#[ and so she represses it and just minds her business and only has hook ups or short term casual things

[idolbound]

While I do normally believe that Meredith came to terms with her attraction to other women as a teenager (around 16-17), and that once there, she always asserts herself as knowing where her interests lie, I do think it would've been something to reckon with at the time. What would the Chantry think of her? What would it mean as a Templar, if anything? Would she face judgment or be allowed to end up under the care of the Maker in death?

All of these questions and fears are met with her deep-seated heavy and strong desires to be with women and this conflict is something that affects young Meredith with no one for her to talk to about it. As she gets older and more secure in her path as a Templar Knight (particularly as Knight-Captain), and as a lesbian, it's still something she questions. Obviously the thought of marriage was already put to the side as her devotion to the Chantry as a Templar makes such a thing quite difficult to attain, but to marry a woman in her view would be out of the ordinary and subject her to further ostracization - even if being in a same-sex relationship in and of itself is not seen as terribly strange or illegal in any way, marriage is usually seen as a means to signify a bond and to allow for procreation of children. It would be an oddity, and beyond her role as templar, it would not be something, at that point, that she would be willing to pursue.

Tie this into her hypersexuality as a result of trauma, and the way Meredith essentially uses her sexual relations as a replacement of regular social relations, she finds herself ignoring any desire for marriage or commitment, still fearing the social and religious repercussions deep down.

This form of repression really only becomes undone in an post-DA2 AU in which Meredith lives on (in whatever capacity, verse-dependent), where she is outside of an institution of the Chantry. Even then, it would still take time to undo that mentality and be at a point where the thought of marrying a long-term female partner is not a distant dream, but a reality.

(...and even then, her own past atrocities aside, she would never want a public ceremony or fanfare around her marriage. Only performed by a trusted Chantry Mother, in a private location).

With the Religion talk on the dash, I truly am set in Andrastianism just being female-Jesus Catholicism, but also Meredith being a repressed lesbian Catholic is well, delicious thank you

[rose-demica]

Heya! So I stumbled across another A/B/O / Omegaverse story app and got hooked on one of the stories. Then the thought came to me, where would Kyoya Ootori fit if he were in that universe? The answer? I don't know... I would love to here other peoples opinion! Let's discuss where Kyoya would fit?

Here though, is the one shot that spawned from that thought and wouldn't leave me alone until it was written. Huge thanks to the amazing @mariekoukie6661 for checking over this and making sure I had my omegaverse facts right. (I did not, and now might need to do more research). Divider a gift from the lovely @buckys-zomdoll.

Fandom: Ouran High Host Club

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Violetta Tatsuya (OC, part of a larger fic that will appear one day).

Kyoya frowns, catching Violetta as she glances at him, before returning her gaze to her manilla folder and giggling. She’s been doing it for the past - 8 minutes and 43 seconds by his count, and he’s had quite enough. What could she possibly be doing that was causing this much amusement? She had barely said hello, and hadn’t gotten up to greet him when he arrived, instead folding her folder shut while he came to her. She’d given him the briefest kiss before apologising, saying she really needed to finish up with this case and then she’d be all his. Not abnormal, he often had to wait, and he didn’t mind, he had more than enough to do himself of course. But laughing!? At him? Is this really a case? Has his father done something embarrassing and he has yet to hear about it?

He looks up, locking on those violet eyes and holding them in place when she looks at him again. She meets his gaze, laughter making her eyes sparkle more than they normally did. He watches the micro-expressions on her face as she tries to repress her laughter, but soon enough her nose crinkles as pearls of laughter escape her lips, head thrown back. 

“THATS IT!” He stands, snapping his laptop shut. “What is so funny?” He expects her laughter to stop, but it doesn’t, she only laughs harder, doubling over before falling off her chair. He waits, clenching his jaw as his anger grows. 

“Wait-” Violetta gasps, holding up a hand, visable over her desk. “I need help.” Not one to deny his lady in need, Kyoya steps around the desk, offering Violetta a hand, She takes it, leaving the folder on the ground as he helps her to her feet, an arm wrapping around her waist and holding her to him. 

“Pray tell,” He speaks through gritted teeth, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her gaze to his. “What could possibly be so amusing about me?” There are tear tracks through the makeup on her cheeks, liquid simmering in her eyes as she squeezes them shut, trying to muffle the giggle that rattles through both of them. 

“Alright, so-” She doesn’t open her eyes as she starts to speak. “I’m working on a copyright case involving stories-” 

“Wait, what branch of law do you work in?” He thought she did business law, but she’s been looking at all sorts of cases recently. 

“Business mostly.” She opens her eyes to look at him, smiling a little, but not breaking down into laughter this time. “But I check over lots of cases, from all branches. My firm offers everything after all.” He nods, and she waits a moment before continuing. “Have you heard of something called Omegaverse?” The blank look on his face is answer enough, and he watches the corners of her lips twitch. “Sylvia’s complained about it a few times. Essentially there are werewolves, and within those werewolves, they’re split into groups. The one I’m working in just have Alpha’s and Beta’s, but some have Omega’s. Alpha’s are big boss wolves, generally lead the pack, generally only one in a pack. Beta’s are their right hand, Omega’s are just normal wolves, although sometimes they are abused and treated as servants.” 

“I do know how the Greek alphabet goes, my love.” He replies, so far none of this explains why she is laughing so hysterically at him. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Violetta raises an eyebrow, daring him to keep speaking, but he stays quiet, which only causes her to burst into laughter once more. 

“Violetta.” He growls warningly, “You’re testing my patience.” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down once more. 

“Right. It’s ridiculously sexist by the way. Most of what I could find are on those reading apps you have to either pay for or wait a stupidly long time for. And of those, rarely ever is there a female alpha, they mainly serve as Luna, which is just basically the Alpha’s mate. But, why can’t a female be Alpha, or Beta in their own right, why do they need to rely on a man? I really need to find a bunch with a female Alpha just to see-

“Violetta.” He cuts her off before she can start rambling about it. This still hasn’t explained why she’s laughing at him. 

“And also this mate thing. I get the whole theory, you have a soul mate - or sometimes several, which just seems counterproductive. And if you did have a soul mate, someone who is perfect for you in every sense of the word why would you reject them? Not only that, but they frame your mate as being a gift from the moon goddess, so isn’t rejecting them therefore also rejecting and spitting in the face of your goddess like-” He presses his lips against hers, silencing her. Her body softens in his hold, leaning into him, a hand sliding into his hair as she kisses him back. 

“Why were you laughing at me?” He whispers, pulling away from her. 

“Not at you per say-” He cuts her off with another kiss. “I haven’t even mentioned the mate bonding thing yet-” 

“They bite each other on a special gland that cements their bond and makes it known to the whole world. Generally while having sex.” He interrupts, her eyes go wide as she looks up at him.

“You did know!” Violetta steps back out of his hold, stooping to pick up the folder from the floor. This time it’s him chuckling at her. “You would have your answer by now if you’d said so!” 

“This is more amusing.” There is no way he’s telling her exactly how or why he knows about this whole ordeal. ”So.” He takes a step towards her, ducking his head and staring intently. “Why?” She gulps, taking a step back. 

“I was hypothesising.” Violetta brings the folder between them, shielding herself. “You see, I’ve been trying to figure out where you would fit in the universe.” What? His feet stop moving, eyes going wide. “Theoretically you’d just say Alpha and be done right? But Kyo- you are just so amazing at being a Beta. I mean, if you look at the Host club, you’re absolutely the Beta. You defer to Tamaki, he has the ideas, you make them happen. Then in real life,.. Heck, you’d make a fantastic Luna.” He feels his jaw drop, but he can’t control it, can’t bring it back. She thinks he’d be a good Luna?! “I could be the alpha, I would have you as my Luna in a heartbeat.” He forces himself to close his jaw, back straightening. Violetta should take it as a warning, but she’s laughing at him, again! “But then you look at your Shadow empire, and Alpha doesn’t seem so far stretched.” She raises a hand to her eyes, dabbing at the tears that escape. 

“Stop it.” He takes a step closer, but she doesn’t notice, eyes closed as she tries to control her giggles.

“But like, I just can’t imagine you as an alpha, barking orders, refusing to take smack from anyone, being all growl-y and possessive and demanding. It just... it doesn’t fit.” He reaches out, snatching the folder from her hands. Her eyes fly open just in time to see him fling it over his shoulder, paper flittering everywhere. “Kyoya!” He grabs her as she goes to move past him to collect it all back up, lifting her off her feet and throwing her onto her bed. 

Her eyes are wide as she watches him stalk closer, mouth opening to say something before stopping. With one hand, Kyoya undoes his belt, pulling it through all the loops before throwing it aside. 

“Not alpha enough?” He growls, dropping down onto the bed and crawling over her. A squeal leaves her lips as he tucks his head into her neck, jokingly biting before sucking the skin into his mouth. “I’ll show you.”

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

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[constellaj]

I will pay you up front if you can rewrite the Urban Jungle episode. Please, I am begging you

I love undergrowth and his character but the episode was just, awful

*Alright* I am going to approach this as if it is part of the original series; I won’t be making it stupid gay, changing the overall tone or messaging of the story, making it any rating past pg-13, etc etc

with that in mind: urban jungle feels like the episode where danny and sam should have started dating (going with sam x danny to fit with the ‘original series but good’ angle). the line “i always thought you ruled” is fucking banger so what we’re going to do is extend that out into the actual theme of the ep: sam and self-esteem

sam has friction between tuck already (vegetarian vs meat eater) and in the beginning of the ep we also are gonna bump up the friction between her and danny, with how she thinks his powers should be used for good and how he just wants a break etc etc. sam gets really caught up in activism and her friends kind of snap at her for it due to burnout, so they break up what was going to be a group movie night and sam goes back to her house alone while danny and tuck go to danny’s place.

i don’t want undergrowth to magically appear, and I don’t even need it to be anything to do with urbanization necessarily; instead let’s take a popular fan theory of summoning and combine it with the premise of the episode ‘what you want,’ where tucker gets ghost powers. let’s say that sam, while digging into the occult, is like ‘if i had ghost powers/plant powers/could drive out oil industries i would in a heartbeat’ and learns about a ghost she can summon (undergrowth). danny and tuck are busy playing doomed while she does this. undergrowth takes one look at her and is like “ohoho, i can tell you love plants just so much.” he will be manipulating her and preying on her rage and feelings of inadequacy for the majority of this episode

cool, undergrowth is here now. let’s keep the enslaving-people-into-plant-zombies thing, but instead of instantaneous let’s make it a little scarier, with creeping roots sinking into the water source and slowly moving through amity, bit by bit. danny is unaffected cause he’s a ghost, and he and tucker manage to realize something’s up with the fentons before tucker gets zombified too. they’ll run to check if sam is okay, and on first glance they’ll think she’s been zombied, but of course she isn’t in the same way everyone else is. she’s a host body for undergrowth, and she’s actually actively repressing his possession (shes had a lot of practice, working alongside danny), and she’s super bitter about literally everything they’re doing and kicks them out.

it has to be shown earlier in the episode that sam feels like a lot of what she does is performative/etc and that danny and tuck are in the wrong with treating her sorta like garbage.

i’m cutting the ice powers cause that’s dumb. instead we’ll have danny and tuck working together to try and find a solution, and learning (probably through old fenton records or tucker being smart) that liquid nitrogen can get rid of undergrowth until summoned again, so they have to go all the way back to the lab at casper high and hook up some machine or other to clear the town. (retroactively, let’s make one of the earlier arguments between them and sam take place during a lab, and throw in a sidebar about liquid nitrogen; lancer saying that it should be here, dash and kwan fucking around with it, danny just touching it cause hes ghost, etc, something like that) 

as they progress undergrowth/sam starts putting spores out, meaning tucker’s also getting infected, all while theyre fighting back these different plant people all in the town. plant people still retain some of their original personality and stuff as a joke though. insert joke about plant-paulina zombie-lumbering towards Phantom, creakily going “how about a kisss” and danny just, morphs back into Fenton, and she goes “ew. gross” and leaves. that kind of thing. it’s a lot of strategy and we get to see other characters interacting in a pseudo-dreamworld with danny and tucker, and a lot should focus on self-esteem or making them feel bad to drive the point home

also what needs to be shown earlier is sam’s crush on danny.

during the progression danny has to be getting really worked up about this and eventually let slip ‘and can you believe i was going to ask her to [x event, movie, dance, etc]’ and tucker like, balks. tucker says ‘she has had a crush on you for like two years man’ and danny is like “WHAT” and now, encouragement to get things done faster. course then dramatically tucker gets turned into a plant. here we learn that the plant people are mouthpieces of sam’s self esteem issues right cause tucker just goes “well why would you like her. she’s a sweaty goth girl. she’s too loud. she’s so bossy” which are all things that sam would have said about herself/danny would have said about sam earlier when they were fighting

so danny rushes to the school and grabs the liquid nitrogen but uh-oh, of course undergrowth/sam is already there ready to stop him. something something she probably heard his conversation with tucker through another plant person, maybe valerie on a hoverboard. anyway she wants to possess danny and make him a plant person and we get the “together we can rule / I always thought you ruled” line that was the only good part in the og episode. this inspires sam to break out of the undergrowth mindset partially but, naturally, she was just a pawn for undergrowth who’s been preying on her self-esteem issues this whole time, and so now he’s like “ugh well if you’re not easy to manipulate what’s the point. i have to take over the entire planet with plants now bye”

epic fight scene with danny and sam working together to blast the man with liquid nitrogen while sam slowly gets possessed/plantified. something something something, they run out of nitrogen before sam gets totally planted, ghost breath is very cold (also needs to be referenced earlier). it’s probably tucker’s idea, but danny gets to do a magic kiss so she comes back.

it’s super awkward and she punts him at first. but then on for the rest of the series they actually ARE dating and there’s no more weird back and forth drama about things. danny’s ‘ice powers’ are now just being able to slightly control his body temperature (jokes later on about him faking sick by artificially making a low temp). sam is never once weirdly sexualized and instead she’s lashing out because she thinks her friends don’t care about her as much as they care about each other. undergrowth isn’t giving sam special treatment, she just happened to be the easiest pawn to reach

[luxekook]

RESPECT ✩ namgi

✩ as part of @btswritingcafe​‘s mots: 7 collab ✩

✩ pairing: king namjoon x witch reader x king yoongi

✩ genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of crack

✩ summary: in a land where the only openly acceptable magic is intrinsic soulmate bonds, what is a lowly witch to do when she is called upon by not just one king but two?

✩ word count: 7.1k

✩ warnings: 18+, cursing, magic, societal oppression, mention of snakes, reader has hella trust issues, begging, general cheesy fluff, smut [dom!reader, dom!namjoon, switch!yoongi, threesome (duh), throne sex (yuh), yoongi gets taken to paris and then the reader gets double teamed (aka double penetration)]

✩ beta’d by: the MAGNIFICENT phia @meowxyoong​

✩ banner by: the ILLUSTRIOUS danica @dee-ehn​

Magic danced at your fingertips as you summoned ingredients from the shelves behind you. You had been brewing this potion for hours - a tedious and tumultuous process that always accompanied the crafting of wolfsbane. It was a badly kept secret that you supplied the temporary suppressant along with a variety of other magical remedies, spells, and an occasional curse or two. 

There were - of course - limits on what you would provide. You did not take too kindly to townspeople that asked for dark spells or soulmate switches. Your fellow magical and supernatural folk in the kingdom of Meridian were ostracized enough as it was by the majority of the wealthier classes. To add on to your bad reputation would be a foolish endeavor.

Magic - it seemed - was a poor man’s trade. Why would the rich deign to ask for help from lowly witches and warlocks when they had access to the best doctors, the furthest overseas markets, and the fattest bank accounts? The occasional upper class individual would stray from the norm and enter your shop, but that was a rarity. And thank god it was.

The rich and the royals often feared what they did not understand – whether it be foreign powers, lower class revolts, or magical beings. For centuries, supernaturals like yourself clung to the outer rim of the kingdom out of necessity. Some who were able to pass as human lived closer to the castle at the center of the kingdom; but, you had long since lost your cover, choosing to openly use your powers for good and for a source of income. 

While the two current rulers had lifted the outright ban on supernaturals and magical beings a few years ago, centuries of prejudice and trepidation could not be quickly unlearned. 

It always struck you as ironic how easily the magic of soulmates was accepted, but a simple spell of healing, for example, was not. Perhaps the acceptance of soulmate magic was out of the longevity of its presence or the necessity of its inevitability - perhaps a combination of the two. You were taught from a young age that soulmate bonds felt like a welcomed tether to another person - a connection celebrated and cherished. And, in most cases, that rang true.

However, you knew too much to hope for a soulmate of your own, having heard too many stories from your fellow magic wielders. You knew all too much about the severance of soulmate bonds and the pain that accompanied the process – the pain that never left. 

Obviously, you were downright terrified of finding your soulmate and the almost certain rejection that would follow over the mere fact you were a witch. You would stick to your spells and your potions, thank you very much. 

