#Amir Charles

[riveramorylunar]

𝔖𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔅𝔞𝔠𝔨

Series Masterlist, (Chapter 20)

Pairings: Soren x Reader(Platonic), Lenore DeVille x Althea, Osiris x Reader(Platonic)[Brief], Leonora Lesso x Amir Charles (Brief) & Leonora Lesso x Reader

Warnings ⚠️: More crying & angry/Scary Lesso

Pet Names/Nicknames: Beasty and Little Siren

Word Count: 1,497

It's been weeks and it was getting near the students first break. Althea was still in her Beast form and Lenore kept teasing her and calling her Beasty. Y/N kept on trying to get Evil Y/N to talk to her but it never worked. "Would you stop calling me that" Althea growled out and Lenore just smirked before patting Althea's head. "Not gonna happen cutie" Lenore said before walking off. Y/N watched the interaction silently before looking away as she fiddled with her mother's fork. She looked in the mirror before twisting her hair up in a bun and sticking the fork in it before smiling softly. "Did you just put a fork in your hair" Osiris said and Y/N turned around. "Yeah got a problem" Y/N said as she looked at him. "Uh no" Osiris said before he turned around to look at his father's stuff. Y/N looked back at the mirror and messed with her hair a little more before humming.

"Y/N it's almost time for lunch are you coming or no" Skadi said and Y/N shook her head no. Skadi sighed before saying bye and leaving their dorm room. Y/N stood up and walked out on the balcony before leaning against it. "You can come out" Y/N said and the crow came out from it's hiding place before shifting. Y/N looked up and looked at the man. "So you've been a human this whole time" she said and he nodded. "Soren by the way" he said and Y/N turned around to lean against the railing. "Why have you never showed yourself before" Y/N asked as Soren shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't feel the need to" he said as he leaned against the wall. "Why now then" she asked and Soren quirked an eyebrow. "You ask a lot of questions" he said and Y/N rolled her eyes before looking away. There was a knock on the door a couple minutes later and Y/N walked back into the room before walking over to the door. She opened the door to see a man with blonde hair wavy hair and pointed ear. "Azrael" Y/N said and the man chuckled before shaking his head no. "You're Y/N right" he asked and Y/N nodded. "It's nice to meet you I'm Caesar I'm here to drop off some gold pieces going to you" he said causing Y/N to step aside to let the man in. Y/N shut the door behind her and locked it before walking over to the balcony. She saw Soren was still standing outside so she grabbed him and yanked him inside. "What's going on" Soren said as Y/N locked the balcony door and closed the curtains.

Caesar made a big box appear on the floor before kneeling down and unlocking it. He opened it up before stepping aside. Y/N walked over and her eyes widened in shock. "These are absolutely beautiful Caesar" Y/N said and Caesar carefully took each item out. "Only for the best" he said before closing the box and locking it back up. "I have one more thing to ask you" Y/N said as Caesar stood up. Y/N took the fork out of her hair before holding it out. "Can you turn this to gold" she asked and Caesar took it with his gloved hand. "Is this your mother's dinglehopper" he asked and Y/N nodded before smiling softly. He took his glove off before touching the fork. Y/N watched in amazement as the fork started turning gold. He handed the fork back to Y/N and she put it back in her hair before bowing her head. "Thank you" she said and Caesar bowed his head before making the box disappear. "It was a pleasure meeting you Y/N if you need anything just give me a call" he said before he left the room. Soren watched as Y/N walked into the bathroom before coming out in a full white outfit.

Soren had helped Y/N into the gold pieces. Y/N put the ear piece on before the hand piece. "Let's go" Y/N said before grabbing Soren's wrist and dragging him out of the dorm room. "Where are we going M'Lady" Soren said and Y/N didn't answer as they made their way to the great hall where everyone was still eating. They walked in and Y/N walked past everyone as they stopped and looked at her and the new boy. "Wow look at what she's wearing where did she get that gold from" someone whispered and others started whispering as well. Y/N made her way to the teachers table before looking up to see Amir and Lesso already looking at her. She smirked before walking past the table and into the kitchen while flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Theo" Y/N said and the brown haired man looked up before smiling. "Hello Y/N dear" he said before looking Y/N up and down. "You look fabulous today trying to catch someone's eye" he said quirking an eyebrow causing Y/N to smirk. "Something like that" she said and he laughed. He made Y/N a tray of food and a tray for Soren. Y/N walked out of the cafeteria to see Amir and Lesso were gone.

She walked past her friends and they smirked at her and she smirked back before pulling Soren out of the great hall. The two walked out of the great hall and immediately heard hush shouting. They looked at each other before turning a corner to see Amir and Lesso shouting at each other. "Why the hell do you keep looking at her I'm your boyfriend" Amir shouted and Y/N was about to take a step towards them but Soren stopped her. "Just wait" he whispered out causing Y/N to be confused. She looked back over to see Lesso slam Amir against the wall before leaning in. "Don't tell me what to do or you'll regret it greatly I won't hesitate to throw you in the ocean so the sharks can tear you to shreds" Lesso growled out before shoving Amir into the wall again causing him to fall to the ground. They watched as Lesso walked away while fixing her trenchcoat. "That was fucking hot" Y/N muttered out causing Soren to snicker before they headed to the museum.

They walked into the museum and saw the mirror glow. Y/N rushed over after handing Soren her tray. She saw Evil Y/N standing there. "Hello Y/N" Evil Y/N said and Y/N huffed. "Where the hell have you been" Y/N asked as she pouted. "Away but I see you've changed up your style a bit" Evil Y/N said and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Is this how you're going to get your Lesso back" Evil Y/N said as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Not exactly" Y/N said causing Evil Y/N to raise an eyebrow. "So what is your idea" Evil Y/N said and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Why do you want to know you weren't willing to help" she said as she looked away causing Evil Y/N roll her eyes. After lunch Y/N and Soren made their way out of the museum."I better get back to Lesso now I'll see you later M'Lady" Soren said before her bowed while kissing the top of Y/N's hand. Y/N smiled softly as she watched Soren shift back into a crow before flying off. "Wait Soren" she shouted and the bird stopped as Y/N ran up. "Can you tell Lesso to meet me near the lake but please don't tell her it was me alright" Y/N said and Soren nodded before flying off again.

Y/N was pacing back and forth when she heard Lesso's voice. "So you're the one who told me to meet you here" Lesso said and Y/N looked up to see Lesso standing a few feet away. "Yeah I did I uh I wanted to te-" She was cut off when Lesso put her hand over Y/N's mouth. "Shut up" she growled out and Y/N gulped as she pulled away and was about to speak, but lips pressed against her's causing her eyes to widen in shock. She melted into Lesso when she felt the Dean's arms wrap around her tightly. She closed her eyes as she felt tears roll down her face. Lesso pulled away after a couple seconds and she looked down to see Y/N crying. "Hey hey it's alright I'm here now I'm so sorry Little Siren" Lesso said as she pulled Y/N into her. Y/N buried her head into Lesso's chest as she sobbed while clinging to the Dean of Evil.

A/N: I hope you guys are happy 😌

[trace-owo]

Fuck me why is he so pretty???

Like seriously I wanna chew on him like a feral dog and eat him whole so so badly it's insane.

[chrlscartr]

After the metaphorical dust had settled and Charles was relieved from his duty of helping around as best as he could, he managed to find Amir in the bar they'd agreed upon before the party. "Well, fuck," he mused as he took a seat next to the other man. "I had no idea that bitch was crazy enough to try and kidnap a baby in the middle of an Avengers party. That ex of yours is even crazier, too. We almost had a body to clean up." @theenchvnter

[issy5316]

old and new one shot ideas

here is the next pole, i know i made one a while ago, but i want to get a head start and with the other one shots being written down, i don't need to get bored after all and i'm not putting stress on myself, don't worry!

idea 1: where jasper was kidnapped by dreamlife and experimented on, but survived along with zoe, he was found with her and is protective of his friend, but unlike zoe, who doesn't remember jones, the only person jasper remembers is amir and how they were dating before he went missing, jasper powers due to the experiments is ice, because his last name is everett, which is similar to mount everest, get it? let's move onto the next idea.

idea 2: where rupert doesn't actually die but he is knocked out outside due to falling down and hitting his head, his killer thinks he's dead and leaves him there where the MC and jones finds him unconscious but he is still alive.

idea 3: an au where freddie decided to try to kill yann for knowing too much about him, so now the team needs to find their friend before the puppeteer does.

idea 4: where king doesn't kill adam, but adam gets the upper hand and shoots king, which leads to chaos and adam getting arrest, but king is worried since he was supposed to assassinate adam and failed to do it.

idea 5: orlando is sad about seeing his dead husband alive again and wants to vent to someone about how he feels, so he goes to amy, only to learn something shocking about her.

idea 6: amir tells rupert about his sexuality, but is surprised when he finds out something about rupert as well.

idea 7: amir defends rupert after some people harass them for their sexuality, also jasper is ready to throw hands at some homophobic assholes.

idea 8: where charles didn't die but was still shot, but in his stomach, he pretended he died while the MC and maddie found him.

[vampire207343]

Different path

What if... James Potter & Lily Evans broke up nearing their 7th year, while James was disheartened that his relationship with Lily didn't last. And with him single his parents took this their chance to betrothed their son to Halfblood witch by the name of Anastasia Windsor.

When Lily Evans broke up with her ex-boyfriend James Potter she wasn't aware that she was pregnant with their child at that time but by the time she knows it was already to late James was already betrothed to half blood witch by name Anastasia Windsor. Who is 10 in line inherit muggle British throne. By then James has already fallen in love with Ana.

(Anastasia Windsor, 17 years old)

Lily Evans never had a chance to tell James she's pregnant with their child and she dosen't want to destroy the new happines he found for himself which is why she hidden her pregnancy under a Concealing charm to hide the fact that she's pregnant from everyone even from the professor and she use a protection spell to protect her unborn vaby from anything especially when she's doing potion.

a few months after they all graduated by then James Potter already married Anastasia Windsor. When Lily gaved birth to her son who at first she wanted to name him Harry James but that would only make it obvious on who his father is. Her son is born on July 31, 1978 and named him Steven Andrew Evans. And her son look nothing like his father since Steven look more like lily than James which help hide him from everyone.

The only one of James friends to know that she is pregnant with his child is with Remus Lupin and she has to beg him not to say anything to James going so far as to making have a magical oath that he wouldn't say a word about Steven to James and the others which he evenutally comply.

It wasn't long after they graduated Hogwarts that James Potter married Anastasia Windsor as his wife their wedding was huge everyone of their friends and family were their along with all the people they know even Lily Evans was invited to the wedding.

(Lily Evans 18 years old)

Lily Evans never thought that she'll watch James Potter ever get married to someone else other than her but here she is watching joy filled his eyes as he married Anastasia Windsor. I never wstching him get married to someone else is painful until then it felt like a thousand knife twist inside my heart, but I didn't dare show what I was feeling because I don't want to ruwin, James new found happines.

she has regret of ever leaving James because this could have been their wedding day and her beloved son Steven would grow up not knowing his father. And with Remus the only one who steven, I made him his godfather and he help me rsised him when he can.

