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mistydeyes · 11 months

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yellow tulip - hopeless love

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summary: Kyle is back for another summer! Soon, you and him fall into a comfortable routine. But what happens when you start to have feelings for the Manchester boy and his radiant charms? Read Part I!

where i picture the reader living

pairing: Gaz x childhood love! fem!Reader

warnings: fluff, mild angst, unrequited love, UK inaccuracies (especially with geography)

🏷️ @the-faceless-bride

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Once Kyle and his mum had left, you spend the next month helping your mother re-pot some flowers to be brought indoors and began your preparations for the winter. She even let you handle shears as she showed you the process of trimming the wildflower garden as they began to wilt under the cooling temperatures. You went back to your small primary school in the next town full of stories about your best friend from Manchester.

Later on in the school year, you were driving your mum crazy as she couldn't give you anything pleasing to bring to show and tell. Flowers were boring because everyone knew she was the flower lady and none of your small trinkets satisfied you. After consulting with Nana, your mum soon let you know she was going to bring over something special. Nana had taken a picture of you both running around after the lemonade incident and you excitedly held it in your hand. Your pigtails were seen mid-air as Kyle chased you, a marigold and petals adorning his short, dark curls. You both were covered in flour and you recognized the signature dark pink stains of the lemonade. Once you were able to give the picture to your mum after admiring it for so long, she placed a dried gardenia flower behind it before pushing it through the laminator. "This one means 'transport of joy' because whenever you're sad, you can look at that picture and think of happier times," she said and kissed your forehead.

As the school year progressed, Kyle would send letters and pictures of him in London. In one photo, you were shocked to see one of his front teeth missing. In the letter he wrote, "I lost it during recess, but I can whistle through it now!" and you laughed at the image of him trying to whistle through the empty cavity.

When the strong green petals of daffodils began to poke their way to the surface, you know it was only a few weeks until Kyle would return for the summer. You had so much to show him, including your notebook filled with pages of flower knowledge (and better handwriting) as well as the crafts you had made in his absence.

It was a warm, beautiful day when you saw his mum's car make its way down the road. You were outside tending to the blossoming wildflowers in the front lawn and making sure they were properly watered. You couldn't help by race beside their car as you saw him approaching. He placed a hand on the window and excitedly waved hi.

It took all of two seconds for him to jump out of the car and give you a big hug. "I missed you so much!" he exclaimed and your mum handed you a small and large bouquet.

"This one is for you, Kyle," you said handing him the smaller one filled with the pure, white, bell-shaped petals of lily of the valley (return of happiness) and you sheepishly walked over to his mum handing her the larger one.

She admired the beauty of the flowers, smelling them deeply and letting out a sigh of happiness. "Mummy, Y/N can tell you what those mean!" Kyle said as he tugged on his mother's skirt.

His mum leaned down and you pointed to the flowers one by one. Your mum had designed this one but she was planning on teaching you all the different ways to construct a bouquet. You described how you had picked justicia (perfection of female loveliness), jasmine (grace and elegance), wood sorrel (maternal tenderness), and finally agrimony (thankfulness). As you spoke, Kyle wrote down, "maternal, elegance, and perfection," something he would be looking up in his dictionary later. She gave you a large hug, thanking you for the wonderful gift. She promised you she would dry them when she returned to Manchester and would cherish it. As Kyle's grandparents emerged from the house, the family gave their final hugs and said goodbye.

So began another summer, one to be remembered. Along with your routine from last year your mother and Nana also trusted you both more with mature tasks. You learned how to organize a range of bouquets while Kyle impressed Nana was his ability to read through recipes that she would be struggling to see with her fading eyesight. At night, his Grandad would teach you how to cup fireflies in your hands and see their radiant glow under the night sky.

You were the happiest you had ever been and the adults enjoyed seeing you and Kyle adventuring through the garden and telling stories of mystical forests and fairytale characters. He even taught you how to swim in the local pond, something he had learned that school year. He laughed as you accidentally got water up your nose and were sneezing profusely. But soon the summer days would become shorter and the early morning chill would linger. You knew it was time for his mum's car to come rolling up the road and take him away. Like before, you had a tearful goodbye to Kyle as he helped his mum pack his remaining things. He returned to Manchester, this time with a bouquet of double violets on his lap, reciprocal friendship.

And like that, you soon fell into the comfort of the yearly routine. Kyle would enter as the long days ended with a sky painted with hues of sapphire, rose, and pink and when the hydrangeas of all varieties began to bloom. Upon his departure, you would both leave with more adventures to tell and new skills. With each summer, you were becoming a more experienced gardener and florist while Kyle learned how to prepare a wide array of meals and picked up on his Nana's love for aviation. His bookshelves soon became filled with aviation books but he still kept his prized dictionary from you. You both continue to maintain your journals with you adding in dried flowers and even better illustrations.

As you two grew up alongside each other, you realized how your best friend was becoming a more handsome and mature individual. You no longer were able to stick flowers behind his ear as he grew a full head taller than you. His face also began to mature. He no longer had a full head of curls, instead had short coils in the front and shaven sides. He even began to gain more muscle, regularly wrapping his arms around you and throwing you into the refreshing water of the pond during a particularly hot day. You would always try to outrun him, but the young man was faster and more agile than you. One thing stayed the same and that was his smile. Your heart would skip a beat when you looked over at him and he noticed how his lips curved upwards and his eyes closed with crinkles appearing in the corners of them. For weeks after that moment, any mention of yellow acacias (secret love) and tulips (declaration of love) made you blush.

As you lay in your bed, listening to the hum of the crickets and thinking of a cozy life in the countryside with Kyle, you heard a soft tap at your window. You got up and saw Kyle on the other side, having climbed up your cherry tree. Kyle was now 12 years old and soon you'd join him as your birthday was at the end of August. As you opened the window you wondered what he was doing here so late.

"Kyle, shouldn't you be asleep," you yawned. "We're going with Grandad to the market in the morning and picking up vegetables for dinner."

"My mum just called me, I'm actually heading out tomorrow. She says that she's picking me up early this summer," with this statement you couldn't help but frown in disappointment. For the first time in 6 years, Kyle would be missing your birthday.

"I wanted to do something special before your birthday though," he began and reached out a hand to help you out of the window. It was 11 pm and you knew your mum was fast asleep in the next room over, tired from a long day of designing bouquets and selling them on her online shop. You hesitantly grabbed his hand and he moved to stabilize you by holding your waist. You braced yourself on the tree branch as he lowered you to one closer to the ground. You climbed down the tree and he jumped from his high position. As you swatted his arm at the risky action, he brushed you off saying his growing body could handle it.

With both of you on the ground, he led you to a small picnic blanket adorned with fairy lights, a small cake, and what you thought was an attempt at a bouquet. You were touched, this is the sweetest thing someone had done for you and it didn't help that it was your crush doing such.

"This is beautiful, Kyle, thank you," you said and sat down on the cotton blanket. He sat next to you and picked up the bouquet.

"I had your mum help me with picking these flowers out for you, she let me sneak in the garden when you were in the shower." he sheepishly said and placed the bouquet in your lap.

Your eyes flashed around and looked at the colorful arrangement, coronillas (success crowns your wishes), coreopsis (always cheerful), bellflower (gratitude), sage (good health and long life), all wrapped with leaves from the arborvitae (unchanging friendship). The arborvitae hurt, you appreciated the sentiment but were wishing your friendship would evolve into something more. Something more intimate, a representation of red carnations, pure and ardent love. You surpassed the slight disappointment and hugged Kyle. You could smell the lavender shampoo his Nana made specifically for him as well as the scent of old books on his skin. As you pulled away, you looked at the cake. It was adorned with marigolds and honeysuckles along with a delicately written, "Happy birthday."

"Although, my bouquet isn't as nice as yours. I believe this design takes the cake," he joked and you laughed at his pun. "It's carrot cake, your favorite, and I might have snuck a few marigolds and honeysuckles out of your yard to add some flair. Couldn't let you forget about that day," he said and you smiled at the sentiment.

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the small candle in the middle. You blew it out, making a single wish, "to always be in Kyle's life, no matter in what way."

He cheered and took out some forks for you to enjoy his confectionary masterpiece. You took a bite of the cake and your mouth exploded with the rich cream cheese icing and the perfectly balanced sweetness and spice of the cake itself. You couldn't help but finish the cake off with him as you both lay down on the blanket looking at the stars.

"What do you want to do after this, Y/N?" he asked breaking the silence.

"Go back to my nice comfortable bed," you joked back. Yawning slightly as you fought sleepiness to cherish this moment.

"No, I mean what are you doing after all these summers? We only have 4 more years until we have to decide on going to sixth form or not," he added, turning to face you.

"I do fancy the classics and my mum would love to see me studying English and classical literature. Although, you know I would have to pick up a minor concentration in botany," you replied. You too had been thinking about this, looking at prospective schools early on and hoping to find one that would satisfy your requirements.

"I think I'm going to join the Army," he said and you were shocked. This was the first time you had heard about this and you couldn't imagine the mild-mannered Kyle serving as an officer and going through the extensive training. Sure, he was strong and fast and smart but this was far from the future you had pictured for him. He took your silence as a negative response.

"What? You didn't think we could spend endless summers in the countryside. Eventually, we'd both go our ways and you'd marry some farmer boy and live with acres of land" he argued, his tone becoming more defensive. As if the arborvitae wasn't enough. You wanted to grab his face lovingly and tell him that he was the one you wanted to live with. Your fantasy of having acres of rolling gardens was suddenly shattered. He finished his argument by saying softly, "Plus, you know I'd finally be able to get into the sky."

"I understand, Kyle, just promise you'll visit when you can, yeah?" you requested and turned to your side to face him.

"I'll be sure to take leave to enjoy some mint tea with you, love. Just can't promise it'll be during the summer." You were glad it was dark as you blushed profusely.

After aimlessly talking for hours, Kyle closed his eyes and the silence was soon filled by his soft snores. As you drifted further into your slumber, you couldn't help but let a small tear fall. He would only see you as his childhood friend and nothing more.

When you woke up to your mom gently shaking your shoulder, you realized Kyle was gone. He was off to his life in Manchester.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

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writingcold · 8 months

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Hello there! We’ve reached Act II of Bootleggers! The second act does deal with a lot of issues that some may find difficult. As we know from Act 1 Junie was married to Mr. Archer, to which things are not so good. Just be aware that there is a lot of action, some violence, violence towards women specifically, in this piece. We continue to focus on our wildflowers, Cora (and her romance with Jacob), Molly, and Susannah. There’s a lot that happens right off the bat, so let’s get to it. Did I mention, Cora finally gets into the Lantern?!

If you're just coming across this, here is the Master List to catch up.