Giving the wolfsbane one final stir, you reached for the empty bottle next to your cauldron, only to be interrupted by a thumping knock on the thick wood of your front door. Sighing, you set down the bottle and doused the flames beneath your finished brew with a flick of your hand. 

Turning to the door, you cast a quick reveal-spell at the dividing barrier between you and the newcomers. The magic dripped down the door, erasing it from your sight. 

Kim Taehyung waited expectantly on the other side, body practically vibrating with anticipation. You rolled your eyes. That boy always carried way too much energy with him. He pounded again on your door. You smirked, it always seemed funny when visitors would continue to knock on what was - for you - an invisible barrier. 

You waved the spell away with another wave of your palm. Pulling open the door, you failed to get a word in before you were swept into a giant hug. “(Y/n)!” Taehyung bellowed in your ear while he swung you around.

“Tae,” You wheezed, “Can’t. Breathe.”

The werewolf let you stand on your feet once more. “How is my favorite witch?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, chuckling slightly, “Tae, I’m the only witch you know besides Sinestra, and she scares you.”

Taehyung gasped, “She does not scare me! She’s just mean. She threatened to turn me into a cactus last time I went to her shop!” A pout formed on his face.

“Well,” You cannot resist teasing the boy, “She did say that you were being a prick.”

Taehyung shot you a playful glare and mumbled something about damned witches sticking together.

Deciding to let him off the hook, you headed back over to where the wolfsbane was left waiting to be bottled. “It just finished,” You told Taehyung as he trailed after you. “But, Taehyung, you really should just tell him.”

The reason that Taehyung repressed his wolf each month was none other than his soulmate - a human named Jimin. Tae was terrified of Jimin’s reaction to discovering his supernatural side. You thought his fear was justified, but you also figured that Jimin would be accepting of Tae just from how the werewolf described him.

Besides, it seemed inevitable that Jimin would catch on at some point. And Taehyung seemed to know that, too.

Tae’s shoulders sagged, “I know, (y/n). I’ll think about it.” 

With that, you nodded and dropped the subject, pouring the portion of the potion Taehyung needed into a bottle. Capping it tightly, you handed it to him, “Here. Remember to take it with food this time, okay?”

He smiled widely, clutching the bottle close to his chest. “Thank you! I will, (y/n).” Pulling you into one more hug, Taehyung waltzed out the door with a wave.

You smiled wistfully at his departure. So full of life, that one was. You just knew that his soulmate would accept him. You also recognized that you were not like Taehyung. You weren’t as vibrant, as gentle, or as beautiful. Would your soulmate be able to look past all your magic and stay for you? You didn't think so.

Shaking yourself from your negative thoughts, you carefully bottle up the rest of the wolfsbane for your stores. Even though you had long since stopped charging Taehyung, there were other werewolves nearby that you sold the potion to for quite a pretty penny. 

You had barely begun to shelve the bottles when another knock sounded at your door. Cracking a wry smile, you yanked the door open, “Tae, what did you forget to tell me this ti—”

The knock had not been from Taehyung. Instead, two palace guards stood there, shoulder to shoulder. 

Oh, this was not good. Having any lingering association with the palace would hurt your business. It was always best to deal with potentially hazardous situations quickly. Pulling open the door wider, you stood with hands on your hips, facing the two intruders. They both gaped at you, and you arched an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you, boys?” 

You took their continued silence as an opportunity to flick your eyes up and down each of the men before you.

The one on the right looked like he had just passed the guards’ test with his widened doe eyes and his flushed pink cheeks. The one on the left looked slightly older but no less youthful as he seemed to bounce on his toes with energy.

Seconds ticked by until - finally - the second guard exclaimed, “You’re (y/n)? The witch?” 

“Last time I checked, yes,” You addressed the guard who had spoken. You dubbed him ‘Happy’. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

“I heard that you were super old! Like over one hundred years old!” Doe-eyes unhelpfully answered before widening his eyes in panic, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being old! I mean, I love old people! But, not, like, romantically! I mean—”

Happy seemed to notice your mood darkening with each word his partner spewed out. Shoving the younger guard aside, Happy puffed out his chest and announced with pride, “We are members of the Royal Guard sent to escort you to the palace, Miss Witch.” 

Doe-eyes nodded swiftly next to him, cowering slightly as you continued to glare at him. 

“First of all, please never ever call me ‘Miss Witch’. My name is (y/n),” You uttered, completely unamused, “Second of all, what happens if I refuse your escort?”

The guards slid each other a look.

“Ah, I see,” You murmured, mood darkening even still, “Was there an implied ‘by any means necessary’ tacked on to the end of that sentence that I didn’t hear?”

“She’s a mind reader!” Doe-eyes gasped, leaping behind Happy and peering slightly around his shoulder at you.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of his quivering form, “Calm down, kid. I’m not into non-consensual mind reading.” Shooting the baffled duo a wink, you turned to open your door further. “Please, come in,” You insisted. It was obvious there was no avoiding your summons, but that did not mean your business would suffer.

“But our orders...” Happy failed to follow through with his attempted protest as he practically jumped past you into your little cottage. What an intense curiosity that one had, you mused. Meanwhile, the younger guard seemed more trepidatious, practically tiptoeing across the threshold and into your humble abode.

You shook your head at the way the two palace guards were quickly captivated by your gathered crystals, your worn spellbooks, and your wall of potion ingredients. Swiftly, you shelved the rest of the wolfsbane potion like you had tried to do before being interrupted. 

Your clients would have to pick it up themselves. Scrawling a quick note to your fellow witch Sinestra about the recent events just in case, you vanish it to her with a snap of your fingers.

“Whoa,” Two awed voices sounded from behind you. 

“It went ‘poof’!” Doe-eyes yelled, tugging on the sleeve of his fellow guard, “Did you see?” 

“Do you want to go ‘poof’, too?” You smiled evilly, wiggling your fingers in his direction.

“Ah, hyung! She’s threatening me!” 

“Get it together, bro,” Happy rolled his eyes. Turning to address you, he asked expectantly, “Ready to go now, (y/n)?”

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, grabbing your cloak from the rack by the door. Ushering the two men out before you, you quickly cast your protective charms on your home. Now, no one besides your most trusted clients should be able to enter.

Satisfied, you trailed behind the guards as they walked over to where their horses were tied to one of the many nearby trees surrounding your cottage. At least they didn't seem to be malicious in their intent. Their backs were to you, either a sign of trust or blatant stupidity. Only time would tell, you guessed.

"You'll ride with me," Happy smiled at you as he held his palm out for you to take. You shrugged, ignoring his hand to mount the horse on your own. "Alright then," The guard muttered as he seated himself behind you, "Let's go."

The journey towards the heart of the kingdom was not one you made often. It was only out of necessity that you sometimes ventured to the more expensive markets for key ingredients. The looming castle always stirred up inexplicable and foreign feelings of longing and fascination. You feared that actually entering it this time would be almost too overwhelming. 

As the three of you made your way through the town you lived in, you received some tentative smiles and concerned looks from those in which you interacted with regularly. Visitors from the palace were rarities in these parts of the kingdom. You didn't blame people for being concerned by the guards’ appearance and by your departure with them. 

The day wore on as you made your way through village after village, stopping only for a quick lunch. All too soon the palace appeared on the horizon. The looks you received from the townspeople were no longer cordial or concerned. They were full of suspicion and condescension. 

You shrugged it off as best you could. You had bigger things to worry about - starting with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the looming palace gates.

The large engraved metal doors swung open with your approach as Happy and Doe-eyes nodded to the guards posted there. Your breath caught in your throat. The castle was magnificent. The stone structure seemed to shine with a silvery sheen. Large stained glass windows gleamed from the many stories and towers adorning the palace. Vines wound their way up the walls despite the best efforts of the gardeners to stem their growth.

You stifled a laugh as one such gardener attempted to do so, but the vine refused to budge. Maybe there was some magic here after all.

Two other palace guards walked over to where the three of you had come to a stop inside the palace gates. Doe-eyes dismounted first and then offered a hand in your direction. This time, you decided to take the olive branch and accepted his assistance.

“Okay, ready?” Happy nodded at you and pointed towards the castle doors. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the kings waiting.”

“Oh, no,” You gasped, slapping a hand to your heart, “That would be a travesty.”

Doe-eye’s mouth quirked at the corners like he had stifled a laugh, while Happy spluttered something about respect. The short walk to the front entrance was much too short for your liking. You felt like you were walking to your doom - and maybe you were. The two guards had given you no clues as to the purpose of your summoning. That was such bullshit.

The heavy gold encrusted front doors creaked open as you approached. The foyer of the palace beckoned to you with that familiar pull. You sighed as you took in the expensive decor. From the shiny marble floors to the heavy purple drapery, you could see yourself living here all too easily. Why did you feel so called to this place? Well, you had always thought of yourself as a queen. 

Laughing to yourself, you let yourself be ushered down an adjacent corridor to the right of the foyer. You barely noticed where you were headed since your attention lingered on the gorgeous paintings that lined the walls. You probably should have been more alert because you suddenly found yourself at the cusp of the throne room.

The second you entered the room your attention was captured by the two men lounging on elevated thrones at the focal point of the room. These must be the kings, you mused. You had never seen them in person before, but their reputations preceded them. Your magic surged as you neared the kings. Was there a threat nearby? You shift a glance throughout the wide hall. 

Courtesans were scattered amidst large marble columns adorned with intertwining gold and silver accents. The majority of those gathered gaped at you in distaste, while a small handful simply spared a few curious glances. You couldn't spot a single person you knew in the bunch - not that you had expected to - nor could you find a source of outright danger.

Still, your magic thrummed louder within you as you continued on your way towards the kings. 

Your heart sank. This was not a reaction based on imminent danger. No, you knew what this was; someone here was your soulmate. And, when your eyes finally landed on the two men who summoned you, you had to choke down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up inside you.

King Yoongi reclined lazily on his ornate silver and black onyx throne, his body lax but his eyes sharp. His laser-focused attention on you made your stomach flip. You held his gaze as best you could, taking in the delicate dark silk of his diamond encrusted tunic and the tousled auburn hair on which his silver crown resided. He was beautiful.

And he was your soulmate. 

Could he feel the tether between you? Had he known about it somehow before you did? Was this why were you here?

Your eyes slid over to the right, unable to take the heat of King Yoongi’s gaze; King Namjoon’s curious eyes met yours. Unlike his partner, King Namjoon leaned forwards on his gold and emerald throne, avidly taking you in like you were a subject of study. And perhaps you were… You studied him right back. This king was no less intimidating in his scrutiny than the other. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared you down. The intelligence you saw within the depths of his brown eyes clued you in that this was a king that no one could fool.

And, since fate was clearly a bitch, he was your soulmate, too. 

You came to a stop before the kings amidst the sea of murmuring courtiers. “Bow,” Doe-eyes whispered to you, urgently prodding you in the side with his hand. You only stood straighter. You bowed to no one, and you certainly would not bow to your soulmates - no matter their status.

“Leave us.” At King Namjoon’s command, the room emptied. Your two escorts remained behind you. “Hoseok, Jungkook, that includes you,” King Namjoon lifted his chin as he swished a hand in dismissal of the two guards.

“But, sire—”

King Yoongi spoke for the first time, effectively cutting Happy off, “Don’t worry, Hoseok. What can one little witch do to us?”

Oh, you could think of a lot of things. Your thoughts must have been written all over your face because King Namjoon glanced at you and immediately let out a deep chuckle.

Glaring at the two men before you, you decided that one way or another they would learn to respect you. The guards you now knew to be Hoseok and Jungkook exited the room, leaving you alone with the two kings - your two soulmates.

Now, it seemed that you were somehow in a staring contest with both of them at once. Fine, if they didn't want to talk, you would. 

“So, nice weather we’re having, huh,” Your tone could not be any drier.

“Indeed,” King Namjoon quirked a half smile, and you realized you might be in over your head as his dimple made its first appearance.

You hated the whole power imbalance thing going on right now - the two of them sitting silently on an elevated platform lording over where you stood. Gathering all your dignity and lack thereof, you placed your hands on your ample hips and raised your eyebrows, “Well? Did you summon me just to stare?”

“No,” King Yoongi drawled, cupping his chin in his hand, “But you are quite delightful to look at, soulmate… That is, if this is your true form.”

You let the backhanded compliment simmer as King Namjoon chastised his partner, shooting him a warning look.

“Ah, yes,” You finally say, swiping at a nonexistent tear, “You’ve caught me. My true form is actually so old that it’s partially decomposed. Ah, silly me. I thought I would spare you from the grotesque monstrosity.”

King Namjoon burst into uproarious laughter. “Yoongi-ah,” He wheezed, “You’ve really met your match this time.”

Opposite him, King Yoongi scowled, “It was a fair question! The last witch that we summoned could shift into an owl.”

“You’ve met Helvetica?” You blinked, thinking of the only witch you knew with that ability, “She’s legendary.” Then, it registered. “Wait, what do you mean she was ‘the last witch you summoned’... Why have you been summoning witches left and right?”

“Isn’t it obvious now?” King Namjoon smiled, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You see, (y/n),” King Yoongi purred your name, inciting a shiver down your spine, “Namjoon and I are also soulmates.” He gracefully shifted to his feet before walking down the few steps to where you still stood. 

Circling you like a shark in water, King Yoongi continued, “But we had been feeling lonely despite our connection. We couldn't figure out why.”

“That’s right,” King Namjoon chimed in from his throne, “We tried everything to fill that void.”

“And we mean everything,” King Yoongi whispered in your ear, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“We were quite desperate,” King Namjoon laughed lightly. He, too, rose to his feet and made his way to stand before you. 

Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest from the sheer sensation of being caught in between these two beautiful men. King Yoongi continued to play with your hair from his position behind you. King Namjoon’s heavy gaze pinned you in place with its wicked intent.

“Desperate enough to contact King Seokjin of Andolia and request that his top Seer be sent to us to do a reading.” King Yoongi’s words caused you to jolt back slightly in shock. Andolia was known to be a more liberal kingdom than yours. It was a kingdom of magic, of carnal pleasure, of beauty. 

Plus, King Seokjin was practically famous for his good looks and for his love of otherworldly entertainment. 

“You outsourced from Andolia? Couldn't you just have asked one of the Seers here in Meridian?” It seemed absurd to you that these two kings reached out to another land so unlike their own for assistance - especially when you knew of at least four Seers in your own land.

King Yoongi and King Namjoon exchanged a look. “The Seers in our kingdom weren't exactly forthcoming, (y/n).” The taller king in front of you withered under your responding glare.

Could they really blame the Seers for not coming forward to help the very kingdom that had rejected them for so long? You certainly didn't think so.

King Yoongi continued, “Well, King Seokjin sent us his personal Seer Moonbyul… And imagine our surprise when she took one look at us and laughed.”

“‘No wonder you’re lonely! You’re missing one,’” King Namjoon quoted the Seer’s past words with air quotes. You had to bite down a smile over the cuteness of his action. “And not just anyone… a witch no less!”

His tone was light, jovial. You couldn't tell his feelings on your magical status no matter how hard you searched his twinkling brown eyes. Turning slightly, you assessed the other king who looked no less unreadable. 

Still staring at King Yoongi, you questioned, “Okay, so you knew your other soulmate was a witch, and you just decided to summon every witch in Meridian to check them out? Do you have any idea how much that would scare us?”

The shorter king had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “I guess we were too excited by the prospect of finding you.”

You fought down the hopeful feeling inside you. There was no way these two actually wanted to keep your bond to them, right? Not in this economy…

“I’m just going to be straight up with you.” You pulled away from their hold and paced away to climb up a couple steps so you were finally the same height. “I think you searched for me because you want to sever our bond.” 

The two kings moved to interrupt you, but you just held a palm in the air, “No, let me finish. Look, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my soulmate wouldn't want to be tied to a witch. And why should I even want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me or my craft?”

You lowered your palm, effectively lifting the unspoken silencing charm you had cast on them. 

The first thing that King Yoongi said once he recovered his voice was: “Damn, that was sexy.” 

And the second? “I would rather sever my left arm than sever our bond.”

“Well,” You blinked as King Namjoon nodded emphatically besides his partner, “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Please don’t write us off that easily, (y/n),” The taller king begged, “Don’t you feel it? The tether between the three of us? Can’t you see we were made for each other?”

Oh, you felt it. You felt the pull so deeply that you feared you might lose yourself within them.

But if the spark you felt for them was akin to a flame, you weren’t sure if you were the darkness longing to be brightened or the moth destined to be burned. 

Would it be worth it to give up your current life to be with them? Could you leave Taehyung and your little cottage? Could you survive in a court that held no love for your kind?

Your prolonged hesitance clearly worried the two kings before you. 

“What can we do to show you how much we want you here with us?” King Yoongi implored, his hand drifting out to clasp with King Namjoon’s. 

