#we got Trouble right here in river city

[nyctophiliq]

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

i have refrained from making this post, both for the reason of not wanting to be ridiculed as a "know it all" and because i thought people in this day and age, where we have the internet to do almost the impossible would conclude to themselves that helping is now not an impossible thing.

but here we are.

i feel like a lot of you out there, who might not have a following, or has a big following but doesn’t post has completely ignore the important aspects of the internet that they claim to be using.

i sense that none of you above want to acknowledge that there is a world outside of your tumblr, because why would you? the sole purpose of you coming here was to get away from the real life around you, to have something to ground yourself with instead of having to face the dark, gruesome troubles that you are having but all i see is hiding, not dealing. now that that real life is with you on your dashboard, talking about people dying of bombs, slaughter, hunger, and dehydration is taking away the sense of escape that you came here to seek. and by no means i am defending you, silent creatures, i am dragging you by the collar of your shirt through the mud for your inhumane actions.

it shows how some of you cherish life, wanting it to be as perfect as possible- going to therapists to deal with your trauma, going to the store to not starve, enjoying the police and military of a secure country that has fallen into your hand by the right of your birth. you say you are depressed and not well, voice your concerns about how some people neglect to even think about your mental health because the person dismissing your problems could be only a horrible person in turn.

how does it not hurt to see other people in pain, being hurt on purpose and not thing that “i should maybe do something, i wouldn’t wanna be in the place they are, wouldn’t wanna be going through what they are”. to see you holler about your right to a better life, a good mental health is outragious. you believe in your right to have that why can’t you believe that other people deserve it too?

how can you go a day without talking about, or at least acknowledging in your own words that what you have gone through- all that trauma, that abuse, being cut up, and spit at- can’t be as bad or twice as bad for other people? of course we can talk about our problems, we can say that we are struggling but we have to at least have the decency to say that we are not the only ones.

telling yourself that someone else is in bigger trouble than you won’t help you, ignoring your pain for somebody else’s doesn’t make yours go away but it can make you realize that somehow there has to be a way through it- going to a therapist to work on your issues for example. a lot of you don’t understand that the life you have, the life you love and cherish despite how horrible it might have been before others want to have it too? the relief of being able to say “shit happened, but i got through it”, to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to have a family, friends, siblings, and people around them, to have their own religion, background, city of birth that brings them closer as a community, to have somewhere to belong.

our world has been so easy, we don’t have to go to war to help, we don’t have to spend money to help- we only need our voice, that simple click, and the reblog to let others out there know that this is not okay and that people are fighting for them, to have them hope for another day, to have them endure for a brighter future.

in this day and age we have become so pleasantly blissed by the “bystander affect”, letting everything slip by because “hells, it’s easier to be like this than actually do something”. it shows how many of you are fighting, how many of you accepted defeat, how many of you still have hope.

and i mean all offense.

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

#🍃 — moss rambles !

[shyvioletcat]

Oh hi! Yes, This is something a little new and different, especially for @sjmcrackshipmonth. For Pirate Day my wonderful friend @sassyhobbits​ and I came up with a little idea, she came up with this wonderful artwork and I wrote a fic and we had so much fun. So, without further rabbling here is my first official Aelin x Fenrys work. 