Thank you always to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for all of the love and support during the time I was writing this.

Also just a quick thank you and sweet hugs going out to @vanfleeter and @jakekiszkasbuttsweat for the support of this story! *mwah*

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warnings: Drinking, threats of violence, imagery of violence, hopelessness, anxiousness.

Word Count: approx 6300

Chapter Eleven: Bank, The Moon, and the Lantern, Junie’s Plight - Jacob POV

The weight of the air crushed his lungs and scalded the inside of his body. Josh continued speaking, reading the letter from their father, but Jake was only focused on one thing - there was dissent amongst the families that their affiliation rode upon. One of the top bosses had split, claiming distribution was not what it could be. Their father was merely alerting his boys to possible issues coming their way over the next months. With winter coming, and the driving routes effectively shut down due to snow, their father was warning them of shit coming their way no matter what they did.

“It’s time we get the bank,” Josh said, tossing the paper on the desk. “It may smooth some of the feathers for a while.”

Jacob was shaking his head. The bank. Josh had been obsessed for nearly a year. His contacts were saying that it was time - Archer had been dealt a blow served by his own stupidity. His affairs were unraveling and the venomous gossip was turning into facts. He puffed out his cheeks as he shifted against the window.

“How many more runs you think we can complete?” Josh asked.

Jacob shrugged as Sam and Danny leaned back in their seats. “If I had the Earl, I would get maybe five majors where I’m involved - four smaller ones that it’s just the trucks. But as is, we’re having to make up the large runs with twice as many small runs. Marquette county has become off limits to the trucks without me to be the bait. We add a shit ton of miles by having to run south through Delta and Menominee counties, not to mention a lot more area to get fucked by not having friends. We’re running behind as it is and won’t have enough product to last the winter for Iron County, let alone to fulfill expected deliveries to Chicago. We can’t be running the trucks beyond October anyway unless we want to dig out every few miles.”

Danny nodded. “Our first year we got in that one run in November, but I wouldn’t count on it. Even with the damn chains on the tires, a few of the trucks didn’t make the target.”

“Yeah, and we said we wouldn’t do that again,” Jake remarked with a grimace. “Remember? We almost lost three trucks on swampy assed roads. And - we lost that one skating off into a goddamn lake.”

“It’s all fucking moot anyway,” Sam remarked. “The Earl is dead.”

“She’s not dead,” Jake grumbled. “There’s nothing wrong with the engine.”

“But the fucking shell that makes it a car is dead. There’s nothing left for me to fix if there’s no body left, Jake. I sent word to Father when you dragged her into the shop. There’s something on the way. Should be here at any time.”

“It’s going to be a fucking disaster,” Jake whispered angrily.

“I’m going before the board of trustees for the bank in two weeks,” Josh said before lighting up a cigarette and cutting off the direction of the conversation. “I have all but a few votes for no confidence on the part of Mr. Archer. It will be enough to remove him as bank president. I have an offering to present that will put us into control. The last round of acquisitions put our line above my expected results, and offers more than enough holdings to solidify our position as main shareholder and bank president.”

Jacob sat up straight. Josh nodded to let Danny and Sam leave, but he stayed behind, closing the door behind the men. Turning, he felt his twin’s gaze on him in question.

“I have two weeks?” he asked as he watched Josh stamp out his smoke.

“Two weeks for what?” Josh returned disinterested.

“Junie? Cora’s sister,” Jake answered. “If you make a move now, and Archer is removed, he will disappear with her. You and I both know that girl won’t have a chance of survival if he ‘moves’ her. Hell, I don’t know if she’s actually surviving now. They won’t even let the mother inside to see the girl.”

Josh’s brows knitted in thought. Jake knew if there was one thing that his brother did not tolerate was a man who mistreated women in the fashion that Archer was accustomed to. His brother was thinking things through as he kicked his feet up on the desk.

“I may not show it, Jake, but I’ve grown very fond of Cora. I am envious of you,” he said quietly. “She has a softness and fortitude that is very comely. She’s been good for you.”

He rubbed the pad of his thumb across stray stubbles on the underside of his chin. “You and I both know that the current Mrs. Archer will not have a chance if we make this move on the bank.”

Josh nodded. Jacob could see the storm clouds behind his brother’s thoughts as he tapped the top of the desk. “I’ll get us over there Sunday. Have Cora with you. It will give me time to think this through.”

Jake lit up a smoke before reaching for his hat. “Thank you.”

“Are you avoiding taking her to the Lantern?” Josh asked as he moved towards the door.

He stopped before reaching for the doorknob. “Not avoiding. Just never asked if that’d be something she’d-”

“Jacob,” his twin said, moving around behind him. “It’s not like how things are with Susannah and Molly - or shit, even Catherine. Do not say it - I know that mistake was blatant on my part. But Cora’s a different breed. She’s a different caliper altogether. People in this town know her as something on the side of respectable - no reputation other than a churchgoing woman of no rank. You literally can mold her into anything you want her to be at this point.”

“I don’t want to mold her into anything. I love her as she is,” he whispered.

Josh hummed, drawing his attention back to his brother. “Then we should protect her and her own as is, shouldn’t we?”

He felt his eyes close for a moment and relief poured in. His brother was accepting the situation and offering a life line. This was his Joshua. His hand came down on Jake’s arm, giving it a bit of a squeeze. It was an acquiescence of events that had to be buried in the past and never revisited.

“I know you want out, same as I,” Josh said quietly. “It is still the goal. What I am trying to do, Brother, is to never have to return to this life. Once we are done here - we are done.”

Jake nodded slowly. “It’s going to get messy.”

“Let’s be honest and say what it will be, Jacob. It’s going to be a fucking bloody matter. The bank is just the first of many steps.”

His throat constricted as he opened the office door. Josh was right, of course. It was juvenile to think that they were going to be able to leave the life unscathed. Sam was just coming in the shop door, his face full of light as Jacob refocused his thoughts to the task at hand.

“It’s here, Jake!” his younger brother’s voice was full of excitement. “You’ve got to see this.”

Change was not high on Jake’s list of likes. Since the last disastrous run of the Earl, it was clear that his baby needed to be replaced. Josh was right behind him as he walked quickly past customers with his best professional smile. Sam was already around the corner and through the alley, while the twins tried to keep cool. The first he saw was the shiny black and chrome, followed by the sheer size of the vehicle. Sam was full of glint as he was already in the engine, making sounds of delight as he poked and prodded.

“It’s a goddamn roadster! I can already tell you it’s too fucking heavy!” Jake grumbled, his eyes on the bulk of the car. “There’s no way to have this shit ready for the next run.”

“We’ve got work to do, sure,” Sam said with a shrug. A demon grin came across his mouth. “But I can get this bitch up to sixty five, maybe seventy. We’ve just got to get her skinny.”

Jacob felt his jaw slacken. “One week, Samuel.”

“Considering it’ll take forever to bring the Earl back to life…”

“Then let’s get to work, Sam.”

Chapter Eleven: Pt. 2, Cora POV

Jacob did not arrive on time to collect the box. Instead of waiting for him, or stowing it in the locker, Cora decided to take it around to the shop office herself. Gathering her things, she took hold of the cashbox and headed out, waving at Marcus on her way down to the main door. The bouncer had taken a shine to her since she showed up unannounced. He would drop her treats and sandwiches with a grin, just to let her know he was there. She started bringing him bits of scratch biscuits and jam in trade. His beam at the sight would last her through the entire evening.

Making her way up the alley, she could hear Sam cursing up a storm, underscored by Jake scolding him for being a dumbass. She stepped into the store to find it closed and Renee was already gone. She could smell fresh tobacco, so she was sure Mr. Joshua was still in his office.

“Mr. Kiszka?” she called out before she reached the door to alert him of her presence.

“Good evening, Cora,” he said with a smile. His face warmed as he stood up. “I think it would be fine if we dropped the formalities, even for work, don’t you think?”

Cora nodded as she held out the box. “It was a really busy day back there and I didn’t feel right leaving this in the locker.”

He took it from her and moved towards the safe. “I didn’t think that Jake would get back there at closing time. Means you didn’t see the new lady.”

“Lady? Did you hire another shop girl?” she asked, looking over her shoulder into the shop.

“No. Come on, lovely. Jacob got himself a new toy today,” he said. “I’m quite curious to see how it’s panning out actually. Shall we? I wanted to speak with you anyway.”

“Me?”

He nodded as he stepped out of the office with her and locked the door. “I spoke with Jacob earlier. Sunday, we will be going to the Archer residence. It will just be the three of us, however. I fear that we will have to be a little pushy and use some subterfuge to get ourselves inside, but the man honestly does not like a public scene, so there’s that.”

Cora took his offered elbow as they moved outside and locked the heavy shop door. He waited until they were around the corner in the alley to continue.

“I will be reaching out to our Aunt Dotty. She’s good people, Cora. Her distance from here will provide safety.” She turned and looked at him as his words began to sink into her mind. “Sunday, I need you to assess if your sister is well enough to travel. There are events coming up that will take some finesse, but if it goes right - I will send her to Wisconsin, away from that fuck of a husband. Is that well with you?”

Her jaw dropped as Josh turned his dark eyes on her. This man was offering his help in the only way he knew how - abrupt, precise, and well-planned. She nodded and he patted her hand on his arm. The language spilling out of the garage made her stomach feel sour. The tones were hard and angry as tools sounded like they were smashing on benches and the concrete.

“There’s just one thing,” she said as they stood away from the carriage building doors. “If she wants to leave.”

Joshua’s face grew still, reflective. “Cora, I think I know you well enough to speak plainly. Harold Archer is a villain. Do not underestimate that man. There’s a reason why he has ‘lost’ three wives in six years, and it’s not due to childbirth.”

Shock percolated under her skin. She swallowed words that wanted to bubble out. Joshua smoothed his fingers across her hand once more.

“Sounds like they are going to rip each other apart in there,” he said with a smirk. “What fun.”

They stepped in to find both men red faced with heaving chests. Sam was the first to spot them, his lip curled in anger. Cora drew in a breath at the sight of Jacob, hand drawn back with a heavy metal tool. He whipped his head around, eyes flared on her the moment Sam moved.

“I was going to use the term ‘gentlemen’ but, here we are,” Josh remarked smoothly. “Perhaps I should walk you home, Cora, let these two beat some sense into each other.”

Jacob straightened up, glaring at his younger sibling as he set the implement against one of the workbenches, close to his shirt and jacket. Sam remained on guard, albeit not as tight as Jacob slid into his dress shirt.

“Right, so Cora,” Josh whispered as Jacob dressed, “tomorrow night, I would like you to come down to the Lantern with us. I think you’ll like the canary that will be visiting, and if Sammy doesn’t break any fingers fighting, he’s going to be playing as well.”