Staring down at the unified front the kings presented, you realized that your soulmates could offer you so much if you let them. By accepting the bond, you could gain the ability to help others more broadly than just offering simple spells of assistance. You could feel safe and secure. And, you could even allow yourself to love and be loved. 

“Hm,” You mused, “I think I need to take a seat.” You lounged on the very throne in which Yoongi had lazed just a half an hour prior. 

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” King Namjoon murmured as he stared up at you as you reclined on the silver and black throne.

King Yoongi hummed in agreement, “We’ll need to make hers resplendent just to even come close to her radiance.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” You lied, secretly basking in the warmth of their praises, “Would I really get my own throne? You’re not planning on shoving me in a far away tower?”

“We were fearful of this,” King Namjoon walked up to the foot of the throne with King Yoongi in tow. Pausing briefly, they both fell to their knees before you. King Namjoon continued, “We feared you would think the worst of us. And for good reason.”

King Yoongi’s gaze pleaded with yours as he explained his partner's words, “We grew up to be scared of magic. We were sheltered from it and were told falsehoods about its ‘malicious nature’. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we first travelled to Andolia and met King Seokjin that we realized how wrong we were.”

“We were ignorant,” King Namjoon said lowly, “We removed the outright ban on magic and supernaturals immediately, but unlearning such prejudiced ways has proven to be difficult for our kingdom.” 

You took everything in. You did not doubt that they were being genuine; however, one thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

“If I stay here with you...” Both kings eagerly stared up at you and you rolled your eyes, “And I mean if I do, will you see me as an equal? Will you respect me as such?”

The kings exchanged a confused glance before replying that they already did. You weren’t convinced. You decided to lay everything on the table.

“Okay, but do you really respect me? Or do you just want to fuck me?” 

“Do those have to be mutually exclusive?” King Yoongi asked, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from touching you.

Your lips quirked, “I suppose not.”

“Thank the gods for that,” He growled, “I’ve been hard since you sat on my throne.” Both kings moved forward with clear sensual intent, but you sent a wave of magic forward - effectively halting their movements.

Their eyes blazed with desire for you that you were certain was mirrored in your own. You take in the magnificence of the sight before you. Your two powerful soulmates on their knees before you, desperate to touch you, to taste you. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of Namjoon’s shoulders to settle on his black velvet and gold choker. Then, you shift your gaze to Yoongi and his long ring adorned fingers, the smooth skin of his chest that peeked from the v-neck of his tunic. 

They really were quite a pair. What in the universe had you done to be fated to such beauty? You guessed you probably shouldn’t question it.

Waving away the magical barrier between you, you began, “Earlier you asked what you could do to show that you want me here with you.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi rasped, his heated gaze locked with yours as he lightly trailed a finger up your calf. Beside him, Namjoon inclined his head in agreement before taking your hand in his.

Trying to ignore the rising tension, you forged onwards. It was important that you made these points before this went any further. “Well, I have some requirements.”

Namjoon cracked a smile, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t, my soul.”

Your cheeks warmed at the endearment but didn’t let it distract you. “I want to draft an ordinance that explicitly declares equity for those with magical and supernatural abilities.”

“Done.” Your soulmates agreed in unison.

You paused. That had been almost too easy… “And also an amendment stating that discrimination against said subjects will not be tolerated by any means.”

“Agreed.” 

You were on a roll now. “I like practicing magic. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to have to hide it.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to your palm, “We don’t want you to hide it.” 

“Your magic is beautiful, (y/n),” Yoongi’s hand slid further up your leg, “You should never feel like you have to hide an intrinsic part of yourself - especially around us.”

Your body burned under their touch, but you still held back. Were they just going to agree to any old thing you threw at them? “I also want ten thousand Burmese pythons.”

That took them a second to process. “We can easily get you around six hundred, maybe seven?” Namjoon squinted as he seemed to calculate the math in his head, “I’ll have to talk to our allies about trading for the remaining amount.”

Spluttering out a laugh, you shook your head, “I was just kidding about the snakes, my gods. Although… now that i think about it, maybe one would be cool?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. When had he pushed your skirt up that high? “Anything for you, my queen.” 

It was official. You were ruined.

Your soulmates had effectively stymied your doubts and quelled your fears, leaving you with only the intense desire to be with them. 

And so you caved. “That just leaves one last stipulation... You say you want me, need me. Well then show me how badly you want me to be with you.”

The words barely left your mouth before they were on you. Yoongi pushed your legs further apart so that he could get closer to you. His hands slid around your waist, tugging your body flush against him, and he fused his mouth with yours. 

You smiled into his kiss as you felt Namjoon sidle up to you and begin to place fevered kisses across your collarbone. A witch could get used to this, you thought as Yoongi’s tongue tentatively swiped across your lower lip. What a good boy he was to not take more than you offered. 

Your hands tangled into Yoongi’s silky strands before they came to a halt at his crown. Carefully, you slid the crown off his head and onto yours. Pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth slightly, you murmured, “Well? How’s it look?”

“You look like our queen,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely as Yoongi just looked at you like he might devour you whole. 

At Namjoon’s words, you turned to face him, hooked a finger around the choker adorning his neck, and tugged his mouth onto yours. His hand immediately flew up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you as if you might slip away from him if he stopped. You almost laughed at how obvious it was to you now that Namjoon was the more dominant of the two.

He had just mastered the art of patience amongst the other things you only hoped you could have the pleasure of discovering. His teeth playfully nipped at your bottom lip, and you returned the affection in kind.

Meanwhile, Yoongi refused to let you forget about him as he settled into his position of kneeling between your legs. His lips kissed and sucked at your neck while his fingers danced up your thighs, taunting you with their light touch.

You decided you had been teased enough. Tugging away from Namjoon and shifting Yoongi back from you slightly, you paused briefly to focus your magic and then snapped your fingers. Your dress and undergarments disappeared from your body and reappeared a few steps away folded neatly. 

“Fuck, I love magic,” Yoongi breathed as he takes in your naked body for the first time. 

Without hesitation, you hitch one leg over one of the ornate arms of the chair. “Well?” You arched a brow, looking over your two speechless soulmates, “Are you just going to stare? Or are you going to get naked?”

The speed at which they shed their clothes almost gave your magic a run for its money. 

You marveled at the two men before you, their bodies chiseled, their cocks hard. 

“How do you want us?” Yoongi asked, practically thrumming with anticipation. 

You arched an eyebrow at Namjoon, “Is he always this eager?” 

The taller man grinned, “Occasionally, but this level is rare form for him.” 

Yoongi scowled, “Please, Joon, like you aren’t dying to sink your cock into our soulmate’s pretty little pussy.” 

“Oh,” You sighed, “Someone has quite a mouth on them… Why don’t we put that to good use while Joon teaches you some discipline.” 

Not even thrown off at the notion of being punished, Yoongi gladly sunk to his knees before you once more. Namjoon hesitated, and you quickly realized the problem. Summoning your magic, you materialized some water-based lubricant for him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “Magic is a fucking beautiful thing.” Taking the lube from you, he leaned down to prep Yoongi. “Ready?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. Yoongi nodded.

“Gods yes,” You barely finished your thought before Yoongi buried his face between your legs, his mouth immediately kissing and exploring your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue tore a moan from you as your back arched into the cool metal behind you.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, “Look at me, my soul. Watch me fuck our soulmate while he tastes you. I want you to feel each of my thrusts in every jolt of his tongue.”

Despite not being one to typically take orders, the heat of Namjoon’s words pulled your attention immediately and the sight before you made it stay. You watched enraptured as Namjoon slowly sank his cock into Yoongi’s ass. 

Yoongi groaned and the vibrations sent another rush of arousal through you as he continued to greedily tease your clit with his tongue. Your hands dug into his auburn waves, pushing his face harder against your pussy. 

Namjoon slid out of Yoongi and then drove back in. The visual of his hard cock pumping feverishly in and out of Yoongi’s pert ass was indescribable when every stroke caused Yoongi’s tongue to thrust inside you and his nose to nudge against your clit. 

“How does she taste, Yoongi? Is she as sweet as she looks?” 

You scowled at Namjoon for causing Yoongi to pause his worship in order to answer. “She tastes like the fucking sun, Namjoon.”

“Now, that doesn’t even make sense— Fuck,” You moaned as Yoongi’s mouth sucked hard on your clit, effectively shutting you up. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the arousal build and build inside of you. Your legs shook as Yoongi sucked and hummed on your clit as Joon continued to pound into him. 

Your eyes focused on the sharp movements of Namjoon’s hip and the flexing of his muscles as he alternated in thrusting and rolling his hips. Gods, you wanted those hips to drive that cock deep inside of you.

“Does this please you, my soul?” Namjoon growled, “Do you like watching me wreck Yoongi while he gives you pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” Your breath hitched as Yoongi teasingly nipped at your swollen bud. “But I want you to wreck me and then I want to wreck you both.”

Namjoon’s thrusts stuttered to a halt as your words connected. Yoongi tore his mouth from your folds. Placing your foot on his forehead, you gently pushed Yoongi back so you could stand, “I want both of you inside me.”

Panting, Yoongi gasped, “Please, please wreck us, my queen.” His lips shone with your essence and you swiped a finger along their seam. Bringing your finger up to Namjoon’s plush lips, you tilted your head with a sly smile, “Well? You wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

Without a pause, he took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the digit, tasting you. His dark eyes remained on yours as he released your finger with a pop. “So fucking divine,” Namjoon groaned, his hands darting out to grab your hips, his hard cock pressing into your stomach. 

Yoongi once again mirrored Joon’s actions from behind you. You could feel his hardness against your ass, and you couldn't help but to grind slowly into him. “(Y/n),” Yoongi moaned into your neck as his cock practically throbbed with need for relief. 

Tugging Namjoon closer to you, you whispered, “My love, go sit on your throne.”

Your soulmate appeared confused but nonetheless did what you said. Pausing only briefly to admire the way Namjoon looked on his throne, you extracted yourself from Yoongi and sauntered over to stand over Joon. 

“You know,” You murmured, grabbing his cock firmly, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man, “I think I want to sit on your throne, too.” Your hand stroked him teasingly as his head leaned against the back of his throne.

“As you wish, my soul,” He rasped out, his thighs tensing.

With that, you knelt over him. Immediately, Namjoon’s hands rested on your ass and squeezed. “What a greedy boy,” You murmured, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “That’s for Yoongi, my love. Or is my pussy not enough for you?”

As you spoke, you slowly sunk down his thick cock inch by inch. And at the mention of his name, Yoongi practically shoved Namjoon’s hands off your ass and replaced them with his. Echoing your own words, he teased the younger king, “Yeah, Joonie, don’t be greedy.”

Namjoon shot the two of you a half-hearted glare, but before he could say a word, you clenched your walls around him. “F-fuck,” He moaned, his eyes squeezed tight, “You feel so good around my cock, so wet.”

You slid up and down his length, reveling in the building heat consuming you. From behind you, Yoongi slowly teased your other opening. The coolness of his finger assured you that he had done this before. His finger slid into my ass with ease, the lube no doubt helping with that. You both moaned.

“You like that, my queen?” Yoongi growled, beginning to push his finger in and out.

“Oh my gods, yes,” You felt wild from the sensation of being so full of your soulmates, but you couldn't help but want more. “Want your cock inside me, too, Yoongi.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” He responded, pulling his finger out of you. After a moment, you felt the gentle nudge of his cock head against your ass. You stilled your motions, bottoming out on Joon’s dick as you waited with anticipation of being stuffed full with both of them. 

Slowly, inch by inch, Yoongi pushed into you.  “Fuck,” He bit out, “Joon, I can feel you.” 

You felt so satisfied as Yoongi’s hips pressed into you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you as he no doubt could feel Yoongi right back. “Please, my soul, I need to fuck you. Let us fuck you,” He begged, gazing down at you with pupils blown out wide.

“No,” You shook your head emphatically, “I’m going to fuck you.”

With that, you started riding Namjoon’s cock. Moving up and down his thick shaft, you guided Yoongi’s hands to your hips as he thrust in and out of you in time to your movements. Every time you sank down on Namjoon’s shaft, Yoongi thrust into your ass. It was exquisite.

You felt your orgasm coiling within you, burning brightly. You squeezed down, trying to prolong the sensation, rolling your hips.

“Godsdamn,” Yoongi moaned, “Your ass is so tight, my queen. I’m not going to last much longer.”

You shook your ass slightly just to tease him. Yoongi responded by biting your neck and muttering, “You’re such a witch.”

“You fucking know it,” You gasped out as Namjoon suddenly rolled your clit between his fingers. Pleasure shot through you as you writhed on top of them. Your walls clenched down as you hurtled towards bliss, your world going white. 

You could feel both of them coming inside you, painting your walls. The heat of their releases only added to the intensity of your orgasm as you flew over the edge, milking them with every pulse of your pussy. 

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathing hard. Collapsing against Joon’s chest, you nuzzled his neck.

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, “I think we tired her out, Yoongi.” 

“Yes, I think so, Joon,” Yoongi replied, slowly pulling out of you, “Let’s get you cleaned up. We have a private hot spring just outside.” 

Not one to be outdone, you straightened, hopping off Joon. Placing your hands on your hips, you leveled each of them with a devilish smile, “Hey, maybe I was pretending to be satisfied for your benefits, you old men.” 

“Old!?” Yoongi bellowed, so easily riled up. 

“Hmm,” Namjoon’s arms encircled you, hugging you to him. Bringing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, my soul?”

“Undoubtedly,” You whispered back as Yoongi still fumes over being called old. Yeah, a witch could really get used to this.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[wielderofmysteries]

Jace Beleren, Masculinity, and the Trans Experience

(This post is a Twitter thread I wrote in response to a Goblin Lore podcast episode called “Jace Beleren and Toxic Masculinity”.)

I feel I have a unique perspective on this topic as a trans man. Trans man Jace isn't my headcanon, but it's an interpretation I love. He's my favorite character of all time, and as a trans man, I feel like reading Jace's flaws as toxic masculinity isn't quite right.

There are several "pillars" of toxic masculinity that Jace doesn't have. He doesn't have the self-destructive emotional repression, worship of sex and violence, or desire to subjugate women and his peers that men who experience toxic masculinity have.

Even BEFORE Ixalan, Jace was an example of many positive masculine traits. He was curious and emotionally open. He wrongly believed he could make decisions for others, but he cared for people, wanted to protect them, and couldn't sit idly by when he knew people were in danger.

In Agents of Artifice, he financially provided for Kallist and Liliana, and in Magic Story invited the Gatewatch to live in his home. Jace wanted to heal Garruk, tried to stop his rampage and had a Hedron implanted in Garruk's shoulder to relieve the effects of the curse.

"I don't want to hurt you, Garruk."

"Lucky for me, I don't feel the same way."

"Garruk, this is not a fair fight. You've suffered enough. Please. Come with me."

[...]

Jace stood in thought. Garruk held him by the throat, could end his life in an eye blink, had already proven he was immune to Jace's illusions. Garruk laughed again. If Garruk was open to having friends, then Jace might have been a good one.

"You win," said Jace. "We will leave you alone. I will not seek you out. But please, if you change your mind, come find us on Ravnica. Something is still not right here. We can help you."

In "Revelation at the Eye" Jace tells Ugin that Zendikar isn't a puzzle to be solved, and that it didn't matter if killing the Eldrazi has consequences, there are real people on Zendikar fighting for their lives and he needs to help them.

"Zendikar isn't a puzzle to be solved," said Jace. "It's a place. It's somebody's home. And those people are out there, right now, fighting for their world and wondering if anybody's going to help them kill what's killing them."

He showed scenes of suffering, then—of families mourning the lost, of landscapes ravaged by Ulamog, of even the skies and seas teeming with the Eldrazi menace.

Ugin cocked his head. The hedron architecture of the chamber seemed to melt and flow, became a pattern of tessellating dragons mocking him from the walls.

"So certain," said Ugin, "and so young."

Ral Zarek tried to kill Jace and ruined his relationship with his close friend Emmara, but in "Project Lightning Bug", Jace forgives him. Jace is honest about his feelings with Ral even after Ral was openly rude to him.

"I don't remember home," Beleren said quietly, unbidden.

"What?"

"You talked about growing up in Ravnica. A lot of my memories from my childhood are gone. Chopped up in my head into a few impressions. Most of what I remember begins here, on Ravnica. I'll never have roots here the way you do, and I admit I'm off to other planes a lot. But I think of myself as Ravnican to the core, too."

In Kaladesh block he wanted Chandra to be able to confide in him, and didn't want to stay home when he heard she could be in trouble. He used his mind magic to help Nissa sleep when she had a sensory overload in the busy city.

Nissa looked up. Jace and Gideon were exchanging a look. Both glanced at her.

They stood as one.

Jace turned toward the coat room. "I'll head to Kaladesh. It should be easy for me to—"

Lavinia appeared in his path, one hand resting on the pommel her sword. "Again?" she said, in a weary, disappointed tone.

He frowned up at her. "You can't expect me to sit here and do paperwork!"

Across the streets, beyond the barricades, the Consulate's panharmonicons are still blaring "The Gremlin's Wedding March" at us on infinite repeat at double speed. They left them on all night, and after the moon set Nissa started crying, hands clamped over her ears.

[...]

Jace sat down with her. They talked a minute and his eyes flashed. She curled up in a big potted plant and didn't wake up until the sun fell on her.

But what does being a man mean to Jace Beleren? Well, take a look at his feelings towards Gideon. Jace saw Gideon as the male ideal. I think Jace admires (and is envious of) the way Gideon is a representation of positive masculinity.

Eyes widened, jaws set. They understood their task, he was certain of that. But were they actually prepared to perform it?

What would Gideon say?

Jace smiled. Of course.

"For Zendikar," he said, raising one fist in the air. It felt thin to him, lacking Gideon's armored fist, his baritone war cry, his iron conviction.

None of that mattered. The soldiers shouted as one voice, holding their weapons aloft.

"For Zendikar!"

Gideon is not violent or hypersexual. He's kind, not afraid to ask for help, a defender rather than an aggressor. The pillars of toxic masculinity are absent in both Jace and Gideon. So why does Gideon's mere presence make Jace insecure? I think that insecurity is dysphoria.

I'm only 5 feet tall. People treat me like a kid, think I need help, and certainly don't see me as a man because I'm very small. It feels bad knowing my looks don't inspire others or make them feel safe like big tall guys can.

Gideon is super tall, muscular, conventionally attractive. He's charismatic and a natural leader. Gideon's like a human lighthouse. Jace is average height, out-of-shape, often pale and sickly, and his telepathy makes people automatically distrust him.

It's easy to see why people follow Gideon's lead so easily rather than Jace's. As a trans man, I personally related to Jace's insecurity. He feels inadequate compared to Gideon.

"I'd rather stand," said Gideon.

Jace stood up. It was an error. He still had to crane his neck to look Gideon in the eye, and now the size difference between them was glaringly obvious. He hated feeling small. Hated it.

Jace wanting to lead the Gatewatch didn't come from a desire to dominate others and be an ~alpha male~, but from a desire for people to believe in him. What Jace really wants is to prove to himself and others that he's competent and that he can be trusted.

This vision appeared whenever the man was struggling at a task.

[...]

"Listen, you aren't really suited to this task. Let me handle it." The vision's voice was gruff but friendly.

It came off as condescending.

The man was annoyed.

"I can do it myself."

The hallucination sighed. "You and I both know you're not suited to this. Let me handle it, you go philosophize on the other end of the beach."

"I said I can do it myself." The man let his irritation reach his voice.

"No, you can't. I call the shots and execute, you stand to the side. That's how this works."

The man responded by throwing his hook at the hallucination. It went straight through the figure's eye and landed behind him on the sand.

The time he spends with Vraska is so good for him! I loved that [the podcasts hosts] talked about how he was finally happy to follow someone else's lead! He didn't need to be a leader, he needed someone to trust him. She respected and loved him and thought he was incredible for who he is.

Vraska looked him in the eye. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

Jace returned her smile and felt his cheeks warming. "I do my best."

"Well, your best is incredible," Vraska said, turning toward the central tower and approaching a large gate on what appeared to be its back side.

Liliana never told Jace he was incredible.

Liliana would have scoffed. She would have made a dismissive joke, rolled her eyes, and called him a show-off. She would not bother to talk to him for days. She would consume the body of a demon with a crocodile's jaws and laugh over the sound of its flesh tearing off. She would do all sorts of things, but she would never call him incredible.

It was important for Jace to get that validation. Now he's not insecure about his appearance. It's not that he finally developed into someone who was caring. He was caring all along, but he was held back by insecurity about how others perceive him. He learned to love himself.

Despite all his good qualities and deeds he still felt insecure because it wasn't easy to visually see him as a "strong man". I think it's important to acknowledge positive masculinity even when the man in question isn't attractive or charismatic, and even if he makes mistakes.

As a trans person, Jace's experience reminded me of the struggle to "pass". It's frightening how easily insecurity can turn into toxic masculinity when you feel different from "real men". If you don't look the part, some people will just never acknowledge you.

Next to 'perfect' guys like Gideon, it's easy to see our own perceived weaknesses and shortcomings. Easy to feel resentment for it. But from this struggle comes the strive to be better men, to be confident in ourselves, and comfortable in our bodies.

There's SO much I wanted to talk about, like how Jace's trauma shaped his need for control, how the IRL gamer guys he was created to represent actually hate him, how he's a male victim of abuse by a female partner, etc but this thread is already terribly long.

TLDR; I think toxic masculinity as a reading of Jace is missing some perspective. The trans perspective. Not all insecurity men experience is toxic masculinity. Sorry I totally should have waited until part 2 was out, but I couldn't stop thinking about that episode.

There's a lack of trans men's voices in... basically everything, and this is something I think we should definitely be included in. I'm so grateful for the Vorthos community opening these kinds of discussions. Super excited for part 2 of the podcast!

[karasimpno]

{Day 14} Take It Like a Man | Daichi x Reader

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, cheering up your adoring boyfriend

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: None I don’t think! One (1) shirtless Daichi :)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

That’s the best part: the outside is new, but now it reflects what’s already in you. Couldn’t change that if I wanted to. —Take It Like a Man; Legally Blonde: The Musical (music and lyrics by Laurence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin)

Daichi had never needed a suit.

He got into the police academy right out of high school, and from the training through his required duties, all he ever needed was his uniform.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dress – he could always muster together a pair of slacks or a nice sweater on date nights. He just never went out of his way to buy really nice things, let alone nice clothes for himself.

So as he began the arduous task of grappling with mounting issues within the force and mulling over whether to pursue a career change, you wanted to do something nice for him.

“Y/n, c’mon, where are we going babe?” Daichi asked, grinning as you tightened your grip around his bicep. Your laugh was light, bouncing off the walls of the mall you were walking through. Your boyfriend had been so closed off recently with the stress of work and job hunting, it brought a smile to your face just to see him loosening up.

“Just trust me, Dai. I wanted to do something special for you. C’mon!” you encouraged, tugging him around the corner to—

“What’s this?” he asked, facing the entrance to the large department store in confusion.

“We’re going shopping!” you sing-songed, lacing your fingers with his and tugging as you stepped from the polished cement of the shopping mall over to the bright white tiles of the department store. The change in atmosphere was evident: you were met with harsh halogen lights overhead and the overwhelmingly pure oxygen being pumped in through the vents of the pristine entryway.

“I—baby, shopping? I don’t—” he protested with a playful grimace. You were quick to shush him, taking his other hand in yours so that you held them both, facing him and meeting his dark chocolate irises.

“Take a deep breath,” you told him.

“I—”

You squeezed his hands to show him you were serious. With a grin he half-rolled his eyes and fluttered them shut, taking in and releasing an inhale that was more of a sigh. His calloused hands engulfed yours, and you delighted in their warmth.

“Love?” a sultry voice interrupted Daichi’s train of thought. Blinking his eyes back open, he was met with the sight of a woman presenting a perfume bottle between the two of your connected arms.

“Sorry?” he asked, his brows pulling together with a wrinkle as you did your best to repress a grin. Has he never been in a department store before? you wondered.

“Love,” she said again, offering a spritz of the liquid in the air between the two of you. It smelled overwhelmingly of roses and you fought back a cough from its pungency. “The new fragrance from Chanel,” she offered alluringly.

“Ah, no thank you,” Daichi responded with a polite smile and a single firm nod. The woman slinked away, hips swishing enticingly with her eyes still on Daichi, but all his focus was on you. “I already have all the love I need,” he said with a playful smirk. You grinned back at him and felt abruptly warm under his gaze when his hands squeezed yours. You were reminded of the strength and safety of your boyfriend’s arms and pressed yourself against his chest momentarily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt his arms pull you in closer and you melted a little, seeing an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He was just so in love with you, and even being dragged around a shopping mall was worth it if it meant being by your side.

“Look,” you sighed, feeling your heartbeat slow and sync up with his as you pulled away slightly and gently traced your fingers up and down his toned bicep. At home you would have rested your forehead against his and just stayed there.

“I know how hard things have been lately,” you continued. “With the police force and everything I...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Let me do this one thing for you,” his face grew impossibly softer and you knew he wouldn’t say no to you. “I want you to have some nice clothes—a suit—” you corrected, “that you can be proud of yourself in,” you pressed gently, running your hands soothingly across his collarbones, over his shoulders and down his arms. He wouldn’t articulate it, but this meant a lot to him. It wasn’t that Daichi didn’t think he deserved people doing nice things for him, he was just so used to being there for others, supporting them and being their foundation, that it often took him by surprise when someone went out of their way to notice and do something for him. He raised one of your hands up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles.

“Okay baby,” he whispered with a smile. Your smile was twice as bright and you quickly laced your fingers with his.

“C’mon then!” you encouraged playfully, pulling him alongside you to the men’s section. Selfishly, you smiled to yourself upon seeing the racks of woolen polyester blends and manicured lapels. The old saying really was true - suits were their own lingerie of sorts for men.

“Okay,” you said with a smile as you pulled him into the middle of the sea of navys and blacks. “We can try on the jackets out here to get a sense of what kind of style you like, then we can choose a whole ensemble based on that!” Daichi looked at you with a loving sense of bewilderment. You amused him endlessly. “So just grab something that catches your eye!” you told him, beginning to dive into one of the racks. Daichi chuckled softly and began paging through a rack of his own. His back turned to you, you held up a wine-dark purple suit jacket that had caught your eye almost immediately. He turned to you with a nondescript, low-cut dark grey blazer in hand, an amused smirk on his face at what he saw in yours.

“That, I don’t love,” he said pointedly. You narrowed your eyes playfully at his aversion and your mind began to turn.

“That’s really nice, Daichi!” you encouraged his selection, still not returning yours to the rack.

“C’mon,” he pushed, walking over to show off how much better he looked in the grey, slipping it over his shoulders—and God did he look good. “This is more my style,” he said—and he had a point. “That feels like something Suga would wear,” he said, referencing the purple fabric in your hand. “He’s gotten so... I dunno, dapper lately,” he mused, trailing off as he turned slowly, modeling the jacket for you.

“Okay you’re right,” you smiled, quickly putting the jacket back in the rack and resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong back, accentuated by the pleats in the suit jacket. You sighed. His hands found yours again and you were instantly charmed by his smile.

“Okay, grab that pair of pants,” you said, eyeing a slim cut in the same color that would flatter his thighs and accentuate his stature, “and a white collared shirt and....I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” you said with a grin and a wink. Daichi held back a chuckle, shaking his head at you and obediently following your orders. Surreptitiously, as he started walking off, you grabbed the matching wine-dark purple vest from the suit jacket you had been eyeing and marched over to the dressing room, picking up a understated striped amethyst tie on your way over.

There was no one attending the dressing room kiosk—it was practically dead on a Tuesday afternoon—so you quickly slipped into the hall, eyes landing on the only closed door. Finding it slightly ajar, you slid in to find Daichi with his shirt coming over his head.

“Hey!” he said in surprise, half-covering himself with the removed shirt. His rippling form was still easily visible and you smirked, leaving the vest and tie on a hook.

“Hey yourself,” you said, lowering his raised hands to reveal more of his chest, your nose getting right up in his face. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” you winked. “Don’t forget these,” you told him, quickly stepping towards the door. He eyed the purple fabric skeptically; it was certainly a departure from his usual uniform or bland business casual in the alternative, but you had a good feeling about the pop of color and his skin tone. Daichi sighed, unable to resist your smile as you eased out of the stall. He decided he was going to humor you.

After a few more silent moments broken only by the shuffling of fabric, you heard Daichi’s voice softly from inside.

“Okay this is...” he opened the door, making you inhale sharply. The pants fit him perfectly, snug over his muscular thighs and cutting straight down to the floor. The white collared shirt popped against his the color of his skin as the charcoal grey brought a handsome elegance to his appearance. And the pop of color—you were absolutely right. He was glowing. And the best part was, he didn’t even know it.

“Y/n...you’re staring,” he poked. You laughed at yourself, giving him space to walk out of the dressing room. You busied yourself with doing the tie that laid undone over his chest, focusing your eyes on the material to avoid the heat in your face. Feeling his breath ghost over your skin, you forced back a grin and stepped away to admire your work, trailing your fingertips down his chest.

He glanced down at the tag on the inside of the jacket.

“Holy—Y/n, is this the price?” he asked disparagingly. You quickly swatted the tag out of his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’m getting this,” he opened his mouth to protest but you quickly slid your palm over his eyes, using your other hand to guide his shoulder away from you and down the hallway.

“C’mere, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you whispered in his ear as you led him past the other dressing rooms to the floor-length tri-fold mirror at the end of the hall.

“You ready?” you asked, resting your chin on his broad shoulder. He sighed and muttered something about “...as I’ll ever be.” Your heart jumped a little and you pressed a kiss to the seam at his shoulder, sliding your hand away from his eyes and letting both hands land on his hips. You were unwilling to pull away from him in his moment of vulnerability.

The reaction was clear on his face. His jaw dropped a little, almost going slack as his eyes widened and took in his reflection that even he had to admit looked rather dashing. The suit clung to his form and brought out his wide chest, his strong hips and legs. The V of the jacket accentuated the natural musculature of his body and the hints of purple just put him all together.

“Woah,” he breathed, his eyebrows furrowing. “I look.... I look like Kuroo,” he teased. The corner of his mouth twitched but his eyes stayed locked on his form in the mirror. It was true, he had the outward appearance of the businessman who came to your shared home for dinners sometimes.

“But...it’s just me,” he said, and you squeezed him tighter for taking the words right out of your mouth. He began to turn his head back to you, his eyes seeking out your face as he tried to wriggle from the discomfort of being on display like this. But you held his hips firm.

“That’s the best part,” your voice softened. He swallowed, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you brought your chin back to rest on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. He was absolutely stunning, the formal attire giving him a new glow.

“The outside is new and beautiful. But now it only reflects what was already there. Nothing changed, it just brings out the man I love. The man I always see—and I would never want to change that,” you told him softly.

His hands came up to squeeze yours and he turned in your arms. You beamed up at him and he took your cheek in one hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He meant it.

“No, thank you,” you said. “This is for agreeing to get lunch with me that one day so long ago and for letting me into your life. I love you.” “I love you too,” he smiled, beginning to walk back to the dressing room.

“Oh and there’s one other perk,” you said flippantly.

“What’s that?” he returned with a smirk.

“You look really hot,” you winked. He hooked an arm around your waist and pressed his lips fully against yours. He was so in love with you and couldn’t believe you were his. And you hadn’t even gotten to the shoes and belt yet!

A/n: THIS ONE’S FOR ALL MY DAICHI-LOVIN HOES!!!! @starshaped-raindrops​ this is what I was on about the other day. And thank u to @ceo-of-daichi​ for encouraging my Daichi love in the first place I love y’all!!! This is such a fun song and it always puts a smile on my face. Fun fact: originally we had Daichi for Perfectly Marvelous and Akaashi on this one but it just made SO much more sense to switch the two. Hope you enjoyed!!! Thanks for reading:)

Taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

[gureishi]

day 3: no one’s gonna wait for you

Here’s day 3 of the Human Again prompts. For the master list of all the ficlets, click here.

Technically SaeyoungXReader, but this one’s really about the brothers.

T (referenced violence), words: 1321

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Blue light and the familiar feeling of his favorite keyboard under his fingers.

This feels…normal.

For the first time in a while, Saeyoung is in his office. He’s spent years taking and re-making and destroying other people’s data. It feels so strange, this time, to be destroying his own.

He pushes himself back and forth in his chair with one foot as he types. It won’t take all that long to erase every trace of himself from the agency’s system—this kind of thing is like nothing for him. He’s not sure why he’s been putting it off.

“Hey.”

A quiet voice from the door startles him—he finds that he’s being taken by surprise a lot, lately—and he spins his chair around.

His twin is standing in the doorway, leaning a little awkwardly against the frame. Saeyoung notices he’s changed his clothes, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s seen Saeran in anything other than a hospital gown or his clothes from Mint Eye. The first time in years, anyway.

“Hi,” Saeyoung responds, matching his brother’s level tone of voice. He spent years in the agency learning how to meet people at their level—how to mold himself to fit any situation, and how to use that to his advantage. It was never hard for him before. Now, with his own brother, the stakes are so much higher.

“What are you doing?” asks Saeran, and Saeyoung notices that his voice catches in his throat. This is hard for him.

But he’s here. Talking to me.

Saeyoung represses the feeling of glee that surges within him. Stay calm. Stay level-headed. Don’t be a total weirdo and freak him out and make him never want to talk to you ever again.

“Are you hacking?” Saeran asks, and Saeyoung realizes he hasn’t said anything yet. He hesitates, going over his options in his mind. His first instinct is to lie, to rush Saeran out of the room and away from the computers and this shitty, stupid job, as far away as possible from the life that Saeyoung never wanted for him.