2 years later...

Anastasia and James Potter gaved birth to their first daughter Diantha Athanasia Potter who is born on July 7, 1980. And with the war getting worse they both decided they want to raise their daughter somewhere else and away from the war so they left british isle with the permissionnof both their family since a war is no place where a child should grew. They decided to raised their daughter in China and her godfather Sirius Orion Black fallowed them to China. Diantha grew love by both her parents and godfather and by time she was 2 years old Diantha gain two little sisters by the name Amaratha "Amara" Carina & Athelinda "Lydia"Belladonna Potter.

Diantha Potter is a very intelligent for a 2 years old, when normal children her age wouldn't even understand what anyone is saying yet but she is already able to talk in complete sentence to shock both her parents Ana & James Potter who is very much proud of their oldest daughter achivement. Their is no doubt in the mind that their new born daughters who was born on March 7, 1982 would be the same when they grew up.

Diantha already began learning etiquette and manners from her mother Ana Potter which she has no trouble learning at all, she quite a quick learner for a 2 years old that no normal child her age would have the patient to sit still for hours on end learning anything but she did. By the time she's three years old she is already able to read and write and her younger sister Amara and Lydia who just turn one began an intelligent that match Diantha's at her age.

They heard the dark lord was defeated by a mere child the son of Lily Evans, Steven Evans who was only 4 years old when the dark lord try to kill Steven with the killing curse it rebounded back to him which cause the dark lord to lose his body and it's even a miracle that lily is even alive after tge dark lord attack her home. And the boy was declare the boy who live by Albus Dumbledore and that was the last newst they heard before cut their ties with the magical britian with Ana's parents died during the crossfire in the war about a year ago and James own parents also was killed by the dark lord last year as well, so their's nothing tying them to England after their parents death.

The Potter sisters Diantha, Amara and Lydia grew up very talented they both have many muggle activity that they are great at for example they are great singer, Ice skater and aerial gymnastics, which they both can do are both gold medal Ice skater and aerial gymnastics.

17 years has pass and Lily Evans has miss James Potter the man she loves and lost to lady Anastasia Windsor who gaved him two dsughters while I on the other hand unknowingly gaved him a son which he have no clue exist.

(Steven Andrew Evans, 21 years old)

Steven Evans has always wounder who his father is but he knowns that he is not aware of his existen even if he wanted to meet him he dosen't know what to say to him or what he look like for that matter, beside he dosen't even know if he would accept him as his son. The only father figure he ever had in his life is his godfather Remus Lupin who is a werewolf. As a child Steven has always wanted to know his father but I never had the heart to tell him who he is abd that he dosen't know he exist.

We recently got out of war last year and Steven end up married to the youngest Weasley the only girl of the family Ginny Weasley.

♠♦♥♣

(Diantha Athanasia Potter 19 years old)

The Potters & Sirius Black move to china to Japan when Diantha were 10 years old and the twins were 8 years old and by then the three sisters were accepted in Mahoutokoro School of magic.

Diantha Potter who is 20 years old and Amaratha Carina & Athelinda Belladonna Potter who is 18 years old graduate Mahoutokoro school of magic after they turn 17 years old respectedly and every since then they have continuing their muggle education which Mahoutokoro taught muggle education upto high school level since Diantha Potter is now junior college while Amara & Lydia Potter are a freshmen college in Yale, but unlike the Potter twins who decided to go to Yale Diantha Potter decided to go to Princeton and triple majoring in Pre-law, Music Composer, and Performance while double minor in business and Music Production.

The Potter twins Amara & Lydia become friends with a muggle named Rory Gilmore who wanted to be a foreign correspondent after she graduate Yale. Diantha herself only meet Rory once or twice before the twins enter sophomore year at Yale and she herself enter her senior year in Princeton before finish her undergraduate study on Pre-law before she gose to Harvard Law for her graduate school.

(Amaratha Carina Potter, 18 years old)

Amaratha Carina Potter introduce her boyfriend Colin Mcrae to her older sister Diana Potter they got along well which she was glad I though she wouldn't like him I wouldn't know what I'll do if Diana didn't like Colin since Lydia and I has always look up to our big sister maybe the reason they get along well was because they are the same age and having the same major Pre-law all it matter to me is get along.

(Athelinda Belladonna Potter, 18 years old)

Lydia Potter also introduce her boyfriend Finn Rothschild the heir to the rothschild hotels and he also happen to be one of Colin's bestfriend and Diana also like him well. Colin & Finn wouldn't be graduating this year since they took a year break last year to travel where they somehow sink Logan huntzberger's father's yacht before they meet along with the rest of their friend and Stephanie Vanderbilt is with them too. I gotten the feeling that she's in love with Colin but he never felt tge same way with her since he end up falling in love with Amara even though Colin's usual type for a woman are blond woman instead of strawberry blond like Amara but Colin still fell for her then again no one can control who they fall in love with.

3 years later...

Lydia & Amara Potter's friend Rory Gilmore graduate Yale at the age of 23 years old she would have graduated last year with the twins if she didn't drop out a year after her intership with huntzberger publishing company and her boyfriend's father toldher that she didn't have what it take to be a great journalist that she drop out of Yale but her friends and boyfriend evenutally convince her to return to Yale.

During Rory's graduation party,her boyfriend Logan Huntzberger was planning to propose to her but she wanted to think about it but evenutally she turn him down and he walk away from she didn't even try to stop him leave if it was either lydia and herself she would have stop Colin from leaving while they are to young to get married she dosen't want to live without him in her life which Lydia agree she can never watch as Finn walk away from her she would have stop him.

Lydia & Finn, Colin & I fallowed after Logan to check on him. They found him devested when Rory broke his heart to a million pieces. All of them were their for him they try to help walk on his to feet again without Rory in his life but that berly did anything it's like when Rory broke his heart he died inside until he somehow meet Amara and I's older sister Diana who is now a big shot Lawyer but she is still actress she finish filming tv series shadowhunter she casted as Clary Fray.

It's about Clary Fray discovers a surprise concerning her life. The teenager is not who she thinks she is. She comes from a long line of human-angel hybrids, called Shadowhunters, who hunt demons. After her mother is kidnapped, Clary is thrust into the world of demon-hunting. Clary relies on mysterious Jace and fellow hunters Isabelle and Alec to help her navigate the dark world. While living in this new world among creatures like vampires and werewolves, Clary's best friend Simon helps her uncover answers that could help her find her mother. The fantasy show is based on a series of young adult books by Cassandra Clare.

When Logan meet my beautiful 25 years old sister Diana Potter she has somehow slowly brought Logan back to life and they became friends. Slowly and surely Logan began healing his broken heart after Rory shatter it to a million pieces and it dosen't help anything that she and her boyfriend Dominic Anthony Sherwood who cast Jace in Shadowhunter broke up and stayed friends instead.

3 years later...

After beging friends for 3 years it was to no one suprise that Diana Potter and Logan Huntzberger evenutally fallen in love with each other and start dating by then all feelings he has for Rory Gilmore disappear it was like they were never together to begin with mitchum and shira huntzberger even approve of Diana Potter as the woman who one day might marry to their family she has noble blood and she also happen to be heiress of Potter Hospital, Fashion and performing arts. Her family is even richer than the Hayden, Gilmore & Huntzberger put together and it dosen't help that she is 10th in line yo inherit the golden throne british since she is also a Windsor.

after 3 years When Rory Gilmore broke up with Logan he has finally learn to love another and his love tO Diana is far greater than his love to Rory since they doubt if logan ever lost Diana their is no guarantee that h would be ever be same again if that happen.

Colin Mcrae and Finn Rothschild has never seen their bestfriend Logan Huntzberger so happy as he is now avter dating Diana Potter for year not even when he was dating Rory Gilmore was he as happy as is now. They both realized that Logan has truely fallen in love with the 29 years old Diantha "Diana" Athanasia Potter. He love her more than he ever love Reporter girl, and I don't think Logan would even look a Rory way, if she somehow suddenly show up out of the blue infront of them since they more possitive that Logan would choose Diana instead of Rory their both glad he found someone who he would truely love and the one who would stay by his side. Logan and Diana has better communication to each other than when he was dating Rory.

1 year later...

Logan Huntzberger propose to Diana potter on their anniversary after dating for 2 years and after knowing her for 5 years he finally propose but he was so scared that she would reject his proposal like Rory did 5 years ago but with the help of his friends and Diana's twin sisters he had the courage to propose to Diana luckly she said yes because I don't think Logan could take Diana's rejection since she basicly became logan very life.

Logan Huntzberger and Diana Potter married at the age of 30 years old, on March 7, 2010 alot of people show up at the wedding some people they don't even know but they didn't care about that all it matters to them both was that they are finally man and wife.

Their wedding was one of the biggest socialite wedding only being top the wedding of both Lydia Potter & Finn Rothschild and Amara Potter & Colin Mcrae last year. Even Emily Gilmore was present in wedding so Lydia and Amara has no doubt that rory would have heard Logan's marry by now since she shouldn't care after all she had rejected Logan proposal before he ever meet Diana so it shouldn't matter to her.

Logan and Diana went to Japan for their honeymoon for a month and by the time they return to Boston they found Diana is pregnant with their first child by then the boys Logan,Finn and Colin knows their wife's family secret they have magic but the boys still accepted them and their feelings for them would never change no matter what. They even saw the house they grew up in Japan which is a magical house and they found out the super natural creature that they consider myth such as unicorn, dragons or goblins which handel witches and wizards money.

9 months later....

On December 7, 2010

Diana Huntzberger gaved birth to two beautiful Healthy twin Children a boy and a girl the eldest is the boy who is named Alexander "Xander" James Huntzberger and the girl name is Venus Aahana Huntzberger who are blonde like their father and has blue eyes.

And if their anything like their parents growing up they would be a heartbreaker.

(Stephanie Vanderbilt at 29 years old)

Stephanie Vanderbilt has drift away from Logan, Finn and Colin but mostly Colin while it's true their all still friends but their not as close as they use to not since Finn got together with Lydia Potter and Colin got together with Amara Potter. It dosen't help that she fell in love with Colin when she know he would never return her feelings for him. Here she is still single the boys are already married to their girlfriend and Logan already had children with his wife while I watch them ftom afar they are still quite close I supose that has something to do with their wife's beging sisters in all.