Cora found that she could not look away from Josh’s dark eyes. This was not professional businessman Mr. Kiszka. There was a humor in his eyes that she had never noticed, a mischievousness that Jacob did not possess. “I’d like that,” she answered with a nod.

“What’s that now?” Jacob asked as he was yanking at his tie.

“Your girl will be accompanying you tomorrow night to the Lantern,” Josh remarked with a toothy grin.

Jacob paused, eyes froze on his twin. “Really?”

“Why Miss Cora, you comin’ to see little old me play tomorrow?” Sam called from across the garage. “The girls are going to love having you there.”

Chapter Eleven: Pt. 3, Molly POV

“I have something I want you to try, dolly,” she said, dragging Cora towards the spare bedroom of her house.

“I was going to wear the rose gold number,” Cora remarked, giving her a bit of resistance.

“While that is very lovely and all, you’re visiting the Lantern,” Molly reminded, achieving her goal of getting to the clothes den. “You need something… more.”

When Cora raised her eyes to the ceiling, Molly knew this was more about her friend’s need to do things for herself. She more than understood the need - having had to carve everything out for herself. However, to be able to provide for her friends - her sisters - was beyond anything that Molly could have dreamed of achieving. She knew there would be resistance, so she made sure to leave the little black number on the bed specifically for ease of access.

“Trust me, Cora love,” she said with a wave of her hands. “This one is specifically for the Lantern. Your silk number is perfect for The Boudreau, even the tea parlor, or church and Sunday visits. This chiffon is what is required at the speakeasy.”

She watched as the woman’s jaw dropped. The black chiffon had intricate Art Deco designed glass beadwork that covered the entire piece. Cora picked the material up, her eyes closing against the feel of the textile.

“And look at these oyster fruits - aren’t they the cat’s meow?” She held up the choker that had strands that hung down the back.

Cora looked skeptical until she held the cocktail dress up and turned it around to reveal the extreme low cut that would expose the back until just above the swell of the bottom. Her eyes bulged.

“Now hold it there, missy boo,” Molly was quick to say as her friend was shutting down the idea of wearing the garment. “This is the Lantern. This rag will be more modest on the attire spectrum that you will be seeing tonight. The difference here is, Cora, you can pull this off without garment aids.”

“Molly!”

“I want you to just try it on, don’t worry about the choker, or the lovely hair piece that will go with it,” she held the feather and pearl and beaded band up for her to see. “Just put the dress on. Give it a chance. Susannah will be here to do your hair any moment.”

Cora made a sound as Molly hurried from the room. Honestly, the girl needed to figure it out. She was less of a prude than she knew, or at least needed to be. Molly was sure the moment she had the dress on, she would change her mind. The moment Jake saw her would be the tipping point. The man would most likely melt on the spot at first sight. He would also probably be fighting every other man in the room who happened to look at her a certain way.

Susannah was just walking into the house as Molly walked back to the main room. She was dressed in a sleek steel blue number that complimented her pale skin. Molly smiled as she tried to not listen to Cora’s scoffs and guffaws.

“What’s going on?” Susannah asked, setting her small bag of supplies down for doing hair and makeup.

“I’ve got Cora trying on something a little different,” Molly whispered with a devilish grin.

The two friends laughed quietly as Cora let out a huff before opening the door.

“I can’t do this!” she trilled, unwilling to walk out.

“Come on, dolly. Let us old hens be the judge of that,” Susannah called out.

Molly felt her lips drag in between her teeth to keep from getting upset. The woman was more stubborn than need be at times, and it was one of those times. Finally, she stepped into the light of the sitting room, her face stoic in her upset. Susannah’s head tilted as the air seemed to escape from the room.

“Might as well start calling you ‘Sticks’ because you got fucking gams, baby,” Susannah said, her tone shocked.

The dress hung on Cora’s frame exactly how she had imagined it would; clinging to her hips just right to lay against her legs to make them look like they were long and strong but delicate at the ankle. The high neckline made her torso look long and lean. Molly let out a soft breath.

“Maybe that dress was not the right one. You’ll make the two of us look like we’re dressed for the slops,” she said softly. “Damn. You’re beautiful.”

Cora’s cheeks flushed red. “Are you sure it’s not too risque?”

Both women shook their heads slowly. Susannah set in to doing Cora’s hair while Molly dressed in her ruby colored mini that had the fringe that kissed her calves. She was thankful that the two women were laughing by the time she finished, bringing out shoes for her and Cora. Susannah made gooey eyes at her as she slid into the black heels to complete her look.

“Looks like you were right, mama,” Susannah sighed as Cora stood up to reveal the completed look. “The rest of us might as well check out tonight. All eyes are going to be on this one.”

“Jacob is so going to be gobsmacked,” Molly cooed. “That poor man is not going to know what hit him.”

Much like the evening of taking Cora to the dancehall, the three friends walked into the evening together. Danny met them outside of the dancehall, leading them through the crowded space towards the employee only door. Molly held her lover back to allow Susannah and Cora to walk ahead of them just to take in the reaction of those who saw her handiwork.

They all said hello to Marcus as they took the back stairs down to the Lantern. The bouncer tipped his hat to Cora who laughed and reached out to hand the man something from her clutch.

“Thank you, Miss Cora,” he said smoothly as he watched them go down the stairs. At Molly’s raised eyebrow, he laughed. “The woman is kind enough to bring me cookies and biscuits. You lot don’t do that – at all.”

“I’ll remember that, Marcus, for next time! Promise!” Molly called out as Danny held the door open for the ladies to pass.

Danny’s hand landed in a press against her hip as they walked into the speakeasy. “I don’t know what you’re expecting tonight, but you really did up Cora, didn’t you love?” he asked as they trailed behind Susannah.

“No expectations, just dolling her up for the evening,” she answered with a grin and a batting of her eyelashes.

Jacob was on his feet before they had crossed the dance floor. His dark eyes were shimmering as they took in the sight of his girl. Molly felt a little smug. Putting the window dressing on Cora gave her such pleasure in seeing the impact that she could have on those around her. She watched as Jacob moved around the table, walking on a collision course with them. The sheer possession that radiated out of the man’s face reminded her of the rare times that she could elicit from Danny. He reached for her, slamming his mouth into hers, effectively letting everyone in that room know it was hands off of little Miss Cora.

Chapter Eleven: Pt. 4, Cora POV

The nerves that jolted her stomach as she followed Susannah into the Lantern made her want to vomit. She felt ridiculous as the first eyes to take her in seemed to stay glued to her. The smell of the room was tobacco and liquor and an assault of several perfumes blending together to make an overwhelming musk. The air was hot with a current that could only be described as a Saturday night - expectations of fun and music filled the air. The laughter was loud and the jazz band was louder. Unlike her previous appearance, Cora felt as if she was still trespassing, but only because the space was new to her. Her eyes went right to Jacob to find that he was already moving towards her. The look on his face was nothing like anything she had seen from him.

Before she could say hello, he had her around the waist, his fingers pressing into the exposed skin of her back and his mouth against hers in a deep kiss. Her heart thundered in her chest as his heat pressed against her, rooting her to the spot. There was no one else in the room. Just him holding onto her. She was slow to open her eyes to look at him.

“You look like you’re a heroine in a movie,” he whispered, dragging a finger down her cheek as his other hand ghosted down her back.

Sharp notes on the piano pierced the air as the lights dimmed. Jacob grinned as he nearly seemed reluctant to lead her to the table, but he held a chair out next to his seat. A waiter brought a few bottles of wine and glasses for the table. Joshua whispered a hello and shared a smile. Cora felt the nerves fall away to finally allow her to realize that Samuel sat at the piano. The room hushed as he settled himself in.

“Rhapsody in Blue,” he said without looking out at the crowd that waited. “Gershwin.”

The notes that started to fill the space made her heart feel like it was journeying through a space that was crowded and wonder filled. Samuel’s face was full of concentration and his body was rigid as he played. Not a sound was uttered by anyone. It was like he held the room enthralled. Pressure on the pad of her thumb drew her attention down to her lap. Jacob tugged the digit along, before caressing across the back of her hand, only to flip it and trace the lines of her palm. Looking into his face, she wanted to touch him, trace the lines of his cheekbones and jaw and brows. Instead, he continued to trace her fingers, the ridges of her knuckles, the planes of her palm.

She twirled her fingers into his, and he let her turn his palm up in her lap, running the pads of her own fingers across his, only to have him enclose her hand and take over. Looking up into his eyes, she discovered he had shifted to return her gaze. Cora felt her insides grow anxious. Her breath grew hot as her brain seized on one notion - she was in love. Her eyes began to tear as his brow flinched with concern. Sniffing, she felt silly and reached for a sip of wine to tear herself away from the moment. It was not like the wine Joshua had during their Sunday suppers, this was sweeter and lighter. Cora swallowed it down, only to look back at him and find herself wanting.

Gently, he tugged her back against him so that his mouth could land against her ear. “What’s happening, Finch?”

“I’m all jumbled up,” she whispered back.

He cupped her cheek as he placed a chaste kiss against her temple. “”What’s causing that, baby?”

“I’m in love with a good man,” she whispered into his ear, watching as the skin of his cheek became a soft shade of pink.

His eyes widened for a moment. Cora’s heart raced all the faster as he stared back at her, his face blank of emotion. He brushed his thumb across her jaw before cradling her cheek in his palm. A small smile graced his face as his brother played furiously to a crowd that seemed just as mesmerized as she felt. The room erupted in cheers, but all she could do was stay in stillness with Jacob. He barely leaned forward, his mouth pressing against her for the briefest of moments.

“You’re my beautiful finch, aren’t you?” he whispered into her skin.

Her heart swelled as he looped his finger through a curl by her ear. She felt loved. Her body hummed with each touch and caress. Her brain barely registered the intricate song that flowed across the air, but knew the moment was something special. The night twirled around her and Jacob, filled with wine and dance and music and friends that had become her family. Her heart did not just feel full. It was brimming out into the air, tethering her to a moment that she dared not forget. Not ever.

Chapter Eleven: Pt. 5, Cora POV

The anxiety spiked in her belly as the housekeeper blocked the door. She tightened her hold on Jacob’s elbow, capturing his attention, albeit briefly.

“Mr. Archer is not receiving visitors today,” the woman remarked, but Josh was already standing in the way of the door.

“I have a receipt of appointment, Mrs. Meyerson,” he said, holding out a piece of heavy writing paper. “We have private business to speak about and we are already running tardy.”

She took the slip, looking at it skeptically. Cora realized the woman was simply looking for her employer’s mark, her eyes obviously unable to read.