Saeyoung’s an excellent liar. He’s been doing it for years.

And how well has that worked out for you with him so far?

Saeyoung’s fingers inadvertently drift to his neck, still purpled from his brother’s hands. It’s only been a few days since the last time his brother tried to kill him. It’s only been a few days since Saeran agreed to maybe start trying to believe some of what Saeyoung had to say.

Don’t let him down.

“Yeah,” he says finally, carefully avoiding his brother’s penetrating green eyes. “I’m, uh—just finishing some things up with my old job.”

Saeran raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” he says stiffly. “She said…”

He trails off, and Saeyoung is surprised to hear Saeran reference you at all. He’s never once looked at you since leaving Mint Eye for the last time—whenever you’d come into his hospital room, he’d mostly pretended to be asleep.

“You’re right,” says Saeyoung. “I’m not. I’m, um. Erasing it all. Me. Her. Vanderwood.” He hesitates. “You.”

For a split second, Saeran’s eyes widen, and he looks almost surprised. Then his gaze hardens.

“You don’t have to erase me,” he says harshly. “If anybody finds me, I deserve whatever I get.”

Saeyoung hates this, hates it so much, wants to tell his brother sweet lies like he used to, once to assure him that no one’s coming for him, he’s done nothing wrong, he’ll be safe no matter what.

He knows better now.

“I know you feel that way,” he says carefully. “I’ve felt that way too, lots of times. But please—let me just give us a fresh start.”

Saeran pauses, and Saeyoung isn’t sure if he’s going to demand that Saeyoung stay out of his business, or storm out of the room, or even lunge at him again. Saeyoung feels that he deserves any of these responses. He almost smiles at the thought—for better or worse, they have so much in common.

“Let me help,” says Saeran finally.

“Huh?” Saeyoung is so surprised he nearly falls from his chair. He catches himself, wanting nothing less than to look like a fool in front of his brother.

“I can probably do it faster than you can,” Saeran says, finally crossing the threshold and stepping into Saeyoung’s office. Suddenly, Saeyoung is self-conscious—of the code on the screen, of his stupid, childish decorations, of the general clutter. Saeran would never just leave piles of crap everywhere like this, he finds himself thinking. He almost tries to block the screen with his body, but catches himself.

He’s trying, Saeyoung reminds himself. He’s really trying right now. For god’s sake, let him.

“You having to learn this stuff…,” he starts, trying to decide how honest he wants to be. “It makes me…I never wanted—”

“Don’t,” says Saeran firmly, and some of the aggression that Saeyoung has become accustomed to is back in his voice. Saeyoung shuts up.

Wordlessly, Saeran pulls over Saeyoung’s other chair and slips into it. He scans the code on the screen with practiced eyes. Saeyoung is torn between admiration and disgust. He’d only agreed to do this work on the condition that Saeran would never have to stoop to this level. If he’d known what was really happening for all those years…

“Here, this will work better,” Saeran says, and his voice tugs Saeyoung out of his pit of guilt. Saeran slides his chair over and types a few lines and Saeyoung watches, his breath catching in his throat. “What?” demands Saeran, not looking at his brother as he types. He was right, Saeyoung thinks—his way is faster.

“Sorry,” Saeyoung mutters. Honesty. “It makes me feel like crap watching you do this. I’m never going to forgive myself for everything that’s happened to you.”

Saeran types for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pauses, hands poised over the keyboard. He types like I do, Saeyoung thinks. Fast, like he’s running for his life—then a complete standstill.

“Look,” Saeran says finally, fixing Saeyoung with his piercing eyes, which Saeyoung continues to find both comforting and frightening. “I haven’t forgiven you, either.”

Saeyoung swallows. He knows this.

“But you weren’t ever going to be able to protect me,” Saeran continues. “That’s not how it works. That’s not the world we were born into. No one was ever going to come save us. We were always going to have to do it ourselves.”

Saeyoung doesn’t know what to say. He’s spent his whole life thinking he was subjecting himself to the loneliest life possible in order to protect his brother from the same fate. He’s always seen himself as the protector, the one who could keep Saeran safe from the harsh realities of the world.

But Saeran is right, of course. There were no saviors, no heroes. Just the two of them.

“Thanks,” says Saeyoung. He knows his brother is trying to let him off the hook, a little bit. He doesn’t deserve it. But it fills him with warmth all the same.

Saeran makes a disgruntled face and turns back to the computer. Saeyoung smiles at the back of his head.

Saeran strikes a few more keys, and the program runs. Saeyoung laughs.

“I’m supposed be the best in the industry, you know,” he says, somewhat weakly.

“I wasn’t in “the industry,” Saeran responds. He doesn’t look at his brother, but Saeyoung thinks he sees a ghost of a smile cross his lips.

Saeyoung’s phone buzzes; reflexively, he checks it. Saeran pointedly doesn’t look.

It’s you, of course. 

How are you? you ask. How is he? Saeyoung’s heart pounds. Oh, how he misses you.

I’m good, he types back with one hand, not taking his eyes off his brother. We’re good. 

He means it.

[angelharness]

Various Slashers as Yandere Archetypes 

WARNINGS: yandere content 

Another non-requested piece. I actually found myself terribly interested in the concept after my last post musing on the topic (found here), though I’d like to restate that I don’t believe I’ll be writing more on the matter, unless a commission. 

Will firmly reiterate last time’s warning, it’s very important to recognize this characterization as unhealthy and to never enable such behavior in any real relationships. 

Will be sorting each slasher into seven classes, including Isolating, Manipulative, Dependent, Possessive, Obsessive, Delusional, and Lucid

The definitions vary greatly depending on the Slasher, while some may not fit an archetype listed, or could be a hybrid of any number of them. It’s also very possible for them to fit multiple subcategories. 

For reference, a general key would be

Isolating - (Usually gradually) cuts off s/o from their friends and family, secluding them and asserting themselves as their only social contact. Goal is perhaps to make s/o reliant on them.

Manipulative - Fairly straightforward, though the means of manipulation vary. Often emotionally controlling. Might resort to guilting the s/o or self-destructive tendencies to get them to stay. Goal is to assert control over s/o.

Dependent - Depends on s/o for stability or comfort. Might suffer from separation anxiety and as such is terribly clingy. Often ignores other social ties to focus on their s/o. No implicit goal, but usually wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Possessive - Similar to Manipulative and often a package deal. Would under no circumstances share their s/o, likely frets over losing them (perhaps to romantic rivals or even misguidedly anyone they falsely deem a threat). Goal is to assert control over s/o. 

Obsessive - Not necessarily Possessive, though the two sometimes come together. An Obsessive might not outwardly act on their fixation, but silently pines intensely for their s/o. Fixates heavily on their s/o. Goal is to become closer to the person of interest, or wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Delusional - Hard opposite of Lucid. They likely wrongly believe their feelings are reciprocated, believe them and their s/o are meant to be, or that their s/o is in denial of their feelings and it’s up to them to help them realize this. No implicit goal, but usually wishes for reciprocation of feelings.

Lucid - Hard opposite of Delusional. Well aware that their feelings are unhealthy and destructive, but usually represses these thoughts or simply doesn’t care. Might feel guilt, but it’s often overshadowed by longing. May have any of the formerly listed goals.

BILLY LENZ

Dependent, Possessive

He is a complex case. His lucidity comes in brief episodes, then wanes to stubborn delusion. Generally, though, he’s dependent on you for a sense of stability. When you leave, he throws somewhat of a tantrum, absolutely trashes the place, tears the wallpaper, knocks shit over, then curls up in a corner, stewing in a vicious, wordless rage. On the rare occasions, afflicted by guilt, he’ll silently clean it up, intensely avoiding your gaze all the while. Most of the time, though, you’re left to deal with the damage of his uncertain temper. He feels like you’re abandoning him, even if you fully have the intent to return; when you do come through the door he launches into your arms, all rushed kisses and crushing hugs. Inevitably, though, the cycle will repeat once more, gradually wearing you thin and thinner. Like a sweater heavily loved. But this love is intense and merciless. 

CARRIE WHITE

Dependent, Delusional

Carrie is very much wary coming into this relationship. She’s so baffled by affection, true and honest affection, no underlying teasing, no stifled giggles, that she nearly breaks down. It takes much adjusting, but soon, she’s hooked. She becomes dependent on your praise and approval to function routinely. Anything you dislike she does as well. You’re always so right, she thinks, so puzzlingly perfect. She idolizes you to the point she blocks out any of your flaws (which come with being human), entirely eliminating the possibility from her mind. She’s willing to overlook any fault, anyway, but she’s dazed by the spectacle of genuine love. Every moment you’re away is a unique, awful pain, singed with worry (you’re leaving, you found someone better), and though in those moments she thinks there’s no possible greater agony, the bliss of your presence keeps her around. She doesn’t care for anyone else—they never cared for her, and it’s not like their compassion would compare, either way. She decides you’re all she needs.

JASON VOORHEES

Obsessive, Isolating

First confronting his feelings, he disregards it casually, assuming it’d be easy to ignore. He busies himself with work, but finds this fixation occupying his thoughts in increasingly frequent intervals. He knows something needs to be done when it starts directly interfering with his chores, leading to sloppy work and far too many victims fleeing. The easy answer is to off you. He hunts you down with that intent, well ready to finally rid of this distraction. But he can’t. Stands there with a hellish anxiety wracking his chest, a feeling only distantly familiar, recalling the days when his heart did beat. He’s so intensely, frustratingly obsessed with you—it upsets him even, confuses him tremendously. All he knows for certain is that he wouldn’t be able to stand you with someone else; doesn’t care if he’s not that someone, as long as it’s not anybody else. From then on, it’s a very last minute change of plans; keep you alive, isolate you, make you dependent on him. He’s not the type to force affection on you, but rather, would purposefully withdraw it for extended periods of time, until you seek it of your own will, in which case he will reward you with the desired attention. 

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Possessive, Manipulative 

Like Billy, has a fragile temper that can be quite a minefield to traverse. You can never be sure what will upset him, but when it does he makes sure it’s known. Could additionally be classified as isolating, as he will immediately confine you to the manor. Leaving is far out of the question, though later on he might permit you to extend this bit of freedom to the expanse of garden surrounding the mansion (he will, however, keep you far from the gates). He makes himself out to be entirely helpless without your guidance and care, though that must be wrong, being how he’s had only himself for much of his time living in the space between the walls. It gets you to stay, and that’s what matters in the moment. But eventually, the need to escape his suffocating presence vastly exceeds your will to stay. When that time comes, an effectively inevitable outcome, Brahms had realized in the back of his head, he’ll turn to violence, first in tantrums then in threats directed to both yourself and him. Isn’t beyond killing you if he’s convinced you’re set on leaving and there’s nothing he can do.

BUBBA SAWYER

Dependent, Possessive

Partly delusional, but knows you’re unwilling. Still, relies on you for a feeling of normalcy, that distant echo of a real, functional relationship. Couldn’t bear the thought of you with anyone else, so much he might resort to threats of violence to coerce you into staying. Whether these are empty or significant falls on you to figure out. Liable to tantrums when you’re away, though the severity of these outbursts is determined by his current stability. He considers you part of the family, though at the end of the day, Drayton gets the final say on your status of life. He’ll plead desperately and with genuine distress, but it doesn’t take much pushing for him to cave in on himself; he’s far more scared to disobey the family. If he’s to kill you, he’ll go about it sweetly, clumsy, unfamiliar kisses as he smooths your hair down, trying uselessly to calm you. Your struggling and crying only troubles him, and he might hurry up the process just to quiet that awful commotion. If Drayton allowed, though, he’d keep you as a sort of pet; you’re to stay in his room or at his side and never stray. You’re given a seat at the dinner table as long as you pull your weight and pitch in (albeit unwillingly) with household chores. 

AMANDA YOUNG / THE PIG

Lucid, Manipulative 

Fairly coherent regarding her emotions, though this regulation never translates into her actions, which are twisted by impulse and anxieties. Unintentionally incredibly manipulative, will very quickly turn to self-destructive exploits to gain your sympathy and convince you to stay. Eventually, she stops caring if you’re only sticking around out of a feeling of necessity. If you ever show intent to leave, though, she’d panic. Amanda can’t conceive a life without you now that she’s met you, and though she despises how dependent she’s become on you for stability, she can’t will herself to try and improve. Your attention is a new, frightening addiction; the highs come with affection and compassion, but then withdrawal in the periods you’re away. These acts of love have to be greater and greater than the last to recreate that same rush of intoxication. She’d allow you the illusion of freedom, reminding you often you can leave if you wanted (it’s all a ploy for sympathy), but makes a show of how pathetic she is without you. She can barely function, and though she hates this vulnerability, her balance of mind being dependent on another person, she’s trapped herself in an unforgiving sequence of self-destructive desperation and a murderous temper. 

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 8 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

ao3 link

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

——

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I’m living for the only thing I know I’m running and not quite sure where to go And I don’t know what I’m diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I’m closer to where I started I’m chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

——

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

——

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[whetstonefires]

Hi Whetstonefire. I have a question about the comic where Nightwing cheats on Starfire with Barbara: What happens directly after that? Does Starfire find out that Nightwing cheated on her? And, if so, how does she react? I've read online that (according to Marv Wolfman) Starfire is the opposite of everything Batman taught Nightwing to be and that Batman taught Nightwing to be repressed and cold. What did Nightwing contribute (emotionally) to the relationship between him and Starfire? (Cont.)

(Cont.) From what I can tell, from online, Nightwing was adamant about standards of mercy and monogamy - how do you think, if Starfire were to be written as her own character and not written around Nightwing and his emotional needs, she would handle and react to that? (This bit is an FYI for other readers: this is just speculation, not hate. Sorry about that.) Sorry about the questions! Have a nice day! 

Okay there are so many separate questions packed in here! I may miss some of them lol and I do not want to put in the hours it would take to produce an orderly response to all this, so this post is going to be a mess.

Initial query and important point: the cheating story was out of continuity. Like, literally, not just by ‘being rejected by the fanbase,’ it was just this weird retcon oneshot that seems to have been some sort of fuck-you to Nightwing or his fans or something. So no, it had no in-setting fallout lol. It, in more ways than most comics, didn't exactly happen.

It was just this weird thing where Dick hooks up with Babs before giving her a wedding invitation, which is both out of character for him in general and out of step with where he was leading up to the wedding--he was desperate to get married so they could have some Normal Stable Adulthood Happiness; the choice to recharacterize him as a fuckboy who regards it as a loss of freedom isn’t congruent, on much more than the level of principle.

As far as how Kori would feel about it, if she had learned...that is very hard to say. Apart from how it would require her to reinterpret everything about where their relationship stood at that point, the data is very unclear, and I don’t even have all of it. Gonna back up to cover some of the rest of the ask, get some context here.

So this actually brings up two of my biggest gripes with Wolfman’s NTT--weird Kori characterization and the weirdly negative interpretation of Batman as parent that backwashed heavily into other titles and influenced the character for the worse, in ways we're very much still dealing with today. 😩

The latter is pretty self-explanatory, though Wolfman’s take that the main thing Bruce taught Dick was repression does shed light on some writing choices and make others funnier. But Kori. Oh my lands.

So, item one, I wouldn't say that Kori is overall opposite Bruce, or even of his philosophy? There are just some very major points of opposition. She isn’t emotionally buttoned-down like at all, especially about positive feelings, although considered realistically with all the bullshit they’ve piled into her backstory she absolutely leans on repression to cope and stay positive, which makes her a lot like Dick actually.

To an extent, she was clearly written around foiling Dick’s Batman-derived traits in the same way that Robin was written to foil Batman, bright and glad and aerial. A Flamebird to his Nightwing in theme if not in name.

You could do some interesting stuff with that, and the bildungsroman aspects of this period of Dick’s life, like he has two roads forward in terms of how he’s going to define ‘adulthood’--does it necessarily require becoming more like his mentor-father, for good and ill, or can he make Kori in part a destination, as it were, and create an adult self that is derived from who he has always been as well as the man he’s modeled himself after?

To an extent I think this even was one of the things going on in ntt but like. Only a little bit.

(Given how much like Bruce Babs is in most of the ways Kori isn’t, especially once she’s Oracle, you could make a case for her as love interest being like. Symbolic of his not being in a rebellious phase? That gets weird and oedipal really fast tho lol.)

Okay stepping down one meta level lol, the thing about answering the 'what would kori' question here is that her character is deeply bound up in her culture, about which we are told and shown a great many contradictory things. Any attempt to read her as an independent character has to tackle not only the gender stuff you allude to and these inconsistencies, but how much of the sheer mess of her is rooted in racism.

'Fantastic' racism, technically, because Tamaraneans aren't real, but the 'taming the savage' narrative that kept surfacing between them and the language used in reference to it is just. The existing racism of presumably the writers, placed in Dick's mouth, and it's super gross. I hate it so much.

(I had a faint hope when they cast her for live action it was with a deliberate intent to directly tackle and better that history, but lollllllll nah. At least they didn’t double down in it tho! Can you imagine, with a black actress, in this day and age....)