While Logan, Finn and Colin lost contact with Rory she hasn't she knows that Rory regret turning Logan's wedding proposal down during her graduation but it's to late to regret anything Logan is now married and he seem to love Diana Huntzberger alot more than she ever did Rory. Logan is happily married to his wife and that they already have two children and it hasn't been a year since they got married.

so that leaves both Stephanie Vanderbilt and Rory Gilmore no choice but to move on with their life since it would be unlikely that they would ever be with colin and Logan respectedly since their married which was hard for Rory to do but not as hard as Stephanie who has to watch it all happened in front of her. And it wasn't long after Logan's twin children were born did Colin and Finn got their own wife pregnant with their child but unlike Logan who has twins they only had a sing child each who was born a day apart from one another on September 7, 2011, Colin & Amara's daughter Artemis Amirtha Mcrae born at 12:00 P.M. while Lydia and Finn's own son Charles "Charlie" Amir Rothschild is born September 8, 2011, at 7:07 A.M.

it hurt Stephanie to watch the man she love happy with someone who isn't her she want to move on but she can never do that with her constantly near him so gor her to forget Colin sge must first leave her friends for a while until she somehow heal her broken heart so she left Boston and move to North Carolina for a new start and maybe she would find someone else to fall in love again.

2 years later...

During the time Stephanie spent two years in North Carolina she finally manged to allow herself to move on with her life and fell in love once more to a person she meet in North Carolina and it's someone from Rory's past and it's non other than Tristan Dugray

(Tristan Dugray 30 years old)

They been together for a year now and married even though they only been dating a year but all it matter to them both was that they love each other. During that time she lost vontact with Rory they grew apart after she move to North Carolina.

Stephanie also heard Logan has another set of twins with his wife Diana Huntzberger but this one are identical twin girls

born on March 27, 2013 their name are Ambrosia Grace and Athena Rose Huntzberger and his first set of twins Xander and Venus Huntzberger just turn 3 years old quickly adored their new little sisters. After her marriage with Tristan she return to Hartford and offically meet Diana Huntzberger she has grown more beautiful the last time I saw her was when she got married to Logan.

(Diantha "Diana" Athanasia Huntzberger at 32 years old)

even after having four children she is still beautiful that you can't even tell if she's a mother or not since most married woman with children would already have let them says go and gain some weight but not Diana she is still very fit.

[multiplicationdivision]

A Marathon in His Shoes

Charles had come to him in a panic this morning, donned in a different body and personality. He’d gotten some pair of boots from a second-hand store and been transformed into a middle-aged man, complete with a dadly outfit and mindset. Amir had barely believed the crazy DILF until Charles had pulled on another pair of shoes from the store, transitioning into a tired looking college bro the second the dirty nikes hit his feet, the transformation complete with a bout of gen-z slang Amir could barely understand.

They’d spent the rest of the morning ferrying a number of pairs of shoes back to Amir’s place from the Goodwill. Whatever seemed like it would create an interesting outcome. Amir had gotten his flickering light fixed when a pair of work boots made Charles a well experienced electrician. Charles had been able to explain literal rocket science when a pair of very worn sneakers transformed him into some NASA scientist. Charles had even abided by the guy’s NDAs, seemingly unable to shrug off that ingrained level of discipline.

Charles had come to him because no matter what he tried, the guy couldn’t become himself again. Every pair of Charles’ collection of sneakers left him the man he’d been transformed into, nothing of his nerdy self-returning. It was a problem that had fortunately been readily forgotten with the slew of fun that the guy was having, trying on a slew of personalities like they were costumes. Egged on by Amir who was similarly having a blast, running around his house as Charles became a host of random men.

The problem arose again in the evening though. The fun dissipating from Charles’ mood as time went on, especially with the onset of the weirdly toxic gym bro mindset. That and how disgusting sweaty clothes felt when the sweat never seemed to evaporate. Each body was stuck in the state it had been when the shoes had last been worn and most of his bodies weren’t in the greatest state. Charles seemed uncomfortable in most of them, despite the excitement.

“Theres still one pair of shoes you haven’t tried, you know” Amir said, walking to his shoe rack in another room. Atop it sat his other pair of trainers, identical to the ones he’d wore currently. Neon yellow where his were orange.

“Wait really?” Came Charles’s currently testosterone deep reply, edging with the frustration that his current muscular body always seemed filled with. “Hell yeah man” Amir said, quickly slipping both on before taking them off again and returning to his orange pair. Refreshing their state. 

He headed back to the sweaty man in his living room, handing Charles the trainers. “Put these on” he demanded.

Charles and Amir had known each other for years. They’d done everything together, seen every part of each other. High school to a college frat to working gigs, they were more comfortable with each other than they were with themselves.

Charles studied them against the natural instinct of his current body, forcing his steroid dulled gym bro personality to focus on the clean sneakers in his dirty muscular hands. The Charles in the guy cutting through the tense anger of his body, shooting a slightly surprised expression shot back at Amir. Amir was never one to share, especially something so deep as this.

Charles was stuck as someone else. That seemed to be the deal. Completely unable to return to a state that was just him, loving little shit as he was. Charles couldn’t go back to the man that was honest with every fraction of his life, laying himself bare to Amir. Amir wasn’t vulnerable like that, always anxious to expose the parts of himself that he was so terrified of.

He found himself giving his pair of prized trainers anyways. It made too much sense. Every other body that Charles wore fit awkwardly on him, the personalities fighting the stranger that slipped them on. Charles himself seemed wary of the ways they changed him, no matter how fun spouting facts and skills was. He couldn’t trust them, but he could trust Amir.

“Really?” Charles asked nervously, looking at his fidgeting best friend. Amir nodded despite his nerves, terrified yet oddly excited. This was an extreme way of bonding, baring his life and soul to a friend. It felt right though.

Charles shrugged off the dirty sneakers still saturated with sweat and slipped on Amir’s sneakers over the gym bro’s damp socks. The man shivering as his body shifted, his musculature decreasing as the sweaty clothes warped into a reflection of Amir’s outfit. The odor of BO becoming pleasant as Amir’s aftershave and cologne now wafted off of two bodies.

Charles’ nervousness at Amir’s gesture twisted into relaxation as Amir’s personality fit comfortably against his. The slump of his shoulders as the tension evaporated made Amir feel warm, his own anxious energy dissipating itself as Charles appeared to fully relax into his new body.

“Damn you feel good” Charles said and Amir couldn’t even muster a thanks, distracted as Charles felt out his new limbs with a smile. Amir had a slew of insecurities about his own body, anxious that he wasn’t smart enough, jack enough, attractive enough. Those worries seemed insane now, watching his friend truly enjoy it all, as if it was a comfy blanket.

“You all good Amir?” his own voice said to him, peering through Amir’s faltering insecurities. “You just wear my body well” he replied, voice low as his heart beat faster and faster. Charles got closer and Amir could see a uniquely Charles smile form on Amir’s lips.

“I think it fits me better than my original one” Charles admitted, his eyes traveling over every bit of Amir’s body that were now his. He had every bit of Amir’s life in his mind so he knew what Amir intended.

If Charles needed a new body that he could feel good in, Amir’s was his. Amir was willing for the man to have everything from him, because Amir wanted Charles to have everything. Amir had wanted that for so long, and it was overwhelming to hear the flirtation now focused on him.

“Always loved your arms you know” Charles said, tracing the lines of his hands. “Felt them around me in college and I never really wanted that to end”. Amir wanted nothing more than to tackle the man at that, fall together on his shitty couch.

“Was pretty wary about your new hair, honestly” Charles continued with a laugh as he felt the buzzed sides. “Thought your shaggy mess was cute, but I’ll admit that this has grown on me”, he said, breaking some boundary between the two of them as he compared the prickly sensation of his hair with Amir’s identical sides, his hand caressing Amir’s undercut. It should’ve felt the same as when Amir touched it, but there was too much of his best friend in this. It lit his nerve endings up like fire. “Liked it so much that I wanted a cut to match, but I think I like this more”

“What are you doing Charles?” Amir said, feeling something fundamentally shifting in how they would go forward. That was bound to happen when you gave your body and soul though.

“I used to be mad about being shorter than you, you know” Charles said as he pulled close to him, the scent of Amir’s toothpaste on his breath. “I was mad about how you were better at basketball and getting things from high shelves, sure.” He paused, like he was himself being honest for the first time.

“I think I was mostly mad that I couldn’t kiss you” he said with a final gentle move, pressing his lips into their twin. It felt like electricity, all the shock and want shooting from Amir into Charles. He didn’t kiss like Amir, all full of devouring need for more. Not held back at all by the hesitation of his current body, infecting Amir himself with an aspect of Charles.

Amir felt himself truly open up to this man. Let Charles take over as they fell to the couch. The man used his knowledge of Amir’s life against him, drawing from his fantasies with finesse, pressing down on his shoulders with a fervor that belied fucking years of mutual tension. Charles held both his and Amir’s collection of memories fantasizing about each other and Amir found himself stuffling a laugh as they tumbled across each other.

“You could have kiss me” he choked out, gasping as Charles wormed his way down past his boxers, hand already clasped around his cock like Amir liked it, just the right amount of pleasure. “Just cause I was taller than you didn’t mean it would’ve been that difficult” he joked, using his own weaknesses against Charles as he groped the guy’s own cock beneath his jeans, knowing how the sensation of his boxers against his cock would drive the man wild. As predicted, the man was caught between his own choked laugh, eyes widening as he tried to compose himself.

They played a game together. “You cannot judge me you mountain” Charles gasped as Amir pulled own his pair of Amir’s favorite jeans. “I have my own hangups too you know-“ he just about said, before Amir teased his hard dick with his lips.

“Get used to being a mountain ‘Amir’ ”, Amir said playfully, leaving Charles to look almost offended at his new strange pet name before the guy whimpered at the feeling of Amir’s full devotion to his cock, calling upon years of TMI from his best friend about what he liked in sex. Amir remembered right, Charles going limp as Amir blasted his neurons. It made him want to further blast the guy’s brain, feeling Charles’ moans rendered in his Amir’s husky voice.

Charles came in his mouth and on his shirt. It was exactly how his cum was from his curious years as a teenager, ropey salty fluid across his tongue. Charles seemed all the more desperate to get a taste himself, quick to return the favor. Pulled himself down to Amir’s precum wet jeans and tore down the boxers Charles likely remembered buying like he’d done so himself. They still both wore their trainers, the rubber soles knocking across each other as the two repositioned so Charles could get his fill.

“Hope you feel exactly what I felt fucker” Charles demanded, using Amir’s own technique against him. The rhythm and motion that he knew Charles loved was now turned on him, the feeling better than every fuck he’d had before. Charles seemed to use his own very recent experience in feeling it in Amir’s own body to perfect it on the man’s own cock, modifying it to strike at the right nerves at just the right time.

Hot tears flowed down Amir’s face when he came, feeling the cum spurt nearly identically across Charles’ shirt, making them a mirror again. Two men with their bodies a mess of sweat, identical pairs of jeans and boxers pushed to their ankles as they lay slumped on top each other on a truly shit couch.

“Holy fuck was that better than everything we’d both hoped for” Charles breathlessly exclaimed; his breath warm against Amir’s face. He likely knew, having Amir’s whole life at his fingertips. That large breach of privacy was becoming so much less terrifying at the sheer potential of it, letting this man know exactly how to play him.

“Can you stay?” Amir said without thinking, desperation in his voice. He didn’t even know what he meant by that. Stay as a copy of himself? Stay with him here? Forever?