“The girl is not welcomed as Mrs. Archer is ill and unable to-”

“Unwelcomed?” Jacob breathed his tone incredulous. “This is Mrs. Archer’s sister. Perhaps instead of looking after her yourself, she can look in on the woman. Tend to her for you.”

“Give yourself a respite,” Joshua echoed. “Lord knows you deserve one, Mrs. Meyerson. This big old house to run by yourself. With no help and all.”

Cora shoved her nerves to the side, placing as much warmth into her smile as she could muster. “Absolutely. Please, Mrs. Meyerson - I’m more than happy to provide you with assistance in June’s matter,” she said calmly.

She looked down at the appointment receipt once more. Nodding slowly, she moved to the side, admitting them into the foyer. She waved at Cora to stay, while she led Joshua and Jacob into the parlor. Standing alone, she tried to not fidget, not appear to be anxious. Mrs. Meyerson returned, motioning for her to follow her up the stairs. Three closed doors down the lavishly wood clad hallway and the woman stopped. Cora noticed a sour smell in the air that made her stomach churn.

“Perhaps if your sister knew how to take better care of herself, she would not be in this predicament,” the woman replied with an air of dispassion.

Cora did not look at her, instead opening the door to the dark room beyond. She heard a whimper that prickled at her heart. The fear that flooded her in the air made her sick. Mrs. Meyerson let out a scoff before turning and walking away.

“Junie? Junebug? It’s me, Cora,” she whispered as she stepped inside.

The slab of a bed surprised her. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the bed was little more than bales of straw with material covering the top of it. June was curled onto herself, her tiny frame shivering.

“Junie?” Cora asked once more, trying to sound anything but scared.

The form in the makeshift bed quivered but did not make large movements. The frame of the girl was sickly, her belly swollen, but her limbs were near bones.

“Oh baby sister,” she cooed as she drew closer. “It’s Cora.”

Junie’s shoulders tensed as Cora reached out to touch her arm. Recognition flitted through her wild eyes. Cora choked as a shattering realization crashed into her chest as her heart strangled with pain. Her sister looked near inhuman from wounds and bruising that stemmed from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. The smell of urine and feces struck her nose as Junie tried to hide herself in the flimsy, soiled nightdress she wore. Again, Cora tried to wrap her hand around her sister’s frail arm.

“Junebug,” she soothed. “Junie, it’s me. I’m here.”

Junie’s eyes were little more than voids as she wildly looked at her. It was obvious the girl had come to know cruelty. Her lips were heavily scabbed and her cheeks were sunk against her once pretty face. The pain that her sister was experiencing turned her skin to flame with hopelessness.

“Cora?” the word came out as a dry, fragile shriek.

Cora cursed under her breath before she could stop herself. She turned towards the door, waiting, listening to anyone who may have heard. Bringing her hands back up so that Junie could see she meant no harm, she tried to lean in closer.

“Junie, just listen to me. Be strong. One more week, and I’m coming for you,” she whispered, trying to keep her features calm. “One more week and a bit. Ten days. You count the days. I will be coming for you and you’ll never set foot in this damned house again. But it has to be our secret. Just ours - do not tell anyone.”

“Sister…”

Cora hushed her. There were footfalls approaching. “Ten days. I’m coming back for you, Junie. You be strong and hold on. Do you hear me?”

Her sister’s haunted eyes flared as Mrs. Meyerson stepped inside. “That’s quite enough of this lot, miss. You’re obviously only upsetting her.”

Cora had never wanted to cause anyone harm of any kind before that moment. Not even Kilbourne and his smarmy ways of taking advantage of the family caused her such a wish to do harm. The woman before her sent fury through her veins and punched at her spirit. Glancing back at Junie, she shored up her emotions before following the housekeeper back into the hallway and down the stairs. Jacob and Joshua were standing just inside the doors of the parlor, their voices hushed as she descended. She could hear Archer’s voice, low and threatening but the actual words were muffled across the distance.

Jacob caught her gaze, tapping his twin’s elbow before he turned his body towards her. Silently, he offered his hand for her to take.

“Thank you, Mr. Archer,” Joshua was saying in a smooth, professional manner. “I look forward to the board meeting next Wednesday. I think you and I have some wonderful opportunities to grow these plans, sir.”

Jacob had her out the door before Archer could see her. Cora felt her eyes and mouth twitching as she forced herself to remain stoic. Her chest started heaving by the time they reached the white fence of the front lawn. She heard him curse as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Let’s get you to the house,” he whispered, holding her up as he started walking quickly. “Hold on, baby, just a little further.”

She heard him call out for his brother and the fast clack of heels on the concrete walk rang out in answer. The two men worked together to get the three of them to the Kiszka household without allowing anyone to notice the mess that they actually were at the moment. Inside, Jacob whisked her up the stairs to his room. Josh was right behind, pouring glasses of amber colored liquid on the sideboard. She had not realized that she was gasping for breath in between sobs. Jacob helped her to sit on the edge of the bed before kneeling before her, hands wrapped around hers tightly. The two gently patted and rubbed against her in an attempt to soothe.

“They treat her like an animal,” she cried. “Worse than an animal.”

Josh handed her one glass before bringing his own to his lips. She mirrored him, taking a large sip of whatever it was he had given her. She gasped and sputtered as the liquid shocked and burned its way down her gullet.

“Not helping, Josh,” Jacob scolded, taking her glass away. “What the hell happened in there?”

Cora realized the question was pointed at her and both men waited for her answer. “It doesn’t matter if she’s strong enough to travel or not. She’s dying in that house. She doesn’t even know if she’s human. She can’t travel - not alone.”

Both men paused with heat in their eyes and curses on their lips. Cora felt the defeat cool in her veins as Jacob slid his hand against hers, threading their fingers together.

“There’s no way for my family to hide her,” she whispered. “I can’t leave them behind. There would be no way they could just go like that - it’s been so hard as it is… Jacob, I can’t leave you behind.”

He took in an audible breath and squeezed her hand, his forehead coming to rest on her knee. Josh placed a calming touch to his brother’s back.

“There are some pieces for me to figure out,” Josh said, before taking down the rest of his drink. “After we do this, it’s going to be important we all just keep to our roles.”

All three froze hearing Samuel and Daniel banging around downstairs. Josh picked up Cora’s glass and set them on the sideboard.

“I’ll, uh, run interference with those four. Cora, don’t worry about anything today,” Josh said, his voice gentle. “I’ll have something planned out soon.”

“Thank you, Joshua,” she said before he walked out.

“It’s what we’re supposed to do for each other right? Now that we’re family?” Josh asked with a smile.

The room was silent. Cora found her fingers smoothing across Jacob’s hair as he remained still, resting against her knees.

“You can leave, Finch,” he whispered. “You can get Junie out of here.”

“No,” she said firmly as he sat back on his heels to look at her. “Joshua said it himself, we’re all going to have to remain in the roles we play. If I am gone, my family has no means for anything, let alone cover the rent. I cannot leave them vulnerable.”

“You can lean on me,” he said softly. “I’m more than happy to watch after them.”

She was shaking her head. “It’s my responsibility.”

“Cora, I’m not saying leave forever. Just get her to safety. She is going to need someone she knows - someone she trusts - to be with her.”

Cora watched as he pressed his mouth against her hands. Her heart was fracturing. “It would be selfish of me to ask you to come with me,” she eeked out as he rose up against her.

“Baby, I’d go anywhere with you,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “But this time, let me take care of your family while you settle Junie. It is what I can do. I’ll protect them, make sure they are secure. You can do this. Take care of your baby sister.”

She nodded as a sob sighed from her. He smiled before kissing her, slow at first, deepening as he tugged at her to slide down against his frame to land on his lap. He passed his knuckles down her jaw before he wiped at the few tears that had escaped.

“I love a good woman,” he whispered, studying her face, his fingers tracing the shell of her ear. “I love a strong woman.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders. Josh called her family. Jacob loved her. She was going to shelter her sister. A steadfast strength began to pump through her as he held tight to her. Cora could not help but to cry and laugh and sigh against him, absorbing every ounce of confidence he would give her.

Hi again. I hope you liked today’s chapter. Leave me a comment about your thoughts, or just a like. I do have a tag list - you can find it here. I will have Chapter 12 AND Chapter 13 up on Friday, sometime around noon CST. There’s a reason for having both. You’ll see.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

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critter-rarepair-reccs · 14 hours

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Hello bees! I hope the month has started well for you all. This week, we have ten different fics that feature various rarepairs which include everyone's favorite little blue tiefling, Jester Lavorre! As always, you can find them below the cut and if you check any of them out, I encourage you to leave kudoes and comments to spread the rarepair love 💕

Wildflowers Treat #1 (for Capitola) by Demenior (8,827 words, Explicit) Pairing: Artagan/Fjord/Jester Lavorre Warnings: None

Fjord, Artagan, and Jester have ritualized sex together where they roleplay Jester is a goddess.

Reccer Says: Equally sexy and funny with fantastic characterization and interesting implications (spoilers!). Make sure to check the tags to see if it's something you're interested in.

all actions and reactions by grayintogreen (2,879 words, General) Pairing: Astrid Beck/Jester Lavorre (Jestrid) Warnings: None

Astrid sets out on a quest to find who is buying all of her favorite pastries. This is a normal thing to want and possible to achieve.

Reccer Says: Very cute and fun!

Not In All My Dreams by sociallychallengednerd (4,503 words, Teen) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Widojessek) Warnings: None

Caleb meets established Essek/Jester as a repairman. The three crush on each other and we see their relationship develop over real and fake emergencies.

Reccer Says: Very cute - ADORABLE even!

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by pigflight (2,891 words, General) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett (Beaujes) Warnings: None

Beau and Jester talk about Reani, and Reani and Beau's relationship. A getting together fic!

Reccer Says: Cute!

the little death, or, the skipping of a heartbeat when you smile by celebreultimaverba (2,802 words, Teen) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast (Widojes) Warnings: None

Jester keeps trying to seduce Caleb, but they laugh together too much to actually have sex. Jester is determined to find a way to sleep with him.

Reccer Says: This is very sweet and made me laugh as well! The relationship is so fulfilling and fantastic.

young blood, stand and deliver by thatsparrow (2,175 words, General) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett (Beaujes) Warnings: None

Beau goes to R.A.!Dairon for advice about her crush on her roommate, Jester. The fic only has a few sentences of Jester, but Beau's crush on Jester rings throughout the fic.

Reccer Says: Such good voices of Beau and Dairon! Also the internalized guilt of being a woman loving a woman is addressed really well while still being completely in character. I love how the environment feels true to the characters as well.

could it be wrong, when she's just so nice to look at? by exhaustedwerewolf (2,423 words, General) Pairing: Calianna/Jester Lavorre Warnings: None

Suffering from definitely-not-art-block, Jester makes a trip to the museum looking for inspiration, and finds it- but not amongst the paintings on the walls.

Reccer Says: Jester's inner voice is so fun and perfect for her! References to stories, fast paced, capturing little details and how beautiful things are and her sense of humor - it's amazing! It's also very sweet and cute! It feels like warmth and poetry!

So Your Girlfriend and Her Girlfriend Who is Also Your Crush Went to the Gym by LeanMeanSaltineMachine (1,503 words, Teen) Pairing: Calianna/Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett Warnings: Possible Triggers re: Disordered Eating*

Beau does her best to take care of her girlfriend and Calianna after the two go to the gym. She might be having a minor gay crisis. Established Beau/Jester and Jester/Calianna, pre-relationship Beau/Cali.

Reccer Says: Cute!

*Beau mentions how important it is to refill on calories/energy after working out, and there is a scene with Beau making snacks. This may be triggering for people recovering from or with disordered eating.

I usually run when the world starts ending by grayintogreen (4,515 words, General) Pairing: Artagan/Jester Lavorre (Artajes) Warnings: None

Artagan struggles with falling in love and getting complicated.

Reccer Says: A whimsical, yet tragic, take on a fey being uselessly in love with his charge with excellent prose and characterization.

a sapphire's desire by breitweisergallery (16,810 words, Mature) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast (Widojes) Warnings: None

jester pines for archmage caleb while he tries to navigate the war and the mighty nein.

Reccer Says: I enjoyed it!

Thank you for joining us this week’s recc list! All the love to everyone who submitted a fic 💕 All enclosed recommendations were submitted by the community via our submissions form, which you can find here. All fic information is as it was provided by the reccer, so it may not be accurate to the author’s intent or the precise contents of the fic itself. Please assume good intent from all parties 💕

Submissions for next week’s list are already open! We’ll be featuring Alternate Universes. If you have any you’d like to highlight, you can send them in here. The week after that, the theme is Hurt/Comfort and the weeks after that we’re taking recommendations for PC x NPC and Proposals & Marriages! Submissions for all of these themes are currently open.

If you want more rarepair fic, check out @cr-summer-wildflowers and their event collections on ao3! If you want some friendship after all this romance, take a look at @critter-genfic-events and their recc lists! And if you’re interested in everyone’s favorite wizards, you can’t go wrong with the lists at @aeor-is-for-reccing !

Thanks all and have a lovely day/night/timezone! 💕

#critter rarepair recc lists #artagan x fjord x jester #jestrid #widojessek #beaujes #widojes #calianna x jester #calianna x jester x beauregard #artajes #critical role #cr fanfic

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 7 months

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-5- Compelled

As Dawn suspected she would, she missed her corps de ballet level performance. It wasn't the lead role, but she'd fought for her place on the stage and in the company. She'd beat out so many others for her spot and was proud, so it hurt her severely to miss out. Not to mention, she'd missed her plane back to the U.S. and was stranded in a foreign castle where every night she had to worry about death.

Every other evening was a banquet, and each time, she was cleansed, re-dressed, escorted, and protected by Deanna. Each time, Prince N'Jadaka would sit and stare, then disappear after he slit the sacrifices' throats. Where did he run off to? Why didn't he ever dance or drink with his people? Most of all, what did he want with her, and why was she still there?

"It's strange that you're alive and still unbitten," Deanna twirled a yellow flower between her fingers. She, Dawn, and Julip were in the garden to provide Dawn a change in scenery and some fresh air. "Anyone else would've been eaten at the first banquet if not on the spot."

"It's been a week of not dying, I don't know what the hell he's waiting on and if he calls me his pet one more time," Dawn sighed, weaving flower crowns in the lush green grass bursting with colorful wildflowers. She sat one over Deanna's hair. "Why am I being held like a prisoner when everyone here is stronger and faster than me? The fuck am I gonna go?"

"Did you see the way Abidemi was looking at you, waiting for us to leave you in the library alone?"

"When?"

"Yesterday. You didn't see her?" Deanna hadn't had a friend in decades and didn't anticipate her own protectiveness. She was unwilling to let anything happen to Dawn outside of the prince's doing.

"Of course you didn't see her. It's hard for the living to detect us. You wouldn't sense us if we didn't want to be sensed," Julip chimed, lying on his back. "If Deanna ever left your side, even for a second, you'd probably be dead. The impulse control with some of the newers is, as you say, shit."

"That's really what you think is gonna happen to me," Dawn asked directly. He slid a finger across his throat.

Dawn narrowed her eyes, contemplating giving him the crown she'd made for him. "Anyway. On top of that, I'm wearing dead people's clothes, isn't that some kind of bad luck?"

"Bad luck is what you're waiting on," Julip adds. "The prince is going to come to his senses, and you're going to be a mess that gets cleaned from the floor. That's how it goes."

"And if I don't die," Dawn challenged. "You'd better hope I'm not like you because I'll be annoying the shit out of you in revenge for the next twenty years."

"It's a matter of time. Enjoy this," he gestured to the field of wildflowers, "Because when the prince realizes you are not who he thinks you might be, you're dead."

"Who does he think I am?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm telling you not to form any delusions. When it's your time, die like the rest."

"I can't lie. It would be nice to have someone normal around," Deanna's face brightened.

"At least I'd have super strength," Dawn shrugged. "That ain't too bad."

"Don't be stupid," Julip blurted, sitting up. "Don't even entertain it. We're damned, Dawn." It was the first time he'd used her name. "I don't think you truly understand the magnitude of what I'm saying to you. I cannot die. I'll never see my parents or have children of my own. I'll never see the world beyond these trees. Do you think I'd ever choose this if I knew 104 years ago that I'd be a soulless parasite trapped in a prison for eternity? There's no reprieve. Do you think I wanna live like this? I do not breathe. I do not sleep. I do not shit. I don't make decisions for myself. I miss normal food, Dawn. I miss normal people! This isn't natural. We're dead. We should remain dead. We shouldn't be here!"

Deanna fell onto the grass to put a hand on his mouth. "You're going too far. We have our orders." He pushed her off.

"She needs to know. If she turns, this is what she can look forward to. Do you have family? Friends? Interest?"

Dawn nodded.

"Even in death, you'd see them again. But if you come back, you never will. Do you control the simple things in your life? What you eat and when? Where you go? Where you sleep?"

"We don't. There is no 'No'. There is no hiding. Not even my mind is safe. I am a slave."

"Then help me go," Dawn begged, holding his gaze. "You said you don't make any decisions for yourself. Well, what if you could? Just once."

"We can't," Deanna stated, putting her foot down.

"I'd rather die," Dawn glared with conviction.

"The prince has sadistic ways of dealing with our kind, and we're all we have left," Julip clarified, but he didn't blink, and neither did Dawn. "If you get caught," he tested.

"If you're on the verge of a death and he offers you a cure?"

"Fuck a cure," Dawn spat.

"Julip, no!"

"Straight 10 miles to the big tree carved with our initials. Right until you hit the stream. Cross it. Walk 12 miles. Pass the clearing and the snake pit. Left at the cave. You'll die before you hit the stream."

Dawn took off before he could change his mind. She ran straight as fast and as far as she could for approximately 3 miles, rested, and then walked 3 miles until the light from outside of the canopy dropped making it nearly impossible for her to see her way through the dense trees. Her field of vision narrowed by 80%, and her speed reduced to a careful crawl as she cautiously combed through potential dangers. She'd never see the initials without light.

"Shit," she panted, looking back. The whole situation was fucked. She couldn't go back, but she couldn't go forward and risk falling into danger or missing the tree. She also couldn't hide or run if one of the hoard came after her. All she could do was hunker down in the open and wait for daylight, which was equally dangerous.

That's what she did.

Meanwhile...

Prince N'Jadaka had Julip detained deep in the castle dungeon where every bone in his body was repeatedly broken, allowed to heal, and then broken again. Semi, a trusted guard, was personally responsible for beating the afterlife out of insolent subjects who went against the prince. The screams of the woman in the green dress were loud in a neighboring cell.

"I compelled you and your moronic sister to keep that woman within your sight, and what have you done?"

Compulsion: The ability to control the mind of another through eye contact or verbal demands. Only Prince N'Jadaka is known to have this ability.

N'Jadaka was irritated, but more than that, he was curious. "What about her could cause someone as unspoiled and indifferent as you, Julip, to fight against compulsion," he questioned telepathically, looking deep into Julip's brown eyes while bending back and breaking his fingers one by one. "There must be a reason."

"She'll die quickly on her own like all other humans with no business in the woods," Julip groaned weakly, now under stronger compulsion. "I made a choice for the first time in a century. No one else will fall under the misery of your tyranny." His head dropped as N'Jadaka turned, leaving him to Semi.

N'Jadaka was no fool. He, too, had sensed something strange about Dawn. Something internal warned him that letting her perish would be a grave mistake, one that he'd regret. It was the reason he'd taken such an interest when she'd entered the forest. It was the sole reason he'd rescued her. He had his theories...

In the dark of night, the fearsome prince moved soundlessly through ancient and majestic trees, tall and dense. He knew every corner of the 3,258 mile rainforest, and Dawn was easy to track. She hadn't gotten far, just a few miles.

He kept his eyes on her, trailing from above until she settled on the ground with her back against a tree. It was a foolish place to make her bed. Hours slipped by, and she was wrapped in the silk of venomous tarantulas. They covered her from head to toe, yet she didn't feel it. He hated that about humans. Their incompetence, fragility, and lack of perception made it impossible for him to sympathize, but that same feeling in his gut told him to keep her alive. So he summoned his green parrots. They were compelled to roam the skies and serve as his eyes. They circled above her, swooping down to snatch, eat, and intimidate spiders. When Dawn did wake, she wasn't afraid.

The song of insects was alive with the chirp of crickets. The starlit leaves of vines and bushes reflected the changing blues from the sky peaking through branches that stretched like fingers. The morning was starting to break.

In a single leap, his heavy body rustled the leaves up high like wind. He was as a bird on the branch, a ghost floating above. He followed her, watching as she tiredly ran. He saw the joy on her face as she reached the big tree, a marker for the path Julip gave her. There were several ways out depending on where you were going, some more dangerous than others. Her route was short by comparison, but dangerous, and Julip was correct. She'd never make it.

It took her a full 14 hrs to get to the stream where she collapsed, nearly sticking her head under the water. He forgot she needed to eat and drink. It was also too hot for her. She'd been sweating and breathing heavily. But night had come, and it was time for her to find a place to settle.

So then why wasn't she? Instead of stopping, she stepped into the stream, assuming it to be shallow. She took three steps and dropped off of the underwater cliff into fifteen feet of moving water. She might have seen it in the light had she waited. The stream was 15 ft wide and 15 ft deep.

N'Jadaka's initial thought was to keep his distance. However, she had not returned to the surface. Maybe she couldn't swim, but who would venture so deep into the enchanted forest alone, crossing deep streams if they could not swim?

Dawn's tried to kick and swim toward the surface, but something had a firm hold on her ankle and pulled her down. The more she struggled to swim in a panic, the further and deeper she was pulled until her ankle was crushed.

Bimpe.

She felt teeth sink into her leg directly over her ankle, and she released the last bit of air she'd been holding in. She couldn't see a thing as the bloody water entered her lungs. She was drowning fast, and there was nothing she could do. Feeling another bite, she kicked weakly, losing consciousness, but just before she did, she saw a pair of chilling red lights in the dark.

N'Jadaka dove expecting to snatch Dawn from the waters and be done with it, but instead, his crimson eyes met the wide eyes of another vampire of his court.

"Bimpe," N'Jadaka seethed, telepathically warning the woman of the carnage that was to come. Neither Semi nor Huli were there to talk him down from it. As the prince, only HE could kill. Bimpe was dead within seconds, ripped with his bare hands into fleshy pieces floating to the bottom and shards of bone--decapitated with his fangs.

He noticed quickly what looked like decaying bodies down below, weighted down so that they could not float to the surface. The water was just murky enough to have hid them from him and the royal court.

He pulled Dawn up to the surface. Her heartbeat was feint, and she was not breathing. She was also badly bitten. He had a choice to make: Leave her, and she'd die. Indulge in her blood, and she'd die. Convert her, and she'd be his unwilling slave for all eternity like everyone else. Or something he'd never done... Heal her completely and release her. He could send her back to her own time and society.

For that, he'd have to draw out the venom. He'd never attempted. The only thing he could think to do was to bleed her and deliver her his blood in the seconds before she died or else she'd just die or turn. So that's what he did.

What he did know was that he could make her comfortable by sharing just enough of his blood to heal her wounds, but he had to be cautious not to give her too much. A drop would do. It was something he'd learned as a child. A quick cut with his nail across his wrist yielded the one drop that dripped onto her tongue. Instantly, he saw the difference in her health and appearance.

The sound of cracking wood sent him back into the trees to observe a small jeep of men riding through. He recognized the jeep as he'd seen their partners in the forest many times through decades of drug, human, and rare animal trafficking. Their blood all had a similar taste. Subpar, but edible. He had subjects to feed, and quantity sometimes was better than quality.

He prepared to sweep in and take them, like a hawk watching its prey, but he stopped when he witnessed their attempt to revive Dawn. It was rare that humans would do anything that was not self-serving. Curious, he watched as they breathed into her mouth and pressed her chest, relieving her body of excess water. With their prodding and his blood taking immediate effect, she eventually came to.

Exposing his presence from the tree branches, he jumped fifteen feet down and landed on his feet a yard ahead of the jeep causing it to smash in as though wrapping a metal pole when they attempted to run him over. The jeep buckled, injuring the passengers, but he hadn't moved nor did he have a scratch.

They took her with them as they continued, but in the wrong direction. They were taking her further into the forest, toward their own camp. He could hear her feint plea to be left alone go ignored as they spoke of selling her. She'd have been more afraid had she understood their language, but N'Jadaka understood, and it was just as he'd thought.

No one would miss these men.

He looked down at himself in irritation. If anything, Bimpe had gotten his favorite snow-white kaftan all wet and bloody. She deserved to die again if only he could.

Emerging from the wreck, the bruised and bleeding men who could still run, fled the vehicle, calling him the Cursed Prince as they scattered in fear. He didn't pursue them immediately since he knew where they'd go. Instead, he picked up the equally bruised and unconscious Dawn and delivered her himself to the edge of the forest as far as the barrier would allow him to go. Gently, he laid her where she was sure to be discovered in the day by tour guides.

"Return when you're well, pet," he whispered, brushing her face as he embellished the positive memories of her forest experience and dulled the negative. "Remember me in the best light. I've yet to know if my theories are true." Unconscious, his words would take hold in her even stronger than if she were awake. She'd return whether it was 1 year or 30, and he had nothing but time to wait.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer

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delopsia · 1 year

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DEL PLEASE IGNORE THIS REQUEST / THOUGHT IF SUCH THINGS ARE CLOSED BUT 💃🏽 i was re-reading wildflowers and... pillow princess rhett? 💐 he went from strictly riding your strap to letting you lay him the fuck down? 👀🎤 would you mind elaborating?

the way in which I have needed a few DAYS to process this concept, oh my god, okay, okay. I didn't mean for this to turn into 2,600 words, but it did?? 😭

The process of turning Rhett into a pillow princess is like a game of tug of war. It's a wonder how you've even got him riding a strap in the first place.

When you first brought it up, he just laughed and asked if you were playing another one of those cute pranks you found on the internet. But you weren't laughing, and his ears were slowly turning bright red as he stuttered out a meek "absolutely not."

Alright. Worth a try, but you can't say you're surprised about his answer. He's still figuring out that he's allowed to be human and not be called weak for it. He probably needs a good decade or two before he can even talk about the concept without crawling out of his own skin.

But when you tumble around in the bench seat of his pickup, and he squirms out of those old, faded blue jeans, you know something is amiss. There's no need for them to come off, not when his zipper works just fine.

What you don't know is that Rhett's been regretting telling you no for weeks. He can't quit thinking about it; the longer it floats around his head, the more he wants to go back on his word. So, so curious, but he's already given you an answer; he's afraid to go back on that.

The only thing that can worm it out of Rhett is the lack of impulse control that comes when he's tired.

"Ya remember that thing," even now, with his cock in your mouth, he's so nervous about bringing it up that he's about to climb out the window and flee the country, "that you suggested, with the..." and the words are too heavy for his tongue to lift. The simple idea of saying it out loud has his tongue bolted to the floor of his mouth.

At first, he's convinced he's made a mistake. Your curious fingertips tickle, and it's such an odd sensation to feel someone prod around inside of you. But then you're hitting something, and he's absolutely hooked on it. Just say the word, and he's so ready to go that his thighs are trembling before you've even got him undressed.

But Rhett Abbott is finicky as all hell. He'll drive his truck through a burning building, but if anyone else is in the driver's seat, he freaks out.

Your fingers are one thing. Small, doesn't quite reach as deep as the strap does. It hardly bugs him if he's in control or not because he knows he can easily reach down and pull them out. Such a small intrusion that it doesn't phase him.

The strap is something else entirely. You've asked him about it before, but he doesn't know how to explain it. Deep down, he knows it's just you; you're the only person who seems to get him, the only one who he can truly be himself around. And yet, letting you lay him down and fuck him as he does you...

it scares the hell out of him.

Maybe it's the unfamiliarity with it all, the lack of control, submitting to and taking whatever it is you choose to give him. Or maybe it's the overwhelming vulnerability that comes with having someone quite literally inside of you. Whatever it is, he struggles with it.

There's one afternoon when you almost get him there.

You've just gotten home from a long weekend at an out-of-state rodeo; Rhett's exhausted; you're a little car-sick from Perry's shit driving, and both of you are struggling not to jump each other's bones. Rodeo nights almost always end in sex; there's no better way to burn off that excess adrenaline and energy.

But you've spent the past two nights sharing a hotel room with Rhett's nosey parents because Perry can't even book a hotel room without fucking it up. Two nights in a row, you and Rhett have stumbled out of those rodeo grounds, lip-locked, halfway out of your clothes, so, so close to getting what you want. Only to be interrupted by Rhett's nosey mother wondering where he is.

Rhett's pulled something in his back, but he's babbling about wanting you to ride you, and it's not quite possible with how those muscles ache once he's on top of you. He tries, fuck, he really tries, but he can't even straddle you without wincing.

So here you've got him, pale thighs wrapped around your hips while you gently ease his favorite strap into him. It's rather new, the thickest one in the collection, and somewhat short compared to the others, but he loves the stretch of it.

"How're you feeling?" You're only halfway in, guided by the hand on your waist that tells you when to move and when to stop.

A thin sheen of sweat covers his chest, glistening as it rises and falls with deep breaths that whistle through his dry throat. Eyelashes flutter, hips shifting up.

"Lil' further," he croaks, licking his lips. But as you do just that, you watch that thin ring of muscle clamp down, and he yelps, "stop, stop, stop—!"

You've already stopped, but it's too late. You recognize that torn look in his eye, tied between want and nerves. Nerves that ultimately win because he can't relax around the silicone again.

"I can't," breaking eye contact, he turns to hide his face in the pillow, "it's not...I don't think I can..."

The night ends much differently than anticipated. Sleepy, slow sex that's made up of more kisses than anything else. He gave it a shot, and he recognized when he couldn't do it, that's all that matters to you.

You'd be lying if the fantasy of laying Rhett the fuck down and ruining him didn't plague you. It visits you in your dreams and sits in the back of your head while you're at work. Alas, you can always satiate those wonders with the pretty sight of Rhett's thighs straining as he rides you.

"Gotta be ready for that rodeo tomorrow," he says like it's a believable excuse. You and he are both very aware that he's becoming addicted to this.

For a while there, you forget about it.

Until Rhett's last rodeo of the season comes around, and, although he ultimately wins, he pays the price for it. Somewhere between falling off the bull and landing, the animal turns around and blindly runs him over. The announcer calls it Wabang's most crushing win yet.

"I 'oughta step on you myself," you hiss, but your words carry no venom. You wish they did, there's an attempt to mix it in there, but it fades when you realize he's trying for a hello kiss.

"'m sorry," words murmured between stolen kisses, "if it helps, I'd much rather you bein' the one to step on me."

Bruises decorate his skin like polka dots, his left hand has been stepped on, a few fingers dislocated, and his ankle isn't broken, but it's close enough to it that a hospital visit is necessary. There are more injuries than meets the eye, a mild concussion slipped past the initial checks, and he's got a gnarly cut on the back of his head that requires some stitches. The nurse wants to keep him overnight, but Rhett may actually implode.

What isn't damaged, though, is his sex drive.

Actually, you think it has only increased. Until he's allowed to walk without that boot on his foot, he's stuck in crutches that his injured hand can barely hang onto, forcing him off the ranch until further notice. A rare opportunity for him to spend a few weeks with you. Nothing to take him away, and only hand him back when he's so exhausted that he can barely walk.

But he's got nothing to do.

Movies on the couch only go so far. He's been busying himself with sneaking out to bring you lunch while you're at work and has been putting in his every effort to understand this golf game on his laptop, but he's bored. All of a sudden, he has time to think, and he hates it. Thinking leads to images of you appearing in his head, and those images lead to a familiar tightening in his sweatpants.