So to predict and comprehend Kori, you have to make a lot of calls about Tamaran as a civilization. I like to slightly privilege stuff established earlier if there's no good reason not to, so while much is made over time of her inappropriate rage and the violence she was raised to normalize, I think what she says in her first appearance is good to keep in mind: in her culture, kindness is for friends and cruelty is for enemies. She doesn't understand why the Titans seem to have this backwards.

Kori is not a merciless person. She’s very empathetic, as a rule. With people she loves, she is self-destructively forgiving. That's not a trait only Dick benefits from--her family keeps betraying her in new exciting ways, and she keeps letting them.

Her arc of growing away from that habit is however greatly crippled by centering Dick in the narrative and by the awful 'civilizing' overtones that keep coming into it. When she comes back after the 1986 breakup, still married to Karras, she brings with her a commitment to doing things the Earth way--to eschew lethal force as more than a compromise with her friends’ values, but as a deliberate choice.

This deserved a lot more space and time than it got, and the fact that it didn’t get it is only somewhat due to her being subordinated to Dick and to general writing fail; a lot of it’s just the team book problems of everything happening to everybody all at once.

I mean, Dick’s journey later on to deciding he loves her enough to date her even though she’s married and it’s technically against his principles was packed into this absolutely heinous issue where he was inspired by a woman refusing to separate from her husband who’d just threatened to kill her and their kid with a knife, until being stopped by Nightwing. Because he’s apologizing for what he did.

This is his inspiration for accepting Kori’s marital status! It’s supposed to be heartwarming, as far as I can tell! Not heavyhanded messaging that this is a self-destructive terrible choice in which Kori will inevitably harm him somehow! This issue is pro ‘consensual open relationships under certain circumstances’ and also ‘giving abusers another chance’ as expressions of love. Welcome to the 80s ig.

(Notable is that the wife in this issue was black and the husband and son both looked very white, so it’s probably her stepkid and she probably wouldn’t get to keep him if they separated; this is not even vaguely treated as a factor.)

Point is, everyone was getting too little space to actually go through the amount of development they were getting, and it was clumsily handled; it’s not just her.

In an overlapping period Gar processed his issues with his adoptive father with whom he constantly fought and their shared trauma over the rest of their family (the Doom Patrol) having died violently not long ago via a batshit several-issue storyline where Mento went crazy, created supermutants, and abusively mind-controlled them to attack the Titans. It is literally all like this.

Back to the infidelity thing, now. So much to unpack. So like I mentioned above, their first big breakup, while partially driven by Dick’s existing conflicted feelings about their different ideas about things like ‘killing in battle’ and ‘her identity and loyalties being tied up with her home planet,’ is explicitly over different takes on monogamy.

When Dick is breaking up with her, Kori makes it clear she thinks it’s totally reasonable to have both a husband and a love, since Karras also has someone he loves and they’re both fine with it, but the story doesn't really explain how nonmonogamy works on Tamaran, or even if it's practiced outside the context of political marriage. They do do a sort of...soulbond fusion dance...thing, as part of the ceremony, so marriage is definitely serious business. There are so many levels of cultural difference that get poor to no development.

But to return to the weird ooc retcon cheating story: because of this context, no matter what her personal norms are, Dick specifically casually sleeping with someone else would be something for Kori to be mad about, because of the hypocrisy.

Then there’s the Mirage Incident, which I haven’t read through properly and which was very poorly handled by the writers. Kori is upset about Dick having slept with someone impersonating her and there’s a general vibe of this being treated by Dick’s social circle as unfaithfulness even though he was in fact sexually violated by deceit; it famously sucks.

We still don’t learn a lot here about Kori’s ideas about monogamy, from what I have seen, because her focus is mostly on feeling like Dick doesn’t care about her enough or in the right way since he couldn’t tell the difference. Which is an understandable feeling, even if it’s not an appropriate reaction to have at him at this time.

What Nightwing contributed emotionally........hm. This is a mess, honestly; he was all over the map, and not just because of having Brother Blood in his head. I cannot speak definitively on this, it’s too inconsistent.

For most of their relationship, Kori was the more intensely invested one, the one to initiate and the one who was shown at length to be excited to come home at the end of the day to their shared apartment because her boyfriend was there to see and talk to. If we set aside his more egregious white male bullshit, Dick was pretty emotionally available most of the time, though? They were cute.

Since they split up a lot of ink has been spilled making him less into her in retrospect, but he was pretty invested--leaving her coincided with mental breakdowns both times, and it wasn’t even mostly because she was doing his emotional processing for him, because she wasn’t, although it’s fair to say he often fell into using the relationship as an emotional crutch. Kori was definitely doing the same thing though so...it wasn’t the most balanced relationship in fiction history, but apart from slight codependency and the racism, it was decent enough.

She gets more evenhanded development than most superhero love interests, honestly, because she was costarring in a team book. She had her own storylines. She had other friends.

Mostly both of them just needed some space to finish growing up and stop being retraumatized long enough to process some of the existing trauma better, and I think they could have gone on being good for each other for a long time.

[viscountessevie]

To Lady Paige, With Love [Part 2]

Main Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x FemOC! Paige Crane [Reference to Past! Marina Thompson x Paige Crane]

Series Summary: A WLW Rewrite of To Sir Phillip, With Love - featuring my OC Paige Crane, Phillip's twin sister. What happens when Eloise Bridgerton writes to Phillip after the death of his wife but her letter gets intercepted by his twin sister who loved more Marina than he ever did?

Chapter Summary: After corresponding with Eloise for over a year using her brother's name, Paige is mourning Marina's first death anniversary. All Paige wanted was some peace and quiet but little does she know, she's in for a rude awakening

Trigger Warnings: Grief, Brief Mentions of Previous Death/Suicide Attempt, Depression & Anxiety

Part 1 - Prologue: Take Me To The Lakes

Chapter 1: Right Where You Left Me [February 1823]

5:48pm. That time would haunt Paige for the rest of her life.

'Time of death: 5:48pm.' the doctor had said. The moment Marina was officially pronounced dead, Paige screamed. She could still hear the echoes of her own scream every night she spent in Marina's room, sobbing herself to sleep. It had been a month since she died. Paige truly understood what Marina felt and went through.

The grief, pain and sadness was all consuming. She was drowning in her own emotions. It made her want to throw herself into the lake and join Marina. At least drowning in the lake was tangible. It was a tangible way to match the melancholy she was feeling. Through the pain, Paige had learnt that when people take their lives, they don't get rid of the melancholy, they simply pass it on. Paige had become a victim of Marina's pain being passed onto her.

She knew that everyone was dealing with the loss on their own but she was just so angry with Phillip and the children and even the staff. Pretending like Marina was never there. The worst part is, she couldn't fault them for it. Marina wasn't there, at least not mentally present. The last month has eased off her anger. She nearly bit Phillip's head off when he came back from his business trip the day before she passed.

"You should have been here! I may love her but she's still your wife!"

"I had a very important specimen to pick up, you know that, Paige." He said gruffly. She was so sick and tired of him using his experiments as an excuse to neglect his family.

"I know that!" She snapped at him, "These trips are getting ridiculous. You can't keep using them to run away from your responsibilities. You made a commitment to her and your children. You completely abandoned them!" Her voice cracked with anger. Now Phillip was getting frustrated with her and snapped back at his twin.

"Do you think I wanted to carry those burdens? I had no choice in the matter! I had to be the one to clean up the mess George left behind!"

She stepped back at her brother's outburst. He never yelled. He refused to be their father. She knew she had crossed the line. She softened her expression.

"I shouldn't have yelled, I apologise. But so help me God, you will not repeat that to her or the children. They are our family, Phillip, 'not a mess George left behind." Her voice was low, laced with a cold fury.

"She's resting now but you should go see her. I'll give you two some privacy." Paige made her suggestion sound like a demand. There was absolutely no reason why he should neglect his duties as a husband now. She wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. She quickly slipped into the room to kiss Marina's forehead. She allowed Philip in and headed off to tend to the children.

Then there was that dreadful conversation where Amanda openly admitted that she was glad her mother was gone. Paige knew on an intellectual level that's not what Amanda had meant. She meant she was happy her mother was happy even if it meant she was gone. But emotionally, it destroyed Paige to hear that.

It was exhausting to feel like the only one who truly cared for Marina. She had all these emotions welled up inside her, screaming to be let out. Yet she felt like she couldn't talk to anyone. The children played and carried on as per normal. While Phillip had stopped taking his trips to avoid the children, he has hidden away in the Greenhouse more often. He refuses to talk about her. What else could she expect from her twin who represses the slightest hint of human emotion. God forbid he let himself feel sad.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that everyone processed grief in different ways. She needed something to get her mind off things. On cue, Miles came in to deliver the mail. She gestured for him to hand them over and he took his leave.

She flipped through the envelopes, none addressed to her. Of course no one would write to her and the only person who would, died. She was about to put down the pile when a name jumped out at her.

From: Eloise Bridgerton No. 5, Bruton Street London

She remembered Eloise like it was yesterday. They spent some time together during their first season. She came as a package deal with Penelope Featherington. So when Marina had struck up a friendship with Penelope, Paige found herself spending a lot of time with the two of them. The four of them were quite the formidable group during that first season. Paige remembered how many suitors Marina had received. Unable to deal with her jealousy in a healthy manner, she did what she did best, ran away from her emotions. She poured herself into a friendship with Eloise. Somewhere along the way, she had developed feelings for the clever Bridgerton. She recalled how she did her best to repress those feelings. Even though at the time, Marina and her were nowhere close to courtship, Paige still felt like she was being unfaithful to her.

There was just something about Eloise that had drawn Paige to her.

She shook her head rather violently, as if trying to shake those memories away. How could she be thinking of that when she's supposed to be grieving Marina? She set down the letter, leaving it for Phillip to read it later when he finally comes out of hiding.

She stood up to head to Marina's room to mope. It almost seemed like she had taken Marina's place as the Romney Hall's living ghost. What was the point in living your life when the person you wanted to spend it with was gone?

But rising questions about Eloise's letter stopped her. For one, why was it addressed to Phillip rather than her? She knew it had been well over a decade, but had Eloise forgotten her already?

Her plan to mope for the day had been abandoned and she picked up Eloise's letter once again. She picked up the letter opener and impulsively ripped it open.

Sir Phillip Crane —

I am writing to express my condolences on the loss of your wife, my dear friend Marina, I remember her fondly and was deeply saddened to hear of her passing .

Please do not hesitate to write if there is anything I can do to ease your pain at this difficult time .

Yrs,

Miss Eloise Bridgerton

***

Oh. She was just as lovely as Paige remembered her. This was too kind of a letter to delay it's response. Paige went to her room and sat at her desk. She pulled out her stationary kit and fetched herself some parchment and a quill. She quickly penned down a response.

Dear Eloise —

I hope you remember me from your first season. Marina was a dear friend to me as well and I thank you for your kind note on behalf of Marina. It was thoughtful of you to write asking after us.

I offer you this flower attached as thanks. It is called an Eden rose also known as the Pierre de Ronsard, named after the great French poet.

Did you know that it reaches an average diameter of 10 centimetres. The large flowers are very full with 55 to 60 petals. Due to their weight the cupped, globular flowers tend to bow their heads.

It was Marina's favourite flower. She loved the carmine-pink on the inside and ivory on the outside. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.

Sincerely -

*

She stopped short before she signed it off with her name. She had finally stepped out of her moment of impulsivity. Insanity more like, she thought to herself. She felt awful for invading Eloise and - by extension - Phillip's privacy.

She couldn't send this! How was she going to explain it?

*

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

I am absolutely mad and stole my brother's mail because I used to fancy you when we first debuted together in our first season.

Yours Sincerely, Paige Crane

That would certainly go over well. She would be lucky not to be locked up. She stared at her original letter and ripped it up. She detested the thought of Phillip striking up a friendship with Eloise. Deep down she knew if he became as enamoured with her as she once was, he'd make her his wife. It might have only been a month but she knew her brother. He needed a mother and wife for the children. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he was already planning to look for one.

He had already taken Marina from her. As twins, they grew up sharing everything, starting from the womb. Everywhere Paige went, Phillip was there. They even had parallel careers. She just wanted this one person to herself. It was selfish she knew but she wanted to keep her London past for herself. Even if it meant never letting Phillip see the letter and responding on her own.

She rewrote another note without a second thought:

Dear Miss Bridgerton,

Thank you for your kind note on behalf of my wife. It was thoughtful of you to take the time to write to a gentleman you have never met. I offer you this full bloom flower as thanks.

It is called an Eden rose also known as the Pierre de Ronsard, named after the great French poet. Did you know that it reaches an average diameter of 10 centimetres. The large flowers are very full with 55 to 60 petals. Due to their weight the cupped, globular flowers tend to bow their heads.

It was Marina's favourite flower. She loved the carmine-pink on the inside and ivory on the outside. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.

When it came to signing off, she hesitated for a moment at her dishonesty. Then the anger of having lost most of her life and identity to Phillip came up. That was motivation enough for her to scribble the last line of the letter:

Sincerely, Sir Phillip Crane.

***

Letter Correspondence From March 1823 to March 1824 Between Paige Crane & Eloise Bridgerton

Dear Sir Phillip -

Thank you so very much for the charming flower. It was such a lovely surprise when it came attached to the envelope. And such a precious memento of dear Marina, as well .

I could not help but notice your facility with the flower's scientific name and seemed to be knowledgeable about its properties. Are you a botanist?

Yours, Miss Eloise Bridgerton

*

Eloise’s response had come quite quickly in a week. It was no easy feat hiding the letters from Phillip. He was the Lord of the house after all. Paige was lucky enough to have a friend in Miles. She had been the one to stop Phillip from being let go. She had named him her personal assistant instead. She coyly asked Miles for a favour and requested that all of Eloise’s letters be directed to her. He looked at her with utter confusion when she asked.

“Whatever are you up to, Miss Crane?”

“Miles, you know you can call me Paige. We are friends, aren’t we?” She had a mischievous shine in her eye that told him she was up to something.

“I suppose… that doesn’t answer my question, Paige.” He said her name pointedly. She chuckled at him, he was hilarious. She knew she made the right choice keeping him employed.

“Friends trust each other. I promise I will tell you everything down the line.” She shot him a look of promise. That fixed the issue of being found out was solved easily. All she had to do now was enjoy the correspondence.

She still had not been able to break her habit of crying herself to sleep in Marina’s room every night, but these letters took her mind off the grief momentarily. She couldn’t thank Eloise Bridgerton enough for that. She read back Eloise’s response and grinned. Eloise was as charming and eloquent as always. She was clever enough to pick out Paige's interest in plants just by her rambles. Paige also noticed how Eloise was clever enough to end her letter with a question. What a sneaky lady, now Paige had to reply. Not that she was complaining. She was rather happy to have revived this old connection.

She pulled out her stationary and penned her reply. She stuck close to the truth while using Phillip's qualifications. Just because she wasn't allowed a formal education at Cambridge didn't make her any less knowledgeable than her twin. She devoured his textbooks during his University days. She most likely would have beat him to an honours degree in Botany had the fairer sex been allowed to study in Universities.

She followed Eloise's lead and ended her letter with a question as well. She vaguely remembered Eloise’s interest in humanities but she wanted it confirmed from the lady herself.

*

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

Indeed I am a botanist, trained at Cambridge, although I am not currently connected with any university or scientific board. I maintain my own garden at Romney Hall, in my greenhouse. Are you of a scientific bent as well?

Yours , Sir Phillip Crane

The reply came another week later. She smiled at being correct in her assumption. They started going back and forth every week, until a year had passed.

*

Dear Sir Phillip —

Heavens, no, I have not the scientific mind, I'm afraid, although I do have a fair head for sums. My interests lie more in the humanities; you may have noticed that I enjoy penning letters .

Yours in friendship,

Eloise Bridgerton

*

My dear Miss Bridgerton —

Ah, but it is a sort of friendship, isn't it? I confess to a certain measure of isolation here in the country, and if one cannot have a smiling face across one's breakfast table, then one might at least have an amiable letter, don't you agree?

I have enclosed another flower and a book for you. This flower is Centaurea cyanus, more commonly known as the cornflower. They are a personal favourite of mine, especially for its vibrance in colour. They are actually grown as a weed in cornfields, hence where it derives its common name from. Quite beautiful for a weed, wouldn’t you agree?

As for the book, I would like to share a piece of my literary heart with you. You will find a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in the package. I regard it as a brilliantly complex novel that tackles the existential questions of creating life in such an nuanced manner. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

With great regard, Phillip Crane

*

Even though it was a friendly exchange of letters, Paige considered sharing her favourite flower and novel a way of elevating the friendship. They were a part of her identity. A part that she was willingly giving away to another to cherish and hold. It was a big step for her and that terrified her. She was scared of developing feelings for someone else. She could not bear to go through it again.

She knew no sane woman - despite being a child of Sappho - would give up the security of a husband and run off with another woman. Most of the sapphic women Paige knew were far too caught up in the social norms to ever step out of their comfort zone into a realm of possibilities of a free life with her. She knew she got lucky with Marina and that Phillip didn’t care enough for Marina to be bothered with their love affair. He also loved his sister enough to be happy with his wife, even if he didn’t understand how she could love a person who seemed to be made of sadness. Paige knew he never understood, but he didn’t have to. Marina and her understood each other and that’s all that truly mattered until the end.

While Eloise has never stated whether she felt that way about women, she did seem like a child of Sappho. The way she had interacted with potential suitors during that first season, or rather the way she didn’t. She hid away from every suitor that came her way. At times, she would pull Paige away to the lemonade table to avoid them, whenever Penelope was too busy dancing with Colin. The way she scoffed at marriage. She just seemed content in her independence. Paige had admired that about her.

*

As always her next letter did not disappoint:

Dear Sir Phillip —

Thank you for the book and flower, I truly appreciated them. I have always found sharing books recommendations with companions is like giving them a piece of yourself. So I thank you again, for gifting me a piece of yourself. I promise to cherish it.

And I have read Frankenstein before! It truly is one of its kind. I could go on for hours on end about how much I love this book and how brilliantly crafted it is. Perhaps, should we ever meet, we could discuss it over tea one day.

The cornflower was wonderful, thank you. I do love how it seems to shine a brighter blue in the sunlight. I think it might be my favourite flower as well.

Yours, Eloise Bridgerton.

A dreamy sigh escaped Paige’s lips as she drank in Eloise’s latest words. Paige had never felt more seen and understood. Eloise expressed the sentiment of Paige’s intent with the book and flower exactly. Paige might have used her brother’s name, but she knew in her heart Eloise knew her - even if it was not by her given name. She found the line about meeting and discussing the novel over tea, a rather bold choice. Was Eloise inviting her to tea?

She sighed when the sobering truth hit her. Eloise wasn’t inviting her. She was inviting her brother. She knew what she had to do - politely shut her down.

Dearest Miss Bridgerton —

You took the words right out of my quill. Those were my exact intentions when I thought of sending my favourite flower and book over to you. I am very much honoured that you cherish an important part of myself. I truly appreciate it. Truth be told, I appreciate you and our friendship.

Perhaps, one day. Tea does sound lovely.

What mischief have you been causing as of late? I am always excited to read your recounts of your daily adventures.

Yours as always, Phillip Crane. * Over the next few months simply flew by for Paige, the letters giving her a reprieve from her grief. They talked about anything and everything under the sun. She learned everything there is to know about Eloise Bridgerton. They exchanged childhood stories, more books between the two of them - Paige found out that Eloise’s guilty pleasure was Jane Austen’s romance novels - and held full conversations of various academic subjects. Her most prized possession was Eloise’s old copy of Persuasion filled with Eloise’s notes and thoughts on the book. Paige’s heart soared the moment she received it. It was Eloise’s version of giving Paige a piece of herself. She hadn’t read Persuasion before so she was glad for the recommendation. The botanist couldn’t help but laugh as she read the novel. Anne and Captain Wentworth’s story seemed to mirror hers. Their 7 year separation felt rather familiar to having not seen Eloise since their first season.

Before she knew it, a year had passed. She was startled when she saw the calendar on her desk when penning her latest letter to Eloise. 14th February 1824. It was the day Marina attempted to kill herself a year ago. Tomorrow would be a year since Marina’s last good day. And two days from now, on 17th February 1824, Paige would have to be met with the sobering reality of Marina’s death anniversary.

The holidays had been hard as it could be. The empty chair Marina had previously occupied was staring at Paige while her family carried on with their jovial Christmas dinner. She couldn’t understand how they could simply get on with their lives while she felt like a piece of her was missing. Yes, Marina was not much for festivities but sitting beside her and enjoying the food they cooked together was the highlight of Christmas. It was the only time Marina felt well enough to help Paige prepare the feast.

Marina’s birthday had been the hardest to deal with of course. She would have been twenty and eight then. Paige visits Marina's grave at least once a week. It calms and soothes her intense moments of grief. Sitting by the grave on Marina's birthday was a new kind of pain. Knowing that she was taken from the world far too early. Knowing that she should have been there right beside Paige. It was the hardest Paige had cried since Marina had died.

She had no idea how she was going to deal with her death anniversary.

She just knew she needed time to herself. She looked down at the letter she was going to write and found big splashes of tears all over the parchment.

"Blast it!" She cursed and crushed the paper, tossing it into a nearby bin. She was furious with herself for forgetting. For allowing herself to be happy when she didn’t deserve it. She wiped her tears angrily and quickly scribbled one last letter to Eloise.

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

These letters have brought me such comfort over a very difficult year. I cannot thank you enough for it, Eloise Bridgerton.

I do regret to inform you, I would like to pause these letters for the month. I require some time to process and mourn Marina's first death anniversary. I'm sure you can understand it will be a rather difficult time.

Thank you for understanding and do take care, Miss Bridgerton.

Yours, Phillip Crane

Paige could barely get through the letter without feeling guilty. Feeling guilty for abandoning Eloise so abruptly. Feeling guilty for using her as a distraction from her grief over Marina. Most of all, she hated how she can't seem to remember the smallest things about Marina. She was forgetting her love's memory and it was driving her mad. She tried her best to conjure up how she smelled, the sound of her voice, how she was. Paige found the little details escaping her. Memories slipping through her fingers. She detested this. She didn't know how she had gotten to this point.

She had allowed her corresponding flirtation with Eloise to soothe her pain. But her pain was the one thing she had left of Marina. Letting it go meant letting go of Marina. Paige absolutely refused to do that. If she forgot Marina, there was no one else to keep her memory alive. Phillip and the children certainly didn't care for it. Marina would be lost to history.

*

After delivering the letter to Miles to be mailed out, Paige found herself in Marina's room. She laid on her bed, aimlessly and feeling vacant. She was sure if someone walked in they might mistake her for Marina herself. Paige felt her melancholy creeping up her throat. It threatened to choke her, snuffing all the light out. She sat up and tried to breathe. She was feeling an unusual amount of panic rising within her.

She got out of bed and looked out the window. The lake was in perfect view. Of course, that’s where Marina had gotten the idea, She thought to herself bitterly. She looked up at the sky, imagining her lover was up there somewhere happier. Somewhere calmer, where she had found peace.

“I’m right where you left me, Rina.” She whispered softly. It had been a while since she spoke out loud to Marina but it had brought her so much comfort in the early days of dealing with the grief. For a moment, she could pretend Marina was still there. Then she didn’t have to deal with the all consuming guilt and loneliness that came with losing the love of her life.

Marina might have been the one who died but Paige felt like the ghost. Spending most of her days in Marina's room, sitting still in a corner, almost like she was the one haunting it. She heard what the staff said. Something along the lines of, "What a pitiful sight." And "She deserves better than to replace Lady Marina's disposition." They were valid in their concerns but Paige couldn't care less. This was the way she knew how to grieve and mourn and she'll be damned before she lets anyone dictate the way she feels.

Looking into the reflection of the lake from the window, she could still remember the day Marina walked into the lake. It was terrifying how crystal clear the memory was. It felt like she was frozen in time - forever cursed to be twenty and seven - forced to relive the last few days of Marina's days. The memory of her walking into the lake, Paige having to rescue her, staying by her side the next three days and the moment she died. They swirled around Paige's mind constantly. It was particularly worse since it had been a year.

She was paralysed, unable to find the will to do anything else. So she went back to bed. She sat there, silent and frozen in time. The servants walked past all day to ask her if she was alright. She barely managed a nod.

She swore she could hear a hair pin drop at how silent everything was. Deep down she knew her life stopped the moment Marina had died. Eloise's letters may have made her feel like she could move forward. However, the gaping hole in her heart today proved otherwise.

Everybody moved on. She couldn't. So she settled and stayed there, dust collecting on her pinned-up hair. She knew everyone expected her to find a new purpose or a fresh start. She could have tended to her own garden like Phillip was doing in his Greenhouse on this day.

Yet all she found the energy to do was sit and stare out at the lake. She stayed right there for the next two days. She just wanted the next worst few days of her life to pass her by so she would not have to deal with them. Just until the 17th had passed.

*

Of course as the saying goes, there is no rest for the wicked. All Paige wanted on the 17th of February was some peace but little did she know, a certain Bridgerton would be making their way to Romney Hall.

It started out like any other day. Except for the Crane household, there was a somber remembrance of Marina’s first death anniversary. Paige was relieved that she didn’t have to share the burden alone and that her brother had the decency to acknowledge it. He didn’t bother reminding the children but they were young so she let it slide.

Since the staff had honoured her request of being left alone, around noon Paige dragged herself out of bed to get herself some lunch. Marina would have wanted her to mourn respectfully, not join her up wherever she may be. Paige was on her way back to her room after picking up her meal of roasted mutton with rice and gravy - Marina’s favourite dish - when she overheard a curious conversation between Gunning and her brother.

"Sir Phillip," Gunning said, clearing his throat. "We have a caller." "A caller?" Phillip echoed. "Was that the source of the, ah..." "Noise?" Gunning supplied helpfully. "Yes." "No." The butler cleared his throat. "That would have been your children." "I see," Phillip murmured. "How silly of me to have hoped otherwise." "I don't believe they broke anything, sir." "That's a relief and a change." "Indeed, sir, but there is the caller to consider."

Phillip groaned and Paige immediately knew what he was thinking. Romney Hall hadn’t received callers in years. He was probably wondering who on earth would be calling on this day of all days. Paige didn’t think much of it until she passed the front door on her way up to her room when she spotted a familiar face on the other side of the door.

Eloise Bridgerton.

What in the devil was she doing here?! Paige mentally screamed to herself. Gunning and Phillip’s conversation had faded to the background, drowned out by the mental grind of Paige’s mind. She snapped out of her melancholy and had to come up with a way to cover up the consequences of her actions. Just when she needed it, Miles walked past her. She immediately grabbed him. He looked surprised and a little violated if you asked him.

“Miss Crane! What on earth?” “Miles, how many times must I repeat myself? Paige is perfectly fine. I apologise for grabbing you, I am in need of your service.” She said guiltily, looking over at the front door.

He gave her a curious look, “What did you do now, Paige?” He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

She shot him a glare, “I would snap at you for that but you are quite right to ask. I think one of my letters to Miss Bridgerton might have been misinterpreted as an invitation to come over to Romney Hall.” She gave him such a pitiful pleading look, he had to help her.

“How can I be of service, Miss - Paige?” He corrected himself the moment Paige shot him a murderous look. “I need a plan. If the truth comes out, neither of them will forgive me.”

Miles had never seen her so panicked and scared before. For someone who detests her brother, she really did love him. Her blooming feelings for Miss Bridgerton had become apparent over the last few months. He gave himself a moment to think of a plan.

"Yes, sir. She's here to see you, after all." They both heard Gunning say to Phillip.

Paige looked at Miles with wide eyes. They had officially run out of time. This was sealed by the sounds of Phillip’s footsteps making their way to the corridor Paige and Miles were hatching a plan in. Before Paige could push Miles to distract him, her dear brother had brushed past them and opened the door. She cursed to herself and watched helplessly as the two strangers who had technically never met interacted. She made her way to stand quietly behind her brother, listening to every word. Paige's heart nearly stopped when she heard Eloise's voice after all these years.

"Sir Phillip?"

[pra370r1an]

The final (joke) chapter. Whole chapters under the cut

“There it is,” King Lilith gazed at the castle in the distance. “Camelot!”

“Camelot!” Ser Willow breathed.

“Camelot!” Ser Gus called in wonder.

“It’s only a model…” Eda remarked.

“Shush!” King Lilith quickly commanded. “Now let us ride! To Camelot!”

 “We don’t have a Lord,” Hooty said.

“What?” King Lilith asked.

I told you!  We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune!  We're taking turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week,” King the fox explained. “But all the decisions *of* that officer has to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in-”

“Shut up, would you?” King Lilith sternly said. “I get it.”

“Shut up, eh? Who does she think she is?” Hooty asked before resuming playing in the dirt. “Some lovely dirt over here King!”

“I’m your King,” Lilith said.

“Well, I didn’t vote for you,” Hooty replied.

“You don’t vote for kings,” King Lilith explained. “The Lady of the Lake held aloft Excalibur and decreed a divine mandate that I would be King.”

“Listen,” King the fox explained. “Strange women laying in ponds, distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some... farcical aquatic ceremony!”

“Be Quiet!’ King Lilith demanded.

The fox continued, “I mean, if I went 'round, saying I was an emperor, just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!”

Lilith reached down and picked King up by the scruff of the neck, shaking the fox. “Will You SHUT UP!?”

“Ahh! Now we see the violence inherent in the system!” King smugly said. “COME SEE THE VIOLENCE INHERENT IN THE SYSTEM!!” He announced as he was shook, “HELP! I’M BEING REPRESSED!”

King Lilith dropped the fox and stormed away, “Damn Peasant!”

“See!? See!?” King looked at the small crowd around him. “That’s what I’m on about! You saw her repressing me, right!?”

 The evil Greater Basilisk looked around, “Wait, where did that knight go?”

*Scene change*

“Brave Ser Matt ran away” the bards sung as they followed their knight through the woods.

“No!” Ser Mattholomule objected.

“Bravely ran away away.”

“I didn’t!”

“When danger reared its ugly head, he boldly turned his tail and fled.”

“No! I didn’t!”

 “Tell your master that we’ve been charged by God to seek the holy grail! And he may join us if he’d like!” King Lilith shouted up towards the walls.

“Well, I will, but I’m afraid he’s already got one!” The man shouted back in his accent.

“What?” King Lilith asked.

“He said he’s already got one?” Ser Luz glanced around to see if she heard right.

“You already got one!?” King Lilith inquired.

“Oh, Yes! It’s very nice!” Belos turned and whispered to Kikimora, the Golden Guard and Warden Wrath. “I told her we already got one!” The three broke out in giggles.

“Well, can we come up and look?”

“Of course not! You are English types and this is a French Castle!”

“What are the French doing in England?” Ser Luz shouted up.

“Mind your own business!” Belos shouted. “Now I don’t want to talk to you no more! So go away English King and take your silly English Keniggets!”

“Listen, is there someone else we can talk to!?” Ser Luz shouted up.

“No! Now go away before I taunt you a second time!”

 “We found a witch! May we burn her!?” the angry mob shouted.

“I’m not a witch!” Bo yelled back. “They just say I am!”

“But she’s dressed like one!” Kat shouted, pointing towards her pointy hat.

“You are dressed like a witch,” Ser Bump ceded the point.

“Yes, but they dressed me like this!” Bo yelled, she pointed to her pointy nose. “This isn’t even my real nose!”

Ser bump examined the fake nose and turned to the crowd, “Is this true?”

“No! No! … Well, yes. Maybe. But she really is a witch!” Amelia insisted.

Bo looked to Ser Bump in exasperation.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out! Now, how do you know she’s a witch?” Ser Bump asked.

“She turned my head into a giant eyeball!” Eyeleen accused by pointing.

“AN EYEBALL!?” Ser Bump looked in shock at the girl’s completely normal looking head.

“…I got better…” She looked around awkwardly.

“Burn Her!” Somebody shouted and the rest of the mob took up the yell.

 “There it is!” Eda pointed over their cover towards the creature by the cave.

“What behind the bunny?” Ser Willow asked.

“No, it is the bunny!”

…

“You silly sod!” King Lilith scolded as she stood from her hiding place.

“What?”

“You had us all worked up over a bunny!?”

“That’s no ordinary bunny! That rabbit has a vicious streak a mile wide!”

“HOW!?” Ser Gus asked incredulously.

Eda held her hand like a claw, “It’s got huge sharp, uhh…” She held her hands slightly apart, “It can leap about…” She pointed back towards the cave opening, “Look at the bones for God’s sake!”

“Right,” King Lilith gestured to a nearby knight. “Ser Snaggleback, cut its head off!”

Ser Snaggleback strode forward unafraid, “One Rabbit stew coming uAUGHHH!!”

“Holy!” “Jesus!” “Christ!”

“Run Away!” King Lilith shouted.

 Ser Luz held her shield protectively before her, as the denizens of Castle Anthrax slowly approached. Before her, the co-leader of this strange place informed Luz what was expected of her.

“And then! You must Spank her!”

“I’m sorry?” Ser Luz looked bewildered. “What?”

“She has been extremely naughty and you must spank her. Then? Spank me!”

“And me!”

“Me too!”

“Yes, you must spank all of us!” The woman gestured around to the beautiful women surrounding Ser Luz. They all looked thrilled at the prospect.

“I’m sorry, is this story too graphic?” Luz asked. “I was really worried when pra370r1an was writing it. But I think it turned out alright considering we’re all adult knights.”

“I mean at least my scene played with my mannerisms and my favorite minion’s name to craft a funny situation,” King said.

“And my joke was original and wasn’t a blatant rip-off of a movie from the 70s,” Eda mentioned off hand, Owlbert nodding on her shoulder.

“At least they didn’t mention the Moose?” Ser Willow mentioned, Ser Gus looking away horrified.

“Can we just get this over with?” Amity said looking annoyed, purposely looking away from the scene.

“Yes, get on with it,” Emira agreed.

“Yeah, hurry up!” Edric rolled his eyes.

“Ewch ymlaen ag ef!” The bearded huntsman from chapter 5 yelled, the fish hook servant and tall servant nodding in agreement.

“Get On With It!” King Lilith and her knights all shouted together.

“Oh, good! I promise this is the last bit of absurdist humor in this fic!” Luz smiled.

“GET ON WITH IT!” The cartoon depiction of God shouted from the heavens, shaking the view.

“Right, so…”

“Well,” Ser Luz looked around. “I guess I could stay for another night…?”

Behind her a door burst open and three armored knights rushed in, putting themselves between Ser Luz and the women.

“Ser Luz!” Ser Boscha took her arm.

“Boscha?”

“Quick!” Ser Boscha pulled her back towards the door.

“What?!”

“Quick! You’re in mortal danger!”

“What, I am?”

“No, she isn’t!” One of the women insisted.

“Silence foul temptress!” Ser Boscha raised her sword, only for Luz to grab her arm.

“That’s not necessary!”

“Come on! We’ll cover your escape!” Ser Boscha started pushing Luz back. The other knights retreated as well and the women followed.

“Boscha! I think I can tackle this singlehandedly!”

“Yes, let her tackle us!” The women shouted.

“No, Ser Luz! Come on!”

“No really! I can handle this easily!”

“Yes, she can! Quite easily!” The women agreed.

“There’s only 150 of them!” Ser Luz shouted as she was forced through the door.

“Yes, we haven’t a chance! Ahh, Shit.” They stopped as the knights followed Ser Luz out.

Ser Boscha continued to hold Luz’s arm, dragging her away from the castle. As they continued to argue.

“Looks like we got here in the nick of time! You were in great peril!”

“I really don’t think I was.”

“Yes, you were, terrible peril.”

“Tell you what? Let me go back and face that peril.”

“No, too perilous.”

“Just a little bit of peril?”

“Nope! Not healthy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a homophobe.”

“I am not!”

  Eda held up her dismembered hand while shrugging, “It’s only a flesh wound.”

 “Ser Boscha! You came to rescue me!”

“Lady Skara!” Ser Boscha looked around wildly, lowering her sword. “You’re the one getting married against your will?”

“Oh, it’s just like the stories! I feel like I could… could!” Skara opened her mouth to sing. Disembodied romantic music started to hum around them…

“STOP THAT, STOP THAT!” Skara’s father came in, wildly waving his hands and the music died back down. “Who are you?”

“I’m your daughter!” Skara answered.

“Not you! You! Did you kill all those guards?”

“Uhh, oh! Yes,” Ser Boscha nodded awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“You killed 8 wedding guests and the groom and his father! And wounded 20 others!”

“Yes, uhh, sorry about that. Got a bit carried away there,” Boscha looked back at Skara briefly. “I can explain. See I was riding from Camelot…”

“Camelot? You’re uhh, from Camelot?”

“Umm… Yes?”

“Oh, well! Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you,” Ser Boscha allowed herself to be led away by Skara’s father.

“Yes, but to apologize for the damages you’ll have to stand before everyone…”

“Oh, uhh understandable.”

“…And repeat some vows from a priest…”

“Uhh, sure?”

“And kiss my daughter…”

“Wait, what?”

 “Halt! I am Tibbles! Guardian of the Bridge of Death! You must answer my questions to see the other side!”

“Ask your questions I’m not afraid!” Eda defiantly said.

“What is your name? What is your quest? And WHAT… is your favorite color?”

“Oh! Uhh, Eda of Camelot, I seek the holy grail and red.”

Tibbles waited a second before waving her along, “Alright off you go.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eda said as she started to cross the bridge.

“That’s it! That’s Easy!” Ser Mattholomule shouted as he moved up. “Ask me the questions, bridge keeper. I’m not afraid!”

“What is your name? what is your quest? And WHAT… is the capitol of Assyria?”

“Ser Matt! To find the Holy grail. And, uhh… Istanbull?”

Ser Matt was flung violently into the air by an explosion sending him tumbling into the ravine with a scream.

King Lilith and Ser Bump shared a look before the King stepped forward.

“What is your name? What is your quest? And WHAT… is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Lilith paused before answering, “What do you mean? African or European?”

“I don’t know that,” Tibbles said before being violently flung to his doom.

“How do you know so much about swallows?” Bump asked.

“You have to know these things when you’re King,” Lilith said as they moved to cross the bridge.

They got to the other side, but Eda was nowhere in sight.

“Eda? EDA?! Now where did she get off to?”

*Scene change*

Eda had her hands against a cop car while Police bobby Kikimora patted her down for contraband.

 “My Brave Knights! We will take this Castle by Force! Now Follow Me! To GLORY!” King Lilith and Ser Bump charged with swords drawn, a massive army following them with a shout.

They made it a few feet closer to the castle’s walls when sirens announced the cop cars which slid to a halt in front of them.

“That’s them! They’re the ones who left the Coven!” Kikimora shouted as she emerged from the lead car.

“Alright, you two are under arrest,” Police bobby Belos directed. “Put that sword down and turn around.”

“Now wait a minute,” Lilith said as she was turned around and handcuffed. “I think there’s been a mistake!”

“Alright! Nothing to see here people!” The Golden Guard waved the army back. “Everyone go home now! Keep it moving!”

“Hey, You!” Warden Wrath advanced menacingly. “Stop Your Writing! Stop it Now!” He continued to shout as he reached out towards Pra370r1an to slap his hands away from th-..-_>--.-;’.-

 “On second thought, let’s not go to Camelot…” King Lilith decided, thinking on the many show tunes probably being sung right now. “Tis a silly place…”

Her knights nodded in agreement.

[steviedupree]

I saw [STEPHANIE ‘STEVIE’ DUPREE ] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE/HER] looks like [DAKOTA JOHNSON]. They are a [TWENTY-EIGHT] year old [GRAPHIC DESIGNER] who’s been in NYC for [TEN YEARS] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [CARING & CREATIVE] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [MEEK & INDECISIVE]. [FIND MY HERE BY HAYLEY WILLIAMS] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. — [gabs, she/her/ 24, est]

hi everyone!! my name is gabs and i bring u my bean baby stevie. i’m so excited to be in this wonderful group, and i’m SO excited to write with you all! pls give this a like if you’d like to plot with me and stevie (and dinah, who’s intro will come later today!) | @villagestart

tw: alcoholism, cheating

about —

full name: stephanie brianne dupree age: 28 birthday: june 23rd, 1992 sexual orientation: bisexual gender: cis female pronouns: she/her

bio —

TW ALCOHOLISM. stevie is known as steph back in her hometown of westport, connecticut. she grew up in a seemingly normal household: the only child of a clean-cut couple, a lawyer and a nurse. it always appeared that the dupree family was perfect. but, behind the scenes, her father was battling with some intense alcoholism that tore the family apart from its roots.

the girl always had bigger dreams than the small coastal city she lived in. like every teenager, she wanted to live in new york — an apartment with a view to central park. her family supported her dreams, but was apprehensive about her living in a city quite as big as new york by herself ( which was of course, stevie’s plan )

she was an overall good student, and began dating one of the smart boys in high school, although she knew for sure she had a crush on the cheerleading squad captain. being so young and having no knowledge of the spectrum of sexuality, she repressed it. she liked her boyfriend, but she never managed to keep her eyes off her crush.

and still, she dated this boy throughout high school. when she got accepted to nyu and he to yale ( he was really smart ), they decided to keep dating, just make it long-distance. it worked for a decent amount of time, they would facetime for hours while stevie lived in dorms, he would help her study for her exams, and they tried to meet every so often.

TW CHEATING. it was all going well for stevie, until she formed a more solid friend group. and within this friend group, she started meeting very open girls. it was during this time where she first kissed a girl. enamored by the feeling, she started secretely going on dates, making out and hooking up with girls she met on campus. all while her boyfriend studied his ass off at yale.

it was all just experimenting, until she met bowie. they were assigned the same dorm room — in her eyes, bowie was the coolest girl she’d ever met. it was almost impossible not to crush on her. they became friends, best friends, bowie changed her nickname to stevie…  and in return, stevie kissed her. after that kiss, the young dupree sort of switched her point of view, and became pretty devoted to the artist.

but she handled this coming of age experience kind of poorly. instead of giving her boyfriend the peace of mind of a breakup, she sort of just… ghosted him. never answered another text, e-mail call… nothing. she just decided to start her life anew as stevie, in new york, with bowie.

their relationship got pretty serious, and the couple moved in together into a brooklyn apartment after graduating, and thought they’d just figure it out from then on out. it wasn’t smooth sailing all the way, as the couple would very often break up and get back together, both of them finding solace in some other people during the in betweens. stevie knew that the relationship would most likely not be good for either of them, but after sacrificing so much for bowie, she thought she’d have to ride it out. so all the pain other people had gone through at both of their expenses was worth it.

sooner than later, stevie got her first graphic designer job out in the real world, which taught her more about herself than the actual job. from there, she decided her goal as a visual artist would be to have her own studio where she got to choose the clients she worked with, and how she’d work with them. in the meantime, she held various designer and even art director jobs in different companies.

despite her new life seemingly going great, not too long ago bowie decided stevie was too boring for her, and decided to end their on-and-off five-year relationship for good. very soon after, stevie came to find that the woman had been scared her off after she suggested marriage — something she had wanted since the moment their relationship got serious. bowie practically moved out overnight, leaving stevie in an apartment that is way too big for her... all alone. the moment she saw all of bowie’s stuff gone, down to the most insignificant things... she knew it was really over. somehow, the same lack of closure she gave her high school boyfriend came to bite her back, and the whole process has been hard to move on from.

headcanons —

stevie really wants children. she’s too afraid of rejection though, so she hasn’t made any steps towards achieving that goal. maybe she’ll get a cat tbh?

she’s a crazy plant lady. the apartment if practically a jungle at this point.

ever since she started dating bowie, stevie hasn’t gone home to her parents’ in connecticut. she’s too afraid of what her father will say. plus, there was a yelling altercation at a family gathering, so it’s only given her more reasons not to visit.

after hers and bowie’s breakup, stevie took up a ridiculous amount of “hobbies” to keep herself busy: baking/cooking, writing, and many sorts of crafting. 

stevie is terrified of ending up an alcoholic like her father, so she drinks very, very little. 

[5lazarus]

Prompt: Snape needs an ingredient for a potion that is a complete pain in the ass to obtain. He can't buy it--he has to find it himself, and it's not going to be easy.

thank you my friend! it took me awhile, but I did it, and this one made me laugh. trying an oilier Snape in this one. Maleficari’s Mutinous Munitions: Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Read on AO3 here.

Pomona planted the wrong kind of mandrake--a mandragora, not a proper English mandrake--though none of them knew it would be the wrong kind when they reviewed the syllabus. The faculty is stunned. Severus leans back in his chair and rubs the bridge of his nose. The headache is not building yet, but he knows it will. Sure enough, Gilderoy Lockhart begins to speak. “Well, no matter,” he flourishes. Severus’ expression tightens, and he exchanges a glance with Minerva. Lockhart continues, “Now, with my fast-growing Miracle-Gro I concocted on a swift trip to the American South, asked by the natives of the colony of New Georgia to battle kudzu, their offshoot of Devil’s Snare--” “Kudzu and Devil’s Snare are completely unrelated,” Pomona says repressively, “and not to mention that you would want the opposite of growth with--” Lockhart barrels on, “My unique fertilizer will win the day for us. Never fear, colleagues! I am not just the five-times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award--there are brains a plenty to back up the beauty.” “Brains,” Severus says, “so that is the secret to the shellac of your hair. I assumed you used a dingbat.” Minerva does not elbow him, and she does not laugh, but she does wink. Severus, of course, does not smirk back--that is his customary grimace crossing his face. Before Lockhart can offer to share hair care tips, for the price of a single smile, Severus turns to Pomona. “I will consult my suppliers in Diurn Alley. Mandrake, rather than mandragora--who wants to tell Granger there is an infinitesimal difference?” Lockhart says, “Man drakes, woman drakes, what does it matter? With my Miracle-Gro compound, your potion will hardly know the difference!”

Pomona puts her head in her hands, and the staff meeting adjourns before Severus can get nasty. Fuming, he billows down the corridor. Lockhart infuriates him. Anyone would have been better than him, anyone--the most notorious pureblood fake on both sides of the Atlantic. Surely Dumbledore could have begged Emmeline Vance to come back, or even had the staff rotate the lessons so the curse would be watered down. At least he can take some satisfaction that something nastily embarrassing will happen to Lockhart by the end of the year. Severus hopes it’s the fatal kind of embarrassing. He hopes his teeth fall out as he attempts to skewer a teenage mandrake, his earmuffs going askew as he panics, and as the mandrake screams in rage and pain Lockhart is knocked unconscious and slams his head against a wall, dying instantly. Severus smiles grimly to himself at the fantasy: but fate is not that good to him. Footsteps patter up to him, and he whirls around to see Minerva staring at him. “You need to get those mandrakes, Severus,” she says. “I will...keep Professor Lockhart entertained.” “Truly the long-suffering Gryffindor,” he returns. “I should think it’s only right we volunteer Albus for the job.” Minerva snorts. “Diabolical. He’s already left for the Ministry, to request us a permit. It’s too late.” Severus says, “The man should’ve been a Slytherin. Bastard. You take Lockhart, and I’ll have those mandrakes found, cut, and stewed by daybreak.” He beats a retreat before she can change her mind. Dumbledore will get him the permit, so Severus Floos to his flat in Diurn Alley and walks quickly and unabashedly to Knockturn Alley, where he’ll get better prices. It is always better to ask forgiveness rather than permission, he feels--every time he has asked, he has been told no, and the school cannot wait for him to scheme his way into the Ministry’s good graces. Besides, he can breathe here. The usual snarling denizens of the darker side of town eye him. A hag attempts to sell him some bile, he flicks her back and she spits at him, so he spits back. He can always use an excuse to fight, since he cannot blast Lockhart to eternity. He enters Maleficari’s Mutinous Munitions with a sneer fixed on his face and the goal to spend no more than two galleons for the whole lot. Pomona is too easily distracted by the wares, and Minerva too prone to refusing to bargain in a self-righteous huff. Only he has the mixture of silky disdain and oily flattery that can win them this--and a flagrant disrespect for the law, but that is neither here nor dare. Dumbledore is taking care of that bit, and Dumbledore never fails a promise. People, yes, he’ll perpetually disappoint, but an iron-clad vow? That Dumbledore will never break. The shopkeeper looks up and says, “Professor Snape. How good of you to peruse my wares. Might I interest you in a drink?” The drink will be poisoned, of course, that is part of the fun of Maleficari’s Munitions. Severus keeps a bezoar on his person for trips such as these. He bows slightly. “Alas,” he drawls, “I am here for business, not pleasure. You have heard of the trouble at the school?” He casts the line and waits for Maleficari to be hooked. Maleficari’s strange jeweled eyes glitter. He deals in ingredients, yes, but who doesn’t also love a bit of gossip? “Witch Weekly’s Walking Smile causing complaints?” Maleficari offers. He pours himself a steaming green shot of what seems to be wormwood liqueur mixed with ground doxy wings. Severus’ nostrils flare: but he assures himself the effects are negligible. “Professor Lockhart performs adequately by his own standards,” Severus says neutrally. “He has only deboned one student, who has no living parents to complain, and thus meets the bare minimum standard of Hogwarts classroom etiquette. But no,” he draws closer, looming over Maleficari and drinking in the scent, “I have come for other trouble. A favor for the faculty at large.” “Extracurricular?” Maleficari whispers, tongue darting quick over his lips. Severus smiles grimly. “No,” he says. “Some old magic has wakened in the school. At least two students have been found petrified solid--but their vitals in status. Old, interesting magic.” Maleficari says, “And an enigma too. You don’t know what it is yet, do you?” “The school is requisitioning five teenage mandrakes from the Ministry,” Severu says archly. “I thought I would save you the paperwork and come to you directly.” Maleficari laughs. He stares at him with his refracting diamond eyes and Severus Occludes hurriedly. He feels the Legilimancy probe, and offers up an old memory of leafing through paperwork with Albus, Minerva pacing in the background. Maleficari withdraws, and Severus looks at him expressionlessly. Most know that he is a Potions Master, some know he is an expert Legilimens, but he keeps his mastery of Occlumency to himself. “Living or dead?” Maleficari says. “I’m certain we can arrange something before the Ministry raids my stores.” Severus smirks, pays two galleons, and writes off five in his expenses. If Dumbledore knows he certainly never asks.