“Well, my name is technically on the deed” Charles said, satisfaction in his voice despite the joke. It was something of an answer to both.

Realistically Charles wouldn’t always be Amir. It just was far too useful to abuse the collection of sneakers and boots they’d picked up. Amir would likely never need to hire a whole host of handymen in the future again, a suitable body for every job at their fingertips. Aside from that and whatever other fun could be had, Charles fit here. Fit as him, with him.

Their bodies together as Amir flipped on the TV. He knew himself well and they were both out in a minute, synchronized snores as the news murmured on.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up. 

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is. 

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing. 

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional. 

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—” 

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe. 

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers. 

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way. 

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well. 

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you. 

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind. 

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body. 

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice. 

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all. 

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have. 

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit. 

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away. 

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be. 

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself. 

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums. 

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t. 

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you. 

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color. 

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?” 

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it. 

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.” 

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two. 

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it. 

You want her to really think about what you’re asking. 

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking. 

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie. 

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad. 

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes. 

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long. 

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up. 

So, you have to move in silence. 

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise. 

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe. 

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change. 

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting. 

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride. 

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses. 

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona. 

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is. 

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway. 

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment. 

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy. 

It makes your heart swell. 

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. 

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters. 

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design. 

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.” 

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.” 

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old. 

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking. 

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?” 

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?” 

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him. 

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?” 

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly. 

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?” 

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words. 

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot. 

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad  because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother. 

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad. 

Mariah can fuck off. 

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway. 

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow. 

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place. 

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos. 

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while. 

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.” 

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play. 

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits. 

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special. 

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night. 

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts. 

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩 

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol 

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah. 

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege. 

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you. 

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life. 

Mariah can fuck off.

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of december

a.r. ammons collected poems: 1951-1971: "dunes"

jennifer robertson shrill shirts will always balloon

n. scott momaday in the presence of the sun: stories and poems, 1961-1991: "the delight song of tsoai-talee"

ted berrigan the collected poems of ted berrigan: "bean spasms"

natalie diaz when my brother was an aztec: "abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation"

greg miller watch: "river"

joanna klink excerpts from a secret prophecy: "terrebonne bay"

dorothy dudley pine river bay

brenda shaughnessy our andromeda: "our andromeda"

frank lima incidents of travel in poetry: "orfeo"

lehua m. taitano one kind of hunger

no'u revilla kino

linda hogan when the body

paul verlaine one hundred and one poems by paul verlaine: a biligual edition: "moonlight" (tr. norman r. shapiro)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "the cypress broke" (tr. fady joudah)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "your night is of lilac"

amir rabiyah prayers for my 17th chromosome: "our dangerous sweetness"

sara nicholson the living method: "the end of television"

charles shields proposal for a exhibition

ginger murchison a scrap of linen, a bone: "river"

tsering wangmo dhompa virtual

anne carson the beauty of the husband: "v. here is my propaganda one one one one oneing on your forehead like droplets of luminous sin"

muriel rukeyser the collected poems of muriel rukeyser: "the book of the dead"

anne stevenson stone milk: "the enigma"

david tomas martinez love song

robert fitzgerald charles river nocturne

thomas mcgrath the movie at the end of the world: collected poems: "many in the darkness"

linda rodriguez heart's migration: "the amazon river dolphin"

donald revell the glens of cithaeron

sumita chakraborty dear, beloved

angela jackson and all these roads be luminous: "miz rosa rides the bus"

kofi

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 1: The Fall-Down House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, alligators, kids, parenthood, smoking, cupcakes!

Word Count: 7.2k (she's very chonky for a first chapter).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Since this is the first chapter of a new series, I'm going to tag a bunch of usual readers, but I won't tag you again unless you want me to. 💜

@persephonerinyes @tinykryptonitewerewolf @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @marbles-posts @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @dd122004dd @jetblack4real @joliettes @mariahossain @minttea07 @please-buckme @florent1s @tempt-ress @wintersire @w3ird11 @eltherevir @florent1s @maii777

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰🧁

“What do you want to do to me?” you whisper through the phone, stretched out across your bed like a cat as George Michael’s Faith plays from the baby pink Panasonic boombox out in the kitchen. It’s late afternoon, and fading daylight falls in tiger stripes through the window blinds. The May air is hot, muggy, golden; cicadas hum in the southern live oaks, an ancient earthen music like rattling bones.

A few seconds pass before he can reply. It was a bold way to begin. You are admittedly a little impressed with yourself; an idea like this has been pacing around in your skull like a beast behind bars for years, but you’ve only now set it loose. “That’s difficult to explain in words,” he says; and in the low, teasing purr of his voice you can hear that your gamble paid off like striking oil. He has a British accent, which you never would have expected. You only recognize it from clips you’ve seen of Prince Charles and Princess Diana on 60 Minutes. “But I’d enjoy showing you.”

It’s laid open beside you on the bed, his personal ad in the Bayou Journal: Educated white male in his mid-20s. Single and not looking to change that. Seeking an open-minded, adventurous, and spirited lady for short-term D/s arrangement. Be prepared to answer the following riddle: I’m small but loom large, I’m Italian but French, I give away much to gain little. Who am I? Best regards, An Indecent Gentleman. “I’m waiting.”

“You understand what is meant by D/s?”

“Of course,” you say, your best feigned flippantness. You only know because Amir told you; he’s been daring you to call for three days.

“Thank God,” the man on the other end of the line sighs. There is an inhale like a drag on a cigarette. You imagine what he might look like: broad or slight, dark-haired or blonde, striking or average or homely, treacherous or safe, forbidden fruit or just plain forbidden. “I’ve had four different women ring me thinking I’m going to be their boyfriend, dinner and flowers and everything. They’re functionally illiterate down here.”

How unfortunate, you think. He’s highfalutin. But alas, no one is perfect. That’s no prohibitive obstacle. He doesn’t need to be faultless; it’s not as if you’re planning to marry the guy. “I like when someone else is in control.”

“Why?” This is a test, you can feel it. You can sense his rapt attention across the wire, through the electricity and the lush treetops and the rust-amber sky.

“I have a lot of…responsibilities in my real life,” you explain. “A lot of pressure. I make the decisions, I look out for other people. Sometimes I want to be the one who’s told what to do.”

“I can make that happen. And the riddle?”

“It’s Napoleon.”

The grin is sharp and triumphant in his voice. “Good girl.”

“He was short but an emperor. He was born in Corsica to an Italian family, but he ended up ruling over France. He sold off a bunch of French colonies to focus on conquering Europe and still couldn’t quite manage it. But the U.S.A. got this charming little corner of the world as part of the bargain.”

“You’re a historian,” the man says, sounding pleased.

“No sir, we all had to learn about him in school whether we wanted to or not.”

“Sir,” he echoes, tasting it, savoring it. You imagine a pink tongue flicking out to skate across his lips. Then he is abruptly cool, impersonal, businesslike. “Listen, I’ve got a scar down the left side of my face. It’s thin, it’s clean, but it’s noticeable. The eye is glass, although you can’t really tell unless you look closely. Is that a problem?”

A scar? Is he a veteran? A lion tamer? A motorcycle enthusiast? You try to remember what kinds of hobbies British people have. Isn’t there some kind of sport where men swing sticks around while riding horses? That sounds like it could put an eye out. Perhaps to your own surprise, you find that you are more intrigued than uneasy. Oh, you realize, dull like dawn through mist. I like him. I want him. Not just THIS, but HIM. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Brilliant. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

“That’s fine.” You hesitate. “There’s actually something I should tell you too.”

“Hm?”

The hum of his voice is arrogant, hungry. You try not to get distracted. Blood rushes hot and ashamed into your cheeks. “Um, well, uh, sometimes it’s difficult for me to…you know. Finish. Not when I’m alone, just when I’m with a guy. Especially if I’m anxious. And I don’t want to feel worried about faking it or making sure it happens or dealing with you getting offended or upset or whatever. Because it’s fine, really. It doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time. I’m just…stuck in my own head.”

There is a sound you can’t quite match to an expression, an exhale, a scoff. “Obviously I wouldn’t be mad at you. But you’ll come. I know you will. I’ll make you.”

And you’re flooded with a relief that you never dared to hope for. A confession spills out in a trembling whisper: “Please.”

“When?” he says, eager, urgent.

“I think if we don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”