A tightening that he can't do a goddamn thing about because his dominant hand can barely even hold a cup, never mind wrap around his cock. It just feels weird with the other one.

Then comes a morning when he wakes up in your bed, and his mind starts wandering.

And it wanders

and it wanders.

To how much he wishes he were able to ride you in this state, to how he misses the stretch of that pink strap, to how wonderful that silicone feels against his prostate. It's hard to avoid; he knows where you keep those toys, and his eyes dart in that direction every chance they get. He turns on a sad movie. Talks to his momma for an hour and a half. Bakes those cookies you forgot to put in the oven and sits in front of it, watching them the entire time.

but

just

can't

quit

fucking

thinking

about

it.

When you come home that afternoon, you're pleasantly greeted by the aroma of freshly baked cookies wrapping around you like a warm hug on a winter day. They're already put away, the baking sheet freshly washed and drying on the rack, with no sign of Rhett to be found.

"Rhett?" You don't know what you expected, but you didn't expect...this.

There, laying in that clawfoot bath, his good arm draped across the rim, chin propped on top of it, is Rhett. From a distance, he looks like he's just woken up, but as you step into the bathroom, you recognize that it's more resigned frustration than anything else.

"When you get the chance," he's staring off into the distance, eyes glazed over, sounding something like a zombie, "will you please try to fuck me again?"

They say a cold shower helps, but as you help him out of the tub, you realize that it must not apply to baths because he's completely unaffected. Hard, wetly smacking against his thigh so loud that it echoes, evoking a laugh out of both of you.

On your first pass through the bedroom, you hadn't noticed the lubricant sitting on the bedside table, but it's the first thing your eyes land on once you're settled between his pale legs. You don't recall leaving it there; it's been a few days since you last used it, but it doesn't take you long to figure out how it wound up there.

"You loosened yourself up for me?" It's more of an observation than a question; Rhett's tight. It usually takes a few minutes just to work him up to two fingers, but you've already got three in him, working in and out in slow strokes.

"My good hand turns out to be useful after all," that smugness melts away the second you walk your fingers up the underside of his cock, so worked up that even this is heaven.

And, so, here you are.

In that same position you were the last time, Rhett's pretty legs wrapped around your hips, squeezing you tight as you push his favorite pink strap into his loosened hole. But this time is different.

His legs are urging you faster, deeper, too impatient to let you move at your own pace, head resting against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering. Those blue eyes are so dark that they look brown, glossed over with a frenzied want; it's intoxicating to look at. Your hips come flush together, nothing else for him to take, and with a soft gasp, he smiles.

"How do you feel?" You murmur, running your hand up his chest, watching how his back arches up into your touch.

"Fuckin' full," his voice is strained, always gets like this in the beginning, "y'can move."

Tentatively, you draw back, only about halfway, then push back in. Rhett's eyes flutter wide open, the whites so bright in this dim bedroom, before they flutter shut with the softest whimper you've ever heard. You repeat it; he grabs ahold of the headboard.

Over the years, you've put in the hard work of teaching Rhett that he's allowed to make noise in bed; you want to hear those breathy little sounds, but never have you heard him quite like this. The sounds you're fucking out of him are downright filthy, whining high in his throat, gasping for breath around strangled moans, whimpering with every long thrust in.

Grabby hands reach up for you, "closer," the word quite literally punched out of him by a twitchy thrust; your hips aren't quite used to this yet, "please, please, I want...I want..."

It feels strange to settle onto your forearms, caging his head in much as he does to you, but oh, is it nice. You're starting to see why Rhett does the things he does; there's nothing quite like feeling those strong hands cling to your shoulders, dull nails lightly scratching.

"Fuck, fuck, please keep doin' that," he doesn't even need to tell you; there's nothing you want to see more than his back arching up into your short thrusts, cock bouncing against his belly as he tries to stifle his sounds. "Feels good, baby, that feels so—ah~!"

That's not all, though; no, he lets you roll him over and fuck him from behind. Face against the pillow, peeking over his shoulder. Gets a little impatient when you stop to admire the view, cock heavy between his legs, ass so soft and squishy in your hand.

"Y'g'nna take a fuckin' take a picture or somethin'?" He grunts, muffled by the pillow. And actually, now that he's given you the idea...

By the time you slide back into him, he's gotten needy again, babbling into the pillow as you fill him up. This position is easier for you, one hand between his shoulder blades, pinning him down while you fuck him with those long, slow strokes that have his legs kicking against the bed.

"You don't, that's—hah!" Weakly, one hand reaches out to grasp your wrist, like you'll fly away if he doesn't. "That's mean."

Taking your hand off his shoulders, you reach beneath him, taking hold of his neglected length and watching him jump, "what were you saying?"

He's going to get you back for that one later, but right now, all he can do is bury his face into the pillow and take what you give him. Pushing his ass back into your thrusts, meeting you halfway, fucking himself in and out of your loose hand. He doesn't need much, not by a long shot. The muscles in his back begin to ripple, tightening as his whimpers gradually become pitchier.

"Come on, cowboy," you coo, smug, "cum for me." And with the faintest whimper, his left leg kicks against the mattress, and he paints your hand white.

What you don't realize at the time is that you've created a monster.

Now that Rhett's had a taste, he's hooked. All you have to do is give him a certain look, and he's putty in your hand. Ready for just about anything. Willing to get on his knees and messily suck off your strap until you're satisfied, always eager to open his legs for you.

When he gets out of that boot, it only gets worse. As soon as you get home, you bend him over the kitchen island until he's sobbing. On a slow day at work, you grab a bag and make it a point to fuck him out in the field, and you're sure to make him keep those old leather chaps on. The only time he complains is when he has to walk home on shaky legs.

You've thought about this for months, but now, you've not only got what you wanted, but you've also got an entire folder's worth of new material in your phone too.

You know. Just in case.

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rebeccathenaturalist · 10 months

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I'm working on turning my front lawn into a flower garden/meadow with a mix of non-native flowers that were already here and native flowers and grasses I'll be adding. Is there a way to plant them so that they gradually take over the grass without having to completely rip up the turf?

Hi, @teenslib! You're going to have to knock back the grass first, and unfortunately your non-native flowers may be a casualty of that. Mowing the current lawn as short as you can and doing so repeatedly can kill a lot of them off, especially if you mow right before a really hot day. If you do this at least weekly between now and fall (or even more often if you have the time and energy), then in fall you could sow heavily with native wildflower seeds. It doesn't mean you won't have any grasses or other non-natives coming back, especially since there's probably a sizeable seed bank, but you'll at least be giving your natives a better foothold to start with. And in the spring you could add some native plant starts to take up even more space. Then re-seed with native wildflower seeds in fall again. Basically you want to fill in as much space with native plants to give the non-natives as little foothold as possible.

Beyond that, you'll have to do a lot of hand-weeding of what you don't want in there. Many of those non-native plants can be very persistent so it's going to be a marathon, not a sprint. And there aren't a lot of native plants that can compete with them without help from us (hence why invasive species have taken over so much land.)

If you have the option, covering over areas of land with cardboard or heavy black plastic can also kill off pretty much everything underneath. If you leave it for at least a year--I lay down cardboard in summer, and then don't uncover until the second fall afterward--that does a pretty effective job. You can sometimes get nice big cardboard boxes from appliance stores.

If you're less patient and you have the funds, you can also just put a few layers of cardboard down, then put fresh, uncontaminated soil over it, and sow whatever you want in there. This is especially nice if you want to do landscaping of any sort, with paths in between patches of wildflowers.

#teenslib #habitat restoration #restoration ecology #native plants #wildflowers #invasive species #invasive plants #gardens #gardening

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apocalypticavolition · 9 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 9: Tellings of the Wheel

Hello again! This reread is filled with spoilers of all kinds (that Dracula guy isn't just a funny foreigner - he's a vampire!) and is best avoided if you don't want to read that sort of thing. For everyone else, let's get started!

The chapter icon is another dragon's fang, probably associated with Rand's dream and the general sense of panic in the village.

Rand’s heart pounded as he ran, and he stared in dismay at the barren hills surrounding him.

Dream sequence time! This is quite possibly our first sighting of Tel'aran'rhiod, a plot device that lets Jordan get away with far more dream sequences than most authors can. After all, if you die in T'A'R, you die in real life. Unless you're Lanfear, apparently.

But that's way, way away.

This was not just a place where spring was late in coming; spring had never come here, and never would come. Nothing grew in the cold soil that crunched under his boots, not so much as a bit of lichen. He scrambled past boulders, twice as tall as he was; dust coated the stone as if never a drop of rain had touched it.

If Rand is in T'A'R, then he's in the worst possible place to be in T'A'R: the Blight. Indeed, after just a little bit more running he ends up in the shadow of Shayol Ghul itself.

That bleak stone spire, a dagger stabbing at the heavens, was the source of his desolation. He had never seen it before, but he knew it. The memory of it flashed away like quicksilver when he tried to touch it, but the memory was there. He knew it was there.

Rand's very first LTT memory! He's going to get a lot of these, and this one is particularly interesting because it's later stated (I think in the BWB but possibly in the text itself) that in the AoL, Shayol Ghul was just a pleasant island. Ignoring the weirdness that is it not being where the Collam Daan was (I don't get it and I never will), this implies that the Forsaken took the time to renovate the island into a more forbidding mountain by the time of the Hundred Companions or that the Dark One's touch did it all on its own. Either way, the mountain wasn't affected by the Breaking... Or duh, the island was the first thing Broken when all the Companions went crazy together. The memory is hard for Rand to capture not just because it's his first one, but because it's from a time Lews Therin himself doesn't remember well.

Serve me, a voice whispered in the stillness of his mind. A familiar voice. If he listened hard enough he was sure he would know it. Serve me. He shook his head to try to get it out of his head. Serve me! He shook his fist at the black mountain. “The Light consume you, Shai’tan!”

If you say the Dark One's name in a dream, does it count? The smell of death lays thick over Rand immediately, but it's Ishamael who shows up being all crazy eyes and maybe it's just his B.O.

Not caring if he fell over the edge, he threw himself away. He had to get away. Far away. He fell, flailing at the air, wanting to scream, finding no breath for screaming, no breath at all.

Rand warping so easily from the Blight to Tar Valon is another thing that makes this place feel T'A'R-like more than a vacuole like Ishamael sometimes uses in this book. Rand wants and needs safety and ends up where he's told was safe, but of course even in the dream it isn't. First Ish tries to pull him away from the city, but Rand gets there. Then we get this oddity.

Smiling people walked by on either side of him, people dressed in so many colors they made him think of a field of wildflowers. Some of them spoke to him, but he could not understand, though the words sounded as if he should. But the faces were friendly, and the people gestured him onward, over the bridge with its intricate stonework, onward toward the shining, silver-streaked walls and the towers beyond.

T'A'R is not normally so populated a place! I think Ishamael switches up his tactics at this point, trying to get Rand caught in a particular dream to make him more malleable. Once he gets into the city, he finds it a lot harder to break the script; the White Tower keeps looming in front of him no matter which way he goes, and everyone is sugar sweet.

His feet itched to join in their dance, and even as he thought of it he was dancing, his steps fitting as if he had known it all from birth. He threw back his head and laughed; his feet were lighter than they had ever been, dancing with. . . . He could not remember the name, but it did not seem important.

Another memory of his past life, though distant. Are they just coming forward because in the dream Rand doesn't mind them too much, so he doesn't try to repress it like he does awake? Does Ish have some crazy technique to make people more in touch with their past lives? Semirhage will later state that people with Rand's condition are almost impossible to cure, so it may well be that the prospect of driving Rand to despair over his memories is worth the risk of him using those memories if such a state can be deliberately induced. Or maybe the first memory is legitimately LTT's and the second is Ish trying to bring Ilyena to mind but failing because Rand's not unlocked it yet.

“We have been waiting for you,” the Myrddraal hissed.

It's a simple trick, but it's brutally effective. By trying to make Rand associate Tar Valon with the Shadow, the chances of him willingly going there and possibly benefiting from the help Moiraine and Siuan would try to provide (though again I can't stress enough how bad an idea it would be to try) are much lower.

He rubbed a sore spot on his side. Apparently he had slept with the sword hilt jabbing him in the ribs.

Rand should get used to having a sore side now, all things considered.

But Rand could see no need to go over every step of the journey from the farm, or his fears, or the Myrddraal on the road. Certainly not his nightmares as he slept by the bed. Especially he saw no reason to mention Tam’s ramblings under the fever. Not yet.

It's sad that despite all this Rand is still doing a better job of communicating with Tam than most people will manage with each other in this series. Of course, if he had told Tam, he might well have put two and two together much too early and really freaked out.

“Then he knows what he’s talking about. You listen sharp, think deep, and guard your tongue. That’s good advice for any dealings beyond the Two Rivers, but most especially with Aes Sedai. And with Warders. Tell Lan something, and you’ve as good as told Moiraine. If he’s a Warder, then he’s bonded to her as sure as the sun rose this morning, and he won’t keep many secrets from her, if any.”

Most of Tam's advice is good and true (especially since he's aware enough to explain the basic principles of how Aes Sedai Truths work, even though he doesn't understand the mechanisms behind them), but his warning about Lan is actually not. Tam has no way of knowing it of course, but Lan and Moiraine are going to have divisions and Lan is just as obsessed with making Rand his found family as Rand is to win him over, so they're not as united a front as all that.

As to what the Aes Sedai got out of it, the stories were silent, but he was not about to believe they did not get something.

I could tell you what the Greens get out of it, Rand, but even your farming education won't have prepared you for those depths of depravity.

The Aes Sedai in general most notably get the benefits of a second pair of eyes and ears (not useless even from a non-channeler) and also a slave who can never truly rebel, because the Aes Sedai can Compel them at any time. This is naturally a huge secret on their end because holy shit is it fucked up.

“Perhaps I’ll follow in a few days anyway. Catch you up on the road. We will see if Marin can keep me in bed when I want to get up.”

Sorry Tam, she can and she will. Further, Nynaeve will leave in the interim, so you'll be convinced not to leave for quite some months yet. Seriously, you don't make it to Tar Valon for AGES. It doesn't even make sense.

Outside the room Mat waited, cloaked and coated and carrying his bow. A quiver hung at his waist. He was rocking anxiously on his heels, and he kept glancing off toward the stairs with what seemed to be equal parts impatience and fear. “This isn’t much like the stories, Rand, is it?” he said hoarsely.

What kind of horribly boring stories do fantasy characters tell each other that at the first sign of anything bad happening everyone's always going, "This never happened in the stories!"??? Dear fantasy writers and would-be fantasy writers: never use this cliche again. It is overused, nonsensical, and adds nothing!

Wondering what they could be watching, Rand went to join him. The Warder muttered at him to take a care, but he did open the door a trifle wider to make room for Rand to look, too.

"Today, I teach him to kill all of his own townsfolk who threaten him. Tomorrow, I teach him to die for our fallen kingdoms in the Blight."

You just know that if Mat had approached the door, Lan would have kicked him in the shins until he sat back down.

Cenn Buie was there, as well, looking uncomfortable.

"I can't believe that the crowd of people I incited to riot are rioting!"

Dead silence fell, except for the shuffling of a few feet as men drew back. Two Rivers folk could fight back if they were attacked, but violence was far from common, and threatening people was foreign to them, beyond the occasional shaking of a fist. Cenn Buie, Bili Congar, and the Coplins were left out front alone. Bili looked as if he wanted to back away, too.

I dunno Jordan, once you've gotten to the torch and pitchfork phase (okay there's no pitchforks but there are torches), they're usually past the point of their conscience kicking in like this. Guess Rand's ta'veren is keeping him alive.

Cenn half lifted his right hand, then looked away from it angrily. “I cannot deny what she did,” he muttered, and he did sound ashamed. “She helped me, and others,” he went on in a pleading tone, “but she’s an Aes Sedai, Bran. If those Trollocs didn’t come because of her, why did they come? We want no part of Aes Sedai in the Two Rivers. Let them keep their troubles away from us.”

I dunno Cenn, even ignoring the Dragon Reborn you don't know about standing some fifty feet away, there is that other dude who can channel claiming to be a Dragon, and the weather is unnaturally evil. The fact that you can't even stick to a single conspiracy theory at a time is what makes you simultaneously so pathetic and so realistic. Ten years ago I woulda called this sequence of dudes who Moiraine healed trying to have her burned at the stake contrived, but not these days.

“Is this what Aemon’s blood has come to?” The Aes Sedai’s voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed every other sound. “Little people squabbling for the right to hide like rabbits? You have forgotten who you were, forgotten what you were, but I had hoped some small part was left, some memory in blood and bone. Some shred to steel you for the long night coming.”

Sorry Moiraine, but the only parts left are in the EF5 (or in Rand's case, his adoptive father), and if it weren't for Perrin, these rabbits would all be dead by the end of book four, no matter how good their longbows are.

Eldrene, so beautiful that it was said the flowers bloomed to make her smile.

Rand will eventually unlock memories of the Songs of Growing and make stuff bloom around him all the time. Did the Songs last a little longer than we think, with Eldrene and others slain in the Trolloc Wars their last practitioners, and the details getting a little mixed up in the telling? Mat hears the Song and thinks it sounds familiar...

At night their cook-fires outnumbered the stars, and dawn revealed the banner of Ba’alzamon at their head. Ba’alzamon, Heart of the Dark. An ancient name for the Father of Lies. The Dark One could not have been free of his prison at Shayol Ghul, for if he had been, not all the forces of humankind together could have stood against him, but there was power there. Dreadlords, and some evil that made that light-destroying banner seem no more than right and sent a chill into the souls of the men who faced it.

The Dark One wasn't there, but he's not Ba'allsy either; Ish is. Just think bro, if you hadn't been sooooo insistent on wiping out Manetheren, its heartlands wouldn't have decayed into the very hinterlands that Rand grew up safely in. For a dude obsessed with breaking the Wheel, you sure are good at playing into the Pattern.

But some did not flee. First in a trickle, then a river, then a flood, men went, not to safety, but to join the army fighting for their land. Shepherds with bows, and farmers with pitchforks, and woodsmen with axes. Women went, too, shouldering what weapons they could find and marching side by side with their men

Literally Manetheren has been fighting an apocalyptic war for two centuries and they STILL aren't throwing every able-bodied woman at the problem? Maybe if you'd used the full extent of your populace, you could have wrapped things up in fifty years instead of two hundred plus!

*glares at Jordan*

But the price was high for Manetheren. Eldrene had drawn to herself more of the One Power than any human could ever hope to wield unaided. As the enemy generals died, so did she die, and the fires that consumed her consumed the empty city of Manetheren, even the stones of it, down to the living rock of the mountains. Yet the people had been saved.

Between the manner of her death and the relative circumstances (the loss of her husband and Warder), people including me are pretty convinced that Egwene is Eldrene reborn. It's nice to know that this time around she'll do it a little better, and instead of burning out and taking everything with her, she helps sew reality back together instead.

Other wars would wrack them in years to come, until at last their corner of the world was forgotten and at last they had forgotten wars and the ways of war. Never again did Manetheren rise.

Moiraine skims over a lot of details that aren't really relevant to her, "Try to burn me at the stake and I'll end you with just a fraction of the power Eldrene Sedai used to nuke her enemies" spiel, but we don't have to! Manetheren would be replaced by two kingdoms, Farashelle and Dhowlan. The former was the northern section and held the territory that would become the Two Rivers, the latter was basically Ghealdan, the kingdom whose queen would later swear fealty to the man rebuilding Manether--

Wait, what's that? Sanderson completely tossed aside Perrin's thread of rebuilding Manetheren? Whoops!

The two kingdoms occasionally skirmished, with Farashelle trying to restore Manetheren to its former glory, but nothing ever came of it thanks to Garen's Wall. A thousand years after the Trolloc Wars, Farashelle was conquered by False Dragon Amalasan and then claimed by Hawkwing and Dhowlan was conquered by Hawkwing directly. This tale of reunification is a fun parallel to Rand the real Dragon growing up in western Andor and Perrin the conqueror uniting both regions for his k-

Oh. Right.

After Hawkwing's death, Farashelle was briefly independent until conquered by Andor. Dhowlan was eventually made into Ghealdan by a compact of four nations that established a Crown of the High Council, paralleling the compact of four towns in the Two Rivers that would lead to the establishment of a new kingdom-

Er... guess not.

Oh well, it's not like the only note Jordan left behind on Perrin specifically stated he was supposed to become king or anything.

Weep for Manetheren. Weep for what is lost forever.

This was supposed to be ironic by the end, but since it isn't, I implore you to obey Moiraine and WEEP. Lord knows I'm going to.

Lan pulled Rand back and shut the door. “Let’s go, boy.” The Warder started for the back of the inn. “Come along, both of you. Quickly!”

Now that you're done weeping, let's end on a lighthearted note: Lan cares enough about Rand to address him specifically. Mat meanwhile, he's clearly only bringing along because Moiraine told him to.

Next time: Awesome speech finished, our heroes are finally ready to think about talking about planning a committee to consider the best way to organize their pre-departure if and when they can finalize a date.

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #robert jordan #rand al'thor #ishamael #tam al'thor #lan mandragoran #mat cauthon #moiraine damodred

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