CW: it’s smutty, like really smutty. Secondhand embarrassment 

FIND THE ACCOMPANYING ARTWORK HERE.

~~~~~

People told Aelin she was mad for running a tavern in a pirate port, and at times she would have to admit that they were right. Brawls were common, there had been damage to the ceilings from more gunshots than she could count, when things truly got out of hand there was an occasional stabbing. Aelin had threatened carousers here and there herself down the barrel of the pistol she kept stowed away in a dark corner of the counter. But for all its trouble the White Stag thrived under her charge. She could never be idle and a tavern in a pirate port like this was a lucrative business. And it wasn’t like she was without protection. 

Rhoe Galathynius was the most prominent merchant in Orynth, which made him a veritable king amongst men. Coin was the power in these waters, and their city on the river thrived under his watchful eye and scheming. So the fancy, looping gold lettering of her family name under the wood carved sign of the rearing white stag hanging above her door let patrons know who they were dealing with. It was an assurance for both her and her customers that serious misdeeds would be met with severe punishment, and that kept people coming to her fine establishment night after night. 

Tonight was busy, patrons filling nearly every space they could. It was good for business but it was running Aelin off her feet. Usually she was content to watch from the landing above the main floor or slip through the crowd mingling, leaving the bartending to those she hired. But tonight with a barmaid ill that’s where Aelin found herself—pouring pint after pint, the pockets of her skirts full of coin. The gossip was that a few ships had docked over the past few days, bringing an influx of commerce and bodies to the city. Aelin hadn’t caught the names of the ships, but from the energy the city hummed they must have been successful with their seaborn endeavours. 

“Lass, two more!” A man weathered by wind and salt called to her. From the way he swayed he probably didn’t need another, let alone two, she would have to cut him off after this. 

Aelin grabbed two tankards from below the bar and filled them with beer from the keg behind her. By the second the flow was slowing, a sure sign she’d need to send Ren down to the cellar for another. His main job was to provide muscle when things got out of hand as pirates and their affiliates tended to do. It was just convenient for her that his muscles were useful for other things as well. When she had a moment to breathe she’d have to track him down.

“All clean,” Luca said, setting down a clean crate of tankards. “And more to wash I see, my hands will be shrivelled as prunes by the end of the night.”

“My apologies, but I’ll be sure to compensate you accordingly,” Aelin took a handful of her green overskirt and shook it enough that the coins in her pocket jingled. 

Luca’s eyes lit up as the crate of dirty tankards was set in front of him. “I’ll get these cleaned up right away.”

Aelin smiled then started unloading the clean drinkware that would be dirty again all too soon. She didn’t bother to make the arrangement look tidy, on a night like this no one would notice. Feeling sweat gather on her brow Aelin dotted it away with on her sleeve. It wasn’t a particularly hot night but with the amount of bodies in the tavern and how busy it was, her temperature wasn’t surprising. She was glad of the stray breezes that would brush over her shoulders, bare from the way her blouse draped off them. 

“Spare a drink for a poor, weary sailor?”

The question came from behind her, smooth and sensuous, the words were nothing but a tempting caress over her skin. Aelin knew that voice and knew its full intent, even though it had been missing from her tavern for months. As pleased as she was to hear it she made sure her smile was hidden away as she turned around slowly, a hand on her hip conveying her feigned displeasure at being interrupted. This is how they would start the game, and if he played along they would both win. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam, what brings your sorry arse into my tavern,” Aelin drawled.

Fenrys’ smile was pure taunt and flirtation. “The rum and the company of course.”

“So the rum takes precedence over the company then?” Aelin said, stepping up to be just a little closer.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, leaning his elbows on the counter that was still between them and not bothering to hide the appreciative sweep his eyes did over her. “You know what the truth of it is.”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she felt the corner of her lips tilt into a crooked smile. But she also wasn’t about to concede, “Do I, though? Nary a word all these long months, for all I knew you had found a more favourable port and run off with a prettier girl.”

“Prettier than you? I think I’d be hard pressed to find someone as lovely as you, Miss Galathynius,” Fenrys said.

“You’re flattering me for a free drink,” Aelin accused.

Fenrys tipped his head back and laughed. “Is it working?”

There was a thunk as the short glass hit wood, and then Aelin was pouring out a measure of her best rum. “Yes.”

Their fingers brushed as Fenrys took the glass and he downed it. While he was occupied Aelin took the opportunity to peruse over him. First she looked for any sign of injury, pirating had its many dangers but from what she could see there were no noticeable hurts. Fenrys looked good, he always did. His golden sunkissed curls were tied back from his face showing off the perpetual smile that seemed to grace his lips. The blue coat he wore was very dashing, with the cut of it accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. Ever the flaunter he’d chosen a white shirt that dipped low, the white of it contrasting the deep bronze of his skin made deeper from the hours he spent in the sun. He’d been gods’ blessed with handsomeness that could only be dreamed of, and an ego to match. Some found him insufferable, mainly those who lacked a sense of humour or any idea of fun. For Aelin, he was an utter delight. 

She was called away before they could continue their conversation, but Fenrys didn’t go anywhere. He lingered at the bar, claiming a stool when one became available. 

“The next one will cost you,” Aelin said, wiping down the counter so it looked like she had a reason to stop.

“Always such a hard businesswoman.” Fenrys didn’t protest and dropped two coins on the worn wood. 

Aelin slid them off into her and then her pocket. “What will it be?”

“That sweet Perranth wine if you have it,” Fenrys requested. 

“You’re in luck, my supplier just brought in a delivery yesterday,” Aelin wasted no time, because she didn’t have it, and poured Fenrys a tankard of wine. Glasses were for quiet gatherings, not an overcrowded tavern where it was likely to be knocked out of an unsuspecting hand and shattered on the floor. 

“My thanks,” Fenrys tipped his drink at her.

Aelin left him to his wine and tended to the never ending flow of patrons looking for food and drink. Fenrys just stayed sitting there and making sure to catch her eye whenever she passed by. There was no question as to why he was here. 

One evening a year or two ago Fenrys had come in with the crew of the Maeve. That night had been vastly different to this, with Fenrys and his crewmates nearly the only customers for the evening. That had allowed an easier night for Aelin with more than enough opportunity for conversation with the charismatic man—not with the others because they were a sullen and broody bunch—and eventual flirting. As the night wore on, she and Fenrys ended up on a low couch by the fire. Along with his staggering handsomeness, he was also highly entertaining. His ludicrous stories had Aelin’s sides hurting with laughter and he was kind enough to ply her with enough compliments to keep her by his side. And when it was just the two of them left basking in the fire’s warmth and Fenrys leaned in, she’d let him kiss her. Which led to Aelin guiding him up the stairs and to her room where they kept each other company in other ways. 

Since then, whenever he was in port Fenrys appeared in her tavern and they spent what time they could together until he was called away to the sea again. His captain was a hard bastard and didn’t see the point to lingering on land. The first mate wasn’t much better. Aelin had more than her fair share of run-ins with Rowan Whitethorn—none of them ending well. Their arguments had become legendary. She was more than sure that she hated him and that the feeling was mutual.

Fenrys couldn’t be more different than those men, vivacious and brash, he was more than enough a match for her when it came to wit. It was hard to find a flaw in the man. With so much in his favour, Aelin was still unsure whether or not she was in love with him. He was gone too often and for too long for any real emotion to take root. But at the very least they were friends, and they had fun. Without Fenrys her life would be far more dull and the unexpectedness of his arrival always gave their trysts a thrill. If he ever gave up seafaring maybe she could love him more than she did. There was a wildness to Fenrys that only the sea could soothe. Life on land just might bore him to death. 

Despite the lack of attention, Fenrys remained, his thumb running over a loose nail that was poking out of the wooden counter. Aelin made note to fix that, she didn’t need the complaints of an unobservant patron who hurt themselves or ripped their clothing. She had to commend Fenrys for his patience, a lesser man might have run off by now. 

“How has your day been, Miss Galathynius?” Fenrys asked when Aelin stopped near him to pour out a measure of rum for another customer.

“As you can see, I’m very busy tonight,” Aelin told him, watching his eyes shine as he sipped.

He didn’t look away as the tankard lowered. “I can wait.”

Aelin wanted to sigh in self pity, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“You can bet on it,” Fenrys said, his words a sensual promise. 

Aelin passed off the tankard to the patron who gave her the money in exchange, when there was a call for more beer it reminded her of the impending problem. “Make yourself useful and I might think about it.”

Fenrys’ head titled, the beaded lock of his hair swaying. “How so?”

“I need another one of these,” Aelin said and slapped the keg behind her, “brought up from the cellar.”

Finishing off his wine far quicker than it deserved Fenrys got up from his stool. “It would be my pleasure.”

Aelin pulled out the ring of keys that she tucked into the wide belt around her waist and handed them over to the pirate. “Do not cause me more trouble than you're worth down there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fenrys said with a wink, fingers grazing over the outside of her palm and up her fingers. Despite the heat of the room and the busy fluster Aelin had worked herself into she shivered. That was the first time they had touched and that soft caress had her craving more. 

She didn’t have long to dwell on that as she was summoned again and was more than occupied while Fenrys was gone. Drinks were poured one after the other, bowls of Emrys’ chowder went out from the kitchens, the way this was going Aelin wouldn’t be done until the sun came up. Gods knew if Fenrys would be around that long. Aelin groaned, cursing her bad luck. The one night Fenrys would be assuredly in Orynth she would be run off her feet and too busy and too tired to enjoy his company. 

Before too long the Fenrys was back, keg on his shoulder to keep it out of the way of the patron’s heads—very considerate. He stepped behind the counter, easing the fresh beer onto the empty stand and expertly fixed the tap. With his job done Fenrys grabbed himself a tankard and helped himself to the first serving. Aelin didn’t bother to stop him, she just gave him a crooked smile and a playful roll of her eyes. He stayed where he was, even though he shouldn’t. Aelin ignored his antics and grabbed two tankards for her own uses. As she leaned over to fill them with beer a broad hand rested on the small of her back, deft fingers tucking her keys back into her belt. With two tankards full, Aelin straightened, one in each hand, and found her path blocked. 

“Out of my way, please,” she huffed and then blew at a loose strand of hair. She had tied a scarf around her head in an effort to keep her hair out of her face. The flustering conditions and the humidity weren’t helping the intent. 

“Where are you going?” Fenrys asked, standing a little taller but not leaving for where he should be as a paying customer. 

Aelin took advantage of the space she could, easing through the small gap Fenrys left between his body and the counter, careful not to spill the beer. “To those people in the corner, I promised I’d bring it over once you had done your job.”

She thought she was free and clear when troublesome hands on her hips stopped her progress. “Do I get a thank you for that?”

The annoyed smirk that lacked the needed irritation was already on her face when she looked up at him. Fenrys was a good head taller than her, his face was full of mirth and all but begging for a kiss as he looked down at her. But Aelin wasn’t ready to give into him just yet. 

“Have you bathed since making port, or was the allure of my company too compelling?” She knew the answer, she had noticed the lack of braids he wore while at sea, and she was sure his hair was wet when he first walked in. 

That smile fell, an affronted look filled his face. “I’m offended that you would assume that, Aelin.”

“I’m offended that I wasn’t worth skipping a bath over,” Aelin told him. 

That was enough of a distraction and when Fenrys laughed Aelin took her chance and stepped out of his hold. Over the commotion of the tavern she swore she could still hear his amusement chasing her through the crowd. Aelin set the foaming tankards down and accepted the generous contribution to the establishment in return. Her pocket was starting to get severely weighed down, she might have to duck up to her rooms to empty it into her coffer. 

Her return to her task as barmaid was slower than anticipated, many patrons stopping her for greetings and snippets of gossip. Aelin liked to know what was going on in her city so she listened to all of it, tucking away bits of information that might be useful to herself or her father. Rumours were buzzing that the Maeve had been quite successful on its latest voyage and promised more profit. A hoard of treasure maps was cited as the reason. She might have to ask Fenrys about it. 

Eventually Aelin made it back to her post and was surprised to see a small woman with dark hair seated next to Fenrys. They chatted, and the woman laughed at something he said, even touching his forearm that rested on the bar. If Aelin didn’t recognise the woman she might have been jealous. The golden, smiling man was not the company her friend preferred to seek out.

“Elide, hello,” Aelin said, resting her elbow on the other woman’s shoulder. 

Elide was dressed in a simple lavender gown, nothing gaudy or to draw attention. She preferred an inconspicuous life where she was the one who made the rules. Her family winery in Perranth was her’s once her parents decided to retire. In the meantime she set about proving just how capable she was.

“I was just chatting to Elide about her wonderful wine,” Fenrys said. “Amongst other things.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There was a request for a barrel to be sent to the Maeve and I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the captain who was the only one left on the ship,” Elide explained. “Such a sullen bastard. I could barely get three words out of him before he disappeared back into his cabin. Luckily before he did he threw some coins at some boys on the dock and they carried it up the gangway.”

“I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a new captain,” Aelin directed at Fenrys.

The man just shrugged. “He’s good at what he does and I get the benefits. It’s not like I have to talk to him. I leave all that up to Whitethorn.”

“Whitethorn? Isn’t he the one who you threw a glass at that one time?” Elide asked.

Aelin huffed, the sound full of aggravation, and then went back to being behind the counter. “The very same.”

One evening for some reason beyond her, Rowan Whitethorn had graced her tavern with his insufferable presence. Nothing had been to his standards, not the beer, not the music and he had been very vocal about it. Aelin had told him to go elsewhere if the current surroundings were so offensive, he ignored her and chose to stay. When he claimed the beer was cheap and tasted like shit she had lost her temper. She had picked up a nearly empty glass of wine and threw it at him which he had effortlessly dodged, something akin to shock on his face as he watched the red liquid drip down the wall. Her demanding he pay for the damages had been the final straw and with a scowl on his sharp and handsome face he left her tavern. Aelin counted that as a win for her.

“The glass was chipped anyway, it was no loss to me.”

Fenrys looked like he was trying to keep his laughter in and like he was about to say something he’d surely regret. 

“Don’t,” Aelin said, pointing a finger at him. “You’ll not say a word if you know what’s good for you.”

Yielding to her request, Fenrys held up his hands, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. “Understood, Princess. Now if you fine ladies will excuse me.”

He was gone moments later, disappearing into the crowd, but Aelin had no doubt that he would return. Fenrys was far too eager for her company to be dissuaded so easily. There was a call further down the counter for more beer and Aelin saw to that before coming back to her friend who hadn’t left. 

“Can I get you anything? On the house of course,” Aelin offered. 

Elide gave her a knowing look, her eyebrows raised like she could have been questioning Aelin’s sanity. “What are you doing?”

Aelin felt her own brows narrow in confusion. “Working, as you can see.”

“Aelin, my dearest, most lovely friend,” Elide said leaning forward on the counter. “You have a man here, who is desperate for your company and is more than willing to give you a long night of pleasure, and you’re passing out beers instead?”

“I don’t exactly have a choice here,” Aelin said. “Essar is ill, and you can see how busy we are. I’m not exactly the shrewd business woman I claim to be if I ignore it to take Fenrys to my bed.”

As a timely reminder yet another patron asked for a pour of wine and rum, Aelin saw to it as quickly as she could. Luck was not on her side this evening, at this rate she’d be too tired to do anything once she fell into bed. 

“I won’t say that you won’t owe me for this,” Elide said, standing up from her stool, “because you will.”

“What are you…”

With quick fingers Elide braided her hair back, securing the end with a dark piece of ribbon. “Show me where everything is.”

It took Aelin a moment to catch on, her face going slack before she grinned. She showed Elide where everything she might need was, going over it twice more for her own peace of mind than her friend requiring more clarification. Aelin also made sure to inform the other’s working tonight so there wasn’t any confusion as to why Elide was behind the counter. 

“Keep the tankard tilted, helps limit the foam and unhappy customers,” Aelin explained and the amber liquid rose higher as she gave a hands-on demonstration. “And I think that’s all you need to know.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Elide said. 

“And if you have any trouble, call for Ren. He’ll sort it out,” Aelin added.

“Aye, captain.” Elide flourished that comment with a salute. 

“What’s going on here?” Fenrys’ voice cut through the conversation.

“I need to deposit some of tonight’s earnings in my room,” Aelin said, sauntering around to the other side of the counter, a hand raising to even out the collar of Fenrys’ jacket. “Care to join me?”

His dark eyes flashed as he easily read the implications of her invitation. “Lead the way.”

Aelin took his hand, leading him through the crowd to the staircase in the corner. The crowd took up the shanty that was being played. When they passed the small gathering dancing in front of the musicians Fenrys spun her and moved with the music, but still kept them heading towards their destination. Reaching the wooden stairs, Aelin gathered her skirts in her free hand to prevent herself from tripping as they hurried up the steps. On the landing they went left, the right led to a halfway with a handful of rooms she let out. Her private ones were larger and more secluded, the balcony on the outside offering beautiful views of the river port. That door painted a rich green was the last obstacle between her and what she wanted. And in just a few more steps she would be there.

Fenrys was a heavy and welcome presence behind her as she worked on unlocking the door. His hands were on her waist, his lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, it was enough of a distraction that Aelin was struggling to secure the key in the lock. That was only made worse when those godsdamned hands slipped higher, pressing over her bodice until they cupped her breasts. That had Aelin arching onto him, and in return that had Fenrys squeezing before his hands travelled downwards again—fingers catching on the neckline of her blouse. She was desperate to feel those hands on her with nothing to hinder them. 

“Fen,” Aelin whispered harshly. He just hummed his response onto her skin. “I would very much like to open the door so that we can continue this more privately.”

“My apologies,” he said, low enough that it had her skin pebbling. 

Other than that he let her be, halting his distracting journey over her body. It was a disappointing loss but the sooner Aelin got the door open, the sooner they could start again. 

Blocking out everything except the lock and key was the only way that Aelin managed to get the door open. She stepped into the dimly lit space, a single lamp barely glowing on a small table where she dropped her keys. There was a couch and an armchair set in front of a cold fireplace and there was another door that led to a private bathroom. The place could have been tidier, but Aelin hadn’t exactly been expecting guests. Fenrys closing the door redirected her attention, and he all but stalked towards her. To tease and make the trek that much easier, Aelin backed up towards her bedroom. She was caught just as they got to the entrance of it, Fenrys catching her by the waist and cupping her face. The moan at that first press of his lips was undeniable. 

For a while that’s all they did, just kiss in the dim light under the doorway. When Fenrys’ thumb dragged down the length of her neck, Aelin got impatient. She angled them so that they entered her room with tangled steps towards her bed. Her hands weren’t idle, searching out what bare skin they could. When there wasn’t much on offer Aelin slid one hand down the centre of his chest, all the way down to palm him through his trousers. Fenrys stumbled forward with enough strength to force Aelin back a couple of steps.

“Still have your sea legs?” Aelin teased through her laughter.

Huffing his own laugh, Fenrys pulled her closer so their noses brushed. “Maybe I’ll be steadier on my knees then.”

Before Aelin could even comment his lips were back on her’s, while his focus shifted to removing her clothes. The belt around her waist was the first to go, then his deft fingers had the laces and buttons of her forest green outer skirt undone and it was dropping over her hips. There was a jingling thud as the coins hit the floor, probably scattering, but that was a problem for later. Fenrys' progress was stalled when he discovered that the laces of her undershirt were hidden beneath her bodice. His groan of frustration was comical, and Aelin would have laughed if it weren’t for the way Fenrys’ hands were playing along the tops of her exposed breasts as his mouth lowered to her neck. 

Her body was tugged forward as the laces of her bodice were pulled at. Fenrys struggled, getting clumsier the more desperate he became, and even now Aelin’s patience was running thin. She needed him, now. It seemed Fenrys felt the same because one moment her floral embroidered bodice was tight against her body and the next it was falling away. Confused by the sudden development Aelin looked down to see the metallic glint of a knife and the ribbons in pieces. 

“You ruined my laces,” Aelin gasped, shoving the brute back half a step. “You bastard.”

Fenrys just smirked down at her, reaching out to slip the strap of the bodice off one shoulder, “I’ll buy you more,” then he did the same with the other. “The prettiest ribbons you can find.”

Aelin let the useless piece of clothing fall off her arms, Fenrys watching her every movement. She gave him a look that said don’t touch as she saw to the underskirt herself, her untucked blouse falling to the very top of her things. Fenrys’ gaze swept over her from head to toe, once and then twice, his eyes catching on the loose neckline that was revealing just enough to drive him wild. But he didn’t move, just waiting for Aelin to dictate what happened next. 

“The prettiest and the most expensive,” Aelin said.

Fenrys nodded, not taking his eyes off her for a second. “Whatever you say.”

She didn’t bother with the buttons of her blouse, instead she just pulled it over her head. When Fenrys reappeared in her vision his eyes were ravenous and his hands twitched at his side, no doubt warring with himself and the need to touch her. Aelin pulled out the head scarf and then she was bare except for the simple underwear at her hips. Her hand draped from her neck, drifting down between the valley of her breasts.

“Do you promise?” Aelin asked, smirking at the man in front of her who looked ready to erupt. 

She saw the exact moment his resolve snapped, had her laughing as he rushed forward and gave his breathless answer against her lips. “Yes.”

Aelin found herself seated on the edge of her bed, her senses fleeing as Fenrys kissed her. She was half aware of him shedding his jacket and starting on the buttons of his white shirt. The thought came to her that she should help him so that his hands might be better occupied, but she never got the chance to voice it in the slightest. Because Fenrys dropped to his knees in front of her, large hands inching up her thighs. Aelin shuddered and her underwear was pulled down her legs and thrown away. A single wink was all Fenrys gave before on her. 

The first brush of his tongue over Aelin’s core had her gasping, arms quaking where they braced her weight on the bed. Fenrys was one to playfully brag about the wonders for his mouth and Aelin could truly attest to every word. She buried her hand in his curls, ruining the bun he had them tied in, and gave herself over to the feeling of every nip, every press of his tongue. Aelin moaned, loud and unrestrained. It had been too long since someone had made her feel like this. The pleasure built to the point of consuming her when every ministration stopped and Fenrys pulled out of her grasp. 

“The hell… what are you doing?” Aelin asked through her laboured breaths. Her heart was pounding, her body screaming to be touched again. 

“I’ll never last,” Fenrys said, sounding a little mad at himself. That anger only became more evident as he yanked at his clothes to get them off. If Aelin had the wits she might have helped him, but for now she could only watch as everything was revealed to her. “I have to have you now.” 

With his pants gone Aelin could see how much Fenrys meant it. The sight of his cock, hard and ready, had her unconsciously arching towards him with need. Fenrys used that to his advantage, his muscled arm wrapping around her waist and hauling them up the bed. It was Aelin who pulled him in for a kiss and from there she let herself burn. 

Fenrys settled on her hips, pressing their bodies as flushed together as they could be. The feel of him was incredible, the weight and heat of his body was something Aelin had absolutely missed. His hands ran over what they could—her sides, hips and thighs—anywhere he could reach without separating them. All the while his hips drove into her’s, the length of him rubbing enough delicious friction to make Aelin dizzy with need. She writhed against him, trying her best to get him to slip inside her, even trying to distract him by biting down on his bottom lip. It didn’t work, for now Fenrys was content to touch her, not surprising considering how long he’d been at sea. Aelin knew a touched starve man when she saw, and had thrown many of them out of her establishment over the years. If this is what Fenrys needed, she would gladly give it to him and surrendered.

One hand ceased its movements on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her open just a little wider. Aelin moaned in anticipation, feeling the head of his cock at her entrance. Fenrys continued to tease her, his unoccupied hand pressing into her side and then up, his thumb taking a moment to run hypnotising circles over the side of her breast before heading upwards again. Then he pushed her arm up and extended it above her head, his hand dragging all the way up to meet Aelin’s. It wasn’t until their hands were laced together that his hips thrusted at just the right angle he slid into her. At the feel of him seated so deep Aelin’s body bowed into the sensation instinctually, trying to draw the man above her closer, deeper. It had Fenrys groaning into the skin of her neck as they both took a moment to collect themselves before he started moving. 

Aelin had expected it to be hurried and desperate, this was anything but. Each roll of his hips was slow and thorough, enough to make Aelin’s breath catch but not take it away. Maybe Fenrys had the right idea, maybe after being apart for so long he was right to savour this first time. She was sure before morning came they would have time for more than enough rounds to make up for it.

“Talk to me, Princess. Let me know you’re here with me,” he nearly begged in between kisses.

“You feel so good, Fen,” Aelin told him. 

“I could say the same.” The thrust that followed that admission was sharper than the others, a sure sign he was slowly unravelling. 

“You know how I like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, voice edged with desperation as Aelin moaned. “How you like what, Aelin?”

He was enough of a bastard that he would taunt and take away what was currently driving her insane until she said it, and Aelin was tired of playing. “How I like to be fucked.”

At her words, the steady pace that Fenrys had set faltered, had his body shuddering. “The things you do to me.”

His hips snapped, the angle perfect. Aelin only knew she needed more. “Gods, I need you closer.”

Fenrys rolled them both, his grip on her arse keeping them intimately connected. Aelin thought he was going to stop then, but she felt one strong thigh bend behind and then he had pushed himself up so his back lent on her headboard. Aelin panted as she sat in Fenrys’ lap, savouring the feeling this position gave her. She wouldn’t last much longer, the coil in her stomach wound with each shift of their hips. 

“There you go,” Fenrys said sweetly. “I’m right where you want me.”

“Yes,” Aelin whispered. “Thank you.”

The sass that came out of near delirium earned her a rumbling laugh and lingering kiss, making Aelin’s hips roll on their own accord. That undid Fenrys and he kissed her with more urgency as the hands that hadn’t moved shifted her in his lap dragged her onto him, prompting her to move like that again. Aelin did, her hands on the headboard either side of Fenrys’ head. Once she had her rhythm Fenrys let go of her, but not for long. There was a hand on her breast, the other splayed on her pack to push her closer. The man was indeed desperate for contact, only made clearer by his next request.

“Touch me, Aelin.”

She knew he didn’t mean his cock that was still inside her, there was no way in hell Aelin would be willing to with how close she was to breaking apart. Fenrys was after something softer. Her hands left the headboard, and she touched him like he wanted. Sweet caresses over his face, sweeps over his shoulders. It urged Fenrys to move his hips faster, meeting Aelin in perfect synchronisation. His lips on her neck were not what she wanted, so she angled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely. It was his heady groan on her mouth that had Aelin breaking like a wave, pleasure rushing through every nerve of her body. She nearly screamed from the force of it, they had strung it out so long that this relief was blinding and all consuming, all Aelin could do was keep moving to drag it out as long as she could. 

“Fuck,” Fenrys moaned on her mouth, helping her move on him chasing his own pleasure. “Fuck me, Aelin.”

Her over sensitive inner walls felt his cock twitch and then Fenrys was groaning as he came. Aelin kept rocking, wanting to draw it out for the both of them as long as she could. It felt too good to let it fade just yet. The way Fenrys clung to her as he caught his breath was sweet, and as Aelin’s own body calmed she ran a soothing hand over his hair. He hummed contentedly, hugging Aelin tighter against him while his lips wandered aimlessly over her skin.

Aelin chuckled. “Feel better?”

“You are too good to me,” Fenrys murmured onto her skin. 

For a while they just sat there, touching and waiting for the other to move. In the end it was Fenrys, kissing Aelin deeply as he lay her down before pulling out. He didn’t bother with pants and Aelin took the opportunity to admire the view. When he was gone entirely she stretched out, feeling sated but willing for more. Aelin missed him while he was away, and it wasn’t just in the bedroom, it was the conversation and companionship as well. And now that they’d had such a gratifying release of tension there was nothing to say that they couldn’t do both at the same time. 

Soon enough Fenrys returned, cloth in hand, and moments later they were cleaned up and back in each other’s arms. Aelin lay on her side facing Fenrys, and he did the same, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. She busied herself with idling tracing the scars on his chest. There were no new pale marks that marred his skin. When she ran her finger over a particularly large one low on his side Fenrys shivered. 

“So I hear the Maeve and her crew have fallen into good fortune,” Aelin said.

“That would be true,” Fenrys kissed her forehead before pulling back. “Whitethorn found some maps in an abandoned cave in the Cambrian Mountains. There used to be stories of a creature in the lake that guarded them, so who knows how many years superstition won out. We’ve been more than successful.”

“Good to hear.” It was then that she noticed the blue gem stud in his earlobe. The piercing wasn’t now, Aelin hadn’t seen this earring before. She reached out to flick it. “Is that a sapphire?”

Fenrys nodded his head. “It is. Do you like it?”

Aelin shrugged, and as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to him her body inched closer. “I prefer emeralds.”

“Well,” Fenrys said, voice straining as he used his weight and a hand on her hip to urge Aelin to lie on her back. “Next time I’ll try and bring you some back. Whitethorn usually claims them all first though.”

Aelin scoffed. “Selfish bastard.”

Fenrys’ answer to that was a soft chuckle and an upward sweep of his hand over her body. Instantly Aelin's blood heated again, craving his touch and the release that would inevitably follow. Fenrys read every sign that her body was giving, propped up on an elbow as he watched her try not to writhe. His fingers had claimed the peak of her breast, teasing and pinching until it was hard. When he flicked it Aelin gasped, a hand darting out to hold him by the back of the neck. Then his mouth was on the unattended breast and Aelin gave up fighting her composure.

“You’re not ready yet,” she panted, her body bucking as need pulsed lower. 

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, but Aelin barely heard him. She was too focused on the hand that was travelling down her body. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in the meantime.”

The only answer she could offer him was a deep moan as his thumb reached the apex of her thighs, drawing tight circles that were almost too much. Fenrys slowed down, and shifted so that both his hands and his mouth had something to do. When Aelin gasped as his fingers teased her entrance, Fenrys kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. The sensations of his mouth, the hand on her breast and the other between her thighs had Aelin hurtling towards that peak of release. But Fenrys held her there right on the edge, forcing Aelin to open her eyes and look at him. 

Fenrys’ dark eyes were full of so many sinful promises that there was no doubt what the rest of the evening would entail. “I made you a promise, Aelin. And I intended to keep it.”

With that declaration his fingers slipped into her, finding that spot and moments later she was unravelling and moaning her pleas to the gods. Aelin was in for a long night indeed. 

Soft kisses and wandering hands woke her up the next morning. Her bedroom was barely illuminated by the morning light meaning it must be early. She usually got to sleep late into the morning due to the working hours she kept. But last night it had been Fenrys who had kept her up until the very small hours of the morning. Aelin groaned, this time not in pleasure—at least it wasn’t that way at first. When his hand brushed over her bare breast like that it was hard to maintain her indignation. 

“Why are we awake?” Aelin mumbled into her pillow. 

Fenrys kissed up her neck. “Still on ship's time.”

He was ready. She could feel the hardness and heat of him pressing into her back. It wasn’t a terrible way to be woken up and Aelin supposed she could sleep later. The White Stag wouldn’t open until after noon anyway. Aelin pushed back into him, but went pliant in his hands, a signal that she was willing to give him the lead this time. Fenrys all but growled, nipping at her shoulder and he urged her onto her stomach.

They were in a tangled mess of sheets and bedding, there was some manoeuvring on Fenrys’ part to free trapped limbs. Opening her eyes, Aelin found herself at the foot end of the bed. It seems they hadn’t bothered to put themselves to bed properly after their escapes the night before. Aelin had simply grabbed a pillow and fallen asleep where she was, the pillow she now tossed away as she was pressed into the mattress. Fenrys ran his hands over her body, stopping at her hips just to angle them how he wanted. The sleep haze fled, and want replaced it, causing a needy whimper to escape Aelin’s lips without her permission. 

Fenrys started his trek up her body, his lips leading the way as they trailed up her spine. He brushed her knotted hair over her shoulder and continued to the newly exposed skin. Aelin could feel the heat of his body as he was braced over her now, a hand sneaking its way of the sheets to lay over one of her’s. That little gesture had Aelin smiling, remembering how demanding he had been for small affections last night. This morning was no different. 

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough,” Fenrys said by her ear, making her skin pebble. “You’re stunning.”

“You don’t, I want to hear it more,” Aelin snarked back.

Fenrys snorted, making her laugh in turn. “Duly noted, Princess.”

He lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her core. Aelin tried to push herself back to take him deeper, but Fenrys held her still, a silent demand to just wait. She did, it might have killed her a little but she did. Then Fenrys slid in with one delicious stroke. Aelin moaned the entirety of it, loving the feeling of having him inside her again.  

“You are stunning,” Fenrys whispered, accentuating his words with another thrust. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Fen,” Aelin breathed. “More.”

Fenrys dropped lower, still holding most of his weight himself, and shifted so that they moved in a steady grind. It felt so good that all Aelin could do was let herself be swept away in everything he was giving. 

“Stunning.” Fenrys’ breathing was getting harder, the word coming out nearly desperate. 

Aelin was about to demand it harder—faster—when her bedroom door was unceremoniously thrown open, hard enough it slammed on her wall. No knocking, no nothing, there was someone else in her room. Fenrys nearly collapsed on top of her, he managed to stop himself before he crushed all the air out of her lungs. Aelin looked up, glaring and ready to spit her best obscenities at the intruder. The unexpectedness of their identity had the words catching on her tongue and her cheeks heating. 

Because there, in her doorway was none other than Rowan Whitethorn.

“Shit,” Fenrys said, pushing the sheet her way so she could cover herself. He’s always been considerate like that. 

Aelin was the first to recover. “I don’t remember inviting you into my home.”

Rowan ought to be commended for how intently he kept his eyes on her face. “Should have locked your door. Time to go, Moonbeam.”

“Piss off, Whitethorn.” That may have been the first time Aelin had truly heard Fenrys sound angry. 

“I gave you orders,” Rowan said, arms crossing over his chest. 

Aelin wished she had her pistol, or maybe the dagger in her nightstand, just something to threaten the infuriating man with. “Unless you plan to join us, get out.”

Rowan raised one of eyebrows, the tattoos on his face shifting. “You two should be so lucky.”

Gods, here they were chatting and Fenrys was still inside her.

Fenrys seemed to realise the same moment she did, discreetly separating them and using some of the messy bedding to cover himself. Keeping her eyes locked on the green ones, Aelin took a handful of sheet and held it to her chest as she slowly sat up, not caring what might or might not be covered. From the way that the cold morning air nipped at her skin, Whitethorn was getting at least a little bit of a show. 

And right there, Aelin didn’t miss how his eyes finally darted down, just for one lingering moment before he spun around and marching through her living room. 

“Now, Moonbeam!” He bellowed over his shoulder as hand racked through his shoulder length silver hair, making sure to slam the other door that opened to the landing as well. 

There was a moment of charged silence and then Aelin giggled and fell back on the bed. Fenrys joined in, the intensity of their laughter increasing until they were both struggling to breathe. Fingers on her chin tilted her head to the side to see Fenrys’ dark eyes full of amusement. 

“I am so sorry, Aelin.” His voice was still shaking.

Aelin shrugged. “I don’t suppose we could finish up?”

That sobered Fenrys up very quickly. “He’s likely to come back and drag me out naked into the street.”

“That would be quite the end to the story,” Aelin mused like she was considering it. 

“You are pure trouble,” Fenrys said, tapping her nose.

Aelin laughed, taking Fenrys’ hand. “I could say the same about you.”

They both knew he had to go, but neither of them were willing to start the goodbye. In the end Fenrys got up with a heavy sigh, picked up his pants and started dressing. Aelin sat up, watching the disaster unfold in front of her. She thought they would have more time—at least today to enjoy themselves together and catch up. It wasn’t to be and it filled Aelin with a sudden feeling of loneliness.

“Hey,” Fenrys said as he tightened his belt. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Aelin nodded. “With my emerald”

With a crooked smirk Fenrys replied, “With your emerald.” 

“Even if you have to fight that bastard Whitethorn for it,” Aelin pressed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Fenrys’ hands landed either side of her hips, one last brief moment of closeness. “For you it would be my honour.” He picked up his jacket off the floor, shrugging it onto his shoulders. Fully dressed there was nothing left to delay him and with one final kiss, Fenrys finally said goodbye. “Until next time, Princess.”

Aelin nodded, swallowing against the tightness building in her throat. Fenrys winked then left her room. It was at the final glance of him walking out the deep green door that she finally whispered, “Until next time.”