There is a razor-thin pause, and then he asks for your address.

~~~~~~~~~~

You haven’t had a man in your bed in years; you are abruptly and unkindly reminded of this when you paw through the top drawer of your bedroom dresser and find only practical, deadly unsexy cotton Kmart underwear. You dash to the closet, yank open the squeaking door, and—tucked away in a cardboard box of winter clothes like sweaters and jeans, forgotten, needless—unearth a sprinkling of insubstantial silk and lace, all in luxurious gemstone hues: amethyst, ruby, sapphire, onyx, emerald.

“Oh, hallelujah.” You throw off your sunshine yellow shorts and tug on what were once upon a time your favorite panties. They don’t fit nearly as well as they used to; they fit horribly, in fact. They evaporate the thrill and leave nauseous trepidation in its place. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.” You steal a harried glimpse of the clunky black alarm clock on your nightstand. The flashing red numbers inform you that you have approximately ten more minutes until he arrives.

You jog pantsless to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of sweet tea—ice cold, bright with a squeeze of lemon juice—and pace back and forth across the wooden floor as you sip it. The pine boards slope at just the slightest angle; if you laid an apple by your feet, it would roll. The house is sinking. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, but it won’t live to see the next. Ailing sunlight casts your shadow against the wall, mint green, spider-leg cracks inching through the paint. Outside cicadas buzz and doves coo in long, mournful whirrs.

You pick up the phone—pink to match the boombox that is now playing Poison’s Nothin’ But A Good Time—next to the refrigerator and dial with one finger, your other hand still clutching the frosty glass of sweet tea. It rings twice before he answers.

“Wassup?” Amir says distractedly. You can hear a commotion from his living room on the other side of town: his grandmother squawking, ambient applause, Wheel Of Fortune.

“Quick, what should I wear?”

“Huh?”

“The guy! The guy from the ad! I called the guy! What should I be wearing when he shows up?”

Amir cackles. “Ho, you must be truly desperate, why the fuck are you asking me?” There is some shrill protestation in the background. “Grandma, don’t you dare try to act like you’ve never heard that word before, we just rented Aliens.”

“You know what men like,” you plead.

“Not the straight ones!” And then, not to you: “Grandma, calm down. Grandma, Grandma! It’s my homegirl. She has an emergency. She’s got a man coming over and she doesn’t know what to wear. What did you wear for Pop Pop? What? What?! You expect me to believe you got seven kids out of that dude with just some old floral nightgown?! Prairie girl fabulous? Looking like you’re on your way to join the Donner Party? Okay, if you say so! Phyllis knows best!” Amir’s attention returns to you. “Grandma suggests a nightgown.”

You are skeptical. “That seems slutty.”

“You’re inviting some stranger over for an all-expenses-paid ride on the Pussy Express and you’re concerned about looking slutty?!”

He has a point. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“You wear that nightgown with confidence and you take that random kinky man directly to bed, do you understand me?” Amir orders.

“Totally,” you say, gulping sweet tea with a shaking hand.

“Good luck. I gotta go, it’s the Bonus Round. Hope you have a few rounds to tell me about tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

Back in your bedroom closet, you find a black satin slip that runs to your ankles and flows like a ballgown. You put it on some nights when you’re feeling desirable, after a bath of bubbles and steam, candles and Madonna, freshly shaved legs and shimmering with Pond’s, when you want to lounge around daydreaming, when you want to remember the fantasies you once had about what your life might turn out to be. Now you wear it in the fading daylight, nothing underneath and golden sunbeams turning your skin to something that warms and glows.

You appraise yourself in your dusty dresser mirror, and you think: Not too bad, actually. You’ve had your hair up in a haphazard bun. You reach to take it down, then stop yourself. You like the wayward wisps, the I-don’t-care-too-much casualness. Your breathing is slow and calm again. There is a noise outside: tires crunching on gravel. Your glass of sweet tea, now mostly just ice cubes, is sweating on top of your dresser. You grab the glass, swipe the Bayou Journal off your bed, and take both to the kitchen counter, still speckled with flour, powdered sugar, flecks of cinnamon. Then you pad across the sloping wooden floor in your bare feet to open the front door. Amber dusk streams in; you can hear bullfrogs croaking and the hoots of the long-eared owl that lives in the collapsing, overgrown shed behind the house. Spanish moss hangs like cobwebs, like chandeliers. The tree swing rocks idly in the breeze. The first notes of You Shook Me All Night Long play from the kitchen boombox.

His car is red, sporty, with a logo on the grill that you don’t recognize, a series of circles intertwined like rings. He cuts the engine and steps out into the driveway as you watch from behind the screen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. He’s tall, trim, blonde, wearing Adidas sneakers and light-wash jeans and a Marlboro jacket that it’s far too hot for. He peers around, taking in the trees and the house through his black aviator sunglasses. He puffs one last time on a cigarette before putting it out on his own windshield and starting towards the porch. And immediately, primally, you crave him like water or air.

He climbs the groaning steps, splitting wood and rusty nails. You open the screen door to meet him in the threshold. And he takes off his sunglasses so he can look at you, stowing them in a pocket of his jacket, his gaze not wavering from yours, his lips not saying a word. Yes, he has a scar, but it doesn’t diminish him in the slightest. Yes, his left eye may be glass, but you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already told you. You’re too tangled up in the right. His iris is a brisk greyish blue, not like the ocean, not like the bayou, more like the sky before a hurricane, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. His face is strong, jarring, beautiful in a rare way. His full lips are curling into a grin.

At last, you speak first, an inane observation that feels somehow significant. “You found me.”

“I did.” He nods towards the large lavender sign out by the mouth of the gravel driveway. Hand-painted on it are the words Hummingbird Bakery and a logo that Amir designed, a hummingbird feeding on the frosting swirl of a cupcake as if it’s a flower flush with nectar. “You told me to look for the sign. That helped.”

“What kind of car do you drive? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an Audi Quattro.”

“Audi,” you repeat, like a hopelessly distant place, New York City or Los Angeles or Paris or the moon. “Is that British?”

“German, actually.”

“You’re from a very different world.”

“Yeah, I am.” His eye flicks up and down your body, black satin that curves and clings; his grin widens. “But I could learn to like yours, I think.”

You step back so he can follow you inside. The screen door shuts with a bang. Under the shadows, as the sun sets into the west, he unzips his Marlboro jacket and tosses it onto your living room couch. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt. We’re opposites, you think dazedly, wondering what he will taste like when he kisses you. He grazes his fingertips down the front of your throat, continues to your chest, stills when he hits the satin of your slip.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to,” he murmurs, and you breathe in his smoke and cologne and dauntless, dizzying self-assurance. “But until you say stop, I’m gonna keep going.”

Your heartbeat is drumming beneath his hand, part exhilaration and the rest nerves. You are afraid of disappointing him; you aren’t sure what to expect. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Aemond.”

Aemond. Foreign, like Audi, like Paris. You give him your own in return. He leans in, presses his hips to yours, denim and satin that you can feel his heat through. And you think he’s going to kiss your neck, or bite it, bruise it, mark it, claim it, claim you; but he only ghosts his parted lips from the edge of your jaw to your bare shoulder, inhaling slow and deep, drawing your atoms into his lungs until they tumble down the narrowest corridors and into his capillary beds, into his bloodstream. You moan softly, helplessly, and turn your face to kiss him.

“No,” Aemond growls, teasing you, catching your chin with one hand to hold you still. His other hand glides down the front of your slip and stops between your legs. Through satin the color of a starless midnight, his fingers stroke you roughly, commandingly. Animalistic yearning bolts low to weaken your knees, high to rip a gasp from your throat. “Nothing underneath,” he notes in approval.

Oh, I like him, you think, in equal parts ecstatic and petrified. I REALLY like him.

But are you going to be able to impress him too? Are you going to ruin this?

You whimper, unintentionally and almost inaudibly. Aemond is studying your face; furrows appear in his scarred brow, so faint and fleeting you might have imagined them. Then his hand retreats as he says: “Show me your toys.”

You gape up at him; this is not what you anticipated. “What?”

“I want to see how you make yourself come. You have toys, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admit, though you’ve never used them with anyone else before.

Aemond smirks mischieviously, then commands: “Show me. Right now.”

You lead him to your bedroom and slide open the middle drawer of your dresser. You glance at his reflection in the silvery glass of the mirror; he’s staring, not at your body but at your face, his gaze locked with yours, his mouth open, entranced, hungry. You move to stand against the wall, smiling sheepishly as Aemond shoves aside folded sheets and pillowcases to reveal your collection. It’s nothing too adventurous: five vibrators in different colors, styles, sizes.

“Quite the assortment,” he praises.

“They were gifts from a friend.”

Now Aemond is dubious. “A friend?”

“Don’t be jealous. He doesn’t like women.”

Aemond laughs, warm and boyish like he’s breaking character; and you are alarmed by the wave of fondness for him that crashes through you. It’s something that could pull you under. It’s something you could drown in. He picks up the largest vibrator: long, thick, pink like soft feminine vulnerability, like love. Then he is darkly, deliciously stern again. “On the bed.”

“No.” Not because you’re genuinely protesting. Because you want him to make you.

Aemond grabs you around your waist and drags you towards the bed as you squeal, giggle, fight him halfheartedly. He throws you down onto the wildflower-patterned duvet and climbs between your thighs, parting them as he pushes the hem of your black satin slip up to your waist. Abruptly, you are bare for him, exposed, fiery dusk air cool against your wetness. Aemond is still fully clothed, white shirt and pale blue jeans. He is holding your legs open with his own. You can see the bulge of his cock beneath the denim: at least as large as the vibrator and hard with insistent longing.

I want him, you think as you hear the vibrator click on. I want him, I want him…

Aemond brings the pink silicone tip to your flesh, and instantly you’re ravenous. It shocks you how much more erotic this is when someone else is holding it, when someone else has you entirely at their mercy. You cry out, loud and shameless, euphoric. Your back arches; your fingers twist into the duvet. As he presses the vibrator down more forcefully, Aemond braces his hips against yours, grinding into you through his jeans, taunting you, conquering you.

You fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans. “Please—”

“No,” Aemond snarls, beaming, snatching your hand and pinning it up by your head. His other hand is still circling your clit with the tip of the vibrator. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Aemond, please, I need you—”

“No,” he says, defiant. He makes the rules. He has the power; he’s in control. Suddenly, he pulls the vibrator away. You yelp in dismay. “You know,” Aemond quips cavalierly. “It’s a shame you have such a difficult time finishing when you’re with a man. I bet you’re not even close.”

“I am,” you whine, in agony, in ecstasy.

Aemond pretends to be surprised. “Hm.” He returns the vibrator to your skin, slick, hot, aching in the most wondrous way. You sigh as the pleasure surges through you, as you soar up to the previous plateau and then begin to ascend beyond it. You must have repositioned yourself without noticing; Aemond releases your hand to smack his palm against the inside of your thigh. “Keep your legs apart. I want you wide open for me.”

“I will, I promise.” I’ll do anything you tell me to.

Aemond’s hand ventures lower. Two of his fingers glide inside you and thrust in time with his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses, breaking character again; and something rocks through his shoulders, his spine, a divine temptation that he is battling.

“Aemond, more,” you plead, looking at the massive outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Not yet,” he pants, fucking you with his fingers as the vibrator hums against your clit. “You have to come for me first, baby. You have to earn it.”

And you’re close, you really are, you’re closer than you ever would have imagined you’d be with him tonight, this stranger, this elusive British man, this man from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal that you almost never replied to. Your hair has come undone and is wild around your face; your heart is pounding frantically; your skin is bathed in a sheen of victorious perspiration. When was the last time someone made you feel like this? You can’t recall; the answer might be never. There is a spellbinding, intensifying sensation of warmth, of opening, you’re only seconds from the brink, you’re ready to step off the precipice and into open blue air the same color as his eyes—

Aemond yanks the vibrator away again, grinning toothily down at you.

“No!” You scrabble for him with shaking hands, pulling yourself up as you reach for the vibrator. Aemond pushes you back onto the bed. Despite your protests, you love the feeling of his weight on top of yours; you love the organic symphony he’s built of, muscle and bone and skill and power. His fingers are still pumping in and out of you, keeping you soaked and throbbing, pinning you to the edge of an orgasm without permitting you to succumb to it.

“It’s going to be so good for you like this, baby,” Aemond insists, low and raspy. He’s reading your face, attentive to every detail, drinking up your desperate body and quivering voice. “I swear I’m not torturing you for no reason. Let me show you. Let me take care of you. When it happens, it’s going to blow your fucking mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes, now, please, do it now,” you whimper as you lie beneath him, open, bare, senseless, vanquished.

Aemond drags his tongue over the tip of the vibrator, moaning with lust as he tastes you. Then he at last presses the pink silicone to your clit once more. In your electrified nerves, in your scalding blood, there are sparks and momentum and currents rushing towards the cataclysmic breaking of a rogue wave. “Nice and slow,” Aemond murmurs. “Let it build.”

Instead of the peak, you reach another plateau, so high and so rapturous you can’t stand it, you can’t fathom climbing any farther. It’s becoming so sharp and intense it’s almost painful. Fresh anxiety flashes in your mind like lightning. The momentum begins to dissipate like dewdrops under the late-morning sun. Oh no, I’m going to lose it, I’m going to disappoint him—

Aemond lifts the vibrator off you again; before you have time to collect yourself enough to speak, to apologize, he’s slipped his fingers out of you and carefully guided the vibrator inside, stretching you, filling you, thrusting rhythmically but not too viciously or too deep. He places his thumbprint on the place where the vibrator was just seconds ago and circles quickly, once, twice, again, and then…

You try not to scream, but you can’t help it, can’t stop it; the climax wrenches out of you indescribable pleasure, vanished fears, awe and relief, twisted muscles and gasping breaths, every electrical impulse of every atom, and each time you believe it’s over it rolls a little farther like an endless summer afternoon. When it’s done—truly done—you aren’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly you’re sitting upright on the bed and the vibrator is lying forgotten on top of the duvet and Aemond is laughing, kissing you—sweat and nicotine, smoke and salt—and caressing your face with his hands, saying: “You were such a good girl. You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you exhale unsteadily, smiling. You nod to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn.”

“No,” Aemond says primly.

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. “Not today.”

“But…but…why?”

The curl of his lips is crooked and playful. “To prove I’m not just here to get myself off.” He kisses you again, far more tenderly than any random dom from a personal ad should. “You don’t trust me. But maybe next time you will.”

“How could I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“We’ll have to spend more time together.”

“You seriously aren’t going to fuck me right now? Me? A mostly-naked stranger you met up with exclusively for the purposes of fucking?”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

In truth, no; your pulse is slowing, your thoughts are calm, your lust is satiated, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve sprained no less than four muscles. You feel like the sky after rain: emptied, unburdened, untroubled, at peace. “Not at all.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

You reach out to touch Aemond’s unscarred cheek and he smiles. You try to ghost your fingertips over the left side of his face and he flinches away, leaves the bed, takes the vibrator to the bathroom to scrub it with soap and water. “Can I at least pour you a glass of sweet tea or something?” you call after him. “I feel guilty. I feel like I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.”

“You exceeded all of my expectations,” Aemond says with a strange sort of somberness. “But sweet tea sounds great.”

You take five minutes to clean up and change into real clothes—ratty denim shorts and a red, white, and blue Pepsi t-shirt, chaotic hair, no bra—and then meet Aemond in the kitchen. He’s surveying the large circular table, which is littered with covered cake plates in a hodgepodge of sizes and colors; you found most of them at yard sales and thrift shops. The sun has set and the stars have risen; the kitchen is illuminated by yellow-hued florescent light. Night air flows in through the screens of the open windows. The boombox is currently playing Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now.

“What’s the deal with that?” Aemond asks about the cluttered kitchen table.

“They’re the baked goods. For my bakery.”

“Right,” he says, remembering, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The sign out front.”

“Would you like anything? Today we had butterscotch chiffon cake, coconut custard cake, blackberry dark chocolate cupcakes, pecan pie, red velvet brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, lavender black tea cookies, chocolate meringue pie, butter pecan muffins…”

“How about those?” He points.

“Oh! Those are banana bread cupcakes. One of my favorites.”

“Banana bread…cupcakes?”

“Here.” You plop one on a plate for Aemond, then go to the refrigerator to pour two tall glasses of sweet tea. “A lot of people put chocolate chips in their banana bread, but I feel like any chocolate really eclipses the banana flavor. It’s so subtle, you know? So what I do instead is cinnamon, honey, cream cheese frosting, and a tiny bit of sea salt mixed into the batter. If you get the ratio just right, there’s this really great blend of saltiness and sweetness, and the banana is still the star of the show. Of course I’ve fucked up plenty of times too and almost given myself dangerously high blood pressure. If I ruin a batch, I’m the one who has to eat it. We can’t let anything go to waste. Our profit margin is thinner than a crescent moon on the best months.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He’s taken a bite and is now gawking at the banana bread cupcake. “You made this?” He gestures to the table. “You made all of this?”

“My best friend Amir runs the business with me, but most of the recipes are mine. My mom used to bake all the time when I was little. Now she has rheumatoid arthritis and has given it up, more or less, but that’s where I learned a lot of what I know. And I try to come up with new ideas each week to add to the rotation.”

“This is exceptional,” Aemond says. His mouth is full of the rest of the cupcake. He washes it down with a few gulps of sweet tea; ice cubes jangle in the misty glass. “This is, like, insanely good. Can I have another one…?” He’s already lifting the cover off the cake plate.

You chuckle. “Yeah, seriously, have as many as you like.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“The cupcakes are $1, but you don’t have to pay me. You get the unrequited orgasm discount.”

“Just $1 each.” Aemond is incredulous. You aren’t sure what that’s about. He sets the second cupcake down on the table, tugs a black leather wallet out of his jeans pocket, and gives you a $10 bill.

“Aemond, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Take the money. Stop talking about it.”

You smirk up at him. “Is that an order, sir?”

He grabs your jaw with one forceful hand, kisses you roughly, bites your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He tastes like cinnamon, honey, sugar, sex. “Yes,” he says, grinning wickedly. Then his hands drop to unbutton your shorts. The idea of stopping Aemond doesn’t even cross your mind; your desire for him—him specifically—is back, flaring red and primeval and irresistible. “I want you on top of that counter—”

Outside there are footsteps bounding up the front porch, loud on the creaking boards. You tear away from Aemond and hurry to re-button your shorts. What? Already??

You know exactly who it must be.

Well, now I’m definitely never going to see Aemond again.

He’s terrified, he’s wondering whether he should try to jump out of a window. But really, he’s already been spotted; his Audi Quattro is still waiting for him in the gravel driveway. “Please don’t tell me that’s your homicidal armed boyfriend or something.”

“No,” you say. “It’s my daughter.”

“Wait, your…?!”

The door swings open; you hardly ever lock it. Cadi trots in just as you are flipping over the copy of the Bayou Journal on the kitchen counter so Aemond’s personal ad is no longer visible. Instead, what now faces up—dotted with flour, powdered sugar, cinnamon, grease stains of butter—is a column about the rigs opened in Lake Verret. Just what this town needs, you think distractedly. An environmental disaster.

“Mom, whose radical car is that—?” Then Cadi spies Aemond and blinks at him a few times. She is ten years old but thinks she’s your age, short hair, short temper, denim overalls and a t-shirt underneath patterned with multicolored horses.

“This is Aemond,” you explain. He waves awkwardly and then resumes nibbling on his second banana bread cupcake, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s a friend.”

“But you don’t have any friends,” Cadi replies.

“Watch it, Child Of The Corn. I have friends.”

“You have like one friend.”

“What happened to your sleepover with Mawmaw? I thought you were excited to trick her into watching Hellraiser.”

“Blockbuster didn’t have it. Then Great Aunt Ethel called and said she broke her hip. Mawmaw dropped me off here on her way to the hospital.”

“And she didn’t even think to check with me first, huh?”

“As if you’d have anything better to do.” Cadi races to the refrigerator—careening around a shellshocked Aemond—and heaves open the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think we have some Swanson’s meals left. Oh, and spaghetti.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Who made it?”

“You’re in luck! Not me. Amir.”

“Yay!” Cadi trills, then drags out the pan and begins spooning mounds of spaghetti onto a plate. Aemond looks to you, intrigued.

You say: “I bake, I don’t cook.”

“She really doesn’t,” Cadi concurs.

“Completely different skillset.”

Cadi places a few paper towels over the heaping plate so sauce doesn’t splatter all over the microwave and then sets it to three minutes. As she waits to eat, she wanders over to where the Bayou Journal is lying on the counter and scans the page: Viserys Targaryen, three state-of-the-art oil rigs, Lake Verret, an additional 50 employees hired, Jade Dragon Energy. “Those bastards are going to get their way, I guess.”

You sigh. “Yup.”

Aemond is alarmed. He polishes off the last of his cupcake, frowning as he licks frosting from his lips. “You don’t approve?”

“They’ll blow up the whole town,” Cadi says matter-of-factly.

You smile wanly at Aemond as you sip your sweet tea. “You work for Jade Dragon, right?”

He stares back at you—stunned, perhaps even fearful, a deer flooded with headlights—but doesn’t speak.

“It’s alright. I figured you must. Some smart British guy way out here in Cajun Country? It’s gotta be for a job. Don’t worry. We won’t shoot and skin you or anything. It’s not your fault. You’re just collecting a paycheck, it’s not like you’re running the company.”

“Right.” Aemond grabs a third cupcake and gnaws at it. After a moment he adds: “I have a degree in petroleum engineering. I just moved to Napoleonville last week.”

“I knew it,” you say.

“Boo!” Cadi heckles jokingly. The microwave beeps, then she disappears into her bedroom with her plate of spaghetti. You hear Cadi turn on her little television and flip through the channels until she finds Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond watches her closed door for a few seconds—still processing, you assume—and then turns back to you.

“Her name’s Katie?”

“Cadi. C-a-d-i. It’s short for Arcadia.”

He is impressed. “Greece?”

You titter nervously. You don’t know what he means. “It’s a town up by Shreveport, it’s where Bonnie and Clyde were arrested or killed or something. I’m not sure. Her father picked it.”

“You didn’t have an opinion?”

“Um, I wasn’t really…uh…conscious for a few days after she was born. By the time I was up and around again, he’d already filled out the birth certificate.”

What is that you see flicker across his face like the transient surge of a lightning bug? Curiosity? Apprehension? “I see. And her father is…” Aemond raises a blonde eyebrow, the one his scar cuts through. “On an aircraft carrier somewhere?”

You laugh. “He’s not deployed. We’re divorced, Willis lives about fifteen minutes down the road. It’s amicable.”

“So I don’t need to worry about him showing up on your front porch to murder me with a 2x4 full of nails.”

“No. Although he is the town sheriff.”

Aemond smirks. Is this a challenge or an inconvenience? “Why’d you two split up?”

You shrug, glancing at Cadi’s bedroom door. She is quite aggressive with her television volume; you’re confident she won’t be able to listen in if you keep your voice low. “It’s not that interesting a story.”

“I’m extremely interested.” And he sincerely appears to be, head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on you (though you know the left one sees nothing), thoughts whirling like storm winds.

“Well…we only ever got married because of…” You gesture towards Cadi’s room. Aemond nods, following along. “And I was too young and I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man, I didn’t even know I had the right to set standards to measure a husband by. Willis wasn’t terrible. He didn’t hit me. He just wasn’t really who I wanted.” You chew at your lower lip, peering down at the kitchen counter, drawing circles in the sparse flour dust. “He never even proposed to me. Not properly, I mean. I told him I was pregnant and he said: Well, guess we oughta get married, huh sugar? and then drove me to the Kmart up in Gonzales to pick out a ring.”

“Classy,” Aemond mutters.

“I had to buy it myself, actually. Willis didn’t have enough cash on him. He paid me back later, but still. It wasn’t about the ring. I don’t need gold and diamonds. But I need someone who really sees me and understands me and chooses me, you know? I’ve never felt chosen. And I decided I didn’t want to settle for that. If I ever get married again, I want the whole goddamn thing. The real thing. I want the candles and the flowers and a boombox blasting Heaven Is A Place On Earth. And if that’s not in the cards, I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

“And you’ll make do with occasional visits from your friendly neighborhood dom.”

You grin up at Aemond. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You really hate Jade Dragon?”

“Companies like that…they just use us. Our land, our labor. And then when they decimate the place they pack up and disappear overnight, no pensions, no retirement, no unemployment, no meaningful cleanup, just Thanks for the millions! Bye! and we’re left to live in their filth.”

“That’s a rather cynical perspective,” Aemond says.

“It’s a realistic perspective,” you counter. “In 1965, there was a pipeline explosion in Natchitoches, in ‘79 there was an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, in ‘80 a Texaco rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Lake Peigneur and destroyed the whole ecosystem. Two weeks ago there was a refinery explosion an hour east of here in Norco. 4,500 people had to be evacuated from their homes. So no, the jobs sound nice, but in my humble estimation they’re not worth dying for.”

Aemond considers you, a look that is not patronizing or combative but not convinced either. And there’s something else too: a caginess, a nervousness.

“And these Jade Dragon people, the Targaryens? They have a history,” you continue. “I read about it in the Bayou Journal. Last year they had an oil spill at an offshore rig near Ketchikan, Alaska. They poured hundreds of thousands of barrels of poison into the ocean and killed a bunch of dolphins and whales and everything. Fishermen went bankrupt, people committed suicide.”

“Mistakes happen.” Aemond places his empty sweet tea glass in the sink.

“But they didn’t make it right. Their lawyers blamed a defective piece of equipment and kicked liability back to the manufacturer. They’ll be battling it out in court for the next decade. And meanwhile, the people of Ketchikan get nothing but misery. I don’t want Napoleonville to end up like that.”

Aemond gazes out the kitchen window and into the cicada-rattling night, faraway, pensive.

“But seriously,” you say, more casually now. “I get that it’s not your fault, Aemond. I don’t hate you or anything. You’re working for a living like anyone else. You can only do so much.”

He looks back to you and smiles vaguely. “I just go where they tell me to.”

“And that’s why you like to be in control when you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Aemond says; and on his face—strong, scarred, perfect—you can see that he is reminiscing, that he is planning what he wants to do to you next. But he can’t do any of it. Not here, not now.

“I’m sorry about…you know. The kid thing. I really didn’t think she’d be home tonight. I would never subject her to something like that, walking in to find a strange guy in the house. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m sure you think I’m lying, but I’m not. I’ve had two boyfriends since I got divorced seven years ago, and both times it didn’t last long and Cadi never met them. And it wasn’t…like it is with you. The dynamic, I mean. The…control thing. They were just normal dudes.”

“And they couldn’t satisfy you,” Aemond says, taunting, proud, setting your blood on fire.

“No. They couldn’t. Not even close.”

You both stand silently in the kitchen amidst a cascade of inconsequential noise: Eurythmics from the little pink boombox, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from Cadi’s room, cicadas and bullfrogs and the long-eared owl from the world outside that is primordial and feral and green. For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel not like the piecemeal potential of a desirable woman but whole. Aemond’s right eye traces every curve and edge of you in a way that makes you think: Maybe I will see him again after all.

“Come on,” you say, turning towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when he steps onto the creaking porch—pulling on his Marlboro jacket, watching lightning bugs bloom like daisies in the yard—Aemond seems to be stalling. “This is lopsided,” he says, tapping the wooden boards with his Adidas sneakers.

“I know. The whole foundation is, it’s sinking. We’ll have to move eventually. But we’ve been in this place since Cadi was five, it has a lot of memories. She calls it the Fall-Down House.”

“Cute,” Aemond says, but he’s pondering something. “Do you own it?”

“Oh no, God no. We rent.”

“Are you saving for a down payment to put on a new house?”

This is a rude question. “A little,” you reply curtly. Not enough. You need to make money to save money.

“Okay.” Aemond senses your discomfort. He’s good at that; it’s an advantageous skill for a dom to possess, knowing when he’s approaching a limit long before you have to shut him down. He descends the porch steps. “I’ll be back for more of those cupcakes—” There is a shrill, alien hissing from out by the tree line. Aemond shouts and scrambles back onto the porch, throwing an arm in front of you to shield you from his enigmatic nocturnal adversary. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just a gator,” you reassure him, amused.

“A what?”

“An alligator.” You show him the shadow that lurks beneath a young oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “She’s over there. Just stay on the gravel once you get off the porch.”

Aemond is puzzled. How does anyone live in this hellscape? his face says. “How do you know it’s a female?”

“She’s not too big, and she doesn’t bellow. But she sure loves to hiss.”

“I think alligators should have gone extinct with the rest of the dinosaurs.”

“Well, there’s a secret to dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

You smile, skating your fingers into the sleeve of Aemond’s Marlboro jacket and up his forearm until you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “If she gets mean, you just have to bite back.”

Aemond chuckles, turns your face towards his, kisses the apple your cheek…and then, for only a moment, his teeth close around the sensitive flesh there leaving a whirlpool of pulsing, forbidden heat. He whispers through your hair: “See you soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” he says, severely now. It’s a commandment, it’s a need. “I absolutely will.”

Aemond leaves you, strides across the gravel driveway without glancing back, ducks into his car, lights a cigarette; you can see the rust-colored glow through the windshield as he takes a drag. You wait in a flurry of moths under the dim florescent bulb of the front porch until his Audi Quattro veers onto Route 401 and disappears.

I hope he meant it, you think as a lightning bug lands on your knuckles and illuminates there like the gemstone of a ring. I hope I’ll see him again.

Then you shake away the insect and go inside to see if Cadi wants to help you clean up the kitchen and get a brown sugar pie baked for tomorrow. As compensation, you’ll offer her the $10 bill Aemond gave you for the cupcakes.

[the-jewel-catalogue]

King Charles will host a state visit to the UK by the Amir of Qatar, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, and Sheikha Jawaher bint Hamad bin Suhaim Al Thani, from December 3 to 4.

Can we expect Queen Camilla to wear the famous Qatar Pearls set, which was given to Queen Elizabeth II during an official visit to Qatar in 1979?

[valy-gc]

Fanfictions help - family names

I had fun for a friend's fanfic, finding name of all family members of the twst cast.

The I though "why not sharing it so others could use it?

So here is my list, including the family members we already knows

-Warning, this include my headcanon of Trein being Trey's grandfather as well as one of my OCs as Vil's "mother"-

Riddle Rosehearts

Mother: Karen Roseheart

Father: Charles Roseheart

Ace Trappola

Mother: Lila Trappola

Father: Rafael Trappola

Brother: Theo Trappola

Deuce Spade

Mother: Dila Spade

Trey Clover

Mother: Iris Clover (born Trein)

Father: Asher Clover

Siblings: Finn Clover, Clara Clover, Lonie Clover, Ezus Clover

Grandfather: Mozus Trein

Cater Diamond

Mother: Adeline Diamond

Father: Calvin Diamond

Sisters: Denise Diamond, Tessa Diamond, Lily Diamond, Oriane Diamond, Hermione Diamond

Jade & Floyd Leech

Mother: Ann Leech

Father: Vincent Leech

Grandmother : Ophelia Leech

Azul Ashengrotto

Mother: Paula Ashengrotto

Step-Father: Kia Ashengrotto

Grandmother: Sapphire Ashengrotto

Leona Kingscholar

Mother: Sahara Kingscholar

Father: Noble Kingscholar

Brother: Farena Kingscholar

Sister-in-law : Nora Kingscholar (born Felidae)

Nephew : Cheka Kingscholar

Ruggie Bucchi

Grandmother: Vovó Bucchi

Jack Howl

Mother: Luna Howl

Father: Harlan Howl

Little Siblings: Nikko Howl, Bella Howl, Hope Howl

Vil Schoenheit

Mother: Leedon Quincey (my OC, took a gender swap potion)

Father: Eric Venue (real name : Orion Schoenheit)

Rook Hunt

Mother: Elodie Hunt

Father: Félix Hunt

Siblings: Juliette Hunt, Emilien Hunt, Bastien Hunt

Epel Felmier

Grandmother: Marja Felmier

Mother: Amara Felmier

Father: Darin Felmier

Kalim Al-Asim

Mother: Zahra Al-Asim

Father: Rashid Al-Asim

Siblings: Halima Al-Asim, Amir Al-Asim, Layla Al-Asim, Nabil Al-Asim, Samira Al-Asim, Farid Al-Asim, Amina Al-Asim, Kareem Al-Asim, Soraya Al-Asim, Ranya Al-Asim, Zayd Al-Asim, Fatima Al-Asim, Omar Al-Asim, Tariq Al-Asim, Hana Al-Asim, Sami Al-Asim, Yasmin Al-Asim, Rami Al-Asim, Lina Al-Asim, Khalid Al-Asim, Salma Al-Asim

Jamil Viper

Mother: Zara Viper

Father: Faris Viper

Sister: Najma Viper

Idia Shroud

Mother: Ariel Shroud

Father: Nero Shroud

Brother: Ortho Shroud

Malleus Draconia

Grandmother: Maleficia Draconia

Lilia Vanrouge

Son: Silver

Silver

Father: Lilia Vanrouge

Sebek Zigvolt

Father: Henry Zigvolt

Mother: Crystal Zigvolt

Siblings: Thalia Zigvolt, Drake Zigvolt

Grandfather: Baul Zigvolt

Grandmother: Elsa Zigvolt

[riveramorylunar]

𝔏𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔞 𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔬 𝔒𝔣 𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡

Series Masterlist, (Chapter 21)

Pairings: Leonora Lesso x Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Blood & Angry Lesso

Pet Names/Nicknames: Little Beasty & Lessy

Word Count: 1,804

Lesso slightly pulled away and Y/N looked up at her with tear stained cheeks. Lesso whipped the tears off Y/N's cheeks before leaning down. Their lips were almost touching when they heard someone shout. Lesso immediately turned around and glared at Amir. "Lesso dear there y-" Amir was cut off when he saw Y/N standing behind Lesso smirking. Y/N stuck her tongue out before her eyes started glowing blue. "What the hell are you doing with this Ever" he shouted and Lesso's jaw clenched tightly. "I know what you did Mr. Charles and there will be consequences for your actions" Lesso said and before Amir could run Soren appeared behind him while smiling wickedly. "Where do you think you're going" Soren said as he tilted his head back before smirking. Amir looked around before shoving Soren out of the way. He ran back into the good castle and Soren was about to follow but Lesso stopped him. "Don't someone will find him sooner or later" Lesso said knowing full well who would find him.

Lesso turned back around and placed a hand on top of Y/N's head causing her to look up. Y/N opened her mouth but Lesso put a finger up to her mouth. "I know what you're gonna ask but come on let's go somewhere more private" she said and Y/N smiled before following Lesso. They ended up in the museum and Lesso sat down on one of the chairs. "You decorated this place up" Lesso said as she held her hand out for Y/N to take. "Yeah we wanted it to look more special" Y/N said as she took Lesso's hand. "Well I love it, it gives it more homey vibes" Lesso said as she pulled Y/N towards her. "And for the question I know you're gonna ask true love always finds a way to bring people back together, and every time I looked at you I felt a pull at my chest telling me that you were my true love instead of that asshole" Lesso said and Y/N straddled Lesso's lap. "What did he do to you that made you forget me" Y/N asked as Lesso looked up at her. "Love potion I tried to fight it off but I couldn't" she said and Y/N cupped Lesso's face into her hands. "No amount of love potions will stop me from chasing after my true love" she said before leaning up and locking her lips with Y/N's. Y/N immediately kissed back and Lesso wrapped her arms around Y/N pulling her closer.

"Well damn this is hot to watch" Y/N got off of Lesso's lap when she heard Flounders voice. Y/N looked over to see her friends in the doorway smirking. "Well I see you're still annoying" Lesso shot back causing Flounder to flush. "Is anyone there" they all went quiet when they heard Evil Y/N's voice. Y/N walked over to the mirror along with Lesso. "Yeah we're here" Y/N said and Evil Y/N smiled before looking at Lesso. "I see you got her back I'm glad" Evil Y/N said as someone appeared beside her. "Yeah without your help" Y/N said as she folded her arm. "Like I said I couldn't help you, you had to do it yourself" Evil Y/N said and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Glad you're back Lesso" Good Lesso said and Y/N's friends looked at each other in shock. "Fuck me is that Lesso in white and gold" Althea said and everyone laughed as Good Lesso smirked. "Yes it is I'm the Dean of good over here" Good Lesso said as she smirked while looking at Lesso who scrunched her face up before looking away. "Never imagined I'd see a Good Lesso" Althea said causing Good Lesso to chuckle. "Well now you have little Beasty" Good Lesso joked and Althea pouted. "Guess you're still the same but just look different" Althea huffed out causing the two Lesso's to glare at her. "We don't act the same" they both shouted causing Y/N and Evil Y/N to look at each other. "That's totally bullshit" Evil Y/N said causing Y/N to laugh before agreeing. The two Lesso's glared at their Y/N's who just smirked.

Lesso was hugging Y/N from behind when she saw a fork in Y/N's hair. "Is this your mother's fork but gold" Lesso asked as she touched the fork. "Yeah it is I had someone turn it into gold" Y/N said causing Lesso to hum. Lesso buried her head in Y/N's neck before kissing it. "Why can't I tear him to shreds" Althea whined out and Lesso looked up. "Because you can't kill anyone until graduation and plus he's my kill you just need to find him and bring him to me" Lesso said and Althea smirked. "Can I at least claw him" Althea asked and Lesso raised an eyebrow. "Nope" Lesso said causing Althea to pout. "How about Skadi is she aloud to wound him" Althea said and Skadi looked at Althea. "No none of you are" Lesso said as she unwrapped her arms from around Y/N. "I might know where he is" Evil Y/N said and they all looked at her. "Tell us" Althea growled out and Evil Y/N raised an eyebrow. "There's a door behind a white curtain that's all I'm saying" Evil Y/N said and Lesso looked at Althea. Althea smirked before running off.

Althea walked through the halls searching for the curtain until she turned the corner and smirked. She walked over to the white curtain before ripping it off the wall to see a door. "Perfect" she said right before the door opened. She looked down at Amir and he jumped back about to slam the door shut. Althea shoved the door open and grabbed Amir. "Let me go you beast" he shouted and Althea licked her lips. "Sorry but no can do the Dean of Evil requests your presence" Althea said before laughing at the joke she just made. Althea saw movement before grabbing Amir's arm in her huge paw. "Don't even think about it" Althea growled out as she squeezed his hand causing the vile to drop to the ground and shatter. She looked down at the green liquid before looking back up at Amir. "I would bite your head off but I'm not allowed to since I can't kill anyone until after graduation Lesso's words" she said as she started walking back towards the museum dragging Amir behind her.

She threw him onto the floor and smiled as everyone jumped before looking at her. "He tried to use a Potion on me" Althea said as she barked her teeth at Amir who gulped. "Trying to use a Potion on one of your students is against the rules Mr. Charles" Lesso said and Amir stood up before turning around to see Lesso and Y/N standing beside each other. Y/N waved as she smirked before flipped him off. He stood up and dusted him off before his leg was impaled by an icicle causing him to scream out. Everyone turned to Skadi and she just smiled. "I told you not to hurt him" Lesso growled out and Skadi just rolled her eyes. "I don't have to listen to what you say you're not my Dean" Skadi said and everyone stepped back as Lesso walked up to Skadi. Y/N rushed up and stood in front of Lesso making her stop and look down. "Y/N" Lesso said sternly and Y/N just looked up at her.

"Lesso" Y/N said back and Lesso huffed before walking over to Amir. She kicked the back of Amir's knees and he fell to the ground. "Osiris dear bring me that dagger behind you" Lesso said and Osiris turned around and took the dagger out of its case. He walked over and placed it in Lesso's opened hand.

"You all need to leave" Lesso said and Y/N looked at her friends as they looked back at her. "No we're staying I would like to watch the show" Sparky said and Lesso snapped her headed towards all of them before glaring at them. "Lessy we're not leaving" Y/N said and Lesso looked at Y/N before sighing. "Fine" Lesso said before she walked around Amir. She leaned down and grabbed hold of Amir's jaw before digging her nails into his cheeks. "You wish that was you don't you" Snowbell whispered into Y/N's ear. "N-no" Y/N stuttered out as she looked away blushing. As she was about to look over Skadi grabbed her face. "I wouldn't look right now" she said causing Y/N to frown. "Wh-" she was cut off when she heard Amir scream. "Lots of blood" Leviathan said and Y/N's eyes widened in shock. Lesso looked down at Amir who was glaring up at her. Lesso smiled before pulling out the knife from his shoulder causing him to yelp out in pain."I know your secret" Amir said and Lesso frowned before she stabbed Amir right in the middle of his eyes. Everyone stared in shock at what just happened as Amir fell to the ground. "I thought you said no killing until after graduation" Althea huffed out and Lesso looked over. "For you but I'm free to kill since I'm not a student" Lesso said before her eyes moved to Y/N who was facing away. Lesso walked over before wrapping her arms around Y/N from behind. She kissed Y/N on the cheek causing Y/N to smile. Y/N turned around and looked up at Lesso.

"What was Amir talking about when he said he knew your secret" Y/N asked and Lesso sighed before pulling Y/N towards the chair and sitting down. "We'll leave you guys be" Skadi said before they all left. "My full name is Leonora Lesso and I'm from Neverland" Lesso said and Y/N just stared at her in shock. "WHAT" Y/N shouted and Lesso nodded. "I know it's kinda hard to believe but it's true" Lesso said as she gripped Y/N's hands. "Are you secretly a pirate" Y/N asked causing the Dean to bark out a laugh. "If I said yes would you be scared" Lesso said as she raised her eyebrow. "God no pirates are hot" Y/N said before smirking causing Lesso to laugh. "Are you though" Y/N asked and Lesso smirked. "Guess you'll never know" she said causing Y/N to frown. She leaned in and pecked the frown away before pulling Y/N down onto her lap.

[world-of-wales]

✦ UPCOMING ENGAGEMENTS

King Charles is set to the host the white tie and tiara reception for diplomats at Buckingham Palace tonight alongside Queen Camilla and The Prince of Wales.

The event is normally held on the first Tuesday in December but has been brought forward as it would have clashed with a State Visit of the Amir of Qatar this year.

The Princess of Wales is not expected to join them as per the Mail.

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Criminal Case Inkember 2024

Part 2 : Day 11 to 17

After Inktober 2024, let's get to Criminal Case Inkember, held by @inkembercriminalcase on Instagram ! This time, we have the choice between 2 characters for each Prompt, which I find amazing because this could develop your creativity even more ! You can even do it with both characters, or even others !

Here is the Prompt List :

RULES ! (I gave it to myself to add more "punch" and "difficulty", just like I did with Inktober, but less rules because it is already centralized into one Fandom) :

No duplicates of characters ! If a character is drawn in a Prompt, I cannot draw this character ever again, even if it's somewhat fitting for the theme (considering the amount of characters in these games, it should not be difficult).

"15" Classic Drawings, just like Inktober.

15 Minimalist Drawings, just like Inktober as well.

Switching between Classic and Minimalist : For example, if Day 1 is Minimalist, Day 2 will be Classic, and so on.

Note : 2 days of this Inkember will unfortunately be scrapped because of the Eternals Posters Series. Therefore Day 6 and 20 will be scrapped...Unfortunately...(Which also means that 2 Classic Drawings will be scrapped, and the order was adapted to Eternals to somehow fit with it).

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

Day 11 : Benjamin / Elliot : Project

Character Selected : Benjamin Scott

Style : Minimalist (6/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 17 Minutes

-------

Day 12 : Baxter / Christy : Anger

Character Selected : Both

Style : Classic ("6"/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 1 Hour and 15 Minutes

-------

Day 13 : Maddie / Diego : Memory

Character Selected : Both

Style : Minimalist (7/15)

Added Characters : Charles Dupont

Time Taken : 5 Minutes

-------

Day 14 : Fiona / Finley : Weapon

Character Selected : Fiona Flanagan

Style : Classic ("7"/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 57 Minutes

-------

Day 15 : Giulietta / Seamus : Spring

Character Selected : Both

Style : Minimalist (8/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 25 Minutes

-------

Day 16 : Vinnie / Gladys : Taking A Break

Character Selected : Gladys Perrin

Style : Classic ("8"/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 1 Hour and 20 Minutes

-------

Day 17 : Gloria / Amir : Birthday

Character Selected : Gloria Hayes

Style : Minimalist (9/15)

Added Characters : None

Time Taken : 37 Minutes

[issy5316]

goodbye

this is a callout post to @hinatasweetgrape

i know you'll be reading this, so i'll let my friends do the talking

oh, and they've seen your other account, @hinataNSFW

season 1:

jones: oh god, you are horrible! simping for a child as well?! and calling out other people's art?! at least they make it look decent and not use AI!

nathan: this is a faith worse than death, to ridicule people who work hard! and you can't even use their correct pronouns at all!

grace: sexualizing a child is horrible! leave julian out of your disgusting fantasies!

ramirez: horrible, just horrible! i know my art isn't always the best, but at least i put in effort, and you don't even get the skintones right for many of them! or make the whiter!

alex: i'm sorry you think your art is good! looking at it is horrifying! and your comments are so innapropriate!

cathy: i'm a hacker, if i had the chance, i would hack your account and make it disappear!

king: i may not understand technology that well, but you are doing a horrifying thing!

season 2:

andrea: what you are doing is so horrible, you think other art is shitty, but it's your art that's horrible, you haven't even drawn it at all! it's AI!

amy: the art is......horrible, and your other posts are just.......just horrible!

russell:'shaking'you are a psychopath......

frank: ya! i know i wasn't the best person and i wasn't best buddies with russell, but i would never sexually assault him! what if my daughters saw your posts and think i'm a horrible person?! and you would never capