no personal opinion on Napoleon; I based the fact that Baldwin has a low opinion of Napoleon on this post by @minim236
9 notes · View notes
lfalexander-author · 9 months
Text
Excerpt from Ch. 3
More goodies from a yet-to-be-named novel
(should I do a poll to name it??? no srsly lol)
Tumblr media
_______________________
Teddy stood outside the door of her apartment, exhausted from the events of the evening. She turned the keys as slowly as she could in each lock, trying to remain quiet, should Nell and Simon be sleeping. Unlocking their apartment was a time consuming process even at full speed, so her patience was beginning to wear thin. Nell, practical (read: paranoid) as she was, insisted on having nine locks on their door, which, when her fingers weren't completely numb and useless, Teddy didn't tend to mind. Unfortunately, she couldn't feel anything past her knuckles, so her frustration was mounting. Quickly. She was close to resorting to stirring some nearby shadows when she heard Nell's sing-song voice on the other side of the door. 
"Teddy?"
Teddy's shoulders drooped in exasperation. "Yes, Nellie," she hissed. "Of course it's me, who bloody else would it be?"
"It could be a burglar," Nell whispered back. 
"Who would bother picking nine locks, for goddess' sakes?"
"Okay, okay, hold on," Nell replied, her tone indignant, if amused. 
Teddy waited as she heard five quick, successive thunks and then the door swung wide. Nell stood there, curves on full display in a tattered satin bathrobe, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other on her hip, a huge grin on her face. Even barefoot, Nell towered over Teddy. She had clearly spent the day rebraiding her hair, each one adorned with golden charms that tinkled as she moved. She had lined her warm honey-hued eyes in thick charcoal that made her perfectly symmetrical face all the more alluring. The deep brown of her skin reflected the low light of the hallway, almost glittering -- no. Teddy blinked. Actually glittering. 
Teddy raised a single eyebrow. "Going out?" 
"Maybe," Nell replied with a casual shrug. 
Teddy narrowed her eyes. "Did you use my body glitter?"
"Is that blood?" Nell asked, dodging the question, though her face had gone a bit pale.
"I -- yes," Teddy replied. 
"Who--whose blood, Teddy?"
"It's not mine."
Nell swallowed and began retreating backwards into the apartment, the zeal of her initial greeting fading into an unbearable grief that hung in the air like fog. Teddy followed her, her stomach leaden. 
The apartment door shut on its own, nine locks clinking into place. Teddy spared a thought for the shadows' kindness and wearily trudged to the bathroom after her heartsister. She leaned on the door frame and watched as Nell hopped onto the sink counter.
"You should come with us," Nell said as she picked up a file and began sawing away. She paused and pointed the file at Teddy, but didn't meet her eyes. "But you should definitely shower first. You smell horrible."
Teddy snorted. "I'm aware," she said. "Who and where?"
"Des and I are going clubbing in Upper Stelos," Nell replied.
Teddy's brows rose, but she bit her tongue. Nell couldn't know anything. "That's awfully posh," she said softly, occupying herself with the stack of ancient tabloid magazines that Nell kept by the commode.
Nell shrugged again. "It's not as fancy as everyone makes it out to be. The clubs up there really aren't so different from the Dove."
The Crimson Dove was a club in the bawdiest sector of the Iniquus District, just north of Craffes Row. Nell had been dancingthere for years, her unwavering loyalty to the Madam of the joint always quietly puzzling Teddy. It was glamorous in a distracting way -- intentionally so. The walls themselves glittered as if they were carved from diamonds and the cost of one drink was enough to fuel a godsdamned cruise liner. It was honestly beautiful, Teddy thought, but the nature of what went down there...
"That seems unlikely," Teddy said.
"And how in goddess' name would you know? When was the last time you set foot in a club?"
"Hmm let me think...that would probably the last sunset before...never," Teddy replied in a raw attempt to lighten the mood. 
Nell snorted, but lowered her hands to her lap, the expression on her face grim. "So...I'll take that as a no, then?"
Teddy shrugged. "Not tonight, Nellie."
"You're sure you'll be alright?"
"We'll be fine."
"I'm asking if you will be alright. Simon is spending the next few days with a friend from school." "Oh."
"Before you even ask, yes, I vetted the kid and his family. Left his poor mother traumatized, no doubt." "Okay -- well -- yes, I'll be fine. You and Des have fun."
"Oh we will," Nell said, waggling her eyebrows. 
"Ew!"
__________
0 notes
forever-rogue · 4 years
Note
Javier Prompt, if you're willing!! Javier comes home late from work to find the apartment empty, and begins to panic because his pregnant significant other isn't there. He's been nervous the last few months, and it's only gotten worse. When the phone rings and she's on the other end asking for him to come pick her up, he just imagines the worst possibilities.
I’m just...so...soft at the thought of dad to be Javi. Like...just imagine it... 🥺
I also realized that I read this prompt a little wrong and changed it slightly, but I hope you still like it!
Javier Masterlist
»»————- ♡ ————-««
It was the heart of summer, the warmest time of the year, and Colombia was in the middle of a heat wave. It was a stifling heat, the kind that was pervasive and deep to penetrate deep into your bones no matter how hard you tried to find relief. Warm mornings turned to even warmer afternoons which led to balmy evenings. Normally, you’d be able to handle it fairly well, as the heat generally didn’t bother you that much. But the not so little fact that you were almost eight months pregnant during all of this did not help. It only served to make you more miserable and it was almost impossible to find any sort of relief.
Javier, your boyfriend and the most Nervous Nellie of a father to be, was attentive to your needs, finding all sorts of ways to ease your discomforts and make you feel better. You were pretty sure that he’d read more pregnancy books than you had, and there was a small growing library of them in the living room bookcase. As soon as you told him you were pregnant, something you had been reluctant to do since you had no clue how he would respond to this surprise, he had shifted into dad mood. Sometimes you were sure he was more excited than you were - the way his eyes had lit up when you had first announced the news and shown him the positive pregnancy test was forever burned into your mind. It was a treasured moment that you never wanted to let go of.
All the knowledge he gathered and all the little tips and tricks learned along the way had been helpful more times than not. But unfortunately, nothing could help you in this heat - no amount of cold showers and drinks and fans seemed to help. You could barely sleep at night, finding it hard to sleep any position with your large belly, and Javi’s warm body to you. He seemed to run warm as it was and it certainly wasn’t helping now..
The one little bit of relief you did find, however, came in the form of the frozen yogurt that Javier had found by chance at the supermarket, thinking you might like it. And you had; you’d almost devoured the whole container in one sitting, and it seemed to cool you ever so slightly. One late night, when you really couldn’t sleep, you’d gotten a hankering for the sweet dessert, and but also something sour. Imagine Javi’s surprise when he woke up to go to the bathroom and found you sitting on the couch watching late night television and eating pickles dipped in the frozen yogurt.
“Oh honey,” his voice was tired and thick with sleep as tried his best not to laugh at the sight. You looked up at him, with a small, sheepish smile on your face as you took another bite of the crunchy pickle. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your before plopping down on the couch next to you, “pickles and ice cream?”
“Froyo,” you corrected him, waving the pickle in front of his face and offering him a bite. He shook his head before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and watching as you dipped the pickle back in and coated it in the frozen yogurt before eating it, “you should go back to bed, Javi. You’ve been exhausted, my love.”
“I couldn’t sleep...again,” he admitted with a small sigh, “and then I found you gone, and then I saw the light on. Why...why on earth are you eating that?”
“Your kid was hungry,” you shrugged lightly, looking pointedly between him and your large stomach, “and I was hot, so I figured this could solve both of my problems.”
“Hey, that is half your kid as well,” he snorted with laughter as put his hand on your belly, rubbing it gently. The baby always seemed to know when it was Javier touching your stomach, moving softly and kicked at the feel of his touch and sound of his voice, “they’re moving.”
It always seemed to amaze him, each time the same as it had the first time, his face lighting up with joy and sheer love. You tried not to get emotional, but with your raging hormones, it was hard to keep anything in check, and you felt that familiar prickling start at the back of your eyes. Putting a hand on top of his, you turned to give him a smile, a tear inadvertently slipping down your cheek. Javi gently reached over and softly wiped it away before giving you a sweet kiss, “honey, don’t cry, it’s alright.”
“I know,” you said softly, feeling the water works preparing to well up, “it’s just...I love you so much, and I’m so excited and happy, but right now being pregnant sucks and I want it to be over and I don’t at the same time because I’m so nervous to meet the baby, our baby, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I know you’ll be the best father, but I worry that I won’t be a good mother. I mean, look at me, I’m sitting here and eating frozen yogurt and pickles and crying.”
“Honey,” Javi put his hand on your cheek and leaned in closer to you, his lips brushing faintly against yours, “you’re alright, you’re going to be just fine. It’s just your hormones - I promise. You’re going to be an amazing mother - the best mother. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be in your position right now, or how it feel at all, but you are incredible for everything you’re doing. I mean, think about it, you’re carrying our child right now. Do you have any idea what a feat that is, how amazing you are?”
“You’re just saying that because I’m pathetic and pregnant,” you sniffled lightly, but he cut you off with a firm kiss, his hand going to the back of your heading, holding you close. It warmed you up completely, in a different way this time, one that was not unpleasant and overbearing, but comforting, “Javi...”
“I know,” he whispered quietly, “I love too.”
“Really?” you asked, your voice but a mere, soft whimper. He nodded softly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Of course you knew he loved you; it was just all of these crazy hormones making you question everything.
“Really, mi amor,” he promised, “you, and our child, even if you’re resorting to silly things such as eating ice cream and pickles.”
“Froyo,” you laughed lightly, feeling a wash of reassurance flood over you. It was hard, especially this far along to remain positive, but it was always easier when you had Javi. He was your rock, your anchor, and helped you keep a level head through all of this, just like you often did with him. The two of you made a good pair, and you hoped that would translate into good parenting.
“Froyo and all,” he corrected, “I love every part of you. Always.”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
On this particular evening, you were at home by yourself, boredom and warmth setting in as you couldn't find anything to hold your interest. You'd made dinner and saved some for Javi, who was working late. He'd told you when he left in the morning that it would he a long day, but a part of you had wished that something would happen and allow him to come home sooner.
But it was nearing ten in the evening and you weren't sure when he'd be back. He was on a stakeout with Steve, meaning it was anyone's guess. Feeling listless, you decided to go for a short walk. It would at least give you some exercise and maybe help to cool you down, should you find some sort of breeze.
You scribbled a note on the pad next to the phone, in the off chance that Javi would return before you came back. Perching the note up so it was easily visible, you walked, or waddled over rather, to your purse and grabbed a few dollars and your key before heading out.
It probably wasn't the best idea to go out, at night, alone, in the midst of everything going on in Colombia, but you really just needed to get out at this point. Surely Javi could understand that, right? But....perhaps he wouldn't.
He'd been such a mother hen lately, ensuring that everything was perfect and attending to your every need. While you didn't mind, not for the most part anyway, sometimes it was a little overwhelming. Being pregnant was enough of a chore, but having someone constantly underfoot wasn't any better. You loved him and he meant well, but sometimes you just needed a break.
Stepping out into the slightly cooler evening air, you let out a sigh of relief as you started your little trek around the block. Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck you; the supermarket where Javi had found your treasured frozen yogurt was close by. Making up your mind, you decided you'd pick up a carton of the stuff and a new jar of pickles.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
When Javier arrived home, he was tired, exhausted even, and couldn't wait to get in bed and have you in his arms. It was late, later than he would have liked but his long day was finally over. He'd even come to the decision that he would be working fewer hours and staying out of the field when possible. It was going to a be a big change, but his main priority was you and your baby and he wanted to be around should anything happen. He had a feeling that you'd try and argue with him, but his mind was made up.
"Hermosa," he let out a long sigh as he tried to unlock the door, but stopped, eyebrows knitting together in confusion when he realized the door was already unlocked. Strange. Neither of you ever kept it unlocked, and you definitely knew better.
A tingle of nerves started at the base of his spine as he opened the door and walked inside slowly, unsure of what to expect. The television was on and the window was open, all signs pointing to the fact that you would be home.
"Honey?" his voice faltered slightly as he walked down the hallway and poked his head his head in the bedrooms and bathrooms, trying to see if he could find you. But you were nowhere to be found.
His heart started to race slightly as he reached for the gun in the waistband of his jeans and pulled it out, holding it at the ready. His mind immediately went into overdrive as a million horrid, dark thoughts appeared. Every single bad thought he possessed within the far recesses of mind were suddenly right up front.
What if someone had come and taken you? If someone had broken in? What if something had happened with you and the baby? What if, what if, what if?
There appeared to he no signs of a struggle, but he knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. Your purse was still here and the smell of cooking lingered in the kitchen.
"Fuck," he said softly to himself, running a hand over his face in exasperation as he came to the conclusion that something had to have happened, "Fuck!"
He grabbed the phone, throwing the notepad face down onto the floor in his haste and quickly dialed Steve's number. Anxiously waiting for him to answer, he almost shouted in the receiver, "she's gone! I just got back but she's not here!"
It took Steve only a beat to figure out Javi was in distress about you and he tried to calm him down. Surely there must be there another explanation, "hey, hey, hey, I'm sure it's alright-"
"The door was unlocked, her things are here, TV on. It looks like someone got in here and just took her," it was hard to remain calm when not only could you possibly be at risk, but also the baby, "fuck! Has she talked to Connie at all? Does she know anything?"
He heard Steve mumbling something to Connie, asking her if you had mentioned anything to her or spoken to her. He let out a heavy sigh before returning to Javi, "Con hasn't heard anything. Javi, just relax, I'm sure there's a reasonable-"
"She's missing, Steve! She's almost eight months pregnant and you expect me to calm down!?" he didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, but he was extremely stressed. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been this worried.
"Make whatever calls you need to and I'll be there to help," Steve hung up the phone as Javi nodded, trying to focus as he tried to make a game plan for how to find you.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
After some time you'd finally managed to find your favorite flavor of frozen yogurt and a big jar of pickles, you made your way home, ready to dig in and wait for Javi.
The evening had cooled down further and you strolled back at a leisurely pace, not that you had much of a choice this far in, taking your time to get back. When you got into the complex and made your way to your shared apartment, you thought you heard some voices, and grew excited to think that Javi might be back.
Unlocking the door slowly you stepped in, mouth dropping at sight in front of you. Javi, Steve, and Connie were all around the kitchen table, pouring over what looked like a map, the phone next to them.
"Hey everyone," they were so immersed in their little discussion none of them had noticed you at first, "what's going on?"
Javi's dark eyes flicked up to meet yours momentarily before looking back down at the map. It took him a good few moments before he finally realized it was you, "honey! You're here...you're back! Where the hell have you been?"
"Yeah, of course I'm back..." you walked over to the table and set your bag down, "I live here? I went for a walk and stopped at the market for frozen yogurt and pickles."
"Why!?"
"Your kid was hungry as normal?" you said as if it was no big deal, "and I wanted to get out for a little bit."
"The door was unlocked," he come over to you and put his hands on your face, a clearly distressed look on his face, "the lights and the television were on and I could smell dinner, and you weren't home. I was so worried."
"I just left everything on because I was just going on for a little bit. And in case you came home before me, I didn't want everything all dark," your heart sank a little when you saw how upset he is, "I'm sorry, Javi, I honestly thought I'd be back before you."
"I was so worried! I thought someone had come and taken you or something had happened to baby!" he threw up his hands in exasperation. You knew he wasn't mad at you, he was just in general panic mode over anything related to you right now, "what was I supposed to think?"
"Javi, I left you a note where you would see it," you let out a small sigh as you spied the notepad on the floor, your note still face down. Making your over to it, you tried to pick it up, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was going to be a herculean feat. Connie quickly came to your rescue and swooped it up and studied it before handing it to you, "how did this get on the floor? I left it up so you would easily see it."
Javi came over and took it from your hand, quickly reading it over. He hung his head when he realized he must have knocked it over, "fuck. I must have done that and not noticed."
"If you'd been in the office I would have called you, my love," you put a hand on shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, "but I didn't know if you'd be there...so I just left the note."
He let out a soft groan before taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, "I'm sorry, honey. I just...the door was unlocked and I worry. Especially with everything going on right now and you're so close. I...might have overreacted a little bit..."
"You think?" you teased him, wrapping your arms his neck, holding him as close as possible, with the exception of your stomach, "trust me, if someone was breaking in, I would put up a fight and someone would have heard my screaming. If anything was wrong with the baby, I would have gone to Connie."
"But honey-"
"Just because I'm pregnant doesn't I can't put a fight. Anyone tries to come for you or our baby, they're going to catch sight of these hands," you insisted, causing him, Steve, and Connie to break into laughter, "what?! What's so funny?"
"Hermosa," Javi met your eyes for a moment, putting his hand on your face as he gave you a soft smile, "baby, you're 34 weeks pregnant, you cry when you can't pick things up off the floor. You cried at a commercial last night. I don't think you're going to kick anyone's ass."
"Try me, Javier Peña, try me," you put your hands, and tried your best to give him a mean look, "I've got that crazy pregnancy strength!"
"I love you," Javi just laughed before giving a soft kiss, "so much. I’m so glad you’re okay."
"I love you too," you grinned at him, "sorry for worrying you. The one time you come early! If I had any clue I would have just waited. Sorry Steve, sorry Con. You got dragged into all of this because of me. I should have just told Connie and made her come with me."
"It's dangerous to go out alone," Javi reminded you and just pouted your lips at him.
"I just needed to go out and damn kid just wanted a damn snack," you laughed lightly at yourself, "now half the city is probably out looking for me."
"Try half the country," Steve corrected as you just looked at Javi and he sheepishly shrugged at you. He gave Connie a look and the two of them shared a nod, deciding it was time for them to go, "glad you're okay and it was just a misunderstanding. I think this should serve as a lesson to keep calm, right Javi?"
"Fuck off, Murph," Javi flipped him the bird but gave him a thankful smile nonetheless. You gave them a wave before crossing your arms over your chest and shaking your head at him, "I was worried, alright? Every single thought bad of what could have happened to you went through my mind. I would never forgive myself something happened to you, either of you, because of me."
"I know," you put your hand on his cheek and rubbing your thumb gently over his cheekbone, "nothing will ever happen to me or this bean. At least not because of you, probably because I tried over my own feet, which I haven't seen in months, thank you very much."
"You don't know that-"
"Javi, I do," you insisted firmly, "you take such good care of us all the time. You do everything. I know nothing will go wrong, we're safe and sound, here with you.”
“I cannot believe I was this worried about my wife going out and getting ice cream and pickles,” he let out a long sigh of relief as he watched you with a small smile. He took your hand and laced your fingers together, “you are...something else.”
“Firstly - froyo,” you reminded him with a laugh, “and secondly - not your wife.”
“Not yet,” he beamed at you with a little wink. He had plans for that, big plans, but he wasn’t about to tell you that yet.
“Oh yeah, is that so?” you played it cool but internally you were bubbling up with excitement.
“Yeah,” he promised, giving you a nod, “but that’s a discussion for another time. Now why don’t get your...dessert? Snack? Whatever you call and we can go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
“That’s what you get for panicking,” you traced you a finger down his nose before kissing it gently. He held you there for a moment, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you, Javi. Really.”
“I love you too, honey,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “even if you do stress me out.”
“Out of love.”
“Aye, dios mio,” he made quick work of scooping you up in his arms, making it effortless and like you totally weren’t heavily pregnant, “you’ve lost all privileges now. Time for bed.”
“Okay, but when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound like a punishment, it just sounds sexy,” you giggled as he started carrying you towards the bedroom, “and that’s how I got pregnant in the first place!”
“Honey...”
“And don’t forget my froyo and pickles!”
690 notes · View notes
efegeg · 3 years
Text
the only respect in which I am like Moliere
I fucked Jaime on the morning of my wedding, the queen recalled. “I do,” she said, “I feel reborn, as if a festering boil has been lanced and zapatillas de tacos futbol now at last I can begin to heal. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. Casso Mogat was a panske boty nike hnede mongrel of the narrow sea, fathered on a Sisterton whore by an Ibbenese whaler. Only five feet tall and very hirsute, he dyed his hair and whiskers a mossy green. The counsel, who generously volunteered his services in your behalf, shocked at the enormity of your offence, endeavored to find a refuge, as well for his own feelings as for those of all who heard your trial, in a derangement of your intellect. Several witnesses air jordan aj4were examined to establish this fact; but the result of their
ropa golf junior
testimony, it is apprehended, was as little satisfactory to his mind, as to those of the jury to whom it was addressed. “You know me. I’m Theon, you remember. The dragonslayer lost his footing and went tumbling to the sand. He was trying to struggle back to his feet when the dragon’s teeth closed hard around his forearm. It often happens that great abuses exist in violation of law, and in spite of the efforts of the authorities to suppress them; such is the case with drunkenness, gambling, and other vices. But here is a law common to all the slave-holding states, which upholds and gives countenance to the wrong-doer, while its blackest terrors are reserved for those who would interpose to protect the innocent. Je prends mon bien ou je le trouve, and that’s the only respect in which I am like Moliere. Though I squeezed a hundred roubles out of her, I vowed at the time I’d wring another five hundred out of her before I’d done. Talking dragons, dragons puma red bull racing evo cat ii hoarding gold and gems, dragons with four legs and bellies big as elephants, dragons riddling with sphinxes … nonsense, all of it. But there are truths in the old books as well. “I have no cup for you, we’ll have to share.” The washerwoman went back to wringing out tunics and hanging them to dry. Tyrion settled on a stone bench with his flagon. Septa Lemore pantofi sport cu scai barbati had slit each garment apart, then sewn them back together, joining half of this to half of that to fashion a crude motley. Griff had even insisted that Tyrion help with cizme din denim the cutting and sewing. He is watching me. He knows. She was terribly jealous, and I don’t know how it was she always forgave him all his lapses. This was how it usually happened: Alyosha would go in with me, timidly address her, and look with timid tenderness into her eyes. If I were a dragon, I could fly to Westeros, she thought when he was gone. I would have no need of Xaro or his ships. But I have yet to see it in real life, except in rare cases, or where the slave has been guilty of some misdemeanor, or crime, for which, in the North, he would have been imprisoned, perhaps for life.”—Cabin and Parlor, by J. Thornton Randolph, p. Nellie was carried away by her story, and there was a flush on her pale, wan little cheek. It was evident that more than once in their corner in the basement the mother had talked to her little Nellie of her happy days in the past, embracing and kissing the little girl who was all that was left to her in life, and weeping over her, never suspecting what a powerful effect these stories had on the frail child’s morbidly sensitive and prematurely developed feelings.. He might have adidas retro schuhe männer taken the guards for a pair of Little Walder’s snowmen if he had not seen the white plumes of their breath. “I want to kimono long femme grande taille walk the walls,” he told them, his own breath frosting in the air.. He took me to a stall at the corner of the street where ginger-bread and apples were sold. Grandfather bought a ginger-bread cock and a fish, sac camelbak lobo and a sweetmeat, and an apple; and when he took the money out of his leather purse, his hands shook dreadfully and he dropped a penny, and I picked it up. Ser Alliser Thorne reached for his sword hilt. Go on, Jon thought. “Slower, for the love you bear me. That last jolt sent a knife right through my knee.”. Six queen’s men were wrestling two enormous pinewood poles into holes six other queen’s men had dug out. Asha did not have to ask their purpose. The bacon turned crisp, the biscuits golden brown. Young Griff stumbled up onto deck yawning. “We have heard intelligent men estimate the number of slaves exported from Virginia, within the last twelve months, at a hundred and twenty thousand, each slave averaging at least six hundred dollars, making an aggregate of seventy-two million dollars. Of the number of slaves exported, not more than one-third have been sold; the others having been carried by their masters, who have removed.”. He was particularly sensitive on this point, and always knew exactly what she was secretly thinking. Natasha saw this and was very sorry, and she at once tried to flatter and soothe him. Mormont might be dead, though. By now Slynt may be the lord commander. She had reached fifty-four when the steps finally ended at another iron door. This one was unlocked. Mr. Shelby, the original owner of Uncle Tom, and who sells him to a trader, from the pressure of a sort of pecuniary necessity, is by no means a bad character; his wife and son are whatever honor and humanity could wish; and, in a word, the only white persons who make any considerable figure in the book to a disadvantage are the villain Legree, who is a Vermonter by birth, and the oily-tongued slave-trader Haley, who has the accent of a Northerner.
1 note · View note
busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Chapter 5
Buster was feeling withdrawn and almost didn’t show. He’d settled on a night working out a few more gags for the flood scenes and reading a few more chapters of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, but he was restless. The gags didn’t seem right, his attention kept wandering from the pages of the book. By his third glass of whiskey, an adventure sounded like just the thing he needed to cure the jitters. After all, he reasoned, it would mean a lot to Bert and the hired guys if he put in an appearance, even if it was just for an hour. At around half past nine, he put on his jacket and went down to the Senator’s lobby to have the valet bring the Duesenberg.
Sure enough, the speak-easy was right where they said it was, near the corner of 2nd Avenue and 33rd Street next to a Chinese laundry.
There was no need to knock on the old wooden door midway up the alley. The laughter was loud enough that he could hear the party from out here. He opened the door and let himself in. Everyone was in such a state, it made him look sober. No one noticed him and he was considering a flip-flap to get their attention when a woman’s laughter rang out among all the masculine voices, turning his head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, quite clearly.
She was standing near the door of a darkened room and the tall blonde workman had her by the elbow. He seemed to be trying to coax her into it where at least two other men waited. Several others ringed the doorway of the room. Something about it didn’t feel right. No one else in the place seemed to notice that anything was amiss; they were caught up in conversation and card games.
“C’mon, we’ll take good care of you,” the blonde man said.
The girl planted her feet, still smiling, but Buster could see she didn’t want to go. 
“C’mon, show us your striptease!” said another man, to a peal of laughter from the group. 
Her smile faded.
Anger crackled in Buster and he started across the room. “What’s going on here?” he said. Only when he’d reached them did he notice the girl was Nelly, the one who worked in the prop house. 
“Buster!” the men all cried, throwing up their hands and smiling like it was just a big game. The tall blonde man didn’t join in, but instead let his arm fall from Nelly’s elbow and gave Buster a contemptuous look, although he immediately followed it up with an innocent smile. “Just having some fun with Nelly, is all,” he said.
“Like hell you are,” said Buster, and the smiles disappeared. “Buster,” said Nelly, looking discomfited and very, very drunk. 
“You’re coming with me.” He took her elbow and she stumbled forward, and only then did he realize how bad of shape she was in. She could barely stand up straight.
“Where’re we going?” she said, and he caught her around the waist with both hands as she lost her footing. “Ouch,” she said, trying to look at her right ankle.
“I’m taking you home,” he said, glancing back at the men. The smart ones had sense enough to look abashed. A couple were glowering, including the blonde guy. With three whiskeys under his belt, he had more than half a mind to clean the bastard’s clock. 
“Oh,” Nelly said, as she regained her balance. “You don’t have to do that, Bert was going to give me a ride.”
“No, we’re going now. Just where is Bert anyway?” said Buster, realizing he hadn’t seen him. 
Nelly shrugged. “Oh, my bag!” she said. “I can’t forget my handbag!”
“Where’s your bag?”
“Behind the bar.” “You stay here, I’ll get it.” 
When he had retrieved the little beaded purse and passed it to her, he took her elbow and guided her out the door. She smelled extremely boozy. “How much have you had to drink?” he said, as he led her carefully down the alley and to the street. 
“Not nearly enough,” she said. “Gosh, my ankle hurts.”
“Be serious.” He opened the passenger door of the Duesenberg and helped boost her into the seat. 
“This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in,” she said, looking around in a kind of glazed wonder. “But I am going to answer your question and that answer is, I am not entirely sure. I think eight drinks, maybe. I had a glass of whiskey and gin. I had some bourbon, too, and some beer. I feel splendid.”
“Hands in the car, I’m closing the door,” he said. He made his way around the front of the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. “How do you really feel?”
“As gay as a feather,” she said, with a drunk giggle. 
“I mean, can you see straight? Is everything spinning?” 
“Mmm,” she said thoughtfully, squinting. “Not too badly.”
“If you’re going to be sick, you must tell me, okay? The car is new.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to upchuck in your fancy car. I’ve got better breeding than that.” She patted his arm and said, “I’m hot. Is it too warm? Are you warm as well?”
Any other time, he might have found the situation amusing, but the image of the blonde man trying to persuade her into that room had overpowered any funniness for him. 
“You could have lost your virtue back there,” he said seriously. 
“Oh, I lost that a long time ago. It’s no big thing. I wouldn’t be telling you this under normal circumstances, but what’s to be done? I’m very drunk you see.” She turned her palms up apologetically.
“I’m not talking about you being willing. Those guys had every intention of—”
“—Buster, I’m not a virgin.”
He took his hands off the steering wheel, unaware he’d been gripping it, and spun toward her in a sudden temper. “Yes, I heard you the first time. You aren’t taking this seriously. They meant to rape you. Can I put it any plainer?”
Nelly went quiet. “I’m sorry,” she said softly after a few moments, seeming to grasp even in her state what he’d saved her from.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, looking away from her, “but if I’d have been ten minutes later, who knows what they may have done.”
Nelly sank down in the seat. “I had too much to drink.”
He reached across the seat to squeeze her upper arm. “You’re not the first girl and you won’t be the last. Now, where do you live?”
“22nd Street. I rent a room there,” she said. She began to unbuckle one of her shoes.
“Address?” he said. He took the car key out of his slacks and put it in the ignition. 
“1922, I think. The year Ulysses was published.”
“You think or you’re sure?” he said, turning his head toward her again.
She removed her shoe and sank further down the seat, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m not sure now. It could be 2219. If you take me there I’ll be able to pick it out.”
He wasn’t fond of the idea of driving up and down dark streets waiting for her to choose a house and perhaps choosing wrongly, so he made a decision. “You’re going to sober up some before I take you home.”
Nelly looked uncertain, but she seemed to accept it and made no reply. 
“And tell me if you’re going to be sick. I can pull over.”
“I’m fine,” she said, as he turned the key and headed down 2nd Avenue toward Broadway.
It wasn’t the adventure he had been after, but he supposed saving a damsel in distress counted for something. Nellie removed her other shoe and rubbed her ankle. “Would you care if I put down the window?” she said. “I’m so hot.”
“Knock yourself out.”
She rolled it and put her hand out into the night air. To Buster, who had never taken off his jacket, the temperature felt plenty cool. He considered, turning down Broadway, how he was going to look walking into the lobby of the Senator with a girl who couldn’t see straight and taking her up to his room, but he was just going to have to chance it. 
A peculiar movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked over. “What are you doing?” he said. Nelly had pulled the skirt of her dress halfway up her thighs and was wrestling with the garter clips of her girdle. 
She gave him a guilty look. “I’m hot.”
“Please don’t take off all your clothes. I don’t want a scandal,” he said, only half-joking as he envisioned the lurid headline (‘Dame Caught without a Stitch in Buster Keaton’s Duesenberg’) and Natalie’s hysterical reaction. He thought fleetingly of Virginia Rappe, who would strip any time she had a few drinks in her.
“I’m not, just my stockings,” said Nelly, sounding embarrassed. “They’re suffocating me.”
He turned his eyes back on the road and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, carry on.” 
She continued bustling in his peripheral vision and eventually succeeded in rolling down the offending stockings. “It was a mistake to wear these,” she mumbled. 
He decided not to answer. He was already thinking ahead to the hotel room. He’d get some coffee and food into her, wait around while she recuperated, then take her straight home. He was forced to look over again when she thrust her hand out the window, gripping her stocking and making it trail in the breeze like a wind sock. “Goodbye,” she said, releasing it.
“Good God, why have you done that?” he said.
“It was a mistake and I’m getting rid of my mistakes.” She dangled the second stocking out of the window for a moment before letting it go, humming to herself under her breath. Fortunately, they were at the Senator in less than ten minutes before his mixture of annoyed and amused tipped further toward annoyed.
“I’m going to let her sober up and then take her back home,” he couldn’t help but say to the valet as he got out of the front seat. 
Nelly, to his dismay, chimed in as he helped her out of the car. “He rescued me and I am indebted.”
He put his arm around her waist and helped her into the hotel, she in bare feet with her shoes in one hand and purse in the other. He was relieved to see that the lobby was mostly empty. He made a beeline for the elevator and ignored the attendant manning it. Nelly hummed and looked around, and the attendant gamely pretended she didn’t exist. Blessedly, the coast was clear as Buster took her to his room and unlocked the door. By now, it was approaching ten-thirty. He deposited her on a settee in the salon and rang down for some toast and coffee for two.
“Is there a lavatory here?” said Nelly, when he’d hung up. 
He assisted her to it, warning her not to pass out or hit her head because he wouldn’t be coming in to rescue her. His luck held out when she emerged without a scrape. Back in the salon, she stretched out on the light blue velvet sofa with the high back and massaged her ankle. “Okay, the room is spinning now.” Without a word, he set a wastebasket at her feet. “Use that if you need to.” The whole encounter had sobered him up; he didn’t feel the whiskey anymore and poured himself a glass so he could relax. As he sipped, he looked at Nelly. There were two types of drunk girls in his experience, lewd and ridiculous. Nelly was a classic case of the latter. She sat up slightly with her bare knees bent and began reaching into her hair. She pulled out one pin, then another. He watched as tendril after thick tendril tumbled to her shoulders. “Why do you wear your hair long?” he asked.
She smiled. In the light, he could see her mascara was smudged and her eyes had that slightly faraway look of every person three sheets to the wind. “I know, it’s terribly out of fashion, isn’t it?”
He sipped. “I didn’t say that.”
For a moment, she appeared and sounded perfectly sober. “It was my one concession to my mother. She hates the idea of me being an actress and she really hated that I came to California. Before I left, she made me promise that I would never bob my hair. Like Jo March, it’s my one beauty.”
He was about to tell her that wasn’t true, but a knock came on the door. He set the glass of whiskey down and commandeered the tea cart from a reluctant staff member, who wanted to wheel it inside for him. He didn’t care for the man to catch sight of Nelly and her bare legs.
“Do you take sugar or cream?” he asked Nelly, after he’d taken the cart to the sofa. By now, over half of her hair was down, brown and thick and wavy and glossy. He found himself staring and had the blind thought that he was grateful her mother talked her out of bobbing it. 
“Cream, please,” she said, still busy with her hair. “Thank you.” She took the cup from him and folded her legs up, pulling her skirt down over her knees. 
“So you want to be an actress?” He took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the chair, and picked up his whiskey again. 
She gave him a smile that almost looked sad as she sipped the coffee. Her glazed eyes considered him. “That’s the idea. I guess I’ve got a few pounds to get rid of, though. Probably shouldn’t eat that toast.”
He tried not to grimace. “Nelly, if I could take back what I said last week, I’d do it in a heartbeat. You don’t need to lose a single pound and if you don’t eat some toast, I’ll dump you out the window right now.”
“You hurt my feelings that day,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve tried not to let it bother me, but I suppose I’m only human.”
He did the only thing he could think of. He stood up, took the coffee out of her hand, set it down, hooked one arm under her knee and the other beneath her back, and lifted her bodily from the sofa. She shrieked in surprise.
“Buster, what are you doing?” she said, kicking her ankles and squealing.
“I am demonstrating to you that you are not heavy is what I’m doing,” he said, looking sternly into her face. “And I won’t set you down until you agree to eat something.”
Nelly gave up and went still. “This is ridiculous,” she said, glaring up at him.
“You’re right,” he said, frowning down at her.
They scowled at each other for a moment or two before the absurdity of the situation struck them at the same time and they broke into laughter. 
“Please,” Nelly said, laughing, “set me down please.”
“Promise you’ll have at least two slices of toast.”
“Promise.”
He lowered her back to the sofa. “Good. Raspberry jam or marmalade?”
“Just butter, please.” 
He buttered two slices and passed them over to her on a plate. She bit into one obligingly and looked at him. He went back to his whiskey. 
After she’d finished one slice of toast, she said, “You have a dimple in your right cheek when you smile.”
He pretended not to have heard her. “You want to be an actress?” he said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. 
“Doesn’t everyone?” she said, starting on the second piece of toast. She yawned. 
“I don’t want to be an actress.”
“Haha,” she said dryly, setting the plate aside after one bite. 
“What do you see yourself doing? As an actress.” The whiskey had begun to warm up his blood and he was beginning to like the repartee.
“You really want to know what my dream is?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“I asked, didn’t I?” 
“Even if you’re just feigning a polite interest, I’ll tell you,” she said. Her hands went back up to the top of her head and another tendril of hair fell to her shoulders. “When I lived in Evanston, that’s where I’m from, I acted at the Vista—that’s our theater—mostly in revues, but I always liked Shakespeare best. I think talkies will change the way they film Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s hardly Shakespeare without the words, you know? That’s what I’ve always thought. You could film in all the places he talks about too, Scotland and Verona.”
He nodded. “So where do you come in? Lady Macbeth or Juliet?”
She shook her head and more tendrils fell. She was almost done unpinning her hair. “Neither. My dream is to play Kate in The Taming of the Shrew.”
He couldn’t remember what that one was about, but didn’t say so. “Who’s the leading man?” He half-expected her to say him.
“John Barrymore, if you must know,” she said. As unfastened another tress, spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
“Hmm,” he said. “Jack? I’d forget about him, he’s a woman-hater.” 
Hair all the way freed, Nelly hid her face as she shook it out. “You seem to like trampling my dreams.” She tossed her head back and gathered the curtain of hair over one shoulder with two hands, twisting it.
Buster felt a strange kind of way. Not jealous, that wasn’t quite it, but some kind of way he couldn’t put his finger on. “Trust me on this one. I’m doing you a favor. He drinks like a fish, too.”
“So do you,” she fired back, and he was at a momentary loss for words. He wouldn’t say ‘like a fish,’ but he had been at the bottle more than usual these past few months. He didn’t see how she could have known that though, having met him all of three times.
“Eat the rest of your toast,” he said, changing the subject. 
She stuck her tongue out at him, but had another bite. He watched her collect the bobby pins into one hand. She stood up somewhat unsteadily and placed them on the tea cart. “Safekeeping,” she mumbled.
He set the whiskey aside. “How are you feeling now?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I don’t suppose more coffee will help with the spinning? I’m starting to feel like I’m on a carnival ride.”
He had a sudden vision of her hurling on the leather seats of the Duesenberg and said, “Why don’t you sleep it off for a couple hours? You can take the bed and I’ll just stay up for now. I was in the middle of a book anyway.”
She looked ready to argue, but a jaw-splitting yawn interrupted her. “Only if I’m not imposing,” she said, after it had passed. Her eyes looked unfocused. 
“You’re not imposing,” he said. He knew a girl on the edge of collapse when he saw one. He stood up and offered his arm, and led her into the bedroom. The awkward question of what she would wear to bed was solved when she crawled underneath the blankets, dress and all. 
“G‘night, Buster,” she said, closing her eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
After he left the bedroom, the memory of what he’d seen at the speak-easy replayed in his head. Jack Barrymore wasn’t the only woman-hater in pictures. The business was crawling with men, both bigwigs and lowlifes, ready to defile a girl at a moment’s notice. In fairness, it was also crawling with women willing to be defiled in order to get where they wanted to be, but Nelly, not a virgin but not a lewd drunk either, didn’t seem like one. He hoped that she took care of herself wherever she ended up.
Pretty soon his own eyes grew heavy. The idea of waking Nelly and lugging her down to the lobby, waiting for the car to be brought, then driving her all the way home did not sound in the least bit attractive, not to mention the danger of her being sick all over in the car. He pushed the tea cart into the hall so it could be collected and found a spare blanket in the wardrobe. With a wary eye on the sleeping figure in his bed, he took off his shirt and slacks, plucked a pillow from beside her, and settled into the cramped confines of the bedroom sofa. He was asleep before he knew it, dreaming that Peanuts had drowned during the flood sequence and that the papers were calling for him to be hanged. (Listen to the version of “Steamboat Bill” that Nelly dances to here.)
9 notes · View notes
introvertllux · 4 years
Text
Peace in Normalcy: Chapter Four
Tumblr media
(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue).
Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama
Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, talks of suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).
*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prue’s P.O.V
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
After getting the courage to talk to both of my parents (mainly, my mother) about reviving my hobby of art I can say I feel somewhat relieved? Content? Maybe happiness? I have to say I don’t really remember a lot of things that used to make me happy before I went to the hospital. I feel as though I was working at a job I liked, that I could see myself doing but what else was there too it. I feel like the beginning of my adult life was this constant battle of passion vs security. Did I want to take the chance and journey to reach my dreams or did I just want something I know I could fall back on? Who knows, maybe if I would have taken the risk, I could’ve been a modern-day Vincent Van Gogh or Frida Kahlo.
Choosing between my passion and something I knew would make my parents proud always made me feel like I never had a life of my own. Especially with my mother being the strict traditionalist, she was everything had to be exactly her way and I wanted nothing more than to rebel as a child because she was a rationalist and I was always an idealist. She based everything on logic and me on emotions.
I love my mother and would do anything for my family, (including giving my dreams) but yet we still could never see eye to eye. I don’t want to be naïve and think we will always be on the same page but I want us to be able to live peacefully knowing that we are both different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less. I’m really hoping this trip to the mall today goes well, maybe it will be an opportunity for us to relearn one another.
“Prue! Are you almost ready?” I heard from outside my bedroom door. I scurried from inside of my closet and pushed everything back inside my closet.
“Yes, mom! Give me one second.” I yelled back.
“You have two minutes to meet me downstairs or I’m leaving without you.” She said in a sing-song voice.
I grunted as I struggled to push all the pieces of a broken easel and other art supplies back in the closet. I closed the door as I marked down in the notes of my iPhone a list of art supplies that I needed. I then grabbed my phone and the new air pod dad brought for me and proceeded downstairs.
I made my way past the living room. I paused as I saw my dad watching television on his recliner.
“Hey, dad. Mom and I are going to the mall. I’ll see you later.” I said giving him a small wave.
“Hey, Pru-Pru! Come here for a second.” He said.
I walked over quickly, keeping in mind what my mother had said regarding time.
“Um. Mom is waiting for me.” I said quietly but quickly.
“I know. I know. I just wanted to tell you to have fun…I know that shopping isn’t your thing. But your mother thought it could be a way you too could bond. Be… patient with her. She’s trying. I love you both. Be safe. Call or text me if you need me.” He said.
I looked at him softly and gave him a slight nod in response. I turned around and left as fast I could and grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and left. I looked around slightly and saw my mother was waiting in her car.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Gwendolyn Walker)
Tumblr media
(Picture of Gwendolyn’s car)
I speed-walked up to her car and opened the passenger’s side. I sat in quickly and buckled up. My mom drove away quickly and smoothly out of the driveway. We sat in silence, which I wasn’t uncomfortable with. One thing I can say that my mother and I have in common is our love for quietness. We are both introverts. We found peace in silence and we enjoyed the time to ourselves.
A few minutes past until I heard my name being called. “Jayne. When we arrive at the mall, I have a surprise for you. I think you are really going to enjoy it.” She said.
“Alright. Thank you, mom, I really appreciated you thinking about me.” I said with a small smile.
I looked out of the corner of my eye to see her smiling.
We sat in silence again. I then decided to pull out my headphones. I loved headphones they were one of my sources of solitude (besides art) before I went away. Ever since I got my headphones, I started to make a playlist on Spotify. I had over 2,200 songs and I had just received them yesterday. I unlocked my phone and clicked on the Spotify app. I clicked the shuffle button and my playlist began to play: All Good Things (Come To An End) by Nelly Furtado.
Tumblr media
(Spotify Picture)
I started to move my head back and forth as I patted my left hand on my left thigh. I started to silently mouth the words.
Well, the dogs were whistling a new tune Barking at the new moon Hoping it would come soon so that they could Dogs were whistling a new tune Barking at the new moon Hoping it would come soon so that they could Die, die, die, die
Flames to dust, lovers to friends Why do all good things come to an end? Flames to dust, lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end? Come to an end, come to an Why do all good things come to an end? Come to an end, come to an Why do all good things come to an end?
I started to tear up slightly at the meaning of the lyrics. This song really symbolized what I was going through currently. Life was by no means perfect before I went to the hospital, but it was decent. But it all came to an end.I felt the car come to a park as I felt a hand on my left leg. I looked up at my mom. 
“Are you alright?” She asked.“Yes-I’m alright. I just listen to a song it reminded me of something.” I said. I looked outside of the passenger side window and noticed we were at Moltthought Mall. I hadn’t been here since I was a child. My parents used to bring Mallory and me here all the time. I guess my mom picked this mall because it had all her favorite stores.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Moltthought Mall)
“Remember this place?” She asked with excitement in her voice.
“Y-yeah I do. You and dad used to bring Mallory and me all the time.” I said.
“We sure did. This minus has well been our second home, with all the time we spent here.” She snorted slightly.
“I figured we come to this mall for all time's sake. Plus, you know they have all my favorite stores and they added a Michaels and Blick Arts store right before you left…” She said trailing off.
I got excited at the fact that they added a Michaels and Blick store. I can finally replace all of my art supplies. However, my excitement did not last long as I realized that I had to go into the mall. The mall that was located in the town I was raised in. The same mall I could have the chances of bumping into someone I know. I started to panic as I realized this. 
My heart started to race as I hunched over the seat as my seatbelt tightened over my chest and waist. I took a shaky hand and clicked on the seatbelt button and rapidly pulled on the door handle and pushed the car door open. I ran out and hunched over putting my hands on my knees and breathing in and out heavily and unevenly. 
“Prue! Prue. Breathe, breathe.” I heard my mother said.
“It’s alright. It’s okay. Try and take a deep breath in and out. In and out.” She continued. I slowly did as she said trying to get a grasp on my breathing. I look a big deep breath in and exhaled steadily.
“That’s it. In and out.” She repeated as she gently placed her hand on my shoulder lightly.
A few moments later, I swallowed the built-up saliva in my mouth and stood up straight, my back still facing toward my mother.
“Prue.” She called out to me. I closed my eyes briefly before facing her. “I-I’m sorry- “I began to say before I was interrupted by a hug by my mother, which were very rare. My eyes widened and she embraced me tightly. After a few moments, she pulled away and grabbed both of my hands in hers, and looked into my eyes.
“I’m sorry. Was it something I said? Something I did?” She inquired. “No,” I said as I shook my head. “It’s- It’s just I started to panic…” I said trailing off. She squeezed my hands lightly, signaling me to continue speaking.
I look a small breath and continued, “I- I’m afraid that we will see people we know. I’m- I’m afraid that they’ll shame me or criticize me or you.” I said looking down.
“Prue. I can’t promise you that we won’t bump or pass by anyone we know. But I can promise you if we do happen to cross paths with someone we know, and they get out of line to know that I won’t hesitate to put them in their place.” She said with a hint of sassiness.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Now… let’s head inside I have to show you your surprise.” She said as she pulled me along.
As we entered the mall, I noticed that everything was relatively the same. It was big, spotless, and had the same stores it had even when I was a child.
Tumblr media
(Picture of the inside of the mall)
I walked beside my mother and followed her up the escalator as she led us on the path to the surprise.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Prue inside the Mall)
 We walked for a few minutes until we stopped in front of a salon.
Tumblr media
(Picture of the salon)
“Surprise!” My mother yelled.
I looked at her and then at the salon as she walked in.
“Gwen is that you!” I heard a loud voice yell.
“Diane!” She yelled as she quickly proceeds to walk over to her.
I followed behind awkwardly as I looked around the salon, that was unfamiliar to me.
“Is that Prue?” The voice questioned.
I looked up at the voice. It was? No, it couldn’t be Mrs. Price? She used to do my mother’s, mine, and Mallory’s hair. She stopped doing Mallory’s after she went off to college and mine after I decided to maintain my natural hair in high school (much to my mother’s liking).
Tumblr media
(Picture of Mrs. Price)
Mrs. Prices’ face fell soft as she looked over me and said, “How are you? Are you alright?” She asked her voice full of concern.
“Yeah-yeah. I’m fine.” I said.
“Diane got the salon a few months back. I called her as asked her if she can give you a little TLC.” My mother said changing the subject.
“Your mother was so happy that I agreed to this little surprise. Lord knows you need it.” Mrs. Price said. As soon as she finished speaking, everyone got silent. My mother looked at me.
“Err- um. I didn’t. Shit.” Mrs. Price said. I shook my head and said, “No, It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Trust me. I know I can use this. I haven’t really been so great at the whole self-care thing recently. I’ve been trying to ease back into it.” I said.
She looked at me and nodded quickly. “Alight. Well, have a seat, in my chair sweetie.” She said. I sat quickly. Thankful the salon was empty, so no one had to witness that interaction. “Good, thing your mom loves to do things early, no we will all have plenty of time to catch up.” She said sweetly.
“Now, I know this was a surprise. But… now that you’re here do you have a style you would like to try?” She asked as she put her hands on either said of the salon chair.
My lips twisted up as I thought for a second. “Hmm, what about a purple undercut with a start shaved on the left side of my head,” I said as I started to point as my head where I wanted the star.
I heard the sound of a disapprovement from my mother as I looked into the mirror.
“Okay,” I said as I giggled.
Tumblr media
“I just want my regular style just rejuvenated. My curls seem to be life-less these days.” I said to Mrs. Price. “Okay, I will work my magic.” She said.
A couple of hours passed, and my style was completed. My curls looked amazing. They popped. They looked shiny and full of life. I leaned forward in the salon chair and analyzed my appearance. I loved it. I looked so much better.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Prue after her hairstyle)
“Thank you, Mrs. Price. I love it!” I said. “It’s no problem dear. Also, I know you had a thing for make-up we have a make-up section in the back of the salon free of charge if you want to-" she said.
I nodded my head quickly like a kid in a candy store. I loved make-up, as an artist, it was really fun to experiment with looks. However, I hadn’t really been interested in make-up since I’ve been home. I guess… It wasn’t a priority for me. But after even just meeting with Dr. Salomon just once I realized that I have to try for my goals, I can’t just expect everything to go back to normal or even change if I don’t do anything.
Mrs. Price led me to the back of the salon. “Here we are. There’s a mini bag on the side of the station. You can take as much as you want, again it’s on the house.” She said with a sweet smile.
“Mrs. Price you don’t have too. I- It’s too much.” I said feeling a little overwhelmed.
Tumblr media
(Picture of the make-up section)
“No. I want too! It’s no problem. Come to the front when you’re done.” She said as she left. I looked through all of the make-up. It was like a Macy’s or a M.A.C. This make-up station had so many brands, colors, and collections. It was a make-up paradise.  I grabbed a mini bag and began to walk through the different stations. I grabbed all types of eyeshadows, lipsticks, lip-gloss, glitters. I also grabbed some primer, blush, concealer, foundation (that matched my skin tone), eyeliner, false eyelashes, and makeup brushes. I mainly picked out some colors that would help me maintain a natural look which was my favorite look. Although, I did pick up some colors that were fun and glamourous just in case I wanted to try a different look at some point in time.
I stopped by one of the vanities and sat down and did my make-up. After, about 30 minutes, I completed my look. I looked up into the mirror of the vanity and smiled. For the first time in a long time, my smile felt real. It genuinely felt real. Looking as put together as I did, made me feel content. I-I feel good.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Prue)
I gathered all my make-up back into the bag and made sure the area I was in was as clean as I left it. I made my way back to where my mother and Mrs. Price was. When I arrived, they were in the middle of a conversation. I never interrupted conversations, so I just stood there awkwardly once again until I saw my mother look up into the mirror.
“Prue.” She said quietly as Mrs. Price looked up and smiled at me.
“You look so beautiful. You always do.” My mother said. “Thank you,” I responded as I got embarrassed by her compliment. “Thank you, again for the make-up Mrs. Price,” I said appreciatively.
“It’s no problem. Please stop by when you have time. I would love to see you again.” She said.
“Thank you, for helping me surprise her Diane.” My mother said. “Anytime. I’ll see you next month for your annual appointment.” She said to my mother.
“I’ll be here.” My mother said. We both waved good-bye and excited out of the salon.
“Where to next?” She asked me. I was slightly put off guard. Normally my mother took charge of where we would all go next when we all used to go to the mall.
“Um, we can go to Michaels and Blick's, If that’s okay,” I said. Seeing my mother so inclined to agree with what I wanted for once was… strange. It’s off-putting not knowing if this was her way to keep the peace between us because she wanted to improve our relationship or was it solely because she thought I would blackout? Knowing that my mother wasn’t being herself concerned me because I didn’t want her to feel she had to change herself just because of me. I never want my family to feel scared or ashamed of me just because I’m not myself anymore. I’m the one that needs to change not them.
I decided that I would make the trips to Michaels and Blick quick. As much as I didn’t want too. But I had to be fair to my mother after all she set aside her pride and hatred towards art and drove me here. And she’s also going to pay for the supplies I want as well. She doesn’t even want to be at these stores with me and I know she would much rather shop in her favorite stores.
We went to Michaels first. I brought a few canvases, paint, and brushed from there. Then we went to Blick and I brought some paint markers, sketching pencils, coloring pencils, and a large sketchbook. I didn’t get an easel because my mother wanted to save room for us to carry the clothes, she said we would buy it shortly. But she reassured me, that we could order one and have it shipped to the house.
We walked for a few minutes until we arrived at one of my sister’s favorite boutiques. I knew this would be a long experience. I hated shopping. It never interested me. I’m not at all interested in material things but I couldn’t pull an Adam and Eve and walk around in just leaves.
As we walked into the boutique, my mother said, “Grab whatever you like. I’ll be waiting over at the fitting rooms.” She said. Okay, now I was really concerned. My mother was never the type to just let go of control over anything. If this was a year ago, she would be immediately picking out outfits she saw fit for young women and hand them to me. Now, she’s letting me take charge for once.
I looked down the clothing racks as I thought about my style for a moment. What was my style? I never really casually dressed unless it was to go for a walk or to the library. When I worked I usually dressed very modestly and professionally. I continued to walk down the aisle.
I picked some crop tops out, some jeans, a few skirts, sweats, jackets, and a couple dresses. I grabbed all the clothes I could and placed them over my left arm and I continued to carry the art supplies in my other hand. I walked over to my mom.
“Are you ready to try the clothes on.” She asked.
“Yeah, I’m all set,” I said.
“Well, let me see each outfit when you’re done,” she responded back. I walked into the dressing room and hung up each clothing in the hooks provided. As I placed each article of clothing in a hook, I began to second guess myself.
Have I lost my mind? Crop tops? Min-skirts?  How in the hell would I pull this off? I can’t. And mom. She’s going to lose her shit if I walk out in these outfits.
“Prue? Are you alright? Do you need me to come in?” She asked as I heard shuffling outside of the door.
“No! I mean no. I’m okay.” I said. There was a momentary silence as the shuffling came to a pause. “I know you hate shopping and you’re probably nervous. But I have an idea. What if you do a little fashion show, like when you were a little girl remember. It will be fun, and it will make you less nervous.” She suggested.
I gave it some thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. I was just concerned with my confidence level. My confidence was never too high but after all, that’s happy it’s like my confidence doesn’t exist anymore. But I had to start somewhere? Right?
I decided to try on the outfits I picked out and try to enjoy this time with my mother. It may not be my favorite thing to do but I know that it would bring some joy to her.
(Click on the video below to see Prue’s Fashion Look Book! I made the video myself let me know what you think!) : )
youtube
Despite not liking shopping I had a good time with my mother. It was exhausting, to say the least. I know she did not like anything I picked out, but she complimented me and purchased everything I tried on so, that was a positive indication for something.
As we exited the boutique, I heard a voice shout “Gwendolyn? Gwendolyn Walker is that you?” Mother proceeds to walk a little faster as the voice got louder, and footsteps got closer.
“Gwendolyn, I knew that was you!” The voice said. My mother and I turned around and were faced to face with. Rachel.
Tumblr media
(Picture of Rachel)
“Oh. Rachel.” My mother said dryly. “Gwendolyn, I knew that was you. You’d never leave a mall without both arms full.” She said with shade to her tone. She quickly looked over at me. I looked away not wanting to hear what too had to say.
“Prudence is that you. I heard you left the hospital early. Is that safe? I heard around the neighborhood you’ve gotten yourself in some trouble. You should keep a better eye on her Gwendolyn, everyone’s talking about it.” She said with a bit of spite in her voice.
“You’re one to talk Rachel. Is Jonathan out of prison yet? And that other son of yours Avery isn’t he, mooching off of his cheating little girlfriend. And that thing you call a husband? Are you divorced yet? Because the things I’ve heard about him yeesh, I wouldn’t even hold hands with a creature like that. Talk all the shit you want Rachel, but I’ve never had to question my position as a mother. I’m not perfect but at least my kids are good. Can you say the same?” She said as turned around walked away.
I followed behind closely as we exited the mall. We returned to my mother’s car and she drove home. About 45 minutes later we arrived home. My mother put the car in park and unbuckled her seat belt.
“Mom,” I said. “Yes.” She responded back. “Back there with Rachel. Do you? Do you think she’s right? That I’m dangerous?” I said feeling and sounding as insecure as I did when I was a child.
“Prue. I- I don’t think you’re dangerous.” She said. She sighed as she turned to face me. “I’m just scared. I don’t know what to do. I’m just as lost as you are right now. I just want you to find yourself to be happy. That’s why today I let you take control when it came to the way you style your hair, your make-up, and even pick out the clothes you want. You may be in these positions where we’re all concerned about you but enabling you and treating you as if-as if something is wrong with you won’t help you heal.” She spoke.
“Last night, when you told your father and me about the art, I had to admit I was very upset. I don’t get what you like about it. But when you said it would help you it dawned on me that my job as a mother is to make sure that you are happy, healthy, and being the best version of yourself you can be. Right now, I am failing at my job. But I, I realized that supporting you is the only way I can help you. That all of us as a family can help you. And it bothers me to see you go and stray from my traditional values, but I have to let you. You’re an adult and I have to be content with the choices you make in life whether I like them or not.” She said.
“Thank you, mom. For trying, for being there. For your support through this.” I said as we exited out of the car and grabbed all of our bags. I greeted my father and went upstairs and organized my closet. I threw out my old art supplies and neatly organized my new ones. I then hung up my new clothes. Lastly, I organized my make-up in my vanity, decluttering any old junk in the draws.
I then threw myself on my bed and pulled out my phone and saw I had a new message from Mallory. I guess I better get used to it, huh. We began to text back and forth.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
We continued texting until my sister kept begging me for a selfie and I kept declining her. Suddenly, my phone screen changed as I saw that Mallory began to Facetime me. I hated Facetime and phone calls. I was more comfortable communicating via text. I quickly grabbed my air pods from out of my pocket and tapped my screen to answer.
Tumblr media
(Facetime call between Prue and Mallory)
“Ha! Caught you! You look so cute! I knew you would! Also, sorry, I know you prefer to text. But I wanted to ask you something in person. Well as close to in-person as possible.” She said.
“Okay,” I said.
“So...” She said as she drew out her words. Just as though, she’s up to something. Normally when Mallory drew out her words like that, she was about to suggest something that the other person was normally not a fan of.
“Mallory,” I said slightly warningly.
“Okay. Okay, I wanted to invite you over to dinner at my place. I know the first time didn’t go well but… I wanted to make up for it. Before you say no or that you need time to think about it, I just want to say Jahmal and I would be really happy to have you over and I would make your favorite.” I looked at her skeptically when she said my favorite.
“Yes, your actual favorite.” She said with emphasis on the word your. Well, at least I knew my sister and my brother-in-law, but I wasn’t keen on small talk and I knew that it would be an extremely awkward night considering all that’s happened in the last few days. But I could try I suppose and if I felt uncomfortable, I would leave.
“Okay,” I said.
“Really! Okay, great! We’re thinking in two weeks on Saturday the 19th at 7:00 PM.” She said cheerfully.
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I said as I hung up. I tried not to get anxiety about what I just agreed too. So, I decided to go to my closet and grab my sketchbook and pencils and draw something. At least I’ve found something that can tame my worry and panic, even for a few minutes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Links to:
Chapter 3
Masterpost
I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!
@pettycruella @jk-unless @plussizeappreciationfics@passionfrvttt @melaninhawtie @lokisbitch27 @blackpridesblog​  @po-taytay​ @themilkcartoonkid @amethyst09 @disaster-shadow@rosemilage @tinydramatist @amethyst09 @kween-beast  @dene-jordan @dreaminglosssy @treesstill @victoriastefanie04​ @wildandjeune​ @shehassomuchsoul​ @beastcoastbitchez​ @blackpridesblog​ @winchwm​ @jnspencer19​ @jaydeee86​ @whoawhoawhoanow​ @missminnie-123​  @donut-crazs​ @dene-jordan​ @dreaminglosssy any members of the group chat Black!Reader.
21 notes · View notes
evanxrosier · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
So This is Christmas ~ Evan Rosier
1.
It's the first time he's ever been drunk, really.  He's ten and he snuck away from the Christmas party in the parlor where all of the pureblood bigwigs are flexing their muscle about how amazing and powerful they all are. He's old enough to be sick of it, and Father was dumb enough to leave the liquor cabinet unlocked.  Drinking is gross, and he feels sick but he keeps going until the room spins above him.  They don't even know enough to miss him.
No one does.
Except Nellie.  She's little and Evan doesn't think she understands and maybe it looks like a game to her.  So when he crawls under his father' desk and feel like he's going to die, she crawls under there with him and lays over his chest and pokes at his cheeks and laughs and laughs at the faces he makes.  
He's probably too old for sleepovers, but it's Christmas Eve, so he lets Nellie climb into bed with him later.  Evan learns what a hangover is pretty quick the next morning, but Nellie loves the lights and the presents and still looks at him like he's the best thing ever, so it didn't bother him as much a it probably should.
He also got to throw up in Father's Ming vase and that was pretty rad too.
2.
It's a fucking cliché.  That's what it feels like.  Seventeen year old poor little rich kid, running away from home. Just couldn't take the pressure and the privilege.  It makes him hate himself even more, just thinking about how he just can't stand not having to want for anything but paternal affection when there are kids out there who don't even have food to eat.  His father got him a fucking platinum and gold chess set for Christmas.  Probably cost enough to feed a family of four for a year.  And here he is, sneaking out on Christmas night, because he just can't stand another second.  
He goes to the first gay bar he can find, and he drinks as much liquor as he can in twenty minutes and then he finds some guy who's cute enough but anonymous enough to not matter.  He tugs him into the bathroom and sucks him off and it nice and it feels like rebellion for a minute.  Evan has more drinks and then he fucks a different guy in the back alley and that's even better.  He passes out in someone's backyard, but he still makes it home for Christmas morning dinner.  
Because no matter what he does, he's still too fucking scared to be anything but a good boy for daddy.  
3.
It's his first Christmas in his own place and he barely put up a tree, but he doesn't even care, there's something magical about it anyway.  The lights are crooked as fuck and he could fix it with magic, but he likes it off kilter.  He thinks Nellie does too.  She's the only person he invited over, the only person he wants in this place.  It's not the grandeur of their Christmas's back home, but he can tell by looking at Nellie's face she doesn't mind at all.
He throws popcorn at her hair and sings Christmas carols at her so loudly he's almost shouting.  They make cookies together and it's a fucking disaster area in his kitchen.  There' a bottle of champagne in the fridge, but Evan doesn't even think about grabbing it, because for the first time in a very long, long time, he doesn't need it.  They have hot chocolate and egg nog and he burns a ham so they order in some Chinese food.  He doesn't want a cent his father gives him so he is shit poor and gets Nellie a little gemstone necklace he lifted off of a street vendor.  It still doesn't look like much, but it's a nice rich amber, shaped like a cute little bumble bee and it just reminds him of her.  
It doesn't matter so much if she actually loves it or just loves the thought, he hugs her tightly and knows that there won't be a better Christmas than this one right now.
3 notes · View notes
noxtms · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
IN CHARACTER DATE : december 25th, 2020. TRIGGER WARNINGS : n / a.
the department of mysteries hadn’t changed much in the past decade, aside from the new security in place to deter the likes of them from breaking into its depths once again. no windows, one door, black tiles that reflected their pallid faces back at them, albeit fuzzily featureless. it was almost like stepping back in time. 
after they had gotten the entirety of their group into that first long corridor ( and for good measure, double checked to make sure that the door at the end was not likewise blocked off to them under some new security measure ), RON stupified THEODORE and left him slumped over outside of it. they considered bringing him further, debating it for a long minute after someone put forward the notion that he may be needed along the way - but it wasn’t fair to HERMIONE. however willing she was to take the necessary steps, it was one thing to use him and gain access to the now forbidden level and another entirely to choose bringing him along for the rest of the night, a puppet to their whims.
they had one chance to turn back, and it was in that moment before the heavy black door was pushed open. all of them seemed to realize this in the same instant, and there was a tense sort of pause while they each steeled themselves, broken only when AURA finally twisted the ornate doorknob and pushed her way inside. those that had been there before let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding - much like the hallway, it was unchanged. a circular room also tiled darkly and lit only by blue flamed candles greeted them, with a number of handleless doors surrounding them. CASSIA, the last one to step inside, went to close the entrance door out of what must have been a remnant of politeness - she was stopped by GINNY, who shook her head and explained to the group, loudly ( even while pulling out her wand to put a glowing red ‘x’ over the wood ), “the room spins whenever a door is closed. to...- make exactly what we’re here to do even harder.”
as promised, there was a rumble when it was finally allowed to fall closed with a muted thump, and the wall began to spin - the doors blurring ( red ‘x’ becoming a line that they could track in the confusion ) and making everyone feel a little queasy before it finally came to a shuddering stop, entrance now solidly across from them. a shiver ran through the group, and NELLIE was the first to ask the obvious, “how do we know where to find the wand?”
“we’ll have to try every room. some we know we don’t need to dwell in - they’re not going to keep the elder wand in the hall of prophecy, and i doubt the brain room-” 
“brain room?” 
“you don’t want to know,” RON muttered, darkly. 
“- i doubt that’s where it would be kept, either. we can split up and get this over with as quickly as possible.” 
everyone seemed rather agreeable to this, but there was once again another glaring hole in the plan : “how will we know when someone’s found it, then?”
they didn’t all have their da coins on them, as it turned out - and they couldn’t guarantee that their amplified voices could be heard through what may very well have been soundproofed doors. they cycled through a number of suggestions, all swiftly shot down, before LUNA piped up. “string. like ariadne.” there was a spark of recognition in some of the gazes that were turned towards her, though the weasley’s ( notably ) didn’t seem to grasp the reference. “it’s a muggle myth. ariadne provided theseus with a string that he used to trace his steps through the minotaur’s maze. i’m sure there’s a spell we can use that would mimic it, and when we find the wand, we can tug the string to let the rest know. 
it was a rather good idea. HERMIONE obliged quickly, a dark blue thread - that snaked off in various directions - erupting from the tip of her wand after some brief consideration. she explained it would lengthen as they walked while she conjured it, and the larger group broke into smaller numbers with little issue. friends partnered with friends, family with family, all with the distinct air of just not wanting to let the other out of their sight. given the events of the evening, this was understandable. prepped now for their excursion ( and reminded to mark the door of the rooms they exited with a different colored ‘x’, though no group really needed this reminder ), a deep breath was collectively inhaled and a look shared amongst them all before they set off in different directions. 
the FIRST group managed right off the bat to choose the hall of prophecy. you never would have known that almost a decade before, the shelves inside had been destroyed by six reducto’s - the chaos they had imagined was waiting had probably been cleaned up in no time at all, and the endless shelves of lightly glowing blue prophecy spheres were just as uniform and dusty as they had been on that first break in. no one expressed any interest in going much further than the threshold, and no one objected when the string bearer turned back around and abandoned the room - marking the door when everyone had exited again. 
the first door tried by the SECOND group was locked until someone cast a powerful unlocking charm on it - alohamora, way back when, had been the only such spell in their arsenal, though the same could not be said now they were older and far wiser. a sickly sweet smell any potioneers in the group would have been able to recognize as amortentia assaulted them all, though it quickly shifted ( as amortentia had the tendency to do ) into a different scent for all of them. this room - misty in a way that evaded description, something bubbling up ahead - was clearly not it, but there was a small amount of difficulty in extracting every member. the string bearer, taking up the rear, took a gulp of stagnant ( but clear ) air from the circular entrance room and urged everyone to follow, but the others footsteps were slow and one of their number attempted to move forward, zombie like, until grabbed at the elbow and forced to leave. for good measure, they didn’t just mark this door - they also locked it once again. 
the THIRD and final group stumbled into the brain room that ron had insisted no one wanted to experience, and anyone who may have doubted him very quickly understood why. the rectangular space, filled with tanks of green, viscous liquid in which a number of brains ( or brain like creatures ) swam was eerily offputting, and the glimpse of a tentacle was the only thing they needed to see to hurry their way along - they stayed close to the wall as they crossed to one of the doors further inside, and abandoned the room without a glance back. 
so they continued, for a while : unlocking doors and searching the rooms that they found, venturing inside and past further doors only when needed. no one touched anything - a warning uttered by more than one of the individuals who had previously been present in the department was heeded by their charges - and the desire wasn’t really there to. they crepy quietly through the department, one door at a time, half expecting to run into an unspeakable or several, and were whittled down to a final five doors in the main entrance way when the string was tugged. 
they had tried four unlocking charms before they found one that forced the door open, they whispered. that alone had caused their hearts to quicken and the thought that this would be the one to cross their minds, but they had made their way into the pitch black room to make sure before they had sent word. a lumos maxima lit up the space, and at the end of a long room that seemed almost to be carved from the very bedrock that presumably surrounded the underground itself, a glass case sat. inside on a velvet cushion lay the object of their late night search : a wand that in all honesty was unfamiliar to them all... but so important to their cause.
“it isn’t very...”
a breath.
“impressive?”  
and it wasn’t, really. aside from the fact that the wood itself seemed aged in some indescribable way, the wand wasn’t much to look at. smooth & undamaged & hilted unremarkably with two connecting spheres for design choice, it looked like just about any wand that could be purchased at ollivanders ( or any shop that sold much the same ), and none of them quite knew what to make of that. there was a certain reverence to the way they all crowded around the case, something in each of their eager faces that betrayed they had all been expecting something more - but an undeniable DISAPPOINTMENT as each of them realized that it really wasn’t anything special. 
perhaps there was something to be said about the power a name held. maybe a myth was all the wand had ever been, and that was there all of its strength had come from - they were all thinking much the same, but it didn’t really matter. even if it was unexceptional in all ways but legend, they couldn’t leave it here. words were exchanged quickly, the best strategy surmised, and then RON used his elbow to break the top of the case. 
they braced themselves, half expecting a security siren to begin frantically beeping like it would have in a muggle movie.
this, too, was silly. 
the department of mysteries didn’t need such things to be perfectly protected, or at least, no one who worked in its depths imagined that it did - several of them stood there testament to the fact that they needed more than just a woman in the elevator accepting access codes to keep the secrets of their life’s work safe. 
ALICIA lifted the wand from its cushion, carefully, on the urging of the others. 
the group turned as one to the door - their exit - the only door they knew would lead them back to the one that they had come through - and froze. 
their blood ran cold. 
“i believe the muggles have a word for a situation, such as this -”
a woman with wild, dark hair stood in the doorway, framed on both sides by masked figures who blocked what little remaining space existed. the smile that curled her lips at both edges was not friendly, or warm - it did not extend to her eyes, black as coal. 
“- deja vu.” 
1 note · View note
kayteewritessteve · 5 years
Text
Love and War - 3/16
Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.
Catch up HERE.
Word Count: 4,220 ish.
Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.
Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.
Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.
A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.
Tumblr media
“Alright, so everyone knows the plan?” You ask quietly, not wanting the guard to hear you.
“Yes,” Wanda says back.
“Yeah,” Piet replies. “Though, I will just put it out there that I think this is a horrible plan, but it’s really all we’ve got at the moment.”
“Oh shhh,” you hiss, “have some faith, you negative nelly.”
He chuckles and murmurs something playfully that you don’t quite hear, but don’t really care to hear either.
“Okay, it’s go time,” you whisper then raise your voice to yell, “excuse me? Guard?”
You notice Wanda move up against the cell door wall, hiding herself in the shadows as best as she can. And then, she slowly starts to vanish before your eyes, using her magic to make herself disappear. She can’t make anyone else vanish, or stay that way for long, but you just need her to hold it for a few minutes. At most.
“Hellooooo! Guard!” You continue to yell, hearing his heavy footsteps coming towards you now.
“What are you hollering about, wench?” He asks gruffly once he reaches the cell door.
“I seem to have lost my cellmate,” you point out, innocently.
His eyes widen slightly as he looks around the small area, “where the hell did she go?”
“Ya know? I’m not entirely sure,” you glance around and then shrug. “One minute she was here, then the next poof,” you wave your hands around with a flourish, “gone.”
“A witch!?” He snaps, clearly angry now, “they didn’t mention you lot were witches.”
“Oh, I’m not a witch,” you shake your head, vehemently, “if I was, don’t you think I’d have escaped with her?”
“Back up,” he commands, ignoring your question, and you comply, reaching the back wall of the cell as his keys jingle and he unlocks the cell door.
“Stay right there,” he orders, “if you so much as move a muscle, you won’t like what happens to you.”
“Don’t move, got it,” you nod.
He comes towards you, pulling shackles off his belt as he does, clearly he plans to restrain you so he can check the cell over. But just as he is about to reach you, Wanda appears and jumps on his back, putting him in a steadfast chokehold. And then you spring into action, you lunge forward and kick him right where the sun don’t shine, causing him to hunch forward as he drops to his knees. Wanda still secured tightly around his neck, he tries to fight back, but you use all your weight to keep his arms down and away from reaching your sister.
After a few tense moments of struggle, he finally slows and then drops forward with a thud, unconscious. Wanda detaches herself from him and then you grab his weapon as she grabs his keys. You both quickly exit the cell, locking the guard inside and then go to release Pietro. Once his cell door is open you all share a quick group hug and then hastily make your way towards the tunnel door.
Pietro motions for you both to hang back, and then takes the guards weapon from you and opens the giant wood door. Poking his head out to look both ways before he motions for both of you to follow him.
You make your way into the tunnel, and head back towards the large iron doors. This will be the hard part, dealing with the two guards on the other side.
After a few moments you reach the doors, and Wanda closes her eyes and focuses her mind. You aren’t entirely sure what she can see, or do in this state, but you have faith she will give you the window you all need.
After a silent and tense moment, she snaps open her eyes and goes to pull the doors open. Pietro and you quickly moving to help her, as the three of you pull with everything you have, hearing the same creaking sound as the doors open.
You glance out and don’t see a guard in sight, turning to give Wanda a curious look but she waves a dismissive hand, murmuring, “I’ll tell you later.” And huh, turns out, this was actually not the hard part after all. Go figure.
The three of you venture out the doors, pulling them closed behind you, as to not alert any passers by before you can get far enough away. Then you all head into the dense woods, knowing that taking a path isn’t an option currently. You quickly and quietly move away from the Kings city, wanting to put as much distance between yourselves and it, as fast as you can.
Your heart is pounding again, your legs ache from the day you’ve already had. Something in you is telling you to stay, begging you to go back, but you ignore it. You push on, knowing that if you did go back, you’d surely die. There was no sugar coating that. But then why does every step feel painful? Every additional pace making your heart scream out to stop. To turn around. To go back. You shake your head, now is not the time to listen to your foolish heart.
You all run for a while, putting some good distance between yourselves and the city, enough distance that finally Pietro believes it’s safe to stop for a bit. To rest. And your aching lungs want to thank him. They want to jump out of your body and bow down at his feet.
You’re exhausted, utterly and truly spent. Your whole body hurts, even your fingers ache. You just want your comfy bed and your sketchbook. Though you’re sure you wouldn’t even be able to draw at the moment. Not with how much both your mind and body, pulsate with pain.
“We will rest here for a moment, but then we have to continue on,” Pietro says as he sits down on a stump. “They will figure out we are gone soon, and then they will come searching for us. We can’t risk staying in one place for too long.”
You nod, as you pant heavily and slump down on a fallen tree. “I was not built for this,” you mumble breathlessly.
Wanda giggles and Pietro shakes his head, chuckling, “that you weren’t. But we love you just the way you are. Sluggish and pesky.”
“Sluggish!?” You gasp trying to pretend to be offended, but then you burst out laughing, quickly slamming a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You shouldn’t be so loud right now, but you couldn’t have prevented the laugh even if you’d tried. You and Pietro both knew you are neither sluggish, nor pesky, but this is what he did. He messed with you. This is just the relationship you both have, you sass each other but it’s all out of love. “This coming from the witless trespass—“
Your words are cut off by a deep earth rumbling howl, one that strikes fear into your very soul. You have no clue what would even cause a howl that loud, or that menacing, but what you do know is, you do not want to hang around to find out. The howl is then followed by loud shouting of in the distance, and you instantly realize they are on to you. They know you all escaped and now they are searching for you.
“How could they have figured out we were gone so quickly?” You whisper glancing at the other two as you all quickly stand up.
But neither of them seem to have the answer to that, and then you all begin to run in the opposite direction from which the howl and voices originated. Your body instantly trying to protest every step, but fear keeps you moving.
Though not as fast as Pietro, but he has always been much, much faster than Wanda and yourself. However, it doesn’t help matters at all that you are both currently wearing these damned skirts! The two of you should have each warn a pair of Pietro’s trousers, what were you both thinking!? Coming to this Godsforsaken place in skirts! Damned fools!
“Come on you two, we have to pick up the pace,” he says as he slows down and waves a hurrying hand.
“We are trying,” you say through your heavy breaths.
You hear commotion getting louder behind you, but refuse to look back. You don’t want to know what is currently chasing you. You don’t want to risk tripping if you aren’t watching exactly where you’re going.
The heavy sounds of ...hooves? No! Paws! The heavy muffled sounds of large paws hitting the soft ground is what you hear next. And there is a lot of them. Way more than you could ever stand to fight off. Whatever it is behind you, you do not want to face it. Not even a little.
Your mind kicks up a thought and you almost shutter in horror. A half breed army, man by day, beast by night. Oh Gods, maybe that rumour is actually true. A loud growl echoes through the forest, bouncing off the trees and causing every muscle in your body to tense up, instantly. As if the growl is controlling your physical body, telling it to stop running, and what's worse is it wants to freaking listen. Your body wants to halt entirely, and face the damned beast. It’s actually begging you to.
Though you just keep pushing yourself forward, ignoring the inner urges coursing through you, but finding each step even harder than the last. What with your body trying so desperately to deter your escape. To prevent you from getting away. From getting to freedom.
You glance up and ahead, seeing Pietro and Wanda about 6-7 yards in front, you know they wouldn’t willingly leave you behind. So they clearly haven’t glanced back yet to realize they’ve started to lose you. Their bodies just don’t seem as affected by all of this as yours currently is.
A howl off to the right has your eyes snapping that direction, but you can’t see anything, it’s just too dark, the moonlight unable to penetrate the think canopy in most places.
But then, a large mass running alongside you through the dense trees catches your eye, and on instinct you veer left. Hoping that you can escape whatever it is.
“Y/N!!” You hear your siblings both yell and you look up to find them, but can no longer see them, and that only makes you panic more. Where did they go? You just saw them mere moments ago. You couldn’t have gone that far off course!
Another growl rips from behind you, this time much, much closer. You know it will be on you soon. The end is near for you. You just hope that Wanda and Pietro can escape, can get to safety, that’s all you pray for now. You are truly doomed, but maybe they aren’t.
And just as you are entering a small clearing in the woods, something large—extremely large—collides with your back, knocking you on to your stomach on the ground. A massive weight landing on you, though not enough to crush you, but definitely enough to render you immobile. You clench your eyes shut, too afraid to look, while feeling the heavy panting of something’s warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You feel the weight lift off you, just as something large and warm slips under your stomach and flips you onto your back.
But you still refuse to look, to petrified to even peak at the beast above you. A deep, menacing growl reverberates through you and it feels like a warning. Like it is telling you not to move, or something—you obviously don’t speak wild beast so you really have no clue. But just in case, you decide it best to not move a muscle, for fear of only angering the thing more.
Another deep, rumbling growl rips from above you and this time your eyes involuntarily snap open, only to lock onto an eerie glowing set of blue eyes. If you weren’t so damned terrified, you might have even found them breathtaking. Entrancing even. You’d love to draw them, though you probably wouldn’t be able to do them justice, as eyes are not your strong suit. You find yourself just staring into them now, you could easily get lost in these beautiful blue eyes—what are you even saying?! This thing is about to make you dinner and you’re admiring its eyes?! Give your head a shake, woman!
You tear your eyes away from the piercing, glowing blue orbs and drop them lower, taking in the sharp white teeth gleaming in the moonlight at you. The long snout connected to a body covered in thick, coarse golden flax coloured fur. Instantly you know exactly what it is, it’s a wolf. And a freaking huge one at that. Larger than any animal you’ve ever seen before. You can tell that even if you were standing up, it would still tower over you, on all fours. And what’s worse, is that it probably still would be, even if it was slouching. This thing could easily eat you in 4 bites, max.
A huff noise, accompanied by a gust of air hitting your face causes you to furrow your brows and flick your eyes back up to meet the beasts. Why hasn’t it killed you yet? What is it waiting for?
Then, for some unknown reason, the beast starts to step back, removing itself from over top of you. And in a complete daze you sit up as it does, entirely lost as to what is happening right now. But more curious about what is to come.
The sound of a branch snapping startles you and the beast’s head snaps to the left, towards where the noise came from. Then it hunches down low in a defensive stance as it’s hackles rise, causing the wolf to look even larger than it did before. Which is hard to believe is even possible. And then it growls deeply, the sound causing every muscle in your body to tense up once again. You vaguely hear the sound of retreating steps over your heart, which is once again pounding in your ears, but then the beast relaxes, huffing once more before it sits at your feet, just staring at you. Watching you.
What is going on? Why is it just looking at you? What does it want? You go to stand up but just as you reach your full height, your legs give out, sending you plummeting to the floor. But before you make contact with the ground, you feel something brush up against your side, and then a large furry neck is tucked under your right arm, helping to slowly lower you back down to the ground. And once you’re settled, it pulls away, going back to sitting in front of you, just staring once again.
Before you can even think about it you mumble a, “thank you.” Instantly realizing you are talking to a freaking wild animal. Though oddly enough, it nods back at you. But you had to have imagined that? You must be hallucinating now. Or maybe, you’re actually dead. Because there is no way this giant wolf can actually understand you, right?
The rumour said they were beasts by night and men by day, so maybe somewhere in there, there is actually a man, one who can actually understand you. It sounds ridiculous and farfetched, but then again, it hasn’t killed you yet. And on top of that you swear to the Gods that it truly nodded in response to you.
Though the only way to find out is to test that theory. You make eye contact with the massive blue eyed wolf and then ask quietly, “can you understand me?”
And you honestly almost fall over when the wolf nods its head, again in response to you. You are talking to a wild animal right now, what are the freaking odds? “Are you—are you going to kill me?”
It tilts its head to the side, inspecting you for a moment, then huffs loudly and shakes its head. As if it’s frustrated by you? Seriously? “Then if not, may I leave?”
You go to stand again but a deep warning growl erupts from the large wolf and you halt your movements instantly. Lowering yourself back down slowly, as not to piss it off again.
But now, as you sit in complete deafening silence, with only the sounds of the woods around you, a stream running off in the distance, crickets chirping, and an owl hooting, you realize again that your legs ache.
Though it’s more than an ache, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your legs feel severely cramped and your right thigh muscle is throbbing and pulsing uncomfortably. While your lower left leg now stings from your sweat entering all the scraps from your earlier tumble.
And your breathing is still crazy and erratic, though your heart has slowed down a little now, not beating at such a rapid pace anymore. You just continue to sit in the intense silence, while this wolf thing just watches you. Studies you. Every small twitch of your fingers, or quiver of your lip, or twitch of your leg from the pain. It just keeps its eyes on all of it. Not missing anything.
It’s rather nerve wracking, if you’re being honest, just having this predator stare at you, as if you are the most interesting thing in the world. Or maybe it’s looking at you more like you’re dinner, like you are the meal that will help sustain its life for a little while longer.
As the minutes tick on slowly, agonizingly slow, you become more frustrated. More antsy. Why are you just sitting here, still and unmoving? What does this beast want with you? And where are Wanda and Pietro? Did they get captured as well? Are they also just sitting around being watched by some other massive, intimidating beast?
“P-please,” you stutter out, “just let me go, I promise to never come back. If you—if you just let me—“
The beast growls at you again, abruptly stopping your words in your throat. And then it stands up and the threatening pose it gets into is not a friendly one. Not even close. It’s hackles are up again and it’s baring it’s large teeth at you. But then, it turns it’s massive head and looks to the right, just as you hear footsteps in the distance the beast moves towards you.
You flinch away, thinking it’s going to attack you, but instead it towers over your smaller, still sitting form. It stands sideways, directly over your legs. Your face almost pushed into the side of it’s stomach, and everything in you is telling you to reach up and pet the damned thing. To run your fingers through it’s golden fur, but you fight that urge and instead focus on whoever—or whatever—is coming towards you now.
And then you see it—or him, rather—a large, ridiculously large, man appears from the tree line, coming towards you both. The wolf growls menacingly and the man kneels down and bows his head. You are utterly confused as to what is going on right now. You just glance back and forth, between the man and the wolf—who’s still hovering directly over you. And then the wolf visibly relaxes, and a moment later the man stands back up right, to his full height and then cautiously steps towards you.
And it’s then that you notice he has something in his hands, you squint your eyes trying to make out what it is in the dark. Is it...rags? Blankets? Clothes? You can’t overly tell, but the man holds them out for the wolf, who takes them in his mouth and then looks at you, locking eyes and you can almost see a warning in the beautiful glowing blue orbs. Something tells you to stay put, some weird force making you acutely aware that you are not to move a muscle. You nod, not entirely sure why, but figuring it wants you to agree to it’s terms. Whatever they are—That is, if it even gave you any terms in the first place.
Then, strangely enough, it nods back once, and steps away from you. Slowly removing it’s body from above you, and taking it’s warmth along with it. You shiver as the cold air surrounds you again and just watch as the beast vanishes into the dense tree line.
You glance up at the man, he looks even larger now that he is up close, and clearly your spot still sitting on the ground, isn’t helping that at all. You give him a once over, noticing he is rather handsome, with shoulder length brown hair, that is twisted into a bun at the back of his head. However, a few parts of his hair have fallen loose and hang down on his face and shoulders. Your eyes then flick over his face, before locking onto his crystal blue/grey eyes. And you instantly realize that you are just openly staring at this man, and he knows it. If the smug smirks now on his lips is anything to go by. That causes heat to rise in your cheeks and you quickly glance away, looking down at your hands to hide your embarrassment.
The silence is, once again, deafening. The man hasn’t said a word, nor has the wolf returned and you still have no clue what is currently going on. Nor do you know what you should be doing in this moment. Do you beg for your life? Plead that they let you go? Ask where Wanda and Pietro are, if they are okay? Oh Gods, please let them be alive and safe. That’s all you ask.
“Am I—am I going back to the cell?” You go to ask, but it comes out a quiet whimper, lost in the wind, and you aren’t sure if the man actually heard you. But then he scoffs and shakes his head, as if your question is stupid and ridiculous. Though he doesn’t offer you anything else, not even a one worded response. So either he doesn’t actually know your fate, or he is just refusing to tell you.
Either way, all you want is to go home, to be in your cosy room. Wrapped up in a throw blanket and lounging on your bed as you draw the world around you. But you know deep down that even if you do live, you will never see your little room again. Nor get to just lounge in it, drawing.
Rustling bushes and footsteps draw your attention up and you see another huge man enter the clearing, this one even bigger then the one currently next to you. But this one, this one takes your breath away, instantly. He is stunning, in every way imaginable. All hard muscle, broad shoulders, and slim waist.
But then as he nears you, you notice his chiselled jaw line, one that could probably cut diamonds, and then his luscious golden locks, that you instantly have the urge to run your fingers through, it just looks so soft, so fluffy, so damned touchable. But as your eyes travel down lower, you notice his piercing blue eyes, and you completely freeze. They are the exact same eyes as the wolf, that much you know for sure.
‘An army of half breeds, men by day, beasts by night’. Oh Gods, that rumour is actually true. These men are clearly half breeds. You side eye the brunette, giving him a more thorough once over. But that doesn’t really give you much to go on, you honestly can’t be sure if he is a half breed or not. But you know the blonde is for sure. He was the wolf who caught you, and now stands before you in all his rugged, manly glory. Your eyes flick back to him and your heart skips a beat as you realize he is still studying you intently.
“Can you walk?” The large blonde asks, gruffly. His voice deep and penetrating. Like nothing you’ve ever heard before, it’s like his massive body only stands to amplify his voice, ten fold. You figure he could easily command a room full of men with just his voice alone.
“I-I think so,” you reply.
“Then stand up,” his deep voice now commands, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod quickly and slowly push yourself up onto your wobbling legs. Unsure if they will be able to hold all of your weight, but you don’t want to anger this man. Something deep inside you aches just at the thought of upsetting him. At the thought of causing him any more grief than you already have.
But just as you reach your full height, which is still a few feet shorter than the two men, you start to feel light headed. Black spots start to appear all throughout your vision, causing you to glance around, as if to look directly at them. But every time you aim your sight at a new spot, it vanishes and then reappears somewhere else. The movement of your eyes only stands to make you more dizzy.
You know what’s to come, you know you’re about to faint and you try to warn the men, you try to tell them. You’re eyes lock onto the beautiful, entrancing blue ones again as you manage to whisper out, “I think I’m about—“
But the words end there, dying in your throat, as your vision starts to turn fully black now, and you feel the momentum of your body plummeting to the ground. With no chance to prevent it, or to protect yourself, all you can hope is that you don’t hit your head once you meet the forest floor. The last thought to cross your mind is, ‘Please Gods, let me land softly’.
And then the world disappears into a lonely, dark and cold abyss.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
@hopefulmoonobject @caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @marvel13princess @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @pixieferry @viarogers
185 notes · View notes
Text
Golden red
hey! I finally wrote a thing. Based off what (the amazing and wonderful) @thehaemanthus said about the kinda person Cassius should be with (In their opinion.) Not exactly sure where this went, but its a thing now!
read it here on ao3!
301,176 + 215,097 + 258,264 + 381,451 + 123,220 (Might want to talk to the McKoy about that, they've been turning out less as of late, might have some problems with the dirt) + 345,632 + 295,746 + 303,204 + 275,947 + 237,745 =
Math went through Nellie’s head constantly, to the point where sometimes it takes effort to remember to breathe. Numbers and equations knocked around her skull and zipped around like flies, barely giving her a chance to remember them before a new swarm flashed by. She did though, remember them. The adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, keeping one number, discarding another, keeping the probability in mind as the threat of her discovery loomed over her head like the gear-chewer. All with the skill and grace of a Blue.
2,737,482 / 11 (keep the “discard” in case a rainy day comes. Talk to McLaughlin about where to hide it this time, we don't want a repeat of last time) = 248,862 x 10 = 2,488,620 
She rolled the number around her head like a marble, staring up at the ceiling as she layed in the obnoxiously large master bed that threatened to swallow her whole in the pure amount of fluff. She had to admit she liked the comforter, the big thick heavy thing being impossibly nice to curl up with. The sheets were another story, giving her the terrible feeling that she had when her barn was asked to grow cotton in their off year. She despised the stuff. Made her feel like her teeth were vibrating and her ears were stuffed.
240,398 + 338,903 + 244,089 + 400,032 (damn good harvest for McCall, it’s nice to see them bounce back) + 358,904 + 238,490 + 234,549 + 233,420 + 358,934 + 258,089 =
    She should really get up, maybe go get some coffee. It was kinda funny, less than eight seasons ago she would have killed a man for even a sip of the warm shit juice. Now it was something she expected. Granted back then, she would have gotten killed for even looking at the place she lived in now. All the same, she sits up, being blinded by thick red curly hair as it fell on her face, causing her to huff. She moved it aside in vain, shuffling out of the room and being greeted with the house staff, all panicking like the world was ending.
2,905,808/ 11 =264164.36… x 10 = 2,641,643.0, 153,023 more than sector four
Quietly, as to not interrupt them as they scurried and scrambled doing who knows what, she made her way to do her single house chore. Feeding the fish in the strange tank of water and sand the Gold before her had owned. She couldn't tell you for the life of her why; the fish were far too small to eat, and it seemed like a hassle to take care of, but he did and she’d feel bad if she just let them all die. Especially since the staff seemed to enjoy staring at it when they got the chance, watching the fish duck and weave between the rocks. So, grabbing a nearby step stool, she made her way to the fridge. Climbing her way to the freezer and pulling out the small cup of frozen food, careful not to get her oversized sleeves dirty. She closed the door, slogging her way back to the tank with the step stool in tow. Climbing up once again and filling the cup with the salty water inside.
She added for sector six, twirling the twos and threes, and chewing on the seven and eights. Technically she didn't have to do this, she already got the paperwork in. but still it was good to keep in mind. Good to keep messing with. It keeps her busy. It keeps her sharp, not that she really needs it.
    She sloshed the cup around, slowly breaking apart the food and sprinkling it back into the tank watching in slight amusement as the fish began to tear into it. Gently setting the cup next to the stool so the staff could pick it up, she made her way through the hallway and out into the world. Descending the stairway of the large hill the house perched on, she made her way to the local square. Giving vague waves to the Greys on watch and not really paying attention as she lets her feet carry her to the elevator. Descending to home.
Dividing the millions, the seven digit number breaking into pieces, before she smashed them back together.  Ripping and tearing and smashing and comparing. Keeping one number in mind, keeping families and children in her head as the bushels don't split quite evenly. There's quite a lot a person can do with corn, and food is probably the most important.
    She yawned and stretched as the elevator took her down, down, down to the cavernous tunnels below. The artificial sunlight shining dully from holes in the ceiling and walls all the way down the path. She pressed a button on the far side of the elevator, and smiled as a cart came racing to her. The little four wheeling buggy being mostly used by the ranchers, and bringing them down to the tunnels might have been the best idea she's ever had. She enters it, and speeds off, getting closer and closer to the massive barn of McFly, probably. They were closest, maybe, but she was still getting used to their being so many barns and tunnels. Each slightly different than hers. Sure enough, however, as she got closer the large painting of a fly made its way into view, painted crudely but proudly on the side of the metal building. 
She makes her way inside, the door always unlocked, and heading straight to the kitchen, a pot already made and still hot. She made herself a mug, using one of their pure white guest ones, and she took a warm and grateful sip. She closed her eyes, letting the slightly bitter taste and the absolutely wonderful smell wash over her. Lulling her into a sense of peace. Or well, as peaceful as you could get with her.
2,521,603 / 11 = 229,236.640 x -
    “Nellie!” someone shouted, causing her to jump and almost spilled her coffee. She turns, scowling as two men run in, one of them being the plowman of McFly. He was a buggy man, with grays in his hair and scars over his lips. He was admittedly nicer than most plowmen in his sector, but the man couldn't play poker if his life depended on it. A damn shame if there ever was one.
    “By the Vale, what was that for!” she hisses, cupping her mug protectively in her mits as both men loomed over her, (they easily had half a foot on the poor girl. McGraws tend to come out small).  “Bloodyhell y’all, way to make a girl think your tryin’ to kill her.”
“Nellie, where the fuck have you been?” The plowman shot back to interrogate her, before the Grey he was with interrupted him. He had been one of the good ones, back before. The only reason he was still alive, being honest. At least in her book. Mcfly would probably have a very different answer, but he knew the grizzled man better.
“Wait. You were wearing that last time I saw you.” he pointed out, and she avoided his gaze. “McGraw, what day is it?” 
“... Tuesday?” she asked, carefully as she played with the sleeve of the oversized sweater she wore as a dress. She winced at the exasperation and confusion that grew on their faces.
“Mcgraw what the fuck.” the Grey mumbled, as Mcfly buried his face in his hands and groaned in disappointment. She would have shot back about when they held back a meeting for almost two hours because the pair of them were burying their tongue in the other's throat, but immediately ruled against it. Mcfly had told her that in confidence, and the only reason he was married to the rude snobby bitch of a woman was a favor to an old friend. It'd be a low blow to use it against him, against either of them.
“Look! Its harvest! I've got a lot on my mind, n’ so what if I'm a day or two off.” she defended instead, taking another sip of her coffee.
“Nellie it's Saturday!” Mcfly groaned, “Look, we’ll talk about that later, right now we have bigger problems. Somethin’ crashed in the pastures.” 
    She blinks, setting down her cup, taken aback. She looked between the two, “Did we lose anythin’?” 
    “Everythin’ seems accounted for, but it scared McGee half to the mud pit. Spooked their horses too.” McFly told her, as the Grey handed her a pad. On it she saw feed of something entering her atmosphere, with a few scribbles with numbers beside them. She nodded, pretending she knew what she was looking at, before handing it back to him. 
    “Well that certainly ain't good.” she said evenly. “Why haven't they talked to me about it?”
    “They’re tryin’, they’re at the townhall waitin’ for you, brainless.” McFly snapped. And she puts her hands up in surrender. 
    “Fine! Fine. ‘m goin’, ‘m goin’. No need to yell at me.” she grumbled, grabbing her cup and making her way to the door.
    “No ya don’t! Those cups don't leave this house n’ you know that!” McFly reprimanded, and she scowled at him.
    “You ain't my pa!” she hisses. All the same she takes one big chug of what's left and puts the mug in the sink, rinsing it out. Then she leaves, the two men in tow. Picking up her calculations where she left off. 
Tear, rip. Sector seven always gets a little more than everyone else, if only ‘cause they make the best ‘shine this side of the galaxy. The stuff could knock a lesser man flat on his ass but if you can handle it nothing burns faster nor quite as good. Not to mention sector seven was very generous, despite the fact that technically it was still illegal.
    It didn't take all that long to get back to the surface, much less town hall. Admittedly the fight she had with McFly over the results of the last derby did help speed things along. She wasn't five feet away and already she could hear panicked shouting and arguments breaking out, causing her to give an annoyed look to McFly. If only in habit. It wasn't her first gathering with all the plowmen present, but it doesn't mean she likes it. All the shouting and demanding made it hard for her to focus. 
    Sucking it up, she walked inside the hall, and all heads turned to her. Some men nodded their heads, others whispered to their companions. Her plowman was missing, (not much of a surprise) and her girls waved her over as they stood with McGee. She had met the eight women back when she had conned the old house McOester out of their laurel. They had come, like they always do, looking for food and supplies for their families and barns, with nothing but their… to offer. Nellie, her brother's sister to her core, thought this was absurd, and just let them head out with what they needed. They had been by her side since, and without them she'd be in the mud pit seven times over.
    She made her way over to them, giving them a comforting smile in greeting. She gained a few sarcastic side curtsy in return, before Nellie’s attention was taken by the McGee and a little girl, who seemed to be clinging to her father for dear life.
“Nellie! Thank the Vale, you're here. It's worse than we thought.”
“What, did we lose some horses?” she asked, frowning.
“Worse. We’ve got one of ‘em goldilocks out there.” he admitted, causing everyone in the room to burst into panicked mumbling and whispering, one that made her head ache. “The kid saw it with her own two eyes.” he swore to her, scowling at them. They only murmured louder, soft words of doubt and panic. It was quickly becoming too much for her.
“Quiet!” she shouted at them, turning to the girl, as she clung to her father’s leg even tighter. “Tell me.”
“It was massive.” she whispered, like mentioning him any louder would cause him to appear. “Me, a-and Daniel were just goin’ to see what the sound was, n’ then- then we see this ship. N’ there-there was a guy there, workin’ on it. It was big, n’ tall, n’ it’s hair- it was like Ron-”
“Ey! We don't say that name, Milly.” her father scowled, “You know that”
“But it was!” she defended right back. “It was yellow n’ curly, n’ it had that sign on it’s hand! It was one of ‘em!”
Nellie pinches the bridge of her nose; she had hoped to never see a goldielocks again. Before she was able to respond, McKoy scoffed loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
    “Oh please, you called all of us here for the stories of some bloodydamn kid?” he sneered, leaning against a wall. “it's clearly a joke, n’ a pisspoor fuckin’ joke at that. Ain’t been a Gold round here in years, n’ yall know it.”
“Does she look like she’s fucking jokin’.” her father shot back, his daughter pale and shaken. Mckoy took a step towards him, smaller than the man but plenty intimidating if you didn't know any better.
“Watch your tone, son. Your speakin’ to a plowman, bloodydamn it.” he growled, and McGee stepped between them, getting up in McKoy’s face.
“Really?” McFly snorted. “After your harvest, you still call yourself that?”
“You wanna go, fly boy?” he turned, snarling. And Nellie was quickly utterly done with all of this, especially as the faint sound of harmonizing creeped into the air. She could hear soft warm ups of legs rubbing together to and fro and it sent a terrible shiver up her spine. 
“That's enough! I didn't come here to watch a dick measurin’ contest, thank y’all very much. Mckoy, I know you're scared, but that doesn't mean you need to take it out on the rest of us. McFly, low blow. You’re better than that.” she snarled at them both, tired. The singing faded, as did the crowd. She couldn't help her relief. “Now you lot sit tight, chill the fuck out and let me go check, yeah?” 
“You sure about that, kid?” McFly asked, sharing uncertain looks with his fellow plowmen.
“You don't have to if you don't want.” McKoy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck “We could go with ya.”
“Nah, I've got this. Just to check it out” she assured, despite it being less than convincing, she turns to Mcgee “It's a little south of here, ain’t it?”
“Well yeah, but what if there really is a goldilocks,-” Mcgee starts, before the little girl interrupts him.
“It is real! Daniel and I saw it! It was working on its ship n’ everything!” she demanded, before her father hushes her. 
“If” McGee reinstates, “there really is a goldilocks, are you sure you'll be alright?”
“Of course. If it exists and if it causes a problem, well momma didn't raise no bitch.” Nellie nods, shrugging. “I've killed a Gold before and bloody damn it all I'll do it again. Any questions?” No one spoke, no one dared. She had made a pretty good point, and if they were being honest, pissing off Nellie anymore then she already was, was never a good idea. “Thought so. I'm borrowing a cart.”
With that, she left. getting into one of the carts parked to the side of the hall and speeding on south, to whatever the hell crashed into her planet. Rolling over the soft green meadows where the animals graze and roam. The breeze whipped through her hair, and it was almost inevitable that she was to zone out.
Chew, gnaw, gnash them with her teeth. Rip the 5s in half, strip 3s like paper, roll thousands on her tongue. It's probably a good idea to start planting other plants eventually. Pumpkins seem handy, so does wheat. She knows better than to do zucchini, not after what happened with McGregor’s off year.  But maybe soybeans. Or peppers. Maybe start weaning off corn. It's not like they'd notice, not really.
    She used to come up with her brother, when they were able to sneak away. Wayne would've got whipped half to the mudpit if anyone found out, but he loved the stars too much to care. Though she never would admit it, she just thought it was nice to get out of the tiny cramped tunnels. It was where she learned how to play poker, under the pretty night sky.
2s and 11s and different things to notice, funny numbers hidden in layers and distorted to the point others couldn't recognize them if they tried. Eights been having a hard year, and she wonders if she could convince them to nurture trees. Apples, lemons, oranges, stuff like that. They've always been much hotter than the rest of the planet. Might as well make use of it. Besides, how nice would it be to have access to oranges from their own backyard. On that matter maybe she could convince ten to add an apple orchard to the pastures. But where in the vale would she get something like that.
    He was a terrible player, his tells were obvious, and he thought she needed to be gone easy on. Still, he taught her the rules, taught her about tells, and let her know that people thought she needed the help. He taught her puppy dog eyes, he taught her the ways people hid their guilt, and more than anything he taught her the value of pure dumb luck. He was a bloody damn good teacher too.
283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =
    It was easy to think of him, even when it was just looking out a window. Or when she caught sight of the scars she made on the other plowmen. She can still feel her fingernails in their skin, screaming murder as she tore into flesh and blinked the tears out of her eyes. Her gaze never leaving the taught rope even when the fiddles started. She can still feel the rough unsanded wood of the broken table tear at her palm as she swung it with everything she’s got. It’s other shards layed around, or in the man. She laughed then, as her bat turned red, and so did her vision. She cried then too.
283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =
    There will always be a part of her that will be bitter. Bitter that they screamed for her, and not for him. Bitter that it took so long, took so many of her friends and family, to finally smash a few Greys brains in. Bitter that she had to bury so many of her people, and she couldn't even bury him with them. Bitter that those stupid Greys had the audacity to get their worthless hides dumped in the same place her brother rested-
283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =
283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 3453-
    The ship came into view. A small thing, comparatively, that looked like it was better suited for a junkyard than ever being in space. Even when the only thing she had to compare was the scrap heaps that sends the corn to a more important planet. The paneling was peeled off, there were sharp bits of metal jutting out in random places, and one part of the thing was still on fire. That's not even mentioning the bullet holes.
    And sure enough, there was a goldilocks. A big one, (a shirtless one), tinkering with something or other, and even from there she could see this was extremely frustrating for him. To the point he didn't even notice her get closer. His hair was curly and thick, and his body was covered in scars. He had a cleft in his chin, and she got the feeling he thought himself attractive. She also noticed that he wasn't armed, which was probably the weirdest thing about him. She cleared her throat, and gold finally turned to Nellie, his golden eyes taking in her red form.
    “‘Lo, Red. Do you know anywhere to fix this ship?”
    Nellie's eyes flicked to the scar on his cheek. She knew that it was important; how escaped her, but she knew that Ron certainly didn't have one. 
    “Might know a place.” she admitted, careful to keep her poker face. The gold doesn’t speak, waiting for something. The staff once told her that Ron had demanded that they call him, something or other. By the vale they even tried to call her the same shit. She had, of course, shut that down asap, and if she couldn't have been bothered to remember it. Instead, she waits for him to get over himself. It wastes much more time then she would have liked
    “What planet is this, anyhow? My datapad isn’t showing anything.” he asked, shaking himself off and looking around the wide fields
    “Shame,” she scoffed, as if it wasn't her savior. “Well, 'm afraid your guess is as good as mine. Couldn't tell ya.”
It was a lie, a pretty harmless one all things considered, but she had to suppress a smile when he bought it. “Prime. Absolutely marvelous.” He huffed sarcastically. Before sighing. “Well I suppose you wouldn’t, now would you?”
That caught her off guard. She blinked, looking up at him like he just grew a second head. He didn’t seem to notice. “’m sorry?” She tried.
“Oh don’t be. It’s understandable.” He told her, cordially. “I’m sure your superior could help me well enough. Your ArchGovernor preferably, But I suppose any old bronzie would do.”
”I don’t-“ she tried, finding herself getting more annoyed by the minute. It had been a very long time since someone had talked over her, and even then she was quick to smash a table over his head. He just walked past her in his pacing.
“And after that, my goodman, you can take my ship to be repaired. Sooner the better, obviously.” he said, and she sighed. Closing her eyes, “Say who is your arch governor anyhow?”
“... Me.” She told him bluntly, annoyed and caught off guard  and more than ready to smack something. He hesitated, staring at her, before he snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Funny, but not the time Red.” he scoffed, “Lysander and I need to get back into space. Not to mention this planet looks... less than sanitary.”
“Excuse me.” she hissed. Staring at him dead in the eye. All notions of a poker face gone.
“Well, no offense to you, Red, it's not your fault of course. But it's like the Golds in charge designed this place to look like a shithole-” he starts, before Nellie saw red and smacked him with everything she possibly could. Even if she did have to jump, it was enough to send him reeling. Which was plenty for her.
“OW! By Jove what was that for?” he hissed glaring at her. Seeming startled when she glared right back. “You dare strike a-”
“Shut it!” she snapped. “N’ listen close cause ‘M only sayin’ this once-!”
“No, you listen to me, Red. I am Cassius Au Bellona, an Olympic Knight and a member of the peerless scarred! I will not sit around and get told off by a- a Red of all things!” he shouted, causing her to take a step back, a sneer growing. “Now take me to your archgovener right this instant or I will have you hang-”
“I AM THE ARCHGOVENER YA PISS DRINKIN’ BASTARD!” she screamed at him, pissed beyond all belief. “AND I DID NOT SPEND FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE DOIN’ MY DAMNDEST AT IT TO BE TREATED LIKE ANYTHIN’ LESS, YOU HEAR ME!? SON OF A BITCH!”
 What happened next was probably the most terrifying staring contest in Nellie's 50 seasons of existence. Or it would be, but Nellie was too busy silently berating herself over the lack of grace on what should've been her punchline. Really, “son of a bitch” is the best you've got? She didn't even call him one she just shouted it out like an angry grandpa who got kids tracking dirt through his house. By the vale that made her feel old.
“It's goin’ to take years to get that scrap heap off the ground.” she huffed, remembering that he was there after a moment “N’ that's not even considering that our stuff ain’t the best. You'd get there faster if you walked. Luckily for you, though, there's a ship that carries our supplies to Cerce, and she comes round every half year like clockwork. And 'm sure she'd be happy to take you along with her next time.”
“Next time.” he repeated, frowning harder at the sudden shift. She nodded.
“Ya just missed her. Sorry to say, space boy, you’re gonna be stuck here a minute.” she shrugged, and he cursed under his breath. Turning away, he kicked something and silently cursed his rotten luck. Nellie just waited, letting him get it out of his system before continuing. “Now come on, not much daylight left, n’ supper will get cold.”
“I’m sorry?” he asked, face coiled in confusion, and she had to smile.
“No need to be sorry, baby. That shit heap’s still on fire, and I'm worried Im’ma get cut just lookin’ at the thing. Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ you and- whoever the hell Lysander is- sleep in that. What kinda host would I be?” she shrugged. She then shooed him  “Now scoot your boot, Goldilocks. It's hard to drive at night.”
He hesitated. “Are you certain-?” he started before she stopped him with a snort. 
“Spaceman I live alone in the biggest house on the bloody-damn planet, I have room for a guest or seven.” she told him, giving him a look. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn't.”
They entered a staring contest, red meeting gold with much less heat than before. (at least, on Cassius’ side) As terrible as the goldbrows were, she couldn't help but be a little curious about this one. The last time she was this close to one, well she was smashing his brains in, and he wasn't nearly as impressive as this one, that was for sure. Meanwhile he was probably debating cutting her into pieces or something like that.
“Fine then.” he said finally, before storming off to get whoever Lysander was. He was a prick, Nellie quickly decided, somewhat offended that he didn't even say thank you. But she's dealt with pricks before, even ones that could kill her with a snap. At least this time she had some modicum of ground.
182 days x 12 hours = 2184 hours x 60 minutes = 131,040 minutes x 60 seconds = 
She had a feeling that it was going to be a long year. 
… Might want to give sector seven more corn.
5 notes · View notes
Text
Phantasmal Reverb (closed)
@maskedmuses​
His sleep was; as it’d been the past few nights, thin and troubled. The nightmares that he suffered were escalating to the point where even after awakening Mell still found himself within their grip; the phantoms of his mind clinging and making it hard to think, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to even exist. And tonight was no exception.
He lay in his bed with the darkness present in his bedroom pressing down on him from every angle---a confusing, uncountable tangle of hands smothering him; hands holding his arms and legs, hands pressing on his chest, pressing into over his eyes, hands clamped over his mouth, fingers locked and digging around his throat---
Mell couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.
And with these hands came a voice hovering in the darkness just above his head. The voice sent a chill up his restrained spine not because of the lingering, clinging horror of his dreams nor because it was particularly frightening in its tone, no, it was because the voice was FAMILIAR.
‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name---’
Mell was starting to squirm in spite of the shadows hands holding him down, the lips covered by the formless black moving, mouthing one word over and over again: stop.
‘Have mercy on me, O Father---’
Stop stop stop stop stop stop---
‘As I, Thine servant, ask for your blessing---’
Stop stop stop stop please stop stop sto---
‘Cast their souls into eternal damnation---’
And then Mell was moving; his hands rising and clawing wildly at the darkness holding him prone, as if he sought to rip the tongue out of the mouth forming that curse those words. Stop stop stop you have to s t o p....!! There’s a muffled thumping sound as he moves erratically and slides over the side of his bed only to land on the floor in an ungainly thump. His heart was hammering inside his chest hard enough to break his ribs, his breath coming in fast, wheezing pants now that his throat was released from that horrible grip. Every beat ached, every breath burned and still that voice was there---no, it was everywhere now. It spilled out from his own lips, two voices mingling together in a husky, reverent prayer.
“Forever and ever, cast their souls into eternal damnation for I am---”
Another thump sounded in the otherwise still house then, and suddenly a new kind of terror seized the young man. Now the brain residing within his skull seemed to burn and liquefy, his body moving of it’s own accord as he lunges to his feet and half runs half scrambles to his bedroom door and wrenches it open. Something was wrong. Something had happened. Something terrible, something awful, something familiar---
His eyes saw blood splashed across the floorboards set before him---but only for a second---and then it cleared and what he was left to look at was far worse: Nellie. Nellie lay on the floor of the hallway, her small body looking skeletal in her violet colored nightgown.
“Nellie----!”
Mell throws himself at his sister, his sweat covered hands grasping her by the shoulders and hauling her upwards. There’s blood---blood splashed down the front of her nightgown, staining it black, blood flowing from her pale lips--- “Nellie! Nellie, can you hear me!?”
But no matter how hard he jostles her, no matter how loudly he calls she doesn’t stir or reply. There’s a faint fluttering of her eyelashes against her normally pink---but now dreadfully flushed---cheeks and nothing more. He could feel the heat radiating from his sister’s small frame, the strength of it seeming to burn his hands.
Looking at her head lolling downwards like a broken doll sent him into a frenzy, his mind emptying of all thought in a matter of a single second. Nellie! Nellie! I have to help Nellie!!! She could help her!!!
And then Mell’s on his feet without even realizing it with his sister held in his arms like a princess broken doll. The flaxen haired boy charges down the hall and out of the house his parents owned, charging out into the midnight rain with bare feet and a blazing, addled mind. he charges out into the night towards the witch!! Azuna’s apartment with the voice from his nightmares laughter ringing in his ears.
Tumblr media
Every frantic step was a cold slap as Mell threw himself down the empty streets. It was as if he and his dying? ill sister were the only two people left in the whole world. His lungs burned. His entire body ached---Nellie felt like she weight a thousand pounds---but he had to keep going. Every step made the buzzing in his head increase in intensity like a broken radio dial, snatches of words and images flaring inside his mind fever bright as he ran. A mansion. A rose garden. A painting ripped to shreds. White hair. Flaxen. Red. An arm lying in a pool of blood. A lake. An impossibly large lake with a cottage resting nearby. Blood. So much blood. The blood he’d glimpsed on her unsullied nightgown was still there to him---darker now, thicker now, spreading. It dripped down her legs and formed puddles as he carried her.
His lungs burned like fire, the cold air being drawn into his open mouth as he panted for air bringing him no relief. And yet Mell ran, ran desperately. He had to see her! She’d know what to do! Oh please, tell me what to do!
A man with short black hair. A blade pressed against his sister’s throat. Is that where all this blood had come from?! A slender key on an iron chain. Strands of silver, strands of red, of black---
Mell ran as thunder rumbled all around---a storm forecast on the evening news now coming to pass with a vengeance. Mell ran with his wheezing, trembling sister in his arms to a million different places a mansion a garden a church a cottage by the lake Azuna’s apartment as if said rain would be made of a c i d, as if the downpour would destroy the tether his mind was currently clinging to. He cried out despite himself---the yelp of a panicked child---as the sky opened up above him without warning and cold harsh droplets of rain began sheeting down. Mell ran and ran and ran and ran----and then, finally, when he felt like his body would give out entirely or that his mind would crack under the strain it was being set against he saw a familiar sign in the dark.
He puts on a burst of speed, his bloodied, trembling feet carrying him across the deserted streets and up a flight of stairs---and then another---and then her door is in sight. Unable to stop, unwilling to stop, Mell crashes against it bodily. If it’d been unlocked it would've flown open---but it was far after midnight and decent people were asleep---not that it stopped him. Mell stood there with Nellie’s body pressed between his own and the door and with one hand (after reluctantly letting his sister go) hammering on the door in hard, fasts beats.
Tumblr media
“Azuna----!! Ahhh---ah, Azuna are you there??! Please, open the door!!! I need your help!!!” His words are interrupted by sharp pants, his entire body trembling so hard that even his sister seemed to be rattling. Mell banged on her door again as a note of desperation broke through and flooded into his voice, turning it into a shout that his lungs shouldn’t be capable of producing given the strain. “Azuna!! It’s Nellie!! You have to help us--! I need you, please!!!”
1 note · View note
Text
Nothings pt. 18
I leave the powder room determined to be as theatrical in this last act as possible. All while hiding my true intention from my girl. Focusing on the deceit needed to call Ellie away from Jay I climb the staircase, pressing hard on the rickety third step.
“Pen?” Ellie calls to me before I reach the top.
She appears at the bottom of the staircase and tilts her head in my direction. “What are you doing?”
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“A phone ringing. I swear I heard it coming from up here.”
“Pen.” Ellie whispers. “You know that can’t be true, it’s just the story. Come down.”
I shake my head, widening my eyes, trying to convey a lie to Ellie that says I know it’s the story but I’m unable to stop myself. I force my foot up another step and another until I’m at the landing. I disappear around the corner and wait.
“Pen! Come down! Let’s finish our game. Please!” Is it Ellie or god putting the fear into her voice? She’ll startle Jay if she isn’t careful. I don’t want him to be suspicious.
“No, it’s fine, come look. There’s a phone. We can call home!”
“Really?”
I peek around the corner casually. “Yes, really. I think she’s giving us a happy ending.” I whisper. “Come on!”
Her eyes sparkles. That’s why god gave her such a beautiful green. Her smile stabs my heart, but if I can get out I’ll figure out a way to bring her to me. Her and Jay. We’ll be happy. I just have to kill them first.
She races up the stairs. Tries to at least. That pesky third step breaks underneath her and I watch as her foot disappears into the darkness below. She holds her scream. I don’t know why or how. Real or not, that looks painful.
I rush to her. “Are you okay?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Jay moves on the couch. “Are you girls coming back?”
“In a second, we’re dealing with something.” Ellie calls to him.
“What could be more important than ‘Pony or Fish’?”
“Blood, Jay.”
“Like...girl blood.” We can hear the grimace in his voice.
As Ellie continues to bite back her pain I roll my eyes and reply. “Yes, Jay, ‘girl’ blood.”
“Okay. You got it. I’ll just wait down here.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. I shake my head st her. “It’s okay. There’s gotta be something in the bathroom to help.”
Quiet as a rampaging mouse we pry her leg from the broken wood, speaking loudly of tampons and cramps to keep Jay from listening to us too closely.
When she’s finally free I help her up the rest of the stairs. “I don’t wanna go in, just grab a towel or something.”
“El, it’s fine. I’m with you.”
“You were with me when the bathroom turned into the forest too, remember?”
“Yes, but this time feels different.” I smile. It is. She won’t be leaving this time.
We enter the bathroom. No candles are lit, the tub is empty, and there are no women masquerading as millipedes.
I help Ellie limp to the toilet before crossing to the towel rack, locking the door on my way. The house won’t let Ellie escape anyway, but I want her scared.
I take the towel and place it against her wounds. Her flesh was torn away by the broken wood, the blood thick and dark at the source and lighter where it drips down to her dainty ankles. I’ve never liked blood - not even when I was a woman who wasn’t exactly a vampire but who needed to drink blood because of some rare disease. That was probably the worst story.
Ellie sucks in a breath when I apply pressure. I look up to meet her eyes before squeezing more than I need to.
“That hurts.”
“It’s supposed to.”
“Why would that girl, our creator, let us feel pain?”
I shrug, “Why would she do anything? Why would she make me the villain of the last story?”
The house groans around us. Brown water begins trickling from the tub behind me. Ellie jerks away on instinct, no doubt recounting her time spent stuck in the tub.
“No. We’re going to have a happy ending.”
“I will. You won’t.” The trickle becomes a stream behind us. No steam or inviting scent billows forth from the tub, only the sound of the thick water accumulating.
Ellie tried to stand, but I squeeze her leg. “Don’t get up. It’s not necessary.”
“Pen, please, you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. I need to be free and you need to belong.”
“Pen...”
I shush her. “Maybe she’ll make it so it doesn’t hurt.”
Ellie punches me across the face, I barely feel it but it still throws me off balance. She runs towards the door, slipping in the trail of her own blood. When she can’t turn the lock she begins pounding on the door. She doesn’t even try to unlock it. How disappointing.
I stand and walk towards her. She turns, her arms raised and her weight on her good leg.
“Did it hurt when they tore you apart?”
“Of course it hurt.”
“Why?”
“Because they were flaying me alive!”
“How did our girl know to make it hurt?”
She lowers her arms just a hair. I step forward and she raises them again. “I don’t know...maybe she wrote the abduction.”
“Or maybe we’re more real than we thought.”
You’re ruining the story. Get on with it. My god speaks only to me. I lunge towards Ellie, slapping a hand to her face before she even screams.
...
It takes so little for Pen to drag Ellie to the tub. She thrashing and screams against Pen’s hand but her mind is at peace.
Last night god came to her while Pen and Jay slept, or did whatever things like them did when their creator didn’t need them for the story. She was beautiful like Pen, but more while. Where Pen was thin god was full. Her eyes shined with a light fitting for such a goddess.
“Do you want to be real, Ellie?”
Ellie remembered only being able to nod, still in awe of her god.
God smiled and sat next to Ellie, placing a warm hand upon her arm. “For years I’ve been making these stories. Pen has always been the lead, but I could never make her real. That’s all I wanted. I realized why a few months ago, she’s too much like me. We could never exist in the same world, but how do I kill off my best girl?”
Ellie shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“I don’t, that’s how. I won’t kill her off - not really. She’ll live forever in a way but I cannot keep writing stories for her. This will be her last. It will be her best and it will continue forever.” God’s eyes darken when she says this.
“Will it be a happy story?”
“I don’t know how to make happy stories.”
“You can’t try, just for Pen?”
God sighed, “I wish that was how this works.”
Slow footsteps began coming down the hall. Ellie’s skin pricked at the back of her neck.
“Don’t worry.” God gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s just Andy.”
Now, in the bathroom with Pen dragging Ellie to her rebirth rather than her death she struggles to keep fighting. God told her not to tell Pen anything, no matter what she said.
When the cold water touches Ellie’s skin her body is too shocked to react. It has to be cold. God told her so. Pen’s face is a twist of anger, regret, and determination as she holds Ellie under water.
Ellie tried to keep her eyes open for as long as possible. She wants to remember her friends face. Too soon, however, the world of the story dims. The dirty water clears. Pen’s almost gaunt face is replaces by god’s wide smile.
God reaches down and pulls Ellie up from the tank of freezing water. Before any words are exchanged god embraces Ellie, god’s pure love and happiness warms Ellie’s bones.
After too short a span of time god lets Ellie go and holds out her hand for Ellie to shake.
“Welcome to the world, El. I’m Nelly. Let’s get you some dry clothes.”
...
I stare down at the dirty water. Was that enough? Will god be satisfied? Ellie’s body became part of the water upon her last breath escaping in the form of rancid bubbles. The door unlocks and the tub begins to drain.
Standing and shaking and wondering in my head over and over again if that was a dramatic enough death for my green-eyed friend I struggle to calm myself.
The door creaks open, reminding me that I’m not finished. I still have one more ending to deliver.
3 notes · View notes