~~~~~

I know its not the usual but I had so much fun writing these two!

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @maddymelv // @sierrareads​ // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @pullnpeeltwizzlers​ // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @elriel4life​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis​ // @swankii-art-teacher​ // @grandma-noob-lord​ // @vanzetanze​ // @highlady-brittney​ // @story-scribbler​ // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren​ // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @whimsicallyreading​ // @goddess-aelin​ // @s-uppertime​ // 

#sjmcrackshipmonth23 #fenlin #aelin x fenrys #throne of glass fanfiction #it might not be your thing but you might want to skip to the end #ohhh boy i might have created a monster here

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Snippet Thursday

Following up from last week's poll, this week we have Prisoner Exchange AU: Jak gets in trouble (we all knew it had to happen sooner or later)

The second his boots hit the sand, Jak knew he'd screwed up. He could see Damas waiting in the vehicle pit, having what looked to be an extremely intense conversation with Sig. And Jak knew it was his fault. The idea of facing the wrath of the king was far from appealing, but he disliked the idea of Sig taking the blame for his stupidity.

"So do we face the music, or fake our deaths and flee the country?" Daxter asked morosely from behind him.

The question was answered for him when Damas looked over at them. Oh, he looked calm at first glance, but his eyes radiated fury. He pointed at them, and then to the ground beside him, and his meaning was clear:

Get your you-know-what over here. Now.

"Dun-da-dun: we're dead," Daxter announced.

"Extremely dead," Jak agreed.

Nevertheless, he ignored the way his stomach churned and twisted around his ribs, and picked his way across the sand.

Being in trouble was nothing new for Jak. In fact, most of his memories involved getting punished for one escapade or another. But this was the first time in recent memory that he could remember being anxious about getting in trouble. He'd seen Damas angry a few times before, but it had never been directed at him. In spite of everything they'd gone through, and everything they'd worked to build, Jak felt his pulse racing, and the old familiar instinct to fight for his life.

When he'd reached the men, Jak opened his mouth, intending to defend Sig. Damas beat him to it.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded.

Jak had thought that would have been obvious.

"That...I...was gonna clear out the metalpede nest?"

The glare he got in return warned him to try a different tack.

"Look, don't blame Sig. If he hadn't gone with me, I would've gone without him."

Damas did not appear to like that any more than the last statement. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at Jak.

"I told you not to enter the canyons until you had all three amulets."

"I'm sorry, okay? But we lost seven people to that nest!" Jak defended, flinging out an arm to gesture to the walls. "Egil's goons are already pushing past the river and winter's on the way. We can't afford to lose any more scouts!"

"I cannot afford to lose you!" Damas snapped.

Jak flinched away from his harsh tone. A mixture of confusion, nerves, and wounded pride compelled him to retort, "I'm trying to help! I live here now, remember?"

Damas closed his eyes and took a deliberately slow breath. Sig, Jak, and Daxter exchanged nervous glances. They knew full well this didn't herald anything good.

"Sig," Damas said through gritted teeth, "take the boys to their room, then wait for me in the aviary."

Sig nodded, but didn't verbally respond. He seemed to be feeling much more guilt than Jak did. He stepped to the left and put a hand on Jak’s shoulder. Before they could leave, Damas turned and cleared his throat.

"Wait. Give me your gate passes- both of you. You're all confined to the city until I decide what to do with you."

Privately, Jak thought that being deprived of his gate pass was a heavy punishment already. But Damas seemed mad enough that mentioning it might cause him to prove Jak wrong. He kept his mouth shut -- somewhat belatedly, so much for Damas’s attempts at teaching him negotiation -- and let his father take his gate pass away.

Well, this sucks, he thought, but knew better than to voice it.

When they'd walked far enough to be mostly out of earshot, Daxter remarked, "Well, that could've gone worse."

"Might still get worse," Sig sighed. He ran a hand over his head. "...Damas is right. I almost got us killed out there, cherries. He's got every right to be mad."

Jak tugged at his amulet restlessly. "You didn't want me to go along," he argued, "Doesn't that count for something? He's acting like I didn't take on a Swarm King with just Daxter and a gun!"

Sig ducked into the archway leading to the tower entrance and grimaced.

"No, he's acting like a man who lost his only son for years, and then had to deal with him recklessly risking his life on something that takes an entire team to accomplish. He-"

The big warrior stopped and blew out a frustrated breath. "You scared him, cherry. We scared him. And if anything had happened to you today, it would've been on me."

He shook his head and stomped into the lift.

"Two years I spent tearing Haven apart to find you, and then I let you waltz right back into danger. Unbelievable."

Jak settled into the corner of the lift and waited a few seconds until the silence became uncomfortable.

"Sig," he said, "You knew us before he did. In Haven, I mean. You know what we can do! You wouldn't have been able to stop me from joining the mission."

Guilt plucked at his lungs until he added, "I never meant for you to get in trouble, Sig. Usually we're the only ones who get blamed."

Sig's prosthetic eye whirred as its focus narrowed onto Jak’s face.

"Whatever was "usual" in Haven," he warned, "you're better off forgetting it. Things are different in the Wastelands, you know that!"

"I'm trying to help!" Jak argued. Why didn't anyone get that?! If he was capable of helping, he was obligated to help, wasn't he?

The lift locked into place and Sig pushed him out into the empty throne room. "You want to help?" he muttered, more to himself than to Jak or Daxter, "Maybe quit acting like it doesn't matter what happens to you as long as a job gets done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sig shook his head and pointed down the side corridor. "Just...go on back to your room, cherry. Precursors willing, Damas will have calmed down by the time he makes it up here. But I wouldn't be expecting that gate pass back anytime soon."

"You can't be serious," Jak groaned.

He was.

______________________________________

The room had seemed impractically large the first night the boys had been "quarantined" in the tower. Now it felt like the walls were closing in as Jak paced the circumference of the chamber for the fifth time. It had already been an hour, and there had been no sign of Damas. Somehow, that was worse than him being mad. When you knew it was coming, but they made you wait-

That was one of the most terrifying parts of the Baron’s prison.

As Jak started his sixth circuit, tracing his fingers along the wall, he passed Daxter lying on the bed.

"Huh," Daxter said aloud, wrinkling his nose.

"What?" Jak paused mid-step to look down at him.

Daxter sat up suddenly with a furrowed brow. "Say uh...you don't think Spikes was- nah, he doesn't seem that touchy-feely."

Jak thought of Damas holding him, the night he'd finally understood who he was. He thought of fierce embraces and quiet tears and kept them to himself.

"What do you mean, Dax?"

The ottsel fidgeted, and Jak recognized the emotion coloring his eyes as regret.

"It's just..."

Daxter's ears drooped.

"When you go off without me, I know you don't need my help. And I know you can take any monster that comes your way. But I worry anyway -- I can't help it! I lost ya for two years, and sometimes I get scared! Osmo, back in Haven, he called that traumatic stress."

Jak felt a pit in his stomach as he sank back down to sit beside Daxter on the bed.

"Oh," he said quietly.

He'd known, of course. Daxter always wore his heart on his sleeve. But he never talked about it.

"Do- do you think Spike Dad feels like that?" asked Daxter, gnawing on his lip, "cos if he does, I'm gonna feel like a heel."

Jak was silent as he contemplated that. Traumatic stress, huh? What would've set off-

Oh. He'd snuck out. Damas probably found his room empty. Did he have a flashback, like Jak did when doors were locked? Had Jak caused him to panic?

With a groan, Jak put his face in his hands.

"I suck at being a son," he grumbled.

"In our defense, only one of us has been actively parented before this," Daxter suggested, but it was half-hearted.

His ears twitched, first up, then back down again.

"Do...do you think he's gonna yell?"

"If he yells, I'll yell back," Jak answered hesitantly. "But I don't- I don't think he's going to be like Samos. I just...haven't decided if that's a good thing yet."

_________________________________________

Damas entered the chamber well over two hours later to find his son pacing like a caged caracal. By the slightly disturbed furniture, pushed away from walls here and there, it looked as if Jak had been at this for a while now. From all that Sig had told him, he could guess he was in for a fight. Considering what he'd been put through before returning to Spargus, the boy understandably did not take well to any perceived threat to his autonomy. But the moment Jak spotted him, his shoulders slumped.

"So-" Damas began, trying not to read too much into how resigned Jak looked.

"Look-" Jak interrupted, then winced slightly.

"I- We're...sorry," he said haltingly. "I...just wanted- I just wanted to help you."

He looked so earnest. Damas didn’t doubt he and Daxter had managed to talk Sig into letting them turn his scouting mission into a search-and-destroy. It was hard to argue with a face like that. Did the boy even understand what he'd done wrong?

"Oh Jak," Damas sighed.

He lowered himself to the small couch by the window and beckoned him over.

"Come. Sit with me."

Jak hesitated, but complied. The couch was small, but he tried to give Damas as much space as possible. He picked at a scar on his thumb and didn't look up.

"Why you?" Damas asked. When Jak didn't immediately answer, he prodded his shoulder. "Hmm? Why did you, specifically, have to go kill those metalpedes?"

Jak shrugged. "Because I could. Because I'm harder to kill than other people. Why risk them if I don't need to?"

From any other Spargan, those words would've been commendable. Coming from his only child, they burned Damas like brands pressed into his skin. Jak should never have been taught to see himself as expendable. He should never have suffered as he had. And yet Damas had failed to protect him.

"And you gave no thought at all to Sig’s warnings that this was a task too dangerous for one person?"

He watched his son's brows quirk as if something about the question puzzled him.

"Wh- when, um, when we were kids," Jak mumbled, "Nobody actually...cared...if we were doing something dangerous. Not unless it inconvenienced them. They expected us to do these things. To...to earn our keep."

When he looked up at last, Damas was frowning thoughtfully.

"Hmm. I...think I understand."

Damas turned that thought over in his mind. It would do no good to get angry now: Jak would just think it was directed at him. Still, it was for the best that the people of that tiny village were far, far beyond his reach.

"My son," he said, gently but firmly, "You must unlearn what your captors drilled into you. You are home now- you are free now. Those expectations do not apply."

For a moment, Jak said nothing. Then he whispered, "I don't know who I am without them."

Daxter peeked over the arm of the couch with an endearingly miserable look.

"Jak didn't mean to scare ya, and- and Sig just came along to watch our backs! Don't be mad at Sig, er, sir."

An honorific out of Daxter? Hell must have frozen over. It was this, more than anything, that told Damas that the boys truly were sorry.

"Sig didn't do wrong by going with you," he allowed, and dropped a hand over the couch arm to rest over Daxter's head. "But he did not inform me of what was happening, or give me time to form a larger team. That is what he did wrong- and what you did wrong. But we are not here to discuss Sig. We are here to decide what consequences I need to set to ensure that this does not happen again."

Both boys winced, and Damas noticed Daxter curl in on himself as though shielding himself before a blow. Jak schooled his face into an emotionless mask.

Damas regretted his promise to spare Haven for Jak's sake.

"You will be confined to the tower for six days," Damas announced, forcing himself to ignore the boys' reactions. "If you want your gate pass back, you'll have to earn it. Show me that I can trust you to make better decisions."

"And...after the week is up?" asked Daxter tentatively.

The king shifted his weight and ran a hand over his face. Alright, Sig. I'm choosing my battles.

"Before I came in here, I was going to ban you from the Arena trials until midwinter," he admitted.

Jak stiffened beside him, the protest already on his lips.

"But," Damas continued, "as you seem to have a better understanding of the gravity of the situation than I had initially thought, I offer a compromise."

Jak flexed his fingers and glanced over nervously. "O...kay?"

Damas offered a small smile in response. "You will only be barred from the Arena until you can escape me in a sparring match. How long that lasts will be up to you."

Jak sagged with relief -- and Daxter suddenly got a lot more anxious. Sure, Jak could fight metalheads the size of buildings and come out on top. But Damas had something the metalheads didn't: opposable thumbs.

This probably wasn't going to be as easy as Jak was thinking.

"Thanks. For...for not yelling," Jak said unexpectedly. "Daxter doesn't like yelling."

Damas dropped his other hand across the back of Jak's neck and squeezed affectionately, just the barest hint of pressure.

"If you have to shout to make your point, you've already lost control of the situation," he advised.

He caught the incredulous expression passing between the two boys and chose to let it go. They were still learning what it was to have a childhood. Lessons in leadership could come later.

"I know you're still getting to know me," he said hesitantly, "Perhaps the restrictions I place do not make sense to you. But they exist because I care about your safety. I fought to make this city one in which you could choose your own path. So you wouldn't have to fight for your life."

Daxter stretched up on tip-paws. "But that's why Jak fights!" he protested, "Cause he can't stand the idea of anybody goin' through what he did!"

Damas flinched, ever so slightly, and Daxter regretted bringing it up. It was fairly obvious that Damas had the same kind of survivor's guilt that he did.

"I...don't know a whole lot about dads, sure, but he's just doin' what you do, doesn't that count for somethin?"

Damas shook his head, but he didn't appear to be disagreeing. He only whispered, "I should have been there."

Daxter knew what he meant.

After a moment's hesitation, he climbed up onto the arm of the couch and tentatively patted Damas’s shoulder.

"Aw, look. Jak, uh...Jak has always been pretty fearless about runnin' into danger. Even before things went sideways! He used to wade out to the sandbar to save stranded Lurker Hounds, even though he knew they were gonna try and bite him! He uh, he had to learn that from somewhere, right?"

Jak raised his head and blinked. He'd sort of figured he'd learned it from his own elder self in an eternal loop. But...could Daxter be right? Was that wild, fearless, reckless little kid simply acting like a normal Wastelander?

"Maybe you fought so he wouldn't have to," Daxter suggested, merely thinking out loud, "But maybe he decided to be just like you? I mean have you met him? The kid's got a head like a rock!"

"Dude, really?" Jak glared at him.

Damas’s smile was bittersweet at best. "It is...a nice thought, Daxter," he admitted, "Admittedly, Jak...was quite stubborn when he was Mar."

Impulsively, he swung his arms close, dragging both boys into an impromptu embrace.

"However, you are still grounded."

"Darnit!" Daxter fumed.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #Prisoner Exchange AU #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #my aus #jak and daxter sig #jak decided to go clear out metalpedes and he definitely didn't tell his dad he was sneaking out #jak is Grounded #Daxter and Damas have very similar survivor's guilt regarding what happened to Jak #this is what leads to the prologue of the story where Jak is sparring with Damas after they've made up #The boys have a very skewed idea of age appropriate activities #free day Thursday #snippet Thursday

[roboticchibitan]

A cottage witch and her dragon 20

(You can read the rest of this story on AO3 here)

Rodgate sat in a wide valley that was full of lakes, rivers, and streams. The city had a river and several streams running through it. So on days like today, the fog came out in full force.

Serenity wasn't a fan of fog. It gave her the creeps. And today's fog was thicker than usual. When she went out her back door to collect firewood from the lean-to on the back porch, she suddenly felt a large amount of magical energy.

"Granny? What are you doing?" It was hard to see the old lady through the fog.

"I'm spinning fog," came the reply.

"You're what?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

Serenity, cold because she forgot her shawl, exited her garden through the back gate and went to see what Granny was doing.

As she arrived in the neighboring back garden, Serenity extended her magical senses so she could see the Web of All Things. She felt a steady flow of energy from Granny, and an odd sensation of pulling on the fog.

Granny sat with a drop spindle, using one hand to grab handfuls of fog and the other hand was doing the motions of drafting, and from her hands and onto the spindle came a string of condensed fog!

"That's fascinating," Serenity said, "May I touch it?"

"Have at it, girlie," Granny replied, offering up the spindle so Serenity could inspect it.

Serenity touched the fog yarn. It felt both solid and not. There was resistance to Serenity's fingers, but the yarn was see-through. It was an odd sensation. The yarn felt cool but not damp like she expected.

"How are you doing that?"

"Secrets of an old weather witch. You have to sort of use the Web to grab onto it, then some magical energy to make it dense, and then a little more to make it stay as yarn."

"Can you teach me?"

"I'm not sure I could, honestly. Weather witchcraft can be dangerous, and I don't remember all of the precautions young witches have to take anymore. It's all second nature to me at this age. But I'll tell you what I can do. I'll teach you how to use your familiar in a spell. You wouldn't have learned during your apprenticeship because you didn't have a familiar yet, right?"

"Oh, would you?" Serenity asked excitedly. "I know in theory how to do it, but I haven't tried it yet because Dragon is so young and I'm not 100% sure I know what I am doing."

"If he's old enough to get into trouble, he's old enough to help out."

"He's been getting into trouble since the day he hatched," Serenity laughed. "Do you remember how small he was? He fit in my hands!"

"And he tried to eat an entire pot of honey that was bigger than him. I remember."

"He did! But do you really think he's ready to help out in spell work?"

"Well, we can just ask him. He's got his own free will as a sentient being."

"That's true. How much fog yarn are you going to spin?"

"Enough to make a cloak. I have a plan, you see."

"Oh? And what is this plan?"

"An invisibility cloak! Or at least, something close. An almost invisibility cloak."

"Oh, I see! You're going to use the fog's natural ability to obscure things, and make a cloak that makes you hard to see!"

"Exactly," Granny said proudly. "I'm going to spin it, knit it, and enchant it. And you're going to help, because it's for you."

"Granny, you could sell something like that for a fortune!"

"Yes, but that won't put my mind at ease. A young girl like you wandering the city alone is just dangerous. This'll make you harder to notice, so you'll be less likely to run into trouble."

"I can't accept this, it's too much."

"You're going to help me make it, so you deserve to keep it. Don't disappoint this old lady. I am very proud of this invention."

Serenity was still reluctant. "I haven't run into any trouble yet."

"Yet. You're young and you feel invincible, but it's not true. And what happens if someone robs you on your way home from market, and takes all your earnings for that day? Could you take that hit?"

Serenity could not. "Well, I suppose arguing with you is no use."

Granny smiled widely, her hands going back to the spinning as she spoke. "That's my girl."

"I didn't know you could spin."

"I grew up on a farm, remember? We spun our own yarn from the wool our sheep produced!"

"So you've been able to spin yarn this entire time and you never told me?" Serenity said in a fake offended voice.

"It's not my favorite pastime, so I kept it to myself. You'll forgive this old lady, won't you?" Granny said in an equally fake show of penitence.

Serenity laughed. "I suppose I'll have to. How long do you think it'll take you to make enough yarn?"

"A couple more foggy mornings and evenings, I think. I've been doing this all spring. I'm almost finished."

Serenity shivered violently in the cool air. "I'm going to go back inside because I didn't bring my shawl, but you come get me when you're ready to enchant it and we'll cast that spell together."

"Alright, Serenity. You go inside and warm up! I'll come get you when it's ready."

Serenity hurried back inside to make herself some tea. That was the last she heard of the almost invisibility cloak for the better part of a month.

Finally, Granny came to call.

"Serenity, dear, the almost invisibility cloak is all knitted up! It's ready for the spell, and it's a full moon tonight!"

"It's done already? What time do you want to do the ritual?"

"Midnight is traditional, but I don't feel like staying up that late, so how about right after dusk?"

"Alright, my place or yours?"

"How about mine? My table is large enough to use for the ritual."

"Alright, I'll be over at dusk."

"Dragon," Granny said in conspiratorial tones, "What do you think of helping us out in a ritual? You have a lot of magical energy, you could be a big help!"

Dragon perked up at this. He sent a feeling of "Me? Help?"

"Yes, familiars often help their witches in spell work. What do you think? Would you like to give it a try?"

Dragon nodded an emphatic "Yes."

"Alright, you come over at dusk, too."

Excitement rolled off Dragon in waves. He was so delighted that he wiggled a little bit to let out some of the excited energy.

Dusk came, and found Serenity and Dragon in Granny's cottage, preparing for a ritual. Granny set out candles in the traditional pentagram layout. It wasn't strictly necessary, but it was easier to channel and control magical energy if you followed a rigid structure for your rituals. They tended to be more effective that way.

Granny lit the candles, then put the cloak in the center of the pentagram. It was a dense gray, not quite opaque, and when Serenity reached out and touched it, it was cool to the touch.

"Now, you hold my hand, and Dragon, you sit on the other side of the table. I'll direct the energy, since it's my spell. Dragon, when I tell you, you provide us with some energy too, alright? Between the three of us, we should be able to get this done without too much of a rebound."

Dragon nodded gravely, his excitement calmed to seriousness.

Serenity joined hands with Granny and extended her magical senses. The cloak was already glowing with magical energy. The Web of All Things lit up around it. Serenity felt a small pull on her own magical energy as Granny drew power from her through their joined hand.

Slowly, Granny's energy moved along the lines of the Web towards the cloak.

Once she made contact between her magical energy and the cloak, she said, "Now, Dragon."

A flood of magical energy flowed from Dragon into the cloak. Serenity could feel Granny gathering it and applying it to the Web. Granny looked through the threads of the Web, one by one, until she found the one that made fog difficult to see through. Upon finding it, she took hold of it.

Then, carefully, she started pouring the energy into that thread, until the thread was glowing brightly. Then, finally, with a mental tweak of the strings, she sent all of that energy through that thread and into the cloak.

For a moment, the cloak glowed brightly. Then, it seemed to get duller and darker, until it was back to it's dusty gray. Serenity could feel the magic of the cloak, but this was different from most spells. It was vague and hard to sense.

"Well, I think that did it," Granny interrupted the silence. "Dragon, you have such a large amount of magical energy! No wonder witches with dragon familiars become battle mages. I hardly feel tired at all after that. Without you, Serenity and I would both be out of commission for days from a spell like that."

Dragon looked incredibly pleased with himself. He puffed his chest up and his face settled into an expression that could only be described as smug.

"Don't go getting a big head now," Granny warned. "Serenity, try it on, let's see how it works."

Serenity removed the cloak from the table and put it on. It was incredibly light, lighter than the finest mohair yarns. It wasn't warm like mohair, though. It was distinctly cool. This would be good to use in the coming summer.

"What do you think?" She asked Granny.

"I know you're there already so it won't work as well on me, but it is hard to sense you, even using my magical senses. It's like the Web gets blurry and hard to see around you. I think it turned out perfectly!"

Serenity felt tiredness settle into her bones. "I am feeling that energy depletion now. Let's have a snack."

"I have just the thing! Made some raspberry muffins yesterday. We can have those. I'm feeling a tad tired too. Not bad for an old witch, if I do say so myself."

Serenity removed the cloak and sat back down at the table where candles still burned. "Not bad at all!"

Dragon took an enormous bite out of his muffin and then sighed. It seemed like the tiredness was hitting him as well.

"We all need to go to bed after our snack," Serenity said to her companions.

"And we will, but snacks first."

Serenity let out a sigh. "These muffins are delicious. You'll have to give me the recipe."

"It's an old family secret, but for you dear, I'll write it down."

Serenity smiled. "Thank you."

When everyone had finished their snack, the witches parted ways, Granny to have a cup of tea before crashing in bed, and Serenity excited to be the proud new owner of an almost invisibility cloak.

#a cottage witch and her dragon #serenity and dragon #my writing #original fiction #my art #things I made

[sykhan048]

Heart to you (Snape X OFC)

26 July, Rome,

"No!" a panicked voice laced with heavy american accent whisper-yelled, "Absolutely not! guys do something!" The person who said to the small group with a sheer frustration. "He is right. Don't be stupid. You are going to get yourself a lots of trouble." They tried to warn their female friend although she is even listening to them.

The girl or it can say a young women like the way she prefers to be addressed, was of a medium height, look little younger than her two friends. She was modestly dressed in a coffee coloured full sleeve full length vintage dress. Her waist length thick and dark purple hairs are left open but styled modestly. Her face, devoid any cosmetics, may not be the most beautiful in the world but the sparkle in the almond-shaped eyes combined with the beaming smile in her lips and her slight dimple of checks, can put every beautiful face into face in shame.

Today she was uncharastically silent, gazing through the hallway window and her clam eyes twinkled with amusement and mischief... the gang knew this look can only means trouble. Some participant while entering the hall as they are the participants of debate competition. When she was done with her inspection she turned to her friends, "We are only here for 3 days and 1 day we've already wasted. I only have today and tomorrow to see the city."

"Sorry to break it to you. we are here for the competition, not to tour the city." one of her friend retorted."

"Correction! you guys are here for competition. I'm here to see the Eternal city." She corrected him. He jumped in and said, "When have I heard this like...oh I forgot you said these when we went to paris for the chess competition." She smiled in a fond memory, Paris was so beautiful!! Their group leader had gotten really angry at her for sneaking out from the group, but couldn't help herself to see the most romantic city in the world from behind a window. There was so much to do, so much to see and she did her best to enjoy every aspect Paris had to offer, did a little shopping, tasted their food, saw the city from top of the Eiffel Tower. Her only regret was she was doing these alone...without him. It was his birthday...she could walk with him beside the Seine River under the glowing street lamps...hand in hand...see the sunset together from the top of Eiffel tower...dance with him under the moon light...

She was lost in her fantasies that she didn't even noticed that her friends were still talking to her. Her hand clasped under chin, blush adore her checks while her eyes sparkle with the colourful dreams..."these is not Paris...these is Ro...Hey are you even listening to me! Hello!! " Her male friend wave his hand in front of her face successfully bring her from her daydreams. "Why are you smiling like that and why the hell are you turning red?" he huffed in frustration. The girl made a annoyed face and threw a glare to her friend for disturbing her dream. "If I got determine by doing anything no one can stop me."

"Whatever!! just do me a favor, don't put yourself at any trouble. by the way our professor is giving us stinky eye. How are you going to convince him to let you go?" Her friend asked. "I've a plan." She said with mischievous smile. She approach to the old man and, "Mr. leonardo! can I please visit the exhibition hall again?" Her request bluffed her friend. The place which she talking about is at the left wing of the building. How was she planning to go outside from there. Maybe she found some secret rout. She is very unpredictable...

"Again? Why?" The person Mr. Leonardo asked perplexed. The placed she already visited yesterday. What is left for her to re-exploring? "I'd like to see the paintings again. They are truly magnificent." By watching the frown at the man's forehead she understood that he still are not going to let her go. "Actually there's one painting of a pond reminds me of my village...my  home, It's almost 12 years that I left my home..." Her voice heavy with emotion..."I felt that...I found a piece of my home in  this unknown land." She finish her over dramatic speech and her friends just rolled her eyes and mutter, "Drama Queen!" Mr. Leonardo still maintain a stern face and permit her to go. How can he won't. The girl really missing her home. After Mr. Leonardo left her friend warn her, "Victoria be careful!" She nodded her reassuringly and then she was gone.

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

Victoria walked down the hall and found herself in the left wing, in a big room rows and rows of paintings in ornate carved frames decorated the walls, some were original and some were replicas of famous works from Renaissance era. Her eyes circles the room which was mostly empty, other than a pudgy janitor who was singing an italian song while sweeping the floor to himself there was no one. Her eyes travelled past the janitor over some sculptures then finally on the eastern wall her eyes landen on the painting she was looking for.

Shivering for the cold temperature of the hall she started to walk towards the east wall...Her footstep echoing loudly to the empty room. On her way, when she was passing the pudgy man she smiled warmly at him, in reply the man tipped his head in greetings. She walked to the painting and starts observing it. It was an oil painting of many wooden boat floating on a pond. on the top it started with warm orange and yellow colour at the background, on the right side there was a silhouette of a mansion which looked very familiar. She wasn't lying when she said she liked that painting or that it reminds her of her home.  "You are right Victoria." a voice suddenly whisper in her ear. "It's just like the pond which was situated behind our school...or maybe it is still." There are so many things a person could do when they are being seeked up on-they get startled, some jump in surprise, some even squeaked. But Victoria did none of those things, instead her heart fluttered as a huge smile formed on her lips as she turned to face the owner of the voice. The owner of the voice is a young boy probably 16 or 17 years old much younger than her, thin and tall, fare complexion, who was wearing the uniform of Hogwart school. The left side of his robe has a logo said which house he belongs to. His sharp and intelligent eyes was gazing her her with spark of happiness in them. His thin lip stretched in a grin. "See! I was right. You are the only who was auguring with me." She said with a little frown. "Okey...Okey...I'm sorry! Now please forgive me."  She said while looking at him, "ummm.....no. You have to convince me." She said while smiling. The boy said, "Hmm...let me think..." He seems in thought suddenly he said, "What about my new spell?" Before Victoria could reply the boy take his wand and move it round to make sparkling at the air. Victoria felt very very delight and her smile is not leaving from her face. Her dimple is flushing over her checks and she was happy beyond her imagination. As her laughter died down she smile longingly at him, "Why don't you stay in front of me always?" As she complained her eyes mist up.

"I may not be in front of your eyes but I'm definitely behind your closed eyes." He said softly, "Won't you see Rome? let's go!" She happily nodded her head, taking his hand in hers she led towards the escaping rout.

To be continue...

#severus snape #severus x reader #snape smut #snape fandom #snape fanfiction #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #smut #severus snape fanfiction #snape #snape love

[nagdabbit]

we collide with shoulder and steel, an official soundtrack

where light divides the holler by knocked loose

and from within you, i hear a whimper // a voice echoes in an empty form // inside my head, you say, "i told you so" // we should've left before the storm

there is trouble by the taxpayers

do you realize you are bound to hit the floor? // do you realize that the walls you make and the places you stay // will get beaten by the wind and erode?

shrike by death goals

i’m so sick of feeling like i’m nothing // a wallflower with no petals // and a head full of static

gnostic flesh/mortal hell by health, backxwash, ho99o9

sky gets black when the time is up // try to run but i have to look // pray to god, stay safe from me // heartfelt from a casualty

colossus by idles

forgive me father, i have sinned // i've drained my body full of pins // i've danced til dawn with splintered shins // full of pins, full of pins

remedy by hot water music

i woke to the sound and the rhythm of rain // dancing down on the windowpane // comatose, eyes half-closed // arms wrapped up with the wounds all sewn

the hunger by the distillers

holy eyes // i never knew i'd beg down at your feet // hold on tight // i never knew id know much more than this

they fear us by ithaca

i held my breath on the way down // your tangled hair became my gown // i'll never tell you what i found // now look who's finally got the crown

fear and trembling by every time i die

i am sorry, it's not right // but you are mine to sacrifice // i was hopeless, i was tired // and we all kill to survive

don’t come to the woods by backxwash

turn 'em to into runes and slabs // brutish plan, revenge on stupid man // do it damn, casket is suit for them

acid rain by lorn

daylight // in bad dreams // in a cool world // full of cruel things

skin by zola jesus

in the city, you find pain // and the people you see there // that remind you of your role // let me go

flood by vagabon

i'm laying my life down // i'm due the gold crown // to be near you // i'll be near you

i’m a monster by austra

i'm a monster  // i am on fire, i'm blooming, baby // why don't you care for me anymore?

giver by k.flay

i got high hopes lots of potential // i’m high, broke, searching for symbols // and i will not let go of what is mine

panic attack by liza anne

my words disappear on a dry tongue // and i am trying to let you know it // but i am drowning by the moment

the beast by austra

the morning that i was born again // i was made into a beast // am i free now, am i at peace? // is that the ground below me, or your feet

burn it down by daughter

momma told me all of this is // just a place we have to settle for // less than anything we dream on // we’ll continue to be disappointments

a burning hill by mitski

and i've been a forest fire // i am a forest fire // and i am the fire and i am the forest // and i am a witness watching it // i stand in a valley watching it // and you are not there at all

a song for ted sallis by the mountain goats

wherever my former self went // it was an accident // try to picture him in my mind's eye // say goodbye

the swimming pool song by laura jane grace

and when my body has been spent, my soul here will remain // graffiti on a wall for all eyes to see

set the sails (ellis demo) by dan mangan

the storm's coming down // these old walls are wearing thin // there's an ache to this town // and something's gotta give

flash by joan as police woman

oh my lover, let me tell you now // all the things that i feel // i already cried a river so deep // now i'm ready to heal // now i'm ready to kneel

spent gladiator 2 (jordan lake sessions) by the mountain goats  

like a fighter who's been told it's finally time for him to quit // show up in radiant colors // and then stand there and get hit

thin line by honeyhoney

sometimes i'm doing things half-ass wrong // sometimes the words i sing are just some half-ass song // i get lost and i get found // oh, and i'll be good until i need another round

wolf like me by lera lynn, shovels & rope

hey, hey, my playmate // let me lay waste to thee // burned down their hanging trees // it's hot here, hot here, hot here, hot here

darling by mannequin pussy

i’m spinning away // my body’s contagious // how brave of you // to walk from my greatness

drag my body by hot water music

i found the pedestals and burned them down // to kill my idols and to bury the thoughts underground // i'm no longer deaf to the sounds

maybe i’ll catch fire by alkaline trio

well maybe i'll fall hard // something tough to break me // something sharp to rip into my insides // and bleed out all that pain

screamy dreamy by laura jane grace and the devouring mothers

walk with you through hotel gardens // overlooking the balearic seas // columbus flowers and belladonna blooming // into the ether forever vanishing

also available on tidal

now also on spotify cuz @shes-a-voodoo-child is the best!

#a tale as old as balls #honestly i think this is just a good playlist for emotional turmoil #if anyone uses spotify and wants to make it shoot me a link and ill add it

[peaktotheocean]

medicinal

pairing: pre-steddie ao3 link here summary: “I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully.

Eddie didn't usually take appointments. It was easy enough to show up at a party, make some sales, and then skedaddle. The idea of someone wanting to get him alone at a certain time and location sounded like a recipe for trouble. 

But he didn't always say no. Certain people, he just got a good vibe from. 

And Robin Buckley was one of those people. 

Which was the only reason he was waiting by the river an hour before dusk, trying to pretend as though he was out for a walk. Maybe birdwatching. He could be a birdwatcher. He wasn't so much for human chicks but baby birds--

Well, there was a Robin coming towards him right now. 

“Buckley, welcome.” He tilted his head in greeting and gestured to the large rocks that made up the riverbank. "Please, step into my office."

“Good to see you too.” Robin gave him a nervous smile but it wasn't too different from her regular smile. She tugged down on the sleeves of her jacket even though the early September sun setting through the trees managed to heat up the whole city as a fuck you before disappearing. 

“When do you normally see me?” Eddie chalked it up to regular anxiety or first time jitters. Robin wasn't a recurring customer. He had seen her share a joint or two with a few people at band parties but she'd never purchased anything for herself. At least not from Eddie. 

“Band practice?“ Robin tried. “I guess I don’t,” she admitted a whole second later.

“We appreciate the honesty here.” He sorted through his stash, filing through plastic baggies a personal card catalog. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully. She let out a sigh, as if she had been gearing herself up to ask the question the whole walk along the river.

"Damn it, Buckley, I'm a dealer, not a doctor," Eddie joked, trying to soften it with a smirk. It didn’t work. Robin's face fell and Eddie bit his lip. "But I’ve heard some positive things. This friend can't buy it for themselves?" Eddie mentally went through the people he had seen Robin with, in band, around town, at the diner. Some geeks from school, a few soccer girls, and weirdly enough, some of the kids from Hellfire. Eddie thought back to a conversation he had with Dustin not too long ago, with the kid pulling him aside after a campaign session. "This isn't for Henderson, is it? I already told that kid his first time smoking is going to be with me."

Robin didn't hide her surprise but it morphed into impressed more quickly than Eddie expected. "Very responsible, Munson. No, it's not for Dustin.” She did a double-take and her already short hair flew into her mouth. Even as she tried to pull it out, she asked, “Dustin asked you for weed?"

"Gave me a very similar story to you, Buckley." Eddie narrowed his eyes. "What exactly am I missing here?"

Robin kept silent, not avoiding the question, but just being thoughtful about her answer. Eddie couldn't tell if she was being so choosy with her words for Eddie's sake or her own. Maybe both. 

Finally, slowly, she started to speak.

"Dustin and I have...a mutual friend who can't afford the amount of concussions he keeps getting. Hence all the migraines." Robin rapped her closed fist against her own head, wincing directly after.

"Ouch." Eddie matched her expression. "Can't afford like--"

"Both physically and monetarily," Robin quickly interrupted him. 

"Christ."

"Yeah so, we're trying...other avenues." Robin gestured to Eddie, fingers outstretched and wiggling, imitating one of the many Hawkins cheerleaders.

"And what does your friend think about these alternative avenues?" Eddie held up a baggie that he thought would suit her needs. Or her mystery friend’s needs, more like. 

Robin huffed and her bangs flew into the air. "He hates that we're making a fuss. But if he's in enough pain next time around, I don't think he'll argue if I'm ready with some supplies." She looked pointedly at the weed held between Eddie's fingers.

Eddie didn't hand it over just yet. He knew he stared too much sometimes but he couldn't help it. Especially now. 

This was a different Buckley from the one he knew from band. Something had changed over the summer and Eddie wasn't sure what. 

He also wasn't sure he wanted to know, if he was being honest with himself.

There was a wall there, some kind of barrier in Robin's eyes. She wasn't giving him anything and it made Eddie want to turn tail and run, leaving her with whatever weed she wanted for her friend. But instead, he used his free hand to grip on the rock beneath him and did his best to smile at her.

They weren't fooling each other. 

"You're making me want to give you a discount, Buckley. I never do that." He shook his head and handed over the little plastic bag. "$20."

"That sounds like a fuss, Eddie Munson. But I won't tell him if you won't." Robin took her purchase and stared at it, like she wasn't sure where to put it now that she had it. She settled for slipping it between a sock and her low top Chucks. Not the worst place. Most women tucked it into their bra but Eddie wasn't going to offer any critiques. Instead, he grabbed onto another bad question that a part of his brain couldn't help wondering. 

"You won't tell me who this guy is? How you and Dustin know the same victim of hard knocks? In Hawkins?" Not much happened in this city if Eddie didn't include whatever the hell happened with the Byers kid a few years back. Well, and the mall that caught on fire. Shit, maybe Hawkins was gearing up for something.

"There are...other elements at play here." Robin bit off before she could say anything else. Her eyes brightened up again but not nearly enough. Eddie could still see that wall, no matter how easy she played it off. So he took a different avenue. He couldn't help it.

"You said he keeps getting concussions. You being careful?"

Robin let out a hollow laugh at that, which made Eddie feel both better and worse. "We are doing our best." 

That wasn't a great answer. 

Eddie thought about Dustin. How he and Mike and Lucas sometimes planned combat maneuvers during Hellfire as though they were seasoned war veterans, taking the game way too seriously. Normally, Eddie had the opposite problem when wrangling players during Dungeons & Dragons.

"Are the kids are caught up in this?" Eddie asked quietly, not even realizing until the words were out of his mouth. 

Robin’s spine stiffened just slightly and there it was— the same steel expression the kids got on their faces while trying to figure out their next move. Eddie could see her mind shifting and it only frayed Eddie's nerves further. 

She looked him in the eyes and asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Do you really want to know the answer to any of this, Eddie?"

"No..." Eddie answered slowly. He couldn't look away from her eyes. She seemed so...curious almost. As if she was just daring him to ask. "No, I do not. Take your purchase and have a lovely day."

Just like that, the moment was gone. Robin tilted her head back and laughed, stretching her arms in front of her as she lifted herself off of the rock. 

“Sweet talker," she called behind her, leaving him by the river, just watching her go. 

"I'm not your type, Buckley," Eddie shouted at her, not able to help himself. 

"You're not mine either, Munson," Robin mocked him with a wink.

 -

Waiting for Steve to emerge from Lover's Lake was the longest minute and ten seconds of Eddie's life. He remembered the look Steve had given Dustin. And then the one he had given Eddie. He kept going over Dustin's hero worship in his head. His fingers tightened around Steve's yellow sweatshirt.

He doesn't know this new Steve Harrington at all. But he'd like to. 

He'd really like to. Damn it.

There's nothing but the water sloshing up against the side of the boat and Eddie figured if he didn't talk, Robin would start. She couldn't stand the silence. So instead, Eddie asked the question he had been thinking about ever since Dustin explained this whole wild story.

"Your friend. With the concussions." He nudged Robin who gave him a blank look for a few seconds before letting out laughter that was far too loud. She clapped her hands over her mouth but slowly lowered them. 

"Figured it out?" She whispered.

"Pretty obvious now that I’ve seen him in action." Eddie gulped, looking down at the water. They couldn't even see the flashlight through the water anymore. "When you said that he couldn't afford anymore..."

Nancy looked between the two of them and sighed. "He always says that it's better him than the kids or us,” she grumbled. She glanced back down at the time and then over the side of the boat to the dark water. “Hard to disagree with that logic but..."

"But that doesn't mean we have to like it,” Robin finished for her.

“Your lives, man.” Eddie shook his head. "This is insane."

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Nancy muttered.

 -

Eddie could maybe admit that his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. He still felt pretty fuzzy and in a lot of pain but he couldn't help but smile when he opened his eyes to see Steve Harrington next to him, slumped down in a hospital chair. Dustin, a cast on his leg, was curled up in a chair across the room, asleep but seemingly in better shape than both Eddie and Steve.

Somehow, Steve looked even worse in the well-lit hospital room than he had in the Upside Down, but it's possible that was just because there was enough light for Eddie to see every bandage and suture. But Steve was conscious and blinked when he saw that Eddie's eyes were open, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"You're awake," Steve said dumbly, sitting up too quickly in his chair and then hissing in pain. He tried again, slower this time and leaned closer to Eddie's bed. So close and yet Eddie still would gladly give up a few more inches. 

"Please tell me you don't have another concussion," Eddie blurted out before he could help it. Somewhere, Robin felt even more of a kinship with him and didn't know it was because neither of them could ever stop talking. But Steve's head was something he had been thinking about on loop during their whole journey, even when potentially getting a concussion of his own. Not just his head, but maybe his face too, and his hair. But that was all part of his head so it was okay. 

Steve's brain caught up with the question. "Wait-- how do you know about that?" He stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Robin. That was your weed?"

"Buckley and the grass,” Eddie confirmed, leaning his head back against the hospital pillow. He could have sworn he heard his hair crunch. What he wouldn’t give for a shower. “But I figured it out for myself once I saw you at work during this adventure.” He winked and he hoped the hospital lighting wasn't playing tricks on him because Steve Harrington's blush went all the way down to the bandage that covered his bruised torso. 

He held out his hand and Steve took it so quickly that the heart monitor attached to Eddie beeped with excitement. Steve squeezed his fingers and didn't let go but instead, let both of their hands rest together on the edge of Eddie's bed. He ran his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand but Eddie was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't going to let this go. 

"You didn't answer my question."

"About?" Steve looked up from where their hands were and his dazed eyes made Eddie wonder if he had his own bed in the hospital somewhere that he had snuck out of in order to be in Eddie's room.

"About that head of yours, Stevie." Eddie squeezed his hand. "Don't tell me they were too distracted by the stitches to do a concussion check."

"Oxygen loss was the bigger issue this time around, apparently," Steve joked badly and gestured to the bruise around his neck. Eddie knew that bruises had to get worse before they could get better but Steve's looked downright terrible. 

"Your poor brain, sweetheart," Eddie sighed, only half faking his sorrowful tone. He wished Steve was closer so he could sink his hands into that hair. Maybe a head massage would help. 

"I know, I know."

“When we get out of here, we’re going to treat those migraines right.” Eddie wasn’t sure how but he bet the Byers’ new friend Argyle could help him out.

Steve hummed and closed his eyes, still holding onto Eddie’s hand even as he drifted off. “I’d like that.”

-

ao3 link here

#steddie #stranger things #my fanfic

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“Some years ago, I was stuck on a crosstown bus in New York City during rush hour. Traffic was barely moving. The bus was filled with cold, tired people who were deeply irritated with one another, with the world itself. Two men barked at each other about a shove that might or might not have been intentional. A pregnant woman got on, and nobody offered her a seat. Rage was in the air; no mercy would be found here.

But as the bus approached Seventh Avenue, the driver got on the intercom. "Folks," he said, "I know you have had a rough day and you are frustrated. I can’t do anything about the weather or traffic, but here is what I can do. As each one of you gets off the bus, I will reach out my hand to you. As you walk by, drop your troubles into the palm of my hand, okay? Don’t take your problems home to your families tonight, just leave them with me. My route goes right by the Hudson River, and when I drive by there later, I will open the window and throw your troubles in the water."

It was as if a spell had lifted. Everyone burst out laughing. Faces gleamed with surprised delight. People who had been pretending for the past hour not to notice each other’s existence were suddenly grinning at each other like, is this guy serious?

Oh, he was serious.

At the next stop, just as promised, the driver reached out his hand, palm up, and waited. One by one, all the exiting commuters placed their hand just above his and mimed the gesture of dropping something into his palm. Some people laughed as they did this, some teared up but everyone did it.

The driver repeated the same lovely ritual at the next stop, too. And the next. All the way to the river.

We live in a hard world, my friends. Sometimes it is extra difficult to be a human being. Sometimes you have a bad day. Sometimes you have a bad day that lasts for several years. You struggle and fail. You lose jobs, money, friends, faith, and love. You witness horrible events unfolding in the news, and you become fearful and withdrawn. There are times when everything seems cloaked in darkness. You long for the light but don’t know where to find it.

But what if you are the light? What if you are the very agent of illumination that a dark situation begs for?. That’s what this bus driver taught me, that anyone can be the light, at any moment. This guy wasn’t some big power player. He wasn’t a spiritual leader. He wasn’t some media-savvy influencer. He was a bus driver, one of society’s most invisible workers. But he possessed real power, and he used it beautifully for our benefit.

When life feels especially grim, or when I feel particularly powerless in the face of the world’s troubles, I think of this man and ask myself, What can I do, right now, to be the light? Of course, I can’t personally end all wars, or solve global warming, or transform vexing people into entirely different creatures. I definitely can’t control traffic. But I do have some influence on everyone I brush up against, even if we never speak or learn each other’s name.

"No matter who you are, or where you are, or how mundane or tough your situation may seem, I believe you can illuminate your world. In fact, I believe this is the only way the world will ever be illuminated, one bright act of grace at a time, all the way to the river."

~ Elizabeth Gilbert 

#Elizabeth Gilbert #quotes #stories #story #subway #out and about

[anarcho-occultism]

Egregiupsaltes

“EGREGIUPSALTES-He is an infernal Duke of immense power and appeareth akin to a man with red skin and horns extending from his ears and chin. He causeth all who surround the summoner to engage in song, dance and other such merriment for as long as the summoner can bindeth him and provides inspiration and talent in the arts of musical composition and stage performance. He is capable of pushing men to reveal hidden secrets that they would otherwise keep concealed. He governeth 20 Legions of Spirits and is summoned by a seal imprinted upon a talisman. Knoweth this should ye summon him: Egregiupsaltes, while oft of good humor, demandeth burnt offerings. If they are not received any personages around thee may be compelled to dance until they burn. Egregiupsaltes also doth from time to time demand a bride, whom he shalt take to his realm if he is given one.”

-Excerpt from De Vermis Mysteriis by Ludvig Prinn, 1269

“NEW YORK, NEW YORK-NYPD sources have confirmed that popular nightclub singer Reno Sweeney was found dead in her apartment this morning at the age of 42. Sweeney, a former evangelist and ex-fiancé of British Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, was found burned to death. The circumstances of Sweeney’s death closely mirror the circumstances surrounding the demise of champion gambler Sky Masterston two years ago, though the cause of Masterton’s death likewise remains a mystery. Sweeney’s funeral is scheduled for next Sunday.”

-Obituary for Reno Sweeney found in the Daily Bugle, April 17th, 1939

“Yes folks, you’ve got trouble! Right here in River City! And that trouble is Satanism! I have found proof—definitive proof—that members of this town have been consorting with dark forces! I want to assure you fine folks that I will work tirelessly to uncover who is responsible for unleashing dark forces on your fair community, so long as I draw breath!”

-Excerpt from a sermon by Reverend Elmer Gantry, 1921

“Blue Rose Case #046-Localized Musical Phenomenon. Seem to manifest in close proximity to teenaged populations (see Rydell High School and Jets-Sharks incidents files). Potential ties to the music of Conrad Birdie under investigation but remain unconfirmed. Known impact on Agent Everett Scott in course of 1959 investigation into alien phenomena. Dr. Scott’s opinion is that aliens in question may venerate a particular infernal entity possessing the ability to create this.”

-Excerpt from a briefing memo sent by UIU Agent Kent Mansley to FBI Director J. Henry Lux, 1961

“The immolation of the gigantic Triffid responsible for terrorizing New York is still under active investigation by authorities. As of this time, police and federal officials remain uncertain as to how it was that the entity formerly known as Audrey II met its demise. Initial rumors that the Justice League was responsible for doing so have been debunked.

Speaking of which, as the Triffid invasion seems to be cast into memory alongside the Mollusc, Kanamit and Furon attacks, we are continuing our efforts to encourage people to help people find missing loved ones. If you are in the Baltimore area and see this woman—Penny Lou Pingleton—please contact the number you see before you…”

-Broadcast by Howard Beale on UBS Evening News, March 16, 1962

“My father’s papers have concealed within them some most foul and infernal documents. I have chosen to destroy them rather than let future generations be forced to confront his mistakes. The ring he had given Anna…was that a token of affection or a curse he sought to pass off? Either way I have ordered it buried in a remote part of Indochina. Hopefully it stays buried.”

-Excerpt from the diary of Thai King Chulalongkorn, written in December of 1868

“No, please, I can get you more sacrifices! I was able to give you a busload before, remember? NOOOO!! AGGGH!”

-Last words of Cory Radison, 2011

“SCP-7172 is not solely responsible for localized musical phenomena. It is estimated that at least 40% of LMPs occur due to the radiation of dimensional energies from the Land of Oz in areas where the boundaries between worlds wear thin for instance. However, SCP-7172 is responsible for a very high number of instances of LMPs including documented instances in:

-Albuquerque, New Mexico, centered on East High School. No casualties documented.

-Salt Lake City, Utah-Centered on the Latter-Day Saints Church Missionary Training Center, effects followed several elders on missions to Uganda, Japan and Norway. 3 casualties documented (2 in Norway, 1 in Japan)

-Cladwell, New Mexico-Effects were felt by the entirety of town. Notably SCP-7172’s impacts were indirectly responsible for the Water Riots of 2011 and the subsequent destruction of the town. Direct casualties: 6 Indirect Casualties: 732.”

-Excerpt from SCP-7172’s file, declassified 2038

“Hehehe, Ol’ Jack hasn’t got anything on me. My sweet muse, my sweet aide, he accepts my blood offerings as good as the fire. And he helps me stay clear of Mr. Noose—more’n he did for Mr. Todd, eh?

Warmest regards,

Mack the Knife.”

-Letter from Mack the Knife to London Police, sent 1890

🎵 Assassins, kitties, prophets—I’ve got range

I made Romans indulge in styles quite strange.

Even if they don’t know all the arts,

Everyone has a song in their hearts.

Theatre troupes, AIDs patients, naval ships,

Revolutionaries, newsboys, even SQUIPS.

I strip away every shred of their doubt

Take that energy, and let it all out. 🎵

#buffy the vampire slayer #once more with feeling #musical theater #musicals #mega crossover #league of extraordinary gentlemen

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 15

The conclusion to everything that's happened since getting to Central.

Al finally tells Ed his concerns, resulting in Winry beating Al up and telling him Ed's concerns. Winry is totally right that you need to actually say some things for them to be understood.

Back in chapter 12, I said I'd talk more about the whole "Is Al an artificial soul" bit later. And it's later. First thing, I didn't like this part because I feel like it was executed kind of bad. Why would Al listen to someone like Barry? As soon as Barry suggested Ed created a fake brother, Al should have punched him harder in the face and kept punching until there was a dent in Barry's helmet.

BUT this is an important question. How do we know Alphonse is the real Alphonse? Even if he isn't artificially made by Ed, how do we know at this point in the story if it's actually Al's soul or some copy? These are genuine questions a new reader might ask.

Maria Ross is fed up with being involved in discovering these grand conspiracies.

We have our first official introduction to Fuhrer President King Bradley. He seems like a jovial and trustworthy figure. He tells everyone to stop the investigation for their own safety and be more discreet. Assume the entire military is your enemy, but when the time comes he will call on them. He also mentions Marcoh's entire research team has gone missing.

Now onto something more lighthearted.

MAPS!

We got a full map of the country! It's circular (hmm) but we can't make out any major landmarks or cities from this map. It's possible to tell where Youswell, New Optain, and East City are if you cross reference this map with the ones in earlier chapters. Youswell really is at the end of the east border. I'm going to guess the light grey lines on the map are rivers.

Winry points out Rush Valley, an automail mecca. It looks like Rush Valley is 4 stops south from Central City. We don't see Dublith though.

A little later in the chapter, Hughes is reading a newspaper which has an image showing Reole in relation to New Optain and East City. There are no railroads on the image but it looks like Reole might be somewhat north of Youswell in a section with no train stations.

So here's my guess as to why Ed and Al went to Youswell in chapter 3. Youswell has a single train line connecting it to New Optain. Since it's a coal city, that line is most likely for a freight train that goes back and forth picking up cargo. After leaving Reole, Ed and Al probably went to a train stop along that route and the only train was making its way to Youswell before it would go to New Optain.

Speaking of Hughes, he found something out and was promptly killed. Lust went after him first, probably to make it a quiet affair. But when that failed, Envy made it a more public spectacle. One nice detail is Envy used a photo of Hughes's wife to transform into her, but the photo only shows her from the upper half so Envy didn't really transform their lower half.

Ed is an artist.

back

Spoiler Discussion

Wrath most likely put the hit out for Hughes. Hughes worked in the court martial office and had access to all the information that would let him find out about the nationwide transmutation circle so Wrath informed Lust and Envy that Hughes needed to die.

Hughes probably realized Bradley was part of the conspiracy just as he was about to call him.

I wonder if Maria Ross and Danny Brosh were also targets for assassination. Even though the two of them weren't actively looking into things, they were within close enough proximity to learn a few things. If Lust had succeeded in quietly killing Hughes in the records room, maybe Maria and Danny would have been killed shortly after. But she failed and Envy is Envy, so Hughes's death became a more public affair and they had to divert their effort to framing Maria Ross for his death. And at that point, they probably would have decided killing Danny would be more trouble than it's worth.

Bradley told everyone to be discreet, assume the entire military is their enemy, and be prepared for him to call on them. These all ring so different when we find out King Bradley is Wrath. Yes, the entire military is their enemy. And when he calls on them, it won't be to stop the conspiracy. It will be to make them help with it.

#fullmetal alchemist reread #fullmetal alchemist

[sezja]

Reconciliation

It's nearly sunset when Guydelot finally returns to Gridania: he gauges it's safe now, surely. Sanson doesn't typically keep the recruits training this late. Might be as he'll get another lecture for running off as he did once they'd returned from their performance in the Sea of Clouds, but hells, he didn't say he was going to start getting acquainted with the recruits straightaway, did he? He didn't make a single godsdamned promise, and he therefore hasn't broken any. Trying to cling to that self-righteous stubbornness, he makes his way through the city as it settles down for the night, lanterns coming alight as the shadows grow longer.

Hells. Guilt gnaws at him. It wouldn't've killed me to sit with them for a bell or two after we got back.

He's unsurprised to find Sanson's house dark. He stands quietly in the doorway a moment, hand still resting on the doorknob, torn by indecision. Would it be better to wait? Surely the man'll come home sooner or later; he can't hole up at the Adders' Nest all night. If Guydelot waits patiently, he'll return home of his own accord, and they can talk then. What'll it prove if he just goes off to hunt Sanson down?

That you care enough to look, mayhap, he answers himself, and sighs, stepping back out and locking the door once more behind him.

But Sanson's not to be found at the Adder's Nest either, once Guydelot's made the jog over; Vorsie assures him, with quiet concern, that Sanson had left nearly two bells past, after a productive training session with the rest of the unit.

"Right. Well, I'll track him down, then."

"If I may," Vorsaile cuts in, before Guydelot can hurry off. "He was in something of a pensive mood. When he was a young recruit, I used to find him sitting on the docks beside the guild when he wished to think. If you've nowhere else in mind, it might be a place to start?"

The docks. Right. Thanking the Commander for the advice, his own mind churning, the bard hastens away - it's getting dark now; if he means to catch Sanson at all, he'd best hurry.

He knows the docks well - it's the easiest way to his favorite haunt, the East Shroud, home to all the nooks and crannies a Quiverman looking to escape from dull duties could dream of. No need to take a boat today, though: his quarry sits at the far edge of the dock, one leg dangling over the water, the other curled on the wooden planks. Sanson sits perfectly upright, peering over the slow river, hands resting in his lap. Not troubling to approach quietly, Guydelot lets his steps fall heavily on the dock to announce his presence.

Sanson peers over his shoulder. "Guydelot?"

He doesn't sound angry. That's promising. "Aye." He hesitates, unsure now what to say. He'd expected an argument. "I... you weren't home." He clears his throat. "Thought I ought to track you down."

"I see." Sanson looks away. To Guydelot's surprise, he sounds almost amused. "That's something of a change of pace, is it not?"

Despite himself, Guydelot chuckles, taking a seat at Sanson's side, letting both his feet hang off the dock. It hangs between them - the tension, the frustration, an explosion in the making; it will come out, sooner or later, and Guydelot's not fool enough to think otherwise. This is a truce.

But for the moment, gods, it's good to sit here with Sanson again, watching the world spin by. Guydelot lets his eyes drift shut, the better to hear the slow, steady sound of the man beside him breathing. He could drop off to sleep right here, thinking on it. He hasn't slept well in days; not since he stormed out of the house, refusing to come home again, not when home just meant listening to Sanson badger him about training the recruits...

"It isn't merely the recruits," Sanson says, quietly. "Is it?"

The bard doesn't open his eyes. "Don't know what you mean, Chief."

"There is more to it than unwillingness to train unskilled novices." He rests a hand on Guydelot's knee, anchoring him. "Guydelot, I never considered what carrying the weight of the battle at Ghimlyt must have done to you. Can you forgive me for burdening you further?"

Ghimlyt. The name sends a shudder darting through him like a snakebite, and he flinches, opening his eyes. "Sanson-"

"Your performance was stirring enough to earn the recognition of the Alliance." Sanson shakes his head. "You carried armies with your song, and should have had others alongside you to aid you, but they failed you when the battle grew most dire."

His throat had been raw by the time the battle ended; he'd not been able to squeak out a word for nearly two days - and those two days were spent drinking tea with honey and lemon, when he'd've liked nothing more than to drown the memory of the battlefield in strong spirits. Not something he wants to think on now.

"A bard shouldn't flinch when they're needed," he manages, through a throat that aches nearly as much now as it did that day. "Not if their heart's in it."

"Aye. You tried to tell me as much." Sanson's hand lifts from his knee, traveling instead to Guydelot's back, stroking his shoulders with slow, soothing circles. "Still, I believe they have potential, if..."

He lets the word hang there. Guydelot sighs, closing his eyes once more. "Aye. I said I'd get to know your recruits, Chief. I won't let you down."

"You never have."

The three words, spoken with such quiet certainty, nearly undo him. Guydelot swallows, blinking back a sudden sting in his eyes; no one's ever had faith in him the way Sanson does! Like a knife in his heart, it is, but he'd rather die than remove it.

"Guydelot..." Now there's uncertainty in Sanson's voice, a quiet anxiety.

He swallows again. Hopes his voice comes out normal. "Aye?"

"Do I... really nag like a fishwife?"

Surprised into laughter, it's a full minute before Guydelot gathers himself enough to ask, "How- how in the world did you-"

"Pukno Poki," Sanson replies, crisply dignified. "When he told us where you'd last been seen."

"Bloody moogles," Guydelot says without heat. "They listen in on everything-"

"He also informs me you said the recruits were 'as stiff as their captain,' and that you had no hope for them." Sanson frowns. "I begin to think you don't like me much, Guydelot."

Laughing once more, Guydelot reaches over and tugs Sanson into his lap, careful not to drop the struggling, protesting man into the water. "Fishwives wish they had what you've got," the bard says, burying his face in Sanson's neck, parting his lips to taste the man's skin for the first time in weeks. "Fishwives're like meek maids next to you, my fussy, bossy, pompous prat-"

"You're not- ah-" Sanson squirms once more while Guydelot kisses his throat, but this time, it feels a good deal less like a protest. "Not helping your argument-"

"Demanding, pushy, obnoxious, insufferable." Guydelot grins, resting his chin on Sanson's shoulder, admiring the flush in his lover's skin. "And I wouldn't change a damn thing about you, Sanson the Stiff, infuriating as you often are."

"Nor I you," Sanson replies, shifting to get a better look at the bard. "Guydelot..."

"Aye?"

"Let's go home."

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing

[spaceorphan18]

Oh we got trouble!

Right here in River City!

With a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool!

[saturniandragon]

[10% of this snippet was written with the help of ChatGPT]

Zanri reaches the other side of town, where there’s no shortage of wounded civilians to help. Gust of wind from the deserts of Elsweyr briefly brushes some dirt and dust away from his fur and chestplate, still under the warm sun of Reaper’s March.

On the other side of town is Cariel, having returned from Marbruk after delivering report and receiving orders from the higher ups, to be passed to Eyes of The Queen.

“Cari.”

“Are you alright, Zanri? I heard—”

“I’m fine. What’s the order?”

“Wait for evac, get the survivors to safety, and get back to Marbruk to debrief.”

“Alright.”

“I guess for now I need someone with these bloody rags. Can you clean them for me? I need them for bandages.”

“Sure.”

Zanri takes one of the buckets on the table filled with blood-stained fabric, and brings them to a nearby river.

Along the way he contemplates, whether what he’s been saying to Vani was the right thing to say. He’s not proud of what he said, but he’s unsure if his arguments were appropriate for the situation. Everyday in his line of work has never been particularly easy, both for the body and the mind.

Mindlessly he dances his hands on the bloody rags in the stream, watching as the red flows away into the distance. Time to time he rubs the tricky stains with a bar soap.

“Zanri?”

A voice calls from behind him, under the shadows of the trees. Shazah, unexpectedly, is standing behind him, carrying her iconic magic staff on her back.

“Wh… Mane?”

“Oh, come on. We agreed not to use our titles with each other.”

“I’m- um, yes. Shazah. Sorry.”

Shazah notices what Zanri is doing, and kneels beside him. She takes one of the bloody rags from the bucket, and starts washing it in the river with him. An act he didn’t expect from her, but he warmly welcomes it.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

The two pass the afternoon together beside the stream, cleaning dirty rags thoroughly and putting them under the sun to dry. It’s been a while since Zanri and Shazah got together, so he appreciates the moment with her.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Lord Gharesh-Ri said there’s been conflict here. I wanted to observe.”

“Yeah, we… tried to stop it. But things happened.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Zanri and Shazah continue spending the midday together outside the city perimeters, peacefully doing a mundane task in the field that no one expects an Eye of The Queen or the Mane of Khajiit to be doing. But from the looks of their faces, they seem to enjoy each other’s company.

“I met your step sister. She’s adorable.”

“Hah, yeah… only sometimes.”

-

“And um… Raz told me you two don’t get along well.”

“…”

-

“Is… that true?”

“Well, maybe that guy needs to shut up more often.”

Zanri stops what he’s doing to take a breather, staring at the shines of the water in front of him.

“Sigh…”

“What’s wrong, Zanri?”

“This is not a place for her.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t know if she’s ready for what’s to come.”

Shazah also stops what she’s doing, to look at her companion in his troubled eyes. She’s known that he has a strong heart, after their endeavor in Reaper’s March some years ago, but this feels like something else. Something more than just Zanri being protective of Vani.

“But she’s a fighter, I thought? She looks more than capable.”

“She is. I’ve seen her fight, and admittedly she’s very good.”

Zanri hesitated, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He knows the saying that describes Vani, “like she’s born with six claws”. But on the other hand, he couldn't shake the feeling of protectiveness and fear that came with being an older brother, not after knowing what Vani has to endure all these years. Losing her family and her friends before that chance meeting of them.

“So, why the worry?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s a mix of things. We both have lost family. Now I’m the only family she has left, and she’s the only family I have left.”

-

“I see, I know that feeling too when my father passed away.”

“It’s not the whole story but… well, it’s the best I can explain right now.”

Shazah put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. It’s a gesture that he hasn’t had for a while.

“She’ll be fine. You just have to trust her. Like when you trusted me before.”

Zanri smiled back, feeling grateful for her support, grateful to have known her in his time. It’s not everyday he gets to see those beautiful pair of jade eyes in her, but he knows they always comfort him. And it’s true again today.

“Thank you.”

“If you need me, I’ll be by your side.”

The pair continue the task at hand after that wholesome exchange between them, one by one going through more bloodstained rags. The sun now hides behind the trees of Valenwood, but he still feels the warmth from her presence.

“Is that your way of saying you want to be with me?”

“Mhm, I don’t know, do you want to be with me?”

“Well, depends on what you think about—”

“Hey, lovebirds. Not the time. We have injured people to help.”

Their conversation is rudely interrupted by Cariel, standing behind them while giving a slightly judgmental look. They snapped out of it, Zanri giving her the annoyed look while Shazah chuckles it off.

#eso #elder scrolls online #oc: zanri al anaqi #oc: ahravani al karim

[moonflower1605]

Chapter - 18

(Percy's POV)

We pull into the Amtrak station. The intercom told us we had a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. I woke Nora up.

Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food."

"Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "We're going sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?"

"The Gateway Arch," she said. "This maybe my only chance to ride to the top. Are you guys coming or not?"

Grover, Nora & I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but I figured that if Annabeth was going, we couldn’t very well let her go alone.

Grover shrugged. "As long as there’s a snack bar without monsters." Nora agreed with him.

The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren’t that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons & other junk from the 1800's.

It wasn’t that thrilling, Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about the Arch, & Nora passed me blue jelly beans, so I was okay.

I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" I murmured to Grover. He stuck his nose up.

"Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air smells like monsters. Probably doesn’t mean anything."

But something felt wrong to me. I felt like we shouldn’t be here. I held Nora's hand. She gave my hand a squeeze & I relaxed.

"Guys," I said. "You know the gods’ symbols of power?" Annabeth was in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, she looked over.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Hade-"

Nora cleared her throat. "We’re in a public place...You mean, our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right," I said. "Our friend downstairs. Doesn’t he have a hat like Annabeth?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," Nora said. "Yeah, that’s his symbol of power. We saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" I asked.

She nodded. "It’s the only time he’s allowed to visit Olympus-the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than her invisibility hat, if what I’ve heard.."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can’t be touched, or seen, or heard. And he radiates fear so intense it drives you insane or stops your heart. Why'd you think all creatures fear the dark?"

"But then...how do we know he’s not here now, watching us?" I asked. Nora looks at me.

"We don’t," She said.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," I said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

I’d almost mastered my jumpy nerves when I saw the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, & I knew I was in trouble.

I hate confined places. They make me nuts. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar.

I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said anything. We started going up, inside the Arch.

I’d never been in an elevator in a curve, & my stomach wasn’t happy about it. Nora rubbed a soothing thumb over my knuckles in reassurance. I gave her a grateful smile in return.

"No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; floppy denim hat, a denim dress that bulged so much, just like a blue-jean blimp.

"They’re below," Annabeth told. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growls. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave."

The dog had beady eyes like its owner. I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?"

"No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up.

At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other.

The view was okay, but if there’s anything I like less than a confined space, a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick.

Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, & how she would’ve made bigger windows, & see-through floors.

She probably could’ve stayed there for hours, but luckily the park ranger said, the observation deck was closing in few minutes.

I steered Grover, Nora & Annabeth toward the the elevator, & was about to get in, when I realize there were already two tourists inside. No room for me.

The park ranger said, "Next car, sir."

"I’ll get out," Nora said. "I can wait with you."

But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said.

"Naw, it’s okay. I’ll see you at the bottom."

"Promise, you'll come back to me?"

"I promise, Nora."

She was reluctant, but let the elevator door slide shut. The car then went down the ramp.

The only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy & his parents, the park ranger, & the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

I smile uneasily at the fat lady. She smiles back, her forked tongue flickered between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue?

Link to the next chapter is here.

Link for the prev chapter is here.

Comment, like & share.

Take care my lovely readers.❤

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

#percy jackson #x reader #percy jackson x reader

[bacchicly]

I'm supposed to be reading fics for a bit because I am very behind... AND I LOVE ALL YOU GARVEZ WRITERS OUT THERE! But I'm not settled enough to chill and do it right this instant so instead... Here's a quick run down on what i am going to do next writing wise... mostly so that I can start the thinking process...

1. For DCE (my lovers to friends fic)/Happier version Big Trouble in River City... They are at Christmas Eve - have given the profile and are about to stage the sting with Penelope as bait. I basically need to get them to boxing day with the case...then have them fly home. (End of happier version)... then once they are home I do the last kiss, last time having sex, talking about seeing other people. No happier versions for those chapters... lots of feels and some angst for our lovers... (with the promise of an eventual happy ending after season 15...).

BUT BEFORE JUMPING AHEAD - I GUESS I NEED TO THINK ABOUT THE WHOLE CHRISTMAS - CASE THING... hmmmmmmmm

2. Continue my what has turned into a 'wacky sexisode' series (i.e. Not Tied by Where We Show Up at Work) Now that I finally got the 'friends with benefits thing tabled...we can do what I intended which is a smutty story for each episode of season 15...my plan is to re-watch each episode and then write a story (NOT 12K WORDS!) for each one...with them doing both some zany fun sex things and progressively catching more feelings. it's going to basically be more PW(VL)P. The rules for the next few are: watch the episode (or look it up/scan the transcript) and get the idea - and write something. We'll see how it goes. I want to make them quite episodic.

3. I'm also supposed to do a story about the Lisa years - which I was thinking of doing as an audio series. But I can't start that until DCE is done... and then there's the WE FINALLY GET TOGETHER story I had planned - but now I need to decide if I'm ignoring the existence of DCE (probably) or not. We'll see if these projects ever happen... and if they don't - I may just have to finish DCE differently. hmmmmm

Last but not least - I'd like to move a bunch of my work to A03. I think I need to put together some sort of schedule for that... because I've been talking about it forever and have done nada about it. And I probably should revamp my master list here - since it's turned into a gong show.

On a non-CM fanfic side - now that I have proved to myself I can write - I'd like to go back to working on some of my unfinished scripts - specifically Trigger Sylphs - which I was almost done before I fell into the really hard phase just over a year ago.

#garvez #bacchic writes #criminal minds #luke alvez #penelope garcia #unfinished scripts