#she would have been dealing with hate and judgement since the band was formed

[laequiem]

Kiss-proof

/ Jude has lost Cardan in the mall. Of course, he is in the one place she would never go. Domestic fluff, fluffy fluffiest fluff

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Rating: T for mention of characters having a sex life, but that's it.

The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

read on ao3 • part of Tales from the Mortal Realm

I check my bulky flip phone for the 5th time.

4:23pm.

I don't know why I expected Cardan to be back on time. I had some errands to do—which might include lingerie I wanted to keep secret until our anniversary—so I told him to explore the mall on his own. I gave him some (real, non-glamoured) money to spend like a child with an allowance.

There are so many red flags with this whole plan.

I do not like to admit it, but I'm worried. My extravagant husband has enough trouble fitting in with humans when he is with me, I can only imagine the trouble he can get himself in without me. Or the trouble that can find him when I am not there to protect him.

I get up from the bench that I had designed as our meeting point. Where could he be? Anywhere I would not go, which does not narrow the list down very much. As I walk around, I can imagine him enjoying every single one of these places.

Cardan smelling some bath bombs and chatting up with a pushy Lush salesperson. All that glitter, all that dye—the servants would rage at having to clean the tub afterwards.

Cardan entering a sterile-looking jewelry store, eyes glittering at all the precious gems.

Cardan browsing Hot Topic, digging into bowls of plastic rings and looking at shirts for bands he does not know.

My stomach drops as I stand before the one store I know I will find him in. Black-and-white striped pillars stand on either side of the storefront and the dreaded white font over black spells out the name of the store: Sephora.

I have never entered a Sephora before. They are intimidating and I know nothing about their products. Whenever I needed new eyeliner, I would just ask Vivi to buy me whichever one she thought was best. Nowadays, I can count on my husband's extensive makeup collection and skills.

“We have servants to do this!” I had insisted the first time he approached me with a kohl pencil. He had laughed, and I let him line my eyes. Ever since, I look forward to it. It’s a small, intimate gesture with which we prove our love to each other without saying a word. It is his way of showing care, and my way of showing trust.

I pass the threshold of the store and I spot him immediately. Even without my True Sight making his glamour ripple when I gaze at him, I would still have a hard time believing he is human. His glamour is perfect—rounded ears, no tail, the glitter of his skin dulled down to a normal healthy shine—but every glamour should have a flaw. The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

Even amongst gorgeous people who perfected their faces through makeup and good lighting, he stands out.

For me, however, bewilderment comes from seeing Cardan wait in line like a normal person. Like a boy who did not grow up as an entitled prick. It shakes me so much that I stop in my tracks and watch him walk up to the register once the previous client leaves.

He adapts better than I give him credit for. My heart swells with love for this male who keeps challenging and surprising me.

I go to bypass the line and I catch a snippet of his conversation with the boy manning the cash register. On the counter lay piles of makeup, from eyeshadow palettes to colorful eyeliner.

"A good choice!" the cashier exclaims, holding a dark lipstick, "it has the best matte finish. It even passes the kiss test!"

I swear I can see him wiggle his perfectly defined eyebrows. The smile he gives Cardan is wicked—the same kind of grin my husband gives me over dinner then he's feeling particularly hungry.

"The kiss test?" my husband asks, a grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Yeah," the cashier replies, "you can make out with someone, it won't budge. Or transfer."

I get to Cardan’s side and the cashier notices me then. His brows raise in surprise for a moment before he schools his features into a socially acceptable customer service smile.

I can't blame him for his surprise—Cardan and I could not look any more mismatched. His sharp features are accentuated with contouring and a lighter version of his usual silver highlighter. I, on the other hand, barely had time to brush my hair before putting on an oversized hoodie and leggings. I bet I look like someone he took pity on and brought to the mall for a makeover.

"Where is the fun in that?" Cardan looks at me then, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Still, I suppose I will have to try."

I roll my eyes and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

The cashier tells Cardan the total, and he raises a brow when my husband starts counting cash. I know other humans use cards nowadays, but without a permanent address in the Mortal Realm, we have been dealing exclusively in cash—mostly given by Vivi in exchange for Elfhame goods.

The boy thanks Cardan for his purchase, and it's all I can do not to laugh when he replies "you're very welcome", like that is a normal thing to say to a retail employee.

On our way out, Cardan stops by one of the many mirrors in the store and applies his new lipstick, ending with a pop of his luscious lips.

"Really? You couldn't wait until we got back to the hotel?"

I smile teasingly at him, and he grins back. The lipstick is deep, dark purple.

"If I did, nobody would see it but you." He slides an arm around my waist and winks. "That would be a shame, when it looks so good."

I roll my eyes and slip out of his embrace, making towards the exit. When my back is turned to him, I allow myself a smile. It does look good, I think, though I won't give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

"Jude, wait—"

With those long legs of his, Cardan catches up to me quickly. He puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him. I lift my chin to look at him, and his expression sends a chill down my spine. This face used to send unwanted images of our younger days to my brain—Cardan spitting on my shoes, pulling my hair, kicking my lunchbox. Nowadays, this wickedness sends my blood rushing south and fills me with memories of his clever fingers and his face between my legs.

"I was not done," he says as he circles my waist again, pulling me towards him sternly. "I have to debunk the claims the boy made."

"Fine," I say, and peck him quickly on the lips.

He chuckles. "You know that won't do, Jude dearest."

Cardan leans towards me. Instinctively, I part my lips and close my eyes. Even after all this time, I hate that he has this effect on me, even though I know it's not fair. I have spent my whole life training with a blade while he spent his training his mind and body to seduce and manipulate.

His lips claim mine and I all but melt into him. I forget where we are, how utterly exposed we are to the judgement of others. I seek out his tongue with mine and bite his lip the way he likes.

Cardan pulls away and I chase after his lips, desperate for more, until I feel his mouth on my neck. Slender fingers grip my chin, angling my head to allow him access.

I open my eyes and finally remember myself, where we are and how inappropriate this is—

"Cardan!"

He hums in question as his cruel mouth continues kissing its way up to my ear. His hand moves back towards my nape and tangles in my hair, pulling lightly.

"We're in—you can't just do that! People are—"

I look around, mortified. The mall is not that crowded, but I see people looking abruptly away when I look in their direction. A mother covers her child's eyes as she notices us. An old lady sneers.

I feel Cardan grin against my skin before dragging his teeth up my ear to nibble at the curved cartilage.

I give a small shove to his chest and he pulls away with a chuckle that curls my toes.

"You're shameless," I say.

"You look like you drank an entire bottle of faerie wine," he replies, then gives a quick kiss to my heating cheek.

When he pulls back, he inspects my face with narrowed eyes, then my neck. He lets out an impressed hum.

"It seems he was right. No marks."

I laugh and his eyes light up, a genuine smile forming on his dark lips.

"Will you buy more, then?" I ask.

"No. I prefer when it leaves marks."

#The folk of the air #tfota #cardan greenbriar #Jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #holly black #fluff #domestic fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #folk of the air #the cruel prince #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #queen of nothing

[missbeautyandherbeast]

Night Moves

Raphael X Biker!Reader

Part One

Summary: Rain prevents you from riding the next few days and you’re growing restless. You wanted to ride. You wanted... to see him. You missed him against your better judgement. But what was wrong with missing him? Nothing at all. What happens when he misses you too?

A/N: As requested a Part Two to Midnight Rider!! I loved the responses on it and I wanted to thank you all for such positive feedback. Here’s something a bit softer and cozy for the hard times. Let me know if you want another part and what you think of this one!! I love you guys! ((P.S. I just finished my last paper-a twelve page research paper-for the semester so now I have more time for creative writing!!))

Bob Seger Vinyl Ft. in this Fic

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @boatloadsofheart @legandarybeauty @crazywritingbug @bitch-kms @ravn-87 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox @ilikestuffproductions @whygz @coffee-addicti @sugarspooks15@leslieebee@serperiorkb@blossom-skies@fantastical-67impala-fangirl@coresan @big-banging-red @iceprincess2019 @raphaeladdict @thirstyforvenom @merindagriese @depressedemo-152 @bengewatch @corabmarie @bitemebro522 @tmnt-queen @muleka-loka @violet-sky-96 @curadopordeus @artemismohr18 @thewhisperpen @xjupitermoonsx @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @merindagriese@oceans-daughter-3 @dixonreedusfangirlforever @shanidenise @thegayestfish441 @lovelyyroseee @yourlieberhoe @dolphincommander @molzies-fanfics @fuzzy-panda​ 

Rain pattered against my window as the sun went down leaving New York in total darkness. I sighed and wished for sunshine or a clear night when I could ride again. When I could see him again. It had been a few days of constant rain and I was becoming stir crazy. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go riding in the rain. It wasn’t worth the risk.

I stared out my opened window and watched the raindrops race against each other. Curling up in a large sweater with a cup of tea, I settled down for the night.

A dark form in front of my window made me jump and curse, adrenaline racing. Then I realized who blocked my window. It was my daredevil rider.

I pushed the window open, throwing my hands up in dismay.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I scolded. “It’s raining, it’s not safe to be out there,”

“I had to see you,” Raph admitted sheepish as he ducked in through my window.

I headed to my small bathroom and threw him a towel or two to dry off, turning a light on in my wake. The gentle fairy lights glowed with the candles it accompanied.

“Gotta say, didn’t think your place would look like this...” Raph trailed off, his eyes taking in my studio apartment. “It’s so... cozy,”

“Thank you,” I smiled and stood by his side admiring my handiwork with him. 

I had made it cozy. My solace. My safe space.

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked, picking up my mug of tea.

“Fine,” He replied a bit too quickly.

“Well, you’re welcome to come and hang out... if that’s what this is.” I gave him a dopey smile. “I can make tea for you if you want.”

Raph stared at me like I had two heads.

___________________________________

“Not what you were expecting?” A smile played at her lips as she curled up in an armchair. 

“Not at all,” Raph muttered.

In his head he had this version of her.

Y/n. Her name forever engraved into his mind.

She was strong, confident, badass. She took no prisoners and always knew what to say. But this?

She was soft, and gentle, and he had seen it the other night in her concern. But what he saw before him, he wouldn’t have imagined. She was kind, and soft behind all of the edge and angst she gave off.

He almost loved it more, knowing that she offered both in who she was.

Y/n,

“So, what brought you around?” She mused, tucking herself under an afghan.

“It’s been raining, I haven’t seen you in a while,” He admitted again, taking a spot on her rug leaning against her couch.

A smile played at her lips and in the soft light, she was just as beautiful as she was in leather on a motorcycle. She didn’t make fun of him either, His brothers did. They thought it was ridiculous that he went to find her. Leo ordered against it. As if.

He had grown bored again with the rain coming down and he wanted to see her. 

“You haven’t been riding have you?” She asked, concern coloring her voice. 

“No,” It was the truth.

Mainly because he knew that if she found out, she’d have his ass for sure.

“Good,” She seemed pleased.

 ______________________________

Knowing sleeping had left my short-term plans, I uncurled from my chair and headed over to my record player and started the Bob Seger vinyl that I didn’t put away from earlier.

“You’re a classics fan?” He mused as the music started

“My mom was... I picked it up from her,” I admitted. “Now that I’m up do you want that tea?”

I made my way to the kitchen despite his answer and began to make another cup.

“You like classic rock then?” I asked back, leaning against the counter.

He had shifted so that he could still see me from my vantage point in the small kitchen. 

“Zeppelin,” He offered. “Though my vinyl collection isn’t as impressive as yours,” He muttered. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

“Why am I not surprised you like Zeppelin,” I laughed. “Find something more original, Bon Jovi, Meatloaf! Hey, you might actually like Meatloaf,” I paused in thought. “Not that I know what you like... it just seems like... a very you band.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He acted offended, but there was a smile on his face.

“I dunno,” I could feel my face flushing. “They just seem like... you.” I gestured. “I can let you borrow my record.”

“No, I can’t ask that.” Raph shook his head, standing in protest.

“You’re not asking, I’m giving it to you.” I smiled and offered him his tea as we both settled back in my living room area.

________________________________

Raph still tried to figure her out. There was still the fire in her veins that he had seen when he rode with her. This was that same fire, but in a softer way. In one that made him take care of himself, and that allowed her to be selfless.

She hummed softly to the music and sipped her tea absentmindedly, lost in thought he presumed.

“How is your family?” She asked after a while. “It’s been a while since you guys have done anything.”

Raph laughed.

“Yeah, there isn’t much to do anymore. It’s why I started to ride again. And we’re okay, I guess. Mikey has vowed to watch ever Doctor Who episode with Donnie and it’s taking them a while to get through it all.” Raph rolled his eyes.

“I should do that.” She murmured. “I haven’t watched it in a while.” 

“You like that nerdy show?” He raised an eyebrow.

A laugh bubbled from her lips. It was soft and carefree. Somehow, even though he wasn’t racing through the streets of New York, he still felt free. A sort of freedom that crept in slowly and comforted him like a blanket.

“I do,” She smiled. “You might,”

“You keep saying that,” He challenged.

“Oh?” A smirk grew on her face and a fire in her eyes.

“That I’ll like things when you don’t really know me,” Raph contested.

She went quiet, a smile still on her lips.

“Maybe I don’t know you that well, but I think I have a good idea of what you might like.” She quipped.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, her smile growing.

A clap of thunder shook her windows as lightning flashed. She didn’t flinch. Fear didn’t occupy her features. He knew Mikey was afraid of thunder, and Donnie didn’t prefer it, but she seemed almost at home among it.

_________________________________

“Tell me then,” I whispered. “Who are you?” I moved onto the couch and curled up on the side, waiting and listening.

“What do you wanna know?” His voice held a note of uncertainty.

“How old are you?” I mused. “That’s an easy one.”

“Is this twenty questions now?” Raph raised an eyebrow.

I chuckled. “That would mean yes or no answers, this is just... a conversation.” I decided. 

“Alright, but if you get to ask questions, so do I,” He countered.

“Deal.” 

“Eighteen, you?”

“Eighteen,”

We went on like that for a while, question after question. His favorite singer was actually Billy Joel; I hated the Beatles; he never thought to read anything other than magazines; I couldn’t remember the last time I had read a book; he had never been out of the state; I had been along the east coast on road trips; he hated spinach and cucumbers; I hated smoothies and tomatoes; he had four brothers; I had one.

“Where did you learn to ride?” He asked as it neared one am.

“My mom,” I yawned, blinking slowly. “She’d take me on her bike when I was little... my dad was a mechanic...” I gave a small shrug. “Why do you ride?” I countered.

“It’s... freedom.” He replied.

I nodded, knowing what he meant. It’s why I loved to ride. No one telling you where to go or what to do or who to be, you could just ride and not stop.

“Did you miss me?” His question came softly and hesitantly.

I nodded, my eyes slipping closed from tiredness. Talking to him like this made me feel safe and more at home than I ever had before. Like I was a child, curled up on a winter night waiting for Christmas as snow fell softly into the quiet of the night. A simpler time.

“I did. It’s not the same when I’m not around you... I looked forward to our rides.” 

______________________________

Raphael watched her eyes droop closed as the hours passed. He was on a high learning so much from her and letting his walls down over stupid trivia that had him laughing and her blushing.

But being up late tonight didn’t seem to rest well with her despite their late-night rides the week before. He wondered if it was the rain that lulled her to sleep.

It didn’t really matter what it was, she was all but fast asleep on the sofa above him. Peace washed over her like this, though no smile was on her face, a gentle expression rested in her features.

“Y/n?” He asked softly, standing and stretching. He loved the feeling or her name on his lips.

She hummed a response, not opening her eyes. He wanted to laugh.

“You need to get to bed,” He muttered, taking her mug and his and carefully putting them into her sink, very conscientious of the space around him.

“Too far,” Her voice grew jumbled. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” She seemed resolved about this.

“No, you’re not,” He smiled and shook his head at her antics. “It’s not that far, lazy,” he teased gently.

“M’fine,” She tried again, her words slurring.

Raph stared at her curled-up form and her bed that rested against the back wall of her apartment.

Maybe the rain had calmed him too, or maybe being near her had let him be someone who didn’t thrive on anger and deflecting, but he carefully lifted her from the couch and walked her over to her bed and gently laid her down.

She immediately stretched out and found her way under the covers, cuddling a pillow. Her eyes never opened.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, the faintest smile playing at her lips. “Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” He promised.

.

.

Like my stuff? Here’s my masterlist!

#tmnt #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt donatello #tmnt Donnie #tmnt drabble #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey 2012 #tmnt mikey 2016 #raphael #raphael hamato #raphael x #raphael x reader #tmnt x oc #tmnt x you #tmnt x #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2016 #teenage mutant ninja turtle imagine #tmnt fluff

[starwarringavengers]

at the mercy of you (Rey x Ben Solo)

Summary: Rey and Ben Solo's bond hasn't opened since the Battle of Crait. But that doesn't mean it hasn't strengthened. He follows her to an Outer Rim planet, and Rey knows then that she can't escape him - and she's not sure she much wants to try. --- Includes pouty Kylo Ren, and cave sex. Enjoy.

Word Count: 4,208 (this is way too long holy shit)

A/N: If you like, hate, or anything in between please consider dropping me a comment! I live for it! Thank you for reading!

Their connection hasn’t opened since the Battle of Crait.

They can’t see each other. But that doesn’t mean they can’t feel each other. And feel, they can. Like a pull from a string that neither can see, Rey can feel when Kylo Ren is awake and when he’s stuck in a dream, when he’s angry and when he’s content (which isn’t often). Similarly, Ben Solo can feel when Rey is frustrated, lonely, crumbling under the weight of the role the Resistance has given her - and he really wishes he could tell her that mediation would help. But they’re both helpless in it, the bond never allowing them to see each other, like a foggy pane that gives only the outline.

Rey avoids telling anyone about the connection, how it had opened in the first place and how she came to see Ben Solo appear before her. She’s content for the moment with the knowledge that she doesn’t have to look at him directly, because she has no idea what she’d say. The Battle of Crait ended with her shutting a door, both literally and metaphorically, in his face. What does she say after that? But perhaps worse, she doesn’t know what he might say.

Despite the lack of physical manifestations, the bond seems to have strengthened itself in other ways - namely the sharing of emotion. But it seems to sense proximity in some ways, too. Rey can’t explain quite how she knows when the First Order’s ships have jumped into hyperspace give or take a thousand light years. Ben doesn’t want to tell anyone that he knows exactly where the rest of the Resistance - Rey included - are hiding.

He figures that it’s a tactical move to give her a head start.

The only time they appear together is in dreams. And it’s hardly there, bodies like ghosts rather than flesh and blood. Rey sees him staring at her from across a room. Ben sees her waking up in front of a fireplace. It goes on like this for months. A tug this way, a pull back, a glimpse of the inside of a shiny First Order ship when she rounds the corner, or the weathered interior of the Falcon when he opens his door.

Rey, fully and completely and most unfortunately aware that she’s become a walking ball of anxiety, sets everyone on edge with her presence - exactly the thing she doesn’t want to do. She wants to be able to inspire calm in people, to be the rock that the remaining members of the Resistance are looking for her to be. But her soul just won’t still.

“You gotta get off-world, Rey,” Poe says to her one day, while they’re sitting at a table after lunch, hidden in the bustle of the Outer Rim outpost they’ve been staying at. Leia located an old friend who was nice enough to show them all where they could camp, but to Rey, everything seems like another cage.

“And go where?” she asks, half a joke and half not. Finn looks up from his cards at her, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of them.

“You just need space. We can all tell,” Poe admits, looking at her sympathetically.

“Leia had mentioned sending someone out to look for another spot on the planet, now that those bounty hunters showed up,” Finn suggests innocently enough, and Rey can’t hide how she perks up at the chance. Poe shrugs.

“I’ll ask her,” Rey says.

She doesn’t.

When they get back to the campground, Rey feigns needing to work on the Falcon and slips away, leaving a voice message for Leia with R2, who beeps at her in something that almost sounds like warning. Rey lovingly taps his projector and trudges off through the dense woods that surround them, breathing in the fresh air and the scent of the pine around her. Without a glance backward, Rey climbs into one of the few small land speeders they have around, procured by Leia’s friend for easy transport. It doesn’t take Rey long to travel around the planet in search of anything that looks remotely interesting. She is a scavenger, after all. The planet is mostly plains, no good for hiding out in, with only the occasional forest dotted here and there, like the one they’re staying in.

The sky begins to darken above her, and Rey considers for a moment turning around, having gotten her momentary breath of aloneness that seemed necessary for the first time in her life. But she spies a riverbank, and curiosity takes over as she lowers the speeder and steps out, making for the clear water.

That’s when she feels it. The bond pulls inside of her, like a string ready to snap.

He knows she’s alone. And he’s close.

Of the many benefits of the First Order’s monetary funds, there is nothing Rey envies more than their ships. Silent, quick, and sleek - she never even hears him coming until she’s whirled around to find that he’s stepping off of his ship.

Instinct clouds judgement and Rey pulls her staff from behind her, not quite sure of the defense it will be against his lightsaber, which she notices isn’t in his hand.

“Our connection is getting stronger,” he says, Ben Solo, standing before her in the flesh, after all that’s happened. That’s what he says.

“Did you follow me through four different star systems to tell me what I already know?” Rey huffs, twirling her staff around to point in his general direction, needing some sort of defense against his dark eyes and the way he’s staring at her.

“How did you know it was four?” Ben asks, cocking his head ever so slightly at her, regarding the way she hasn’t moved from her fighting stance, even though he’s made no move to attack her. Rey feels her throat tighten in annoyance, half determined to lunge at him just to put him through the same misery she’s been feeling. If she could just get one good hit at his nose…

Their conversation stands still, lingering between them as droplets of rain begin to fall from a sky that grows darker by the second. With a growl Rey turns back to the land speeder, intent on leaving him where he’s standing. If he’s not going to fight her, she doesn’t feel like hanging around.

“You’ll never make it back before the storm,” Ben states, voice just loud enough to be heard over the rumbling of the storm clouds as they roll overhead. She wants to scream at him to leave her alone, that she doesn’t have anything to say, doesn’t want to pull the lightsaber from her bag and fight him - but nothing comes out. Instead, all she does is whip around on her heel and start into the thick patch of forest she’d found, stepping over the stream with no mind as to whether or not he’s decided to follow her.

She can weather out a storm, no problem.

She thinks she can, anyway. But it turns out that the rain on this planet is much colder than she’s ever felt before, and her arm bands are soaked through, providing little to no relief at all from the windy air. In seconds of her trek through the deep underbrush she’s shivering violently, eyes searching for some form of shelter. The rain is less pelting underneath the cover of trees, but every drop that hits her head feels like ice.

All thoughts of a certain Ben Solo forgotten, Rey finally locates a cave-like shelter that will do for her purposes and pulls Luke’s lightsaber from her bag, igniting it to shed light on the area and to check for any undesirable circumstances, such as creatures that she’d rather not have to deal with. There’s nothing to be found.

“You’re shivering,” Rey jumps at the sound of his voice, whirling around to find that he’s followed her into the cave and is standing at the mouth, an imposing black figure against the bare hint of light that floods in.

Rey doesn’t grant him a response, now even more annoyed than she’d been a few seconds ago. She turns away and begins gathering the small bits of dry leaves and twigs that she can find, compiling them together and using the very tip of her still-lit lightsaber to create a faint blaze. Then she sits.

Rey is good at waiting. She’ll wait out the storm, and she’ll wait for Ben Solo to leave.

But he doesn’t.

Because he is apparently intent on making her life absurdly difficult, Ben Solo follows her deeper into the cave and sits beside her as she scowls, pretending to be completely unaware of every movement he makes. It works - until she feels warm and heavy fabric settle around her shoulders. The feeling dispels most of the cold that has been circling around her, and she nearly sighs.

“Thank you,” Rey grits out, looking down at the fire to avoid looking at Ben, who is seated so close to her she can feel his warmth. “Why are you here? Why did you follow me?”

She has a million more questions.

Ben leans forward with his hands folded together around his knees, long limbs tucked up in a way that doesn’t seem like it should be possible. Silence stretches between them for a moment. “I wanted to see if it would work.”

“Congratulations,” Rey snaps, “You’ve found me.”

His eyes flick sideways towards hers, his face a blanket of calm with emotions she can’t quite pick up on as he looks at her, dark eyes not scrutinizing for once, but certainly studying. “I know you’re having the dreams, too.” He says then.

“What dreams?” Rey feigns innocence, picking up her staff to poke at the fire in an attempt to grow it’s warmth. It only half works.

Beside her, Ben holds out a hand almost flippantly, the Force flowing unseen from his fingertips and causing the flame to burst higher, casting shadows and heat that warms Rey’s face. It reminds her that the Force can be used for so many things - not just violence.

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t work for you,” Ben says finally, his hand tucked back into the other as Rey finally turns her face to look at him. A million comments dance on her tongue but only one question comes out.

“Why do you think we can only see each other in dreams?”

He doesn’t look at her at first, just sighs a little bit.

“Don’t say, ‘I don’t know’,” she tells him, a bite of annoyance in her voice as she swings her legs around to sit facing him, tugging the warmth of his cloak further around her body and finding that it smells a little bit like him - something that reminds her of winter, leathery and smoky, the electric twinge of metal she’s always known in a way that’s smooth and deep.

Ben doesn’t respond, and she knows it’s because he truly doesn’t know, just as she doesn’t.

“I like them,” he says after a few more moments of silence, as he’s still turned away from her and staring into the fire. “The dreams.”

Rey feels a blush go from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

“They’re soft,” he continues, finally unfurling his limbs in favor of leaning back on his hands and stretching out his legs, the storm still raging loud outside the little cave they sit in. It creates an electrically charged atmosphere inside their hiding spot, wrought with quiet tension and heat that has Rey sweating despite the cool air.

“The dreams are soft,” Ben says, finally continuing the thought. “They’re peaceful. Like the one with the fire -”

“Where we woke up next to each other,” Rey finishes the thought for him. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, the first time she’s admitted to herself what she’s always known, which was that they shared the dreams in the first place.

“Ben, why did you really follow me here?” Rey asks finally, reaching across the cool distance that separates them to place her hand on his cheek and force him to look at her. Touching him sends sparks through her fingertips and along her spine, like the Force is surging between them.

He doesn’t respond, for the umpteenth time since she’s started asking him questions. He just stares at her.

“You’re still shivering,” is what he says instead, and in a swift, smooth movement he’s yanked her forward and pressed her close, practically lifting her up to place her between his outstretched legs, her back to his chest. He whips the cloak around the both of them and Rey realizes he’s literally got his arms around her, cradling her, and now she’s the perfect type of warm and also so still she can feel her every heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” she finds herself asking.

“Body heat,” he says, by way of explanation, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which really, it is, she just hadn’t quite expected to be in this situation when she woke up today. But when does she ever?

For a long few minutes, they are finally quiet. The roar of the fire and the sound of thundering rain are their companions, and Rey almost manages to forget that a confusing man with two names has his arms wrapped around her, because it’s so warm that she’s close to drifting off to sleep. It briefly crosses her mind that she hasn’t been this close to someone in quite a long time, and the last person may have in fact been him, when they’d fought together in Snoke’s throne room, as she leant back on him and they’d worked together as if the fight had been pre-determined, as if they could hear each other. As if they’d always known how to move together. The shape of him against her is almost familiar.

She wonders if they’d fit together so perfectly in other ways.

“I followed you because I needed to see you,” Ben says suddenly, after Rey has been cuddled against him with her eyes closed for the better half of ten minutes. “I needed to know if I could really find you - feel you. I needed to look at you, for real, to know that I didn’t make it all up in my head.”

Rey twists around and chances to look up at him, only to find him already there to meet her gaze.

It’s a mystery as to who actually closes the distance between them first. All Rey knows is that his lips are much softer than she could have ever imagined - and she did a lot of imagining. Ben’s hand slides from her arm to her waist, pulling her closer and turning her until she’s seated on his lap, her back to the fire. Rey’s brain is short-circuiting, her only consistent thought being something about how good his hands on her back feel, how his long fingers meet together as the small of her spine and how warm his mouth is. She tangles her hands up into his dark hair, the curls twisting around her fingertips as their chests press together.

No, no no no no don’t do this Rey, don’t do this -

Morality be damned, Rey falls like a stone into water when he tucks her legs around his waist and flips them over, laying her back on the stone ground where his cape has fallen with precision and gentleness she hadn’t really considered him capable of. Then his lips are leaving hers and instead tracing a path down her neck and she’s curling up against him, the fire sending soft shadows along his face as she looks down at him.

We shouldn’t do this, she almost says. I shouldn’t do this.

But nothing comes from her mouth except a high-pitched whine when he slides his hand down her leg, poised to pull off her still-damp boots. When Ben looks up in question Rey only nods, allowing him to rid her of her shoes as she pulls at the collar of his jacket to catch the zipper in her trembling fingers.

“Rey,” he says quietly, their foreheads pressed close together as he looks down at her with dark eyes. “I wanted to know that you didn’t hate me.”

“Ben -”

“Let me say it, Rey,” he pleads, still leaning over her with one hand in her hair and the other wrapped around her thigh. “I wanted - I needed, to know for sure whether or not you do.”

His Force signature is quiet, waiting for her answer.

“I should,” Rey admits, and she can feel the way the dread slithers across their bond as he feels it. She takes his face in her hands. “I should. But I don’t. I don’t hate you, Ben Solo.”

“After the throne room, I thought -”

“I know what you thought,” Rey sighs, “I could never have joined you, Ben. And I think you knew that. The same way I know if I asked you to come home, you wouldn’t.”

He looks at her quietly, his thumb tracing a pattern over her neck as he settles his body down between her legs, his weight a warm and welcome feeling against her limbs. “I would have given you anything, everything, Rey.”

“I don’t need anything,” Rey tells him, shivering despite their closeness. “I don’t need anything. Just you.”

Their lips meet again without a word, crashing together like waves on a shore.

I need you I need you I need you -

Their bond hums with it, with a mutual need to feel the other, like two naked wires clashing. Rey can’t seem to catch her breath in-between the kisses they share, especially when he carefully undoes the gauze crosspiece she wears as if he already knew how she tied it, then his hands are skimming over her arms as she helps him pull off her wraps and each inch of skin they uncover together feels like fire. Ben’s jacket falls away along with a belt and Rey hardly notices, but is acutely aware all the same, of the fact that they’re pressed against each other with nothing separating them but air.

His skin is warm, littered with scars and freckles and Rey decides that it is imperative that she trace every single one with her tongue, eventually. Ben lifts her up into his arms and without breaking their kiss, turns and sets her back over his lap, his hands wandering all over her as she traces the muscles of his biceps and the curve of his jaw with her fingertips. His touch is gentle but his palms are rough when he cups her breast in his hand, his mouth tracing a line from behind her ear to the hardened bud of her nipple, a sensation like an explosive shooting through her every tendon when he wraps his lips around it. Rey lets out a pathetic whimper, gripping him closer as he switches his attentions to the other breast.

“Please,” she asks, fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. Ben never falters his touch as he curls his fingers along the inside of her bare thigh, like a caress, before they find her cunt and they share a gasp, stealing air from each other’s lungs as his fingers dip up inside her. She’s warm and wet and her body takes him easily, her hips rolling with the motion of his hand. It’s then she realizes that he’s smiling against the skin of her collarbone, grinning like an absolute fool. She starts to ask why, but the words are cut off with a guttural moan as he crooks his fingers inside her and finds the soft spot that sends a flash of pleasure through her. Before she knows it, she’s panting and crying and whispering his name - but he doesn’t give her any indication that he minds.

You are everything.

Rey isn’t sure if he’s said it out loud, if she said it, or if one of them thought it - but it’s there either way. Everything and more, is what it sounds like to her. Everything the two of them have ever wanted or needed or desired, no matter how wrong.

“Rey, please let me,” Ben begins to say, his lips at her ear as his hands coax her to another orgasm, one that sends her careening over a cliff and makes her shout of his name echo around the stone walls of the cave.

“Yes,” she tells him, allowing herself to be positioned in the way that he wants her, her legs tucked beneath her and parallel to his thighs where he has her seated. Rey isn’t quite sure what she expects, but the sensation she feels certainly isn’t it.

Ben meets her eyes, gaze unwavering, as he leads her to sink down onto him. The Force swirls around them, threatening to create a storm within their cave that rivals the one that rages outside. It takes their breath away. The ground shakes with it.

He feels like nothing she’s ever known. Like a piece of her universe has fallen into place with their connection, their complete togetherness.

“Rey,” he growls, and she opens her eyes as their foreheads are pressed together to find him as flushed as she is and trembling in equal fervor. Understanding his quiet plea, Rey begins to move over him, rolling her hips as he guides her with his hands around her thighs and one in her hair, his breathy gasps against her neck deliciously warm and perfect. They melt together, sinking into each other. The Force surrounds them and it’s light - warm and blinding, but beneath it lies the tendrils of darkness, of the lust that they’re sharing, of the pleasure they’re chasing with one another.

Rey loves every minute of it.

She can feel through their bond that there are so many things Ben wants to say, but they hum at the back of her mind as he stays quiet, save for the sounds of his moans and sighs of her name when he finally lays her down against the cloak, moving over her and cradling her close. Rey scratches her nails down his back, uncaring if they’ll draw blood - anything to feel him against her. Anything for him to continue moving inside her, filling her, all of him all over all of her, her skin sparking every place he touches.

It’s languid, the pace of his hips against hers dragging the most beautiful of sighs to fall from her lips, slow like pouring nectar. “Rey,” Ben whispers her name again, this time into the crook of her neck where it meets her jaw. “Come for me again.”

It’s as much a demand as a request, and she has little control over whether or not she honors it. His body pulls her through it, until she crashes down and feels the Force surge around her, radiating through her entire body from the tips of her toes to her head, and it surges again when Ben follows her, not a few moments later.

Quiet surrounds them finally, after a long few moments of only the sound of their heartbeats and the patter of the rain. Rey wonders for a moment if she should find any remorse in what she’s done, any shred of regret, but she can’t. Rey lets her head fall back onto the ground, her heart beating wildly within her chest as if it intends to escape only to latch itself to Ben’s. Ben, whose head is rested on her breast, dark hair wild from Rey’s continuous touches, as he catches his breath against her. When he finally looks up, Rey is struck with a traitorous thought.

He’s beautiful.

Of course she’d known it all this time, but now, without the fire or destruction or hatred blazing around them, he’s the most beautiful she has ever seen him. Beautiful in a way that makes her heart flutter and makes her want to see him smile at her the way he is now every moment of every day.

“I had intended, just to talk,” Ben says finally, in between deep breaths as he pushes himself up onto an elbow to better look at him, his skin still flushed all the way from his cheeks to his chest. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

“What for?” she finds herself asking, leaning up to meet him halfway, their lips almost touching again.

“All of it,” Ben says, pressing their foreheads together. “For hurting you. I never meant to, truly, I didn’t. I just,” he sighs, “I lo-“

“I know,” Rey interrupts him, unsure if she can really hear him say the words. “I know.”

Ben’s eyes are dark and his gaze is unyielding but soft, as he sighs again against her. “Help me, Rey,” he says then, his voice breaking over the words as he slides an arm around her back, falling into her in the equivalent of supplication, in their position. Rey stills. “Help me. Please.”

So many unspoken words linger between the lines of the phrase, and Rey hears every one. “I will help you, Ben Solo.”

#rey and kylo ren #kylo ren #ben solo #kylo ren x rey #ben solo x rey #rey #i love rey #star wars #reylo #reylo fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic #rey x ben fanfic #star wars fanfiction

[oskea93]

Keep it to Yourself (1)

Warning: Use of strong language.

Hey guys! 

So, i’ve had the idea for this story in my head for some time now. I was debating on posting it since I have Think of You but I wanted to see how you guys like this story. It’s going to be different from Think of You, a bit more raw and unhinged. The first chapter is just a little tid-bit of what Bryant and Nikki’s relationship was like. How they met and their relationship before the decline will all be explained in future chapters. For some reason, this story seems easier to write than Think of You, so hopefully that’s a good thing! Please let me know if it’s a keeper and worth continuing. All your input means so much to me and keeps me writing :) Also, i’m sure there’s some mistakes and i’m sorry for those. I will try to go through and fix them at a later time. 

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know. ENJOY!!

“Bryant-“ Pause. “Bryant, this is Doc.” Another pause. “Listen, I really need to speak with you. I know that it’s been a while since we last spoke and all but he really needs you.” Pause again. “I know you said you never wanted to speak or see him again, but he’s out here killing himself and the guys and I can’t stop him anymore. He needs someone out here that he truly cares about, and I know you still care about him as well. Well, at least I would hope you still care. We’re gonna be staying at this hotel for another night, please give me a call back at 555-9123.” Last pause. “I really need your help, Bryant.”

I listened to the message three more times after the first initial listen. Doc’s voice was laced with concern and worry over the bassist. Last I heard from Doc was that Nikki and the guys were doing great and were going to become the next big thing. He was right when he said they would become rich and famous, but he was far gone when he said they were alright. Sure, they started out sniffing the occasional lines of coke, but they each fell deeper into the well, choosing more potent substances. For Nikki, he was the type of person to take things to the extreme. He was passionate about music, he was passionate about his job, and he was passionate about his drugs.

Nikki’s love of drugs and alcohol began way before I ever met him. He would get high here and there but once the band really took off, his drug addiction took off with it. I was okay with it at first, only because I thought he was only sniffing cocaine. Once I found the needles, especially the needle that was still lodged in his arm while he laid passed out in the closet, I knew that his problem had turned dangerous and potentially lethal. I tried to be there for him but the drugs were making it hard. He was withdrawn, mean, and just plan nasty. Once he started using heroin, he was hardly ever home, and out of his mind when he was home. He would sleep from sun up to sun down, waking up when most people would be going to bed for the night. I tried my best to be there for him but he made it so damn difficult. He wanted me to be there at the clubs, the bars, or wherever he was going for the night. I really did try but I just couldn’t deal with the rock star lifestyle.

I guess you could say the last straw was the night I not only found our house full of people I didn’t know, doing God knows what in the living room, but also the night I found Nikki in bed with a random girl. They were in the middle of having sex when I walked in, the girl looking up at me and smiled. I guess she knew who I was because that smile stayed on her face the whole damn time. Nikki was so blitzed out of his mind that he didn’t even realize I was standing at the door. I was so hurt that I just shut the door behind me and walked back down the stairs. Unfortunately for the people in the living room, I took all of my anger out on them. I destroyed everything in my view. I tore pictures off the wall, smashed the TV set that Nikki spent a fortune on, and kicked every single person out of our house. I flipped the wooden coffee table over, sending the contents flying in the air and moved onto the next room. I guess Nikki finally snapped out of his drug haze since he came flying down the stairs, his leather pants hanging low on his naked frame.

I cursed him up and down, telling him of what I had seen earlier. He had tried to deny it at first  but soon accepted that he was in deep shit. He cried and pleaded but that didn’t stop me from barging back into the bedroom and packing up my stuff.

I filed for divorce on March 28th, 1984.

Nikki of course didn’t show up to divorce hearing, deciding to let his lawyers handle everything. I didn’t want anything from him anyway. He earned his money and I wasn’t about to be that type of wife and try to take him to the cleaners. He had offered to give me the house but I refused. I didn’t want anything that belonged to him and I wanted to as far away from him as possible. I moved out of California and back to my home state of South Carolina. I ditched all of my friends, those of my own and those that I shared with Nikki. Every picture of Nikki and I was placed in a storage unit in California, along with my bridal gown and anything else that reminded me of him. At that time, the thought of him angered me and I guess the thought of me angered him. I had received a letter from him a couple months after I had moved. I don’t know how he got my new address but the letter held some of the most hateful words you could write to a person. He called me everything in the book in the letter, ending with the words, “FUCK YOU WHORE” in capital letters.

That was the last I had heard from Nikki. That was the last I had heard from anyone associated with Motley Crue, of course until today. The last time I had spoke with Doc was right before I left California. He tried to persuade me to stay with Nikki and “just work things out.” He took up for his bassist saying that he had a lapse of judgment. The only thing Doc didn’t realize was that Nikki already had several lapses of judgements during our four-year marriage. I had mentioned to Doc several times during my marriage about Nikki’s drug use. He would just blow me off and say that Nikki was living the “rockstar life.” He would tell me that drugs were a part of being a musician and that Nikki could control himself. I really should have recorded him when he said that…

“Doc called and left me a message today.”

My mom looked up from her notes, pulling her glasses down in the process. “And.” I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. “He said that he needs my help with Nikki.” Her blue eyes drilled into my soul. My mother - Nikki Sixx hater from day one! She hated him and Nikki hated her. My mother was none-to-thrilled to find out that her only daughter was shacking up with a guy who was chasing his dream to become a musician. Nikki was bouncing from one odd job to the other before he formed Motley. A lot of times, I was the one supporting us, which upset my mother greatly. She would often tell Nikki that he needed to get his head out of his ass and get a real job. I guess you could say that’s one of the reasons why Nikki and my mother hated each other.

“You’re not gonna call him back are you?” My mom questioned. I stayed silent, stuffing another spoon full of cereal into my mouth. “Kathrine Bryant!” My mom yelled. “You can’t be serious right now.” I looked up at her and then drifted my eyes back to the food in front of me. “I thought you never wanted to speak to him again? What’s making you change your mind?” I shrugged my shoulder. “He sounded genially concerned.” My mom rolled her eyes. “Mom-“ I began. “It’s not like I’m going out there in person. I’m just gonna call and see what’s going on. It’s harmless, I promise.”

#nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #douglas booth fanfiction #douglasbooth!nikkisixx #lili reinhart #Motley Crue #motley crue fanfic #Douglas Booth #MGK #colson baker #Tommy Lee #iwan rheon #Mick Mars #Daniel Webber #Vince Neil #1980s #1990s #romance #nikki sixx imagine #fanfiction #The Dirt 2019 #The Dirt

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 39

Last time: The Blondes finally met back up with the Brunettes, Yoki was an idiot who tried to burgle the Leto-damned ARMSTRONGS, and Scar either kidnapped or “kidnapped” Winry. Onwards!

New Intro! We’ve got the two young brothers separated by wind, then the title drawn in sand before it’s white text with a glowing red TC and the brothers running in opposite directions. Are we going to have a Party Split? Nevermind, they just slowed down to the middle of the screen. Bright light, Ed should have brought a hat to this sunny bunch of rocks. Then he looks off all dramatic like as camera goes to Al trudging through a desert before he too does the Dramatic Protagonist Stare. Both brothers back to back against the Xerxes mural ok seriously betting on a Party Split here with all the opposite directions going on. Now the Elric Brothers are running at each other and yep just phased through to become Red (Ed) and Blue (Al). Looking around for each other? Whatever happens I guess Al is with May since he has Shao on his shoulder and her gripping his hand, Ed’s got Winry in unzippered gear on his side. Camera pans out to show Al with May, Scar, and Marcoh to the left, Al, Winry, and Granny Rockbell to the right. Then a bunch more people start popping up? Can’t tell who is on which team anymore. Short image of Al’s Body in the whitespace, becomes a Stone which shatters to show a smug-looking Pride. Now Ed’s running about striking shadow blades in a forest (Ed vs Pride fight?), Al’s in the rocky desert fighting more toothy Pride blades. Wrath in what looks like a basic longsleeve shirt and vest (no uniform?) fighting LING YES TURN AGAINST THE GOTHS MY GREEDY LITTLE PRINCE Envy’s in Titan form getting sliced up by YES BRING BACK BADASS NINJA BODYGUARDS. Now it’s Armstrong The Great looking serious, Sloth burst out from snow to be used as target practice by Sideburns and a bunch of tanks but Kimblee swoops in and blows the shells up. Beard’s walking along with his briefcase frowning towards Central in the distance. Ed and Al stand back to back in a TC in the desert (not as rocky as the one Ed was in, but not as sandy as the one Al was in), shot of the Door of Truth opening and shattering, ends on the Alchemist Watch covered by the title and silhouettes of the Elric Brothers. Back where we left off: It’s a cloudy and windy day in Baschool, where Scar is carrying Winry’s limp form and glaring down at Kimblee. The Ishvalan comments on how they’ve changed positions from the last time they met, the Alchemist says he shouldn’t be so confident. Episode 39 - “Daydream” Oh no Winry’s in trouble so Ed is grabbing Kimblee’s coat and yelling at him for letting his mechanic get captured, Kimblee tells him to move aside while pulling off his gloves (hey, he’s kinda Roy’s opposite in that regard), Ed blocks his arms so that he won’t hurt Winry by attacking Scar. The Ishvalan then shatters the building, creating a nice big dust cloud to walk away in. Kimblee’s about to chase after him but a mustached soldier says that it’s too dangerous to go close to the damaged building, they need to fall back. Oh, and there’s a snowstorm incoming so they have to find shelter! Man, it has just not been Kimblee’s day, has it? Ed, Sideburns, Al and some soldiers are walking along, Miles compliments Ed on his performance aha, called it! Ross Deception! Ed’s not happy about having to play along with the “stupid charade”, though. Flashback! Scar isn’t apologizing for the death of Winry’s parents. She has every right to pass judgement on him. Winry… walks away, reaches into a box, and pulls out some cloth. Oh, wow. It it wasn’t already clear, Winry is Best Girl. Bandaging an injury on her parent’s killer? Ed and Scar are equally shocked at her compassion and what. What is that face. I’m sorry, this is a sweet and touching moment and all, but Scar? What is going on with your face here?

That is quite possibly the best Does Not Compute face I’ve ever seen. Just, Scar has no idea how to process this. Winry’s saying that if her parents saved his life before, then there must have been a reason. But like Leto does this mean that she’s forgiven him for his murders. She’s not gonna cry though, she promised… wait, I thought it was Ed who promised that the next time she cried it would be tears of joy? Ah whatever. Ok, you’ve got Scar bound up. Angry boyfriend proclamations aside, time to make him decipher the book NO DON’T CALL HEADQUARTERS YOU IDIOTS. Aaaargh. Wait Scar’s asking Sideburns what he meant by “one of your people”, can’t understand how an Ishvalan could stomach being part of the Amestrian military. Sideburns responds that he’s working on the inside to change Amestrian views of Ishvalans, Scar is shocked at such an idea, and that it was an Amestrian that set Sideburns on the path. Scar can only look down. [Scar]: “Look at me. I am a festering wound of hatred born of the Ishvalan War. I am thankful that there is someone like you out there.” Aaargh but just as Scar is realizing that maybe wanton murder isn’t the way to go about things the call goes through, and Kimblee is on his way to “deal” with Scar. This drives Marcoh and May to reveal themselves. Finally! Oh, and now May can patch up Scar’s arm! Outside the Mustached Mook is noting the stormy clouds, Kimblee tells them to hurry up (gee, I wonder if he’ll get there in time?). Marcoh and May are yes thank you for Leto’s sake it took long enough they’re saying that they’ve got groundbreaking Alchemy/Alkahestry research but the only one who can read it is Scar. Sideburns notes that May is the Alkahestry girl they’ve been searching for as well, says that she needs to come back with them to Fort Briggs. Add in that Scar’s needed to read the notes and it’d be just as bad for Marcoh to be recaptured, looks like all three need to go back to the Fort. Ed’s just a mite unhappy with needing Scar’s help, Sideburns knocks him upside the head with the fact that the Goths are pulling some sort of giant TC shenanigans, they need all the info and help they can get right now. Ed stands down after the suggestion that with Scar’s help they can disgrace Kimblee and get Winry away from his clutches. One Ishvalan Oath later Scar’s judgement is postponed… and the Chimeras are waking up, uh oh. The kids balk at Sideburns’ orders to kill them, the Chimeras sadly agree with Sideburns, saying that they can never go back to their old lives. Al tries reasoning with them, appealing to their families but they’ve been told they’re dead. And it’s not like they can go back like this, we’d just be imitating the 2005 Fantastic Four, and nobody wants that.

But Al does get them to yell that “of course they want their old bodies back”, when they quite reasonably say that it can never happen Al does the helmet remove to show his Soul Armor state. [Al]: “Well I’m going back. No matter how long it takes. I’m not giving up.” Ooh, is Al getting some followers? Watch him form an army out of Chimeras tossed aside by the Goths, take them down with their own creations. Unfortunately the snowstorm’s coming in, meaning that they can’t reach the Fort until it passes. And Kimblee’s on his way, so they need a plan- [Yoki]: “This is a mining town, isn’t it? Why don’t we just go into the underground tunnels?” [Everyone]: *turns in surprise to the secret tactical genius in their midst* [Yoki]: “W-what’s wrong? I mean, this is a pretty large mine, right? So surely there’s a tunnel that can take us beyond the mountains, uh… I think?” [Everyone]: “That’s it!” [Yoki, Tactical Genius]: “H-hey, give me some credit; this is what I did for a living!” Ha! Way to finally pull your weight, you C-tier flashback antagonist! Confirming that the tunnels go past the mountains- wait. Wait wait wait. Isn’t the whole point of the mountains that they are between Amestris and Drachma? Ooh, do we finally get to see another country?! Please let my dream of missionary Drachma’s with Leto pamphlets be a reality! Sideburns gives Marcoh notes for any Briggs soldiers the meet after the tunnel (watch them run into Drachmans first and cause all sorts of problems: “These people have notes written in Amestrian! They must be spies from Fort Briggs!”). But what about Winry? If she just up and vanishes with them then Kimblee will suspect the Elrics of foul play! [Winry]: “Um, I hate to be the one to suggest this, but, uh… What do you think Kimblee would do if I was suddenly taken hostage by Scar?” Whoa, so kidnapped!Winry was Winry’s idea? Props to you, mechanic! Mid-ep pictures of Winry Rockbell and human Jerso/Toad and Zampano/Boar. Ed and Al are understandably uneasy with the plan, but Winry shouts them down about being able to at least choose her captor if she’s a hostage either way. Come on Protagonists, learn that you don’t have to or can do everything by yourselves! Scar again promises to protect Winry before Ed lets him loose, when the Chimeras as to be taken along as well. They’ve failed which means Kimblee’s going to kill them either way… [Boar]: “Besides, we don’t want to give up either.” Look at you go Alphonse, already with your two inhuman followers! Also, they’re just a little confused and upset about all this talk of this band of misfits trying to stop some catastrophe that threatens their families along with all of Amestris. Y’know, just a minor detail. Kimblee’s inbound, better hurry. Sideburns asks wait what they’re back to human? Uh ok, with all the talk about being monsters I was kinda assuming that their beast forms were permanent, not something that they could consciously deactivate. Kinda undercuts the whole “we want our human bodies back” if they can shapeshift back like this. The groups are splitting up (to my surprise it’s not the Elric Brothers who are going different ways, at least for now), a soldier remarks that Winry needs to remove her earrings ok what. Seriously, what? This just totally broke my immersion, you cannot tell me that now is the moment when having metal earrings in the frozen north would cause discomfort and haven’t been an issue yet, especially when she came up north specifically because her boyfriend’s metal arm was seizing up. But whatever, she gives them to Ed for safekeeping before promising to see him back at the Fort. Ed gazes up after her, clenching his fist and probably crushing those precious earrings that he was just trusted with. Nice going, kiddo. Explosion! Acting! Snowstorm! Those left in Baschool are sheltering in a building, alternately looking at girlfriend’s jewelry, wondering where their fellow Chimeras have gone, and arguing for planning the next leg of the search. Then Sideburns gets a call from the Fort? Ooooooooh, right. There was that whole “forces from Central showing up to look for Raven” thing going on last time. And our guys are walking right into that mess. Whoops. Down in the tunnel Marcoh’s going on and on about how the Rockbell Doctors were widely respected during the Ishvalan War, how they helped all without regard for themselves. Meanwhile Scar’s walking in the back having flashbacks to Winry’s “I don’t forgive your wanton murdering”, an Ishvalan Elder telling Scar that while he should never forgive the Military’s “wanton murder” that he must abide it-

-to break the chain of hatred, and his brother saying he studies Alchemy to replace hatred with understanding. And here is Scar, following the orders of an Ishvalan who willingly works in the Military to change it, representing the ideals of Scar’s brother and Elders. So what does that make him? Yoki’s having the group stop in an underground office, to pick up a more detailed map of the tunnels. Man, who’d have thought that freaking Yoki would be the most useful party member at this point. Or ever? Inspired by Al, Toad and Boar are pestering Marcoh about any clues in the journal (that he can’t read), they banter with each other about their families. Aw, they’re actually friends! Nice to show that even the Central forces have loved ones, hopefully for real this time after that infuriating Bradley & Selim fakeout. May? What’s wrong? Oh. Oh yeah. Her whole mission was to learn the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone, only to find out it’s based on suffering and the obtaining of immortality for one at the expense of so, so many others. And His Imperial Highness, aka her father, apparently would make one without a moment’s hesitation using any number of his people. So apparently he leans more towards Wrath’s philosophy of leadership than Ling’s. But if she doesn’t bring back the secret of immortality, her clan is in danger from all the others. Marcoh says that the notes might have the humane secret to immortality, they just need to hurry up get to the Fort so Scar can get a-translating. [Ed]: “What do you mean, ‘the Fort is no longer safe’?!” Welp. Just when we get Armstrong The Great as an ally, she’s been summoned back to Central and a Military Officer’s getting put in her place, along with a bunch of other Central forces. So now the Tunnel Team is walking into a hostile environment without knowing. They have to be warned, but how? Ed wants to go but he’ll freeze before he gets anywhere close… [Al]: “There is a way! Listen: send someone who doesn’t have a body. That storm won’t freeze me to death!” Uh, Al? Sure I guess you wouldn’t catch hypothermia, but you’re still a giant suit of steel armor. Remember how there was that whole “Ed’s arm freezing up” problem that was fixed by replacing his entire arm? You don’t have body heat like a living person, your limbs are just gonna ice up. Actually, how the Leto hasn’t that happened yet? Huh. I guess Souls act as armor heaters too, Al’s having more trouble just seeing where he’s walking in the blizzard than actually moving. He sees the path but the winds picks up and the screen whites out from the snow GAH ZOMBIE AL! Oh shit how did Al end up in the Whitespace? Uh, well you’ve found your body? Quick, grab it and let’s get wait no it was an illusion. What, you getting snow madness buddy? Oh. Oh shit. We’ve got a flashback to Barry musing that foreign bodies can’t hold souls for too long, Al’s freaking out about his body trapped in Whitespace, pulling on his soul as it’s rejected by his armor… he can’t think about that right now, he has to hurry. Without the map now, since he dropped it after that vision. Oh hell it’s this asshole. [Uncle]: “Alphonse Elric. Edward Elric. And also… there’s… Van Hohenheim. Izumi Curtis, she’s a possibility-” Aside from all the awfulness of listing off Potential Sacrifices, which is looking a lot more like ‘killing all of these people, not just one or the other’, did you just purposefully knock over Izumi’s piece? Rude, and I can’t wait to see her punch you. “That leaves one more.” New end credits! Rapid guitar music as we race through a 3D hallway/tunnel, outside looks like Ed’s standing in the ruins of the Elric house, Al’s somewhere else standing among some tall square rocks. Flashes of red-eyed Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Pride, and Uncle (what, no Lust, Greed or Sloth?) A look at Riza’s scarred back with that strange symbol before she turns and I am very sorry for walking in while you were changing ma’am, I’ll be going now. Roy’s still in his eveningwear outfit probably trying to get someone to take all those flowers off his hands, Beard is oh Leto what is happening with your face, are you actually smiling. That looks so weird, stoppit. Oh hey it’s Mama Elric, so sad that we lost you before we could fully appreciate your snark. Ah there’s the scowling Beard that we know, go kick Uncle’s ass. We’ve got Ed jumping and Al and LING YES BRING HIM BACK and a lion and monkey oh my Leto is Al actually going to build a Chimera Army this is the best thing of all time yeah there’s Toad and Boar we are totally getting Rebel General Al. Also there’s Alchemist-Slayer Scar on their side now but who cares CHIMERA ARMY ok fine we also get May and oh Marcoh’s getting in on the action looks like he lost a few teeth wait Yoki no we need you as the secret tactical genius get off the front lines. Selim’s there looking all cute and innocent in his little schoolkid guise until his shadow gets teethy and attacks Ed. Winry’s power walking through a hallway (can’t see if she got her earrings back). Then a bunch of hands reaching up, one larger one grasping a smaller one (which ship will sail?!) before we’re back in the tunnel, shots of Ed and Al and Beard before a final map of the country-sized TC.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 39

[carmenlire]

Heavy Metal

read on ao3

“I don’t understand why I had to accompany you tonight,” Magnus says under his breath as he hands his I.D. to a bored looking bouncer.

It’s a Friday night and he’s standing outside of a bar in Brooklyn. It looks perfectly nondescript from the outside but Maia’s assured him that the music was to die for-- many a band had been discovered inside the walls of The Hunter’s Moon.

Waving them inside, Maia doesn’t hesitate as she walks through the door and down a dark corridor. Over her shoulder, she replies, “You needed a break from all those briefs and depositions. I’ve started thinking that all you do is eat, sleep, and breathe the law. You need a break and this is as far from your fancy office in Midtown as you can get.” With a grin, she continues, “Plus, Simon couldn’t get out of his shift tonight and Clary was busy.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus mutters, “So I’m the last resort, huh,” under his breath but he can’t help but sigh in resignation.

She was certainly right, Magnus thinks as the short hallway opens up into the main room. It’s small and there’s quite a crowd already. It’s a little after nine and the opening act is dissembling their gear on stage. The air smells like sweat and beer with the faint scent of pot lingering. He can’t remember the last time he went to a concert that didn’t double as a public appearance.

The New York Symphony had nothing on this venue, he thinks wryly.

Everyone is dressed in their best black and Magnus had dug through the back of his closet for a pair of black, ripped skinny jeans and his doc martens. He’s wearing a plain black singlet and had taken special care with his hair and makeup. He might hate this type of music but he knew how to dress the part.

They weave their way to the bar, claiming a prime spot by sheer luck. Both of them order a whiskey on the rocks and Magnus takes the first sip, sighing in relief.

Maia watches him with laughing eyes. “Thanks for coming,” she says. “I would have come alone but you really did need the fresh air, Bane.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus has to pitch his voice over the chatter of the room. “I almost didn’t come,” he glares. “I left a pile of paperwork to sort through on my desk and I don’t need to spend what limited free time I have listening to shitty music and surrounded by emo hipsters with their pretentious opinions on what makes good music.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t heard of Shadowhunters?”

Maia’s voice is shocked and Magnus knows that he’s not imagining the judgement in her gaze.

“No,” he sniffs. “And why would I have?”

“Magnus,” Maia hisses, leaning close as though to make sure no one else hears about his faux pas. “Shadowhunters is one of the biggest bands in the world right now. They just sold out their latest world tour and it’s a miracle I even got these tickets in the first place. This is where they were discovered in college and they always do a few shows here when they’re in town. They usually perform to thousands but Hunter’s Moon only has a capacity of three hundred. This show is going to be amazing.”

Magnus raises a brow at Maia’s fervor. He’s never seen her so enthusiastic about anything before-- not even biology.

The two of them enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before Maia downs the last of hers with a grimace and sets the glass down with a thud that’s silent in the noisy room.

Leaning close, Maia says, “I’m going to the restroom. Don’t try to duck out.”

Waving her away, Magnus throws back the rest of his drink and turns to the bartender. Ordering his second whiskey, he nurses it quietly as he watches the room. It’s jam packed and most people seem well beyond tipsy already.

Magnus quietly yet fervently wishes for his silent apartment just a few blocks away. He could be having a bubble bath right now with a glass of wine but instead, here he is, about to subject his ears to God knows what.

So caught up in his thoughts, Magnus startles when a voice sounds close by.

“What did that drink ever do to you?”

Looking up, Magnus’s breath catches at the man in front of him. He’s tall-- taller than Magnus, which is very attractive-- and handsome with messy black hair and gorgeous hazel eyes that Magnus already wants to lose himself in.

He also fits in-- he’s wearing black skinny jeans and a short sleeved black t-shirt with a red flannel tied around his waist. He’s also covered in tats-- they trail along his arms and there’s one bold as you please on the side of his neck, beckoning Magnus closer.

It takes a minute for pretty boy’s words to make sense and when they do Magnus raises a brow and then his drink, in a lazy imitation of a salute. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, darling.”

At his response, the man’s eyes widen a little before he grins, something small and genuine in his expression. “I take it you aren’t a fan of the headliners, then?”

Magnus narrows his eyes as he considers the question. “No,” he says finally with a blunt edge that makes the man in front of him startle out a laugh. “I’ve never heard of Shadowhunters and I could have done without hearing them for much longer but a friend insisted I come with her tonight.”

“Ah,” the man says. “Trying to make a good impression on a date?”

Barking out a laugh, Magnus is shaking his head before he stops speaking. “No, darling. I’m afraid she really is a friend-- she’s just a big fan and said that I needed to take a break from work.”

“And was she right?”

Magnus mulls over the question, hesitating, before finally acknowledging with a rueful grin, “Maybe. I’ve recently opened up my own law firm with my best friend and we’ve been drowning in cases. She had good intentions, I know but--” he winces. “I just don’t like this kind of music.”

The man quirks a brow and smiles a little. He leans forward, just a little, and Magnus catches a whiff of his cologne, something subtle yet deep that makes him want to come closer.

“What kind of music do you think Shadowhunters plays?”

Glaring, Magnus takes a lingering drink of whiskey and pretends he doesn’t see the way the man’s eyes trail his throat. “Angry and full of aggressively straight men yelling about how their girlfriend left them in a hotel room in Chicago but they still have a pack of cigarettes left so maybe it’s not all bad. Oh, and their hometown just doesn’t understand them and all their never-before-experienced angst.”

The man in front of him laughs and it’s a real thing-- loud and bright and boisterous. Almost immediately, however, he stops and takes a look around, as though to make sure he hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention.

He considers Magnus warmly, small smile tilting his mouth up. Magnus is fascinated at the barely noticeable laugh lines that grace the corner of his eyes.

“It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” Holding out a hand, he continues, “I’m Alec and I’ve got to admit that I’m a fan of shitty emo music.”

Playing back the conversation, Magnus’s eyes widen. “You heard me talking to Maia?”

The man grins sheepishly. “Yeah,” he says and rubs the back of his neck. Magnus does not watch the way it makes his arms stand out in stark relief. “I wanted to see if you were uptight or just misguided.”

Intrigued, Magnus sends him an arch look. “And have you come to a verdict?”

Alec considers him for a minute without saying anything. In the meantime, the bartender sets a drink down in front of him and Alec accepts it with a distracted nod. Magnus might have expected something straight no chaser from a man who looks as forbidding as Alec but instead, if Magnus isn’t mistaken-- and he never is-- Alec is drinking a sex on the beach, something sweet and fruity and more juice than alcohol.

How delightful. It seems like Alec’s full of surprises and Magnus feels an overwhelming need to uncover them all.

Alec clears his throat and Magnus refocuses. His gaze drops to Alec’s mouth and he wonders if he’d catch the sweet edge of his drink if they kissed right now.

His gaze flies up to meet Alec’s, though, as he starts talking. “I think that you shouldn’t judge a book by their cover.”

He leans in and Magnus’s breath catches at their proximity. This close, Magnus can see each individual eyelash and their mouths are so close that it wouldn’t take anything to bridge that last bit of distance.

He restrains himself, but barely.

“Want to make a deal?”

Smiling a little, Magnus searches Alec’s eyes and finds nothing but steady interest. “What kind of game did you have in mind, darling?”

Alec hums, thinking, before he slowly says, “If you like the band-- not even the whole set, just one song-- you’ll go out on a date with me.”

Attention caught-- as if he hadn’t been hanging on Alec’s every word since the beginning-- Magnus thinks over the offer as he studies Alec’s face, cataloging the heavy five o’clock shadow, the eyes that seem to reflect the light of the dim bar, the way his tattoos are stark black on pale skin.

“Isn’t that a little bold,” he murmurs. “You must think pretty highly of this band to assume I’d enjoy anything by them.”

Alec laughs a little. “They do okay and it just makes things interesting if the stakes are high, don’t you think?”

Something about his tone seems the tiniest bit off but damned if Magnus can place the reason why. Deciding it doesn’t matter, he lets a slow, sure smile form.

“It’s a deal, Alec.” He pauses, thinking for a moment before asking, “Is that short for Alexander?”

Alec nods, smiling a little. “No one really calls me that, though,” he replies demurely.

Tilting his head, Magnus asks, “And am I part of no one?”

“You know what,” Alec says softly, barely audible over the chatter of the crowd. “I don’t think you are.”

Magnus feels goddamn butterflies at the response, at the way it’s delivered with a sly smile and a wondering look.

Holding out his hand, Alec asks, “I don’t believe I caught you name . . .”

Laughing a little, Magnus slides his hand into Alec’s as he says, “I don’t believe I gave it.”

Raising a brow, it’s obvious that Alec’s interest in piqued. “Can I have it now, or--” his voice drops to a low whisper in Magnus’s ear as he pulls him close, still holding his hand. “Is that more first date conversation?”

Magnus pulls back and when their gazes meet, he feels heat lick up his spine. They both know what they’re doing and while Magnus has still resigned himself to a two hour set of shitty, screeching music, he’s looking forward to the the rest of the night.

“Magnus.”

Alec pulls back, arching a brow as he repeats the name before grinning. “Will I see you after the show, Magnus?”

“We do have a deal, Alexander, and I’m a man of my word.”

“We’ll see,” Alec replies cryptically before he reaches for his drink and drains the mostly full glass with a few efficient swallows. When he sets the glass down again, it’s instantly taken away and Magnus’s gaze switches from the obsequious bartender to Alec, whose attention seems to be caught by something toward the stage.

When Magnus looks over, however, he doesn’t see anything.

“I’ll be right back.”

Magnus looks up at Alec’s sudden words. “Where are you off to, darling? Don’t tell me you’re going to miss this band. After all, they’re apparently the hottest show in the city.”

Alec laughs a little as he shifts away, taking a step toward the front of the room. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never missed a gig in New York.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Alec says. “Their bassist is pretty impressive-- definitely the star of the show.”

“You’d better watch out then, darling, or I might just set my sights on him.” Magnus winks and is gratified as Alec laughs again, shaking his head as he takes a step back.

“Somehow, I’m not worried.” Alec’s reply is easy, self-assured, and Magnus can’t deny that all that confidence is sexy as hell.

“How will I find you after the set,” Magnus asks, just as Alec starts turning away.

Looking back, Alec grins. “I’ll find you.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” Magnus waves him off. “Go do your thing them, whatever it is,” he ends skeptically and Alec doesn’t say anything just considers him for a moment, eyes warm, verging on hot.

Alec makes his way through the crowd effortlessly and disappears between one person and the next. Magnus has no idea where the hell he went but his thoughts cut off as Maia steps up to him.

“What's with you,” she asks, turning away from the stage to order another drink.

“I just met someone,” he says vaguely, working out the past few minutes in his head.

“Yeah? What was their name?”

“Alec,” Magnus absently replies and jerks as Maia drops her phone onto the bar with a clatter.

Her expression is incredulous. “What,” she snaps and Magnus raises a brow.

“What?”

She stares at him for a minute before shaking her head resolutely. She says something under her breath that he thinks is, “No, it couldn’t be,” and then it doesn’t matter because the house lights dim as the bar falls silent in anticipation.

A bass riff starts from behind the curtain, something dark and gritty and fuck if Magnus isn’t reluctantly into it.

Maybe Alec was right about the bassist, he thinks.

The bass line is distinctive and even if this isn’t Magnus’s preferred genre of music, he recognizes that whoever is playing the bass is talented.

The curtain pulls back as the drummer starts and the crowd absolutely loses their shit. Almost immediately, the noise is deafening. The crowd is roaring but Magnus feels the bass in his chest, the drums kicking at his heart.

The lead singer starts but that’s not what makes Magnus lose his breath.

As he stares up at the stage from his place by the bar, Magnus freezes as Alec’s eyes find his unerringly, despite the fact that there's not way he can see Magnus with the stage lights obscuring his view of the audience. His gaze is molten, bright and intense and Magnus bites his lip as his reaction washes over him.

He looks like a god, Magnus thinks hazily. In his element, Alec hold the bass with a negligent grip as his fingers fly over the strings. His gaze sweeps over the audience with a sly, private grin.

A king overlooking his domain.

The stage lights are moving to the tempo of the song in clashing shades of blue and green and white. Everything seems dark, mysterious, and for the first song of the set, they’ve apparently started with a crowd pleaser. Everyone’s screaming along to the lyrics-- including Maia, who’s left Magnus’s side and is elbowing her way to the front of the pit-- and as they move into the first chorus, Alec steps up to his mic, filling in for background vocals.

It looks effortless and by the time they’ve played the first three songs, Magnus can see that his hair is damp, can see the sheen of sweat against that fucking neck tattoo.

The lead singer, a blonde, starts to speak but Alec just barely beats him. Magnus’s eyes are focused on Alec but he registers the silent conversation the two men have before the lead singer takes a step back.

“New York, how are we doing this evening?”

The response is deafening and Magnus already knows that his hearing with be blown tomorrow. Alec eats it up though, pausing for several seconds until the cacophony reaches a shattering point.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says in a low voice, tone gravelly and altogether too much.

Magnus might feel faint but that’s no one’s business but his own.

“Did anyone see us at Madison Square Garden last week?” There are some cheers before Alec leans close to the mic again with a grin. “Thanks for supporting us-- I know at least one person here, however, wouldn’t have been caught dead at that concert.”

There’s some noise of confusion, of affront, as though no one in the audience could fathom someone who wouldn’t throw themselves at the band.

“This next song is for Magnus-- it might be shitty but at least it’s not straight.”

Magnus can’t help but grin at the quip and as the guitarist-- Jace, he thinks Maia had mentioned-- and Alec start in on a heavy riff, he settles against the bar to enjoy.

Surprisingly, the next ninety minutes fly by and Magnus finds that while he wouldn’t be attending another concert for the foreseeable future, he could tolerate Alec’s.

The band plays two encores and give one hell of a performance. He watches, enthralled, as Alec performs like he was made for it-- his energy is infectious and when he has a solo interlude, the crowd goes wild as he gives it his all, devolving into a riff war with Jace while Isabelle, the drummer, looks on in long-suffering humor.

Alec knows how to work a crowd-- he lifts his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow and every single woman in the crowd shrieks like her life depends on it with Alec grinning smugly-- and when the curtain’s finally pulled and the house lights go up, the audience starting to file out, Magnus leans against the bar in a daze.

He should probably feel worse than he does. Wincing, he remembers some of the things he’d said about the band but he can’t help but find the humor in the situation.

Alec hadn’t corrected him-- hadn’t aired an artistic temper or vehement rebuke-- but had instead seemed to enjoy Magnus making an ass out of himself.

Deciding to stay and see if Alec wants that date after all-- Magnus had decided when they’d made the deal that he’d agree to the date even if he'd had to put earplugs in to suffer through the set-- he nurses his last drink of the evening.

It’s much quieter now that most of the people have left and Maia had texted him at the end of the set to say that she’d happened to run into the drummer and not to wait up, much to his amused surprise.

He watches as the bartender starts to clean up the empty glasses but doesn’t startle when he hears, “So, what’d you think? Did you like it enough to go out with me?”

Turning his head, Magnus studies Alec. His face is flushed, his eyes are bright and Magnus figures he must be riding a post-concert high right now.

And who is Magnus to ruin that.

Giving Alec a slow once over from head to toe-- lingering in all the right places-- he grudgingly admits, “You weren’t awful, I suppose.”

Laughing, Alec shakes his head as he regards Magnus with a warm, amused look. “Not awful,” he repeats before shrugging. “That’s not the worst review we’ve had.”

“Oh? And what’s the worst thing someone’s ever said about Shadowhunters?”

Mulling it over, Alec finally replies with laughing eyes that betray his serious expression, “That we were not only shitty emo music but heterosexual.” He makes a wounded noise. “Nothing’s ever cut so deep.”

Magnus slaps Alec’s shoulder halfheartedly, glaring. “How was I supposed to know that I was talking to someone from the band when I said that? Really, it’s your fault for not telling me who you were before I insulted you.”

“But then I wouldn’t have found out what you really thought of us,” Alec murmurs. He steps closer, until there’s barely a bit of space between them. “I couldn’t throw away a chance at honesty-- not when it’s become so damned rare these days.”

Magnus raises a brow. “You’re happy that I not only said I didn’t know who you were but that I thought you were terrible to boot,” he asks incredulously.

Alec shrugs. “Better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Someone kissing my ass just to get something from me. Plus,” he adds in a husky whisper that makes Magnus shiver, “It gave me a chance to change your mind, didn’t it?”

Humming, Magnus narrows his eyes but can’t stop his lips from turning up into a coy smile. “Maybe,” he allows.

“So, did I earn that date or not?” Alec’s grinning as he asks, eyes knowing, and Magnus almost wants to deny him just to get that smug smirk off his face.

Almost.

With a long suffering sigh, Magnus mutters, “I guess.”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Alec’s wearing a shit-eating grin and Magnus hates that he’s so into it. “I said, Alexander, that yes, I will go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Magnus echoes softly. He pauses a minute, weighing his words, before offering, “I’m wondering something, you see, and I want to know if I can find the answer.”

Intrigued, Alec asks, “Oh? And what is it that you want to find out?”

Stepping closer, Magnus trails a finger over Alec’s chest, feeling the way Alec’s breath stutters, before looking up at him through his lashes. “Who’s the man out of the spotlight? And is he as irresistible as the bassist in front of the crowd?”

If possible, Alec’s gaze warms even further and he shifts until his lips are a hair's breadth from Magnus’s.

“I guess I’ll just have to let you figure that out for yourself, then, won’t I?”

“Yeah,” Magnus breathes. “I guess you will.”

They’re all but dragged out of the bar an hour later by an annoyed, put-upon bartender. They end up at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall diner with the greasiest bacon cheeseburgers Magnus has ever had and if he shows up late to work the next morning, then Ragnor will just have to deal with it.

And if he spends the whole day on his phone, texting Alec and grinning down at the screen in between intermittent sighs, then he has no one to blame but Alexander.

#heavy metal #malec fic #my writing

[fenrys-moonbeam-lochan]

Soulmate AU 1.0: My love is worth so much more (part 2)

You can read part 1 here

part 3

part 4

ao3 Link

Summary: Everyone knows the facts about soulmates. You are born with dull marks on your body that brighten when you touch your soulmates for the first time. A person can have up to any number of soulmates though three is the average number. You stop ageing at age twenty-five and do not age until you find all your soulmates and until all your soulmates start ageing too. Those are the facts

Then there are beliefs. Soulmates are supposed to be chosen by the universe for you, so they can’t be wrong, can they? Wrong. There is no point of it if they do not respect you, no point if they do not love you. No point if they hurt you.

It takes years for Lorcan to figure that out though.

XXX

The arrow sailed through the air, aim true. The target instantly crumpled to the ground.

Vaughan swooped down and changed back to his human form.

“Nice Shot,” said Vaughan

“Thank you,” said Lorcan, poking the man with his foot. He was dead.

“That was the last of them, I think,” said Vaughan

“Yes, we are done a day early,” said Lorcan, “Maeve will be pleased,”

Vaughan nodded. Maeve had discovered a traitorous group in Doranelle, creating issues and breaking laws. Not trusting anyone else, she had sent both her soulmates to get the job done.

“Let’s go back,” said Lorcan, holding out his arm. The cleanup team would deal with the mess

Vaughan smiled at him, making small little warmth bloom in Lorcan’s chest. He loved it when Vaughan smiled.

Arms linked together, they headed back toward the mansion. When they got close, Loracn spotted someone at the garden of the mansion and nudged Vaughan.

“Does that look a little familiar?”

The boy had long blonde hair. He was casually but nicely and seemed to be waiting for something at the start of the garden.

Vaughan smiled, “He seems to be in better shape than we were,”

Lorcan let out a chuckled and the boy turned around at the sound.

Vaughan hummed, “Does he not look a little like the lion shifters?”

The lion shifters. A land-owning family who had refused to be a part of Doranell’s oligarchy. Lorcan knew Maeve was still a little perturbed over it. 

“Hello there,” said Vaughan as they got closer to the small. Lorcan stayed quiet, studying him. The boy could not have been more than 12 years old. He seemed healthy and stood with a confident posture. What struck Lorcan the most was the look in his eyes, wise beyond his years, an old soul.

“I am Gavriel,”

XXX

“Go to his parents,” was the first thing Maeve ordered, “Take him out to the garden. I have to prepare for the meeting with them,”

The order was not specified but one nod from Vaughan was all it took for Lorcan to understand his intention. In the time it took to Maeve to turn back to the study, Vaughan was already flying out the window. Lorcan quietly guided the young boy out toward the gardens.

“Can I touch your hand?” said the little boy

Lorcan hesitated. Maeve had not touched the young boy and there was a very good chance that he was their soulmate. She must have had a reason to wait.

“Maybe not yet,” Lorcan told him

Gavriel’s shoulders slumped a little. Lorcan felt his chest tighten. Somehow he could kill and torture and taunt adults without thought yet hated upsetting a young child.

Children are innocent though.

He tried to find something to say but could not think of anything. He was not the best in social situations. He would usually let his quiet companion lead and then pick up the slack once Vaughan got tired of speaking and he knew the direction the conversation was going.

What would Vaughan do? He thought back to their earlier interaction. Maybe a simple question to start with.

“How old are you Gavriel,” said Lorcan as they walked the small paths between the gardens

“I am eleven,” said Gavriel, “How old are you?”

“I am twenty-five and Vaughan is twenty-two,”

“What about Lady Maeve?”

Lorcan smiled, “Much older than us, child,”

Gavriel nodded and turned his eyes toward the greenery in the garden, “What flower is that?”

Startled at the change of subject, it took a few seconds for Lorcan to respond However, he was glad for it. Lorcan had learned early on about every flower in Maeve’s gardens and while not his favourite thing, he could certainly talk about them.

They had only gotten through half of the garden when Vaughan came landed close to them.

“Lord and Lady Liath are inside,” said Vaughan, “We are wanted in the study,”

Lorcan nodded and before he could say anything, Gavriel was already turning around, getting ready to go back. However, he wasn’t walking, still waiting for them.

Lorcan smiled inwardly. A bright child. Oh, this would be fun, that is, if he was their soulmate.

The walk to the study was quick. Once there, Lorcan and Vaughan took their places behind Maeve’s chair while Gavriel went to stand beside his parents. His mother, with the same golden hair, blue and eyes and sharp features, instantly took his hand drew his closer to her, as if to protect. Lord Liath, also golden-haired but features significantly stronger, also sat up straight, looking over the two warriors as if to analyse them. Lorcan and Vaughan made themselves straight and impassive, giving nothing away.

“Lord and Lady Liath,” said Maeve, “Lovely for you to come all this way,”

“What is this about Lady Maeve,” said Lord Liath, “Surely this is not because my son accidentally trespassed,”

“Oh, no no,” assured Maeve, “I believe that Gavriel is out soulmate,”

The silence that filled the room was thick. Lorcan could not see Maeve’s face but he from the smugness rolling off of her, he could guess what it looked like. On the other hand, he had a full view of the Liaths’ expressions. Lady Liath looked as if she was trying very hard to not gouge someone’s eyes out. Lord Liath was trying at looking impassive but his anger could be seen underneath the mask of clam. Gavriel looked understanding and curious at the same time. The boy probably knew about some of the tension between Maeve and his parents.

“Are you sure,” said Lord Liath

“None of us touched him,” said Maeve, “But it will only take a second to prove or disapprove the theory. May I?”

Maeve held out her hand and after a tense moment of silence, Lady Liath nudged her son toward her. Maeve shook Gavriel’s hand, resulting in a soft light emitting from their hips.

Maeve smiled and before he knew it, Lorcan was kneeling in front of the boy, taking his hand away from Maeve and activating their own band.

There was a small silence in the room and Lorcan knew if he turned around he would see surprise etched on Vaughan’s face. He rarely stepped out of line like this, especially in front of Maeve.

Later he would blame it on the excitement of finding another soulmate but for now, he was using all his energy to shove down the urge to grab Gavriel and get the child out of there.

What the hell?

Instead of giving in to the odd feeling, he turned to Vaughan, “Your turn,”

XXX

Lorcan laughed as the lion tackled him into the ground and continued licking him, making his hair wet.

“Stop! Stop!” he laughed, “That tickles, Gav!”

Gavriel finally let up but instead of moving away, he curled up on Lorcan’s chest.

That was how Vaughan found them later. Laying on the grass with Gavriel’s lion head on Lorcan’s chest and Lorcan’s fingers running through his mane.

It was a peaceful night.

XXX

Lorcan was just finishing his reports when the slam of a door and loud talking had him peaking out of the window. From there Lorcan had a clear view of the path from the door to the gate, which the Liath’s and Gavriel were walking down. Lady Liath was waving her hands, saying something to her husband

Just as they went out of sight, the door opened and Vaughan slipped into the room.

“What was that about?”

Vaughan sighed and plopped down beside him, “They don’t like Maeve’s training regime.

“Why not?”

“They say it’s too harsh,”

“It worked for us,” said Lorcan

Vaughan shrugged and laid his head on Lorcan’s shoulder, “You have to admit though, it could get pretty brutal,”

Lorcan hummed, “We turned out fine though. You know the Liath’s don’t trust Maeve’s judgement,”

“True,” said Vaughan, “But-but just because she’s our soulmate doesn't mean her judgement is always sound,”

Lorcan rolled his eyes and moved to face Vaughan, “We’re talking about training for god’s sake. We didn’t have anyone else to train us so Maeve did it. Gavriel has his parents so they’ll keep training him. It’s as simple as that,”

After a moment Vaughan nodded and put his head back on Lorcan’s shoulder, “Right,”

XXX

Lorcan made his way through the streets to the large house at the end of the lane. In all the years since they had discovered Gavriel as their soulmate, Lorcan had never once stepped foot in the Liath residence. 

He had gotten a message, telling him to come to the residence. The note had been delivered while he was on a campaign and he got the feeling that no one else was to know about it.

For reasons he could not understand, he had kept it from everyone and had only made his way to the place when he had been sure Maeve would not know.

He had to admit, there was a small thrill in doing something Maeve might not approve of.

The door instantly opened at his knock, revealing Gavriel’s oldest brother.

“They’re in their room. Here, I’ll show you,”

Lorcan was confused. Why would the two want him in their room? Especially considering they barely knew each other.

The answer became apparent as soon as he stepped into the room. The scent of sickness was strong, leading him to the pair curled up on the bed. They both seemed to be asleep for now. Noth their golden hair was matted with sweat and seemed dull. Their faces devoid of any light and bodies seemed to have thinned.

“Soulmate sickness,” murmured the young lord, ‘They’re not sure which one it is, though I suppose it does not matter. At their age and how fast it came on, they’re going to die anyway,”

Lorcan winced at the defeated tone of voice. The Lord and Lady had not been seen in public for a while. Having given over their responsibilities to their oldest son, Lorcan had figured they were just enjoying their retirement away from prying eyes. Gavriel had not said anything either. But this...

Soulmate sicknesses were a category of sickness, including the plague, red and black fever that resulted in both soulmates getting the illness and making each other worse. It could be treated sometimes but like soulmates could share strength when they shared a sickness, they made each other worse, resulting in a doomed loop. It was something no one deserved to go through.

A shuffle from the bed pulled his attention to the two figures.

“Mama. Papa” whispered their son, as he stepped closer to the bed, “Lorcan Salvaterre is here with you,”

There was a small mutter from the bed and the young Lord smiled at Lorcan, “Come a little closer and you can talk to them. I will be outside,”

“Lord Liath,” said Lorcan as he knelt beside the bed, “Lady Liath. What can I do for you today?”

Lady Liath opened her mouth and was instantly hit by a coughing fit. Lorcan looked around and spotted the water sitting on her night table. He helped her sit up and drink. Once she was done, he leaned her against the headboard and took her hand.

“Was there something you wanted to say to me?” He said softly. Gentility was not in his nature, but by God, if he wasn’t going to try.

It wasn’t the last that answered but the Lord with a soft raspy, “Protect him,”

Surprised, Lorcan could only stare at him, “What?”

“Protect him,” said Lord Liath, this time clearer and fiercer.

It wasn’t that Lorcan didn't understand what they were saying. It was quite normal to want your children to be looked after when you left this world. However, the intense look in their eyes, the fact that he was the only one here, it made him think that they had something else in mind.

But what?

“Promise us,” said Lady Liath, “Promise us you’ll protect our baby, from anything and everything.

Lorcan found himself nodding because he might not understand what these two were trying to say but it was easy to promise Gavriel’s protection. The bright soul that Lorcan adored. 

“I promise,” he whispered

Seemingly satisfied the two nodded and sagged into the bed, their eyes already closing due to the little exertion. Lorcan stood up and covered the two nobles properly and left the room.

Gavriel’s brother was waiting for him and quietly walked him to the door.

There really wasn’t anything to say.

XXX

“You’ll be whipping him,” said Maeve, handing the whip to Gavriel, “A hundred lashes,”

“What?” said Gavriel

“It’s okay,” said Maeve, “I don’t like treating my soulmates any different than the others in my ranks. However, where most are punished by superiors, I have you punished by each other,”

Gavriel was still standing there looking surprised. Vaughan and Lorcan gave each other subtle looks behind their backs. When they were young the punishments had been watching each other to make sure they ran the right amount of laps or that they stood in the corner for the right amount of hours. As they had grown the punishments had changed to fit their age. They were used to it but Gavriel who had chosen to serve in his parents’ personal guard until their death had neven been subjected to them.

“Maeve,” said Vaughan, stepping up “I’m used to such punishments. Maybe I should do this one and Gavriel can watch and learn. After all, he’s been under his parents’ supervision until recently,”

Maeve cared for them, they knew that. But she had a temper and sometimes it required for them to work together and find ways to appease her that didn’t make the situation worse. 

And by the look on Gavriel’s face, he was definitely about to make the situation worse. There had been a mistake made and someone had to be punished. They would have to explain that to Gavriel later.

However, If Vaughan could convince her...

“Very well,” said Maeve, “Vaughan you can give him his lashes. I know a hundred is more than you are used to but you are not young children anymore. I’m sure you can take it,”

Vaughan nodded and took his place by Lorcan’s kneeling body. Gavriel stood in front of the oldest make to watch.

As the whip started to come down, the look on Gavriel’s face made him look away. 

He would spend the rest of the night trying to erase it from memory.

XXX

Lorcan clutched Gavriel’s hand as he cried int Vaughan’s shoulder. 

He hated how much this had become a familiar sight. It had been the same when his parents had died, his oldest brother and then his other brother and now his niece too.

“I’m the last one now,” whispered Gavriel, “They’re all gone,”

Genevieve Liath had never had any children and with extended family being a little too extended, Gavriel really was the last Liath left in Doranelle. It happened sometimes, even in the noble families. The blood died out with every death until it was practically non-existent, except for that one individual who had not found their soulmate yet and had to watch as their family dwindled into nothing.

From the Liath’s of Doranelle, Gavriel was that person.

Lorcan and Vaughan looked at each other over Gavriel’s shaking shoulders. There was nothing they could do about the grief, nothing anybody could do. But they could be here.

“Hey Gavriel,” said Lorcan, gently tugging him close, “We can’t make this better but I promise you something. You will never be alone, not as long as we’re here. Never. Okay?”

Gavriel nodded and buried himself in their arms.

As Lorcan recalled the last conversation he had had with Gavriel’s parents, he wondered if this is what they had meant.

XXX

Maeve clinked her glass, capturing their attention. Gavriel and Vaughan stopped waiting and Lorcan put down his water to give her his full attention.

“A toast,” she said softly, “To us,”

“To us,” they repeated, gulping down their wine.

The moon was beautiful that night and so were their smiles.

XXX

Lorcan plopped down on the bar and gestured to the bartender for his usual. 

“Alone today?” she asked

He gave her a grin, “For now,”

She laughed and he knocked back his drink, picked up his second and surveyed the room. The place was usually frequented by the elite warriors of Doranelle, and most of them came here after a long day, their voices quiet and demeanours calm. It was one of the reasons he liked this place. Much better than the loud, energetic places Gavriel liked to go to.

He turned to order another drink but she was already putting another one down. He looked at her questioningly and she tilted her head toward the end of the bar. Lorcan looked over and spotted the telling Silver hair of the Whitethorn family.

Rowan Whitethorn.

After a moment of consideration, Lorcan picked up the drink and saluted the other man before knocking it back. By the time he put the glass back, Rowan was already sliding into the stool beside.

“Hi. I’m-”

Lorcan cuts him off, “Trust me. I know who you are, Little Hawk,”

Rowan grinned, “And everyone knows who you are Mr Salvaterre. However, I've been told it’s polite to introduce yourself when you meet someone, especially if you’re hoping for that someone to ravish you the rest of the night,”

Lorcan grinned and leaned back, “Oh?”

The man was just not beautiful but forward to. A wonderful combination

Despite what he had said earlier, Lorcan had not actually come here looking for a bed partner but he wasn’t aversed to the company, especially if the company was as gorgeous as Rowan Whitethorn.

Lorcan held out his hand, “In that case, I’m Lorcan Salvaterre,”

“I’m Rowan Wh-” before the Rowan finish, their hands touched and there was a small flare of light emitting from both their marks.

“Holy Shit,” muttered the bartender. Around them, everybody started cheering

Lorcan didn’t know what it was, maybe the little alcohol in their bodies or the newly made bond but before he knew, he and Rowan were both leaning in and slotting their lips together in a passionate kiss. Rowan’s hands ended up in his hair and his own hands were stroking the skin under his clothes.

When they came up for air, the patrons were still cheering and the bartender showed them a key.

“Would you two like a room,” she said, with a mischievous smile

Lorcan looked at Rowan, his dishevelled hair and now red lips and the heavy way he was breathing. Not to mention the clear lust in his eyes.

He turned back to her and grinned, “Why not?”

#lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #SJM #sjmaas #sjm fandom #vaughan #gavriel #rowan whitethorn #rowan x lorcan #rowcan #rorcan

[observationsofanislandgirl-blog]

dark days

FYI anyone who’s squeamish - don’t read this

Another day dawns and I should be grateful, as we all should be to wake up living and breathing. I guess I am, but it’s also swamped with a heap of other emotions. I wake up exhausted, as if the past several hours’ sleep did nothing at all. I feel sick and congested, like my breathing system isn’t working quite perfectly. I also feel nervy and cold, something which I’ve had on and off the past four or five days.

It hasn’t been a good week, at all. Constant worry and negative thoughts about illness seem to hang over the mood at home, and things aren’t feeling festive at all. 

Anxiety has plagued me terribly this past few days, for one of the last reasons I ever thought about, ever. I’ve been worried - I am worried - that my current skin carries not one but two entities. 

I’ve never been one of those girls who’s obsessed/paranoid about pregnancy. I like kids well enough, and have always thought that down the track, and I’m talking several years down the track, a few around would be nice, once I’m in the right situation everywhere else in life.

With that in mind, the darkness only told hold when something prompted me to wonder when on earth I’d last bled. I remember having my period in ballet class several weeks back, only because it had made me feel bad, but I couldn’t remember if I had had one subsequent. In other words, I was possibly due for one shortly, or - and this instinctively felt more likely - very overdue for one that should have happened a couple of weeks ago. 

I think back to the couple of months just gone. A lot of work, some of it at night, a lot of caffeine, a lot of wine, a shit tonne of stress over various things. Not a great deal of action, either, but hey, it only takes one arrow to shoot down an eagle. Worry set in and before long I felt pretty paralysed.

Worst of all, it wasn’t something I could be open about. Living at home, I’m generally pretty open with my parents, and they’re not usually too judgemental about things. This time, however, it’s not something I can discuss right away. Mum, whose own journey with pregnancy and children was a difficult one due to health issues, is always conscious of the biological clock in those around her and has dropped hints that thirty would be the latest she would have kids, if she had her time again (methinks: sweet! Another four years to be a total idiot until I have to start behaving myself and take vitamins)

She would more than likely be happy, but also ridiculously anxious. She worries constantly about health, her own and others around her, and having a new dimension added would not be ideal right now.

Dad, on the other hand, is a different matter. He shivers at the thought of a new generation still and shakes his head at any friends or relatives who suggest or inquire about the topic with me. He’s undergoing treatment at the moment, which makes him feel quite ill some days, and this would be the absolute last thing he wants. 

The other potential contributor to the current predicament is, as he is with everything in life, cheerful, detached and not worried at all. He avoids the topic at all costs, constantly asks why I’m down even though the answer is obviously the same every time, and carries on like usual. Things start falling into place in my head and I realise it’s kind of a watershed moment, forcing me to realise that this is not the life I want long-term, and this likely explains my dysphoric levels of negativity. In a negative feedback cycle, it makes things worse.

I go and see a close friend over the weekend, when it’s just the two of us at her place, and finally I can have a vent and a cry as we sit outside on the old couch, normally the spot where we and a few others spend summer afternoons smoking cigarettes, drinking cheap coffee and talking shit about our colleagues. She listens and reassures me that I’m not psychotic for feeling the way I do. Perhaps ironically, she’s in a several year old lesbian relationship and so she’s never had the exact same worries, but somewhat usefully she says that she had experienced similar physical symptoms earlier in the year that were obviously not male-related. A worry shared is a worry halved, and I leave feeling much more able to hold it together. 

The afternoon is a tough one. I’ve arranged to go to my old dance studio’s Christmas recital, and I was the one who bought the tickets so I have to be there to give them to my friends. The auditorium is packed, we’re squished in near the left wall, and to my right is a gigantic old man who takes up twice the amount of human space as another person. As the endless mediocre routines unfold before us, one little child in the seat in front of me decides she’s had enough and starts fussing. This turns into sobs, which turns into outright screams. I’ve got a pounding headache, partly from the heat and poor air conditioning, partly from the wine I self-destructively drank the night before, and can’t help but pop a finger over both ears, hoping that in the darkness it just looks like I’m resting my chin in my hands. The mother notices but I don’t bother to check her reaction. I don’t care. I hate her squalling, dribbling brat. I hate all the little uncoordinated kids onstage with their head bands falling off and their shoes unlaced. Hell, I even know some of those kids, I’ve taught them, I love them dearly, they call me Mama Cat and pretend to be lions when they’re bored in class. But today, I’m in such a black place that I hate them all, simply because I’m scared that a microscopic one is sitting inside me at the same time. 

Later on at home, the day catches up with me and I’m content with just relaxing in the bed out in the spare room, listening to podcasts and trying to unwind. I tell myself that if I’m just late because of stress, I’m only making things worse because I’m getting more stressed. Another, thoroughly evil voice also suggests that the more stressed, malnourished and run-down I get, the better my chances of not being, falling or staying pregnant are. This goes against so many aspects of human nature that it almost scares me, and makes me feel psychopathic, but the reality is it’s affected my behaviour. I’ve looked at the things women do when they’re trying to fall or stay pregnant, and have done the opposite, always scared that I’ll have an adverse reaction and I won’t be able to keep my secret any longer. I read that progesterone is the key hormone that keeps things in check, and that it’s the one that the early termination pill blocks. It’s also reduced by a stressful lifestyle, poor diet, caffeine and alcohol. Obviously I haven’t had my levels checked because it’s not something I’ve been planning, but I’m guessing considering the last couple of months’ activities, my progesterone levels would be diddly squat. I keep this in mind and cross my fingers as I sip a brewed coffee. 

Thoughts turn over in my head for the millionth time: there’s a chance I’m not - I’ve been stressed and sleeping in irregular cycles. I’ve also upped my caffeine intake recently and additionally been indirectly exposed to chemotherapy chemicals through sharing a bathroom with Dad. All this could have contributed to a dodgy cycle, or maybe I’ve even clean forgotten that I had a period as normal and I’ll just get one next week and it’ll all be fine. Then the nasty thoughts rear their head - babies pop out unexpectedly all the time. Not everyone is trying, keeping track of days, eating healthy diets and avoiding substances, hence the bogan mums lugging their screaming spawn around. I have an old fear, a sense of a situation, perhaps from an early dream, or maybe that weird genetic memory thing they’re looking into, that one day I’ll settle down with my true soulmate and we’ll find we can’t have kids of our own. The darkness rises again and I think that maybe karma is getting revenge. 

I don’t write this with the aim of creating a structured piece of work - that probably becomes obvious. I’m not even writing it with the intent of showing anyone. I simply need to get all these thoughts written down, partly to clear my head and also partly to look back on, whatever the future holds. I’m holding a lot of pain, and fear, and resentment right now, both inwards towards myself and outwards towards others for various reasons. As with any time that I’m in a difficult situation, I have a desire to run away from my own body, as well as a tendency to sleep much more than usual, I suppose since it forms a kind of escape. It sucks that this time of darkness has to happen at my favourite time of year, and also at a moment in life when I want to be enjoying every day to its fullest, but I guess that’s life in a nutshell - unpredictable. 

I hope the days and weeks ahead bring more positive events and emotions, and that I learn and grow from the current situation, even if it’s something as simple as be more organised in making that one little mark on the calendar every month that reminds us all is - or isn’t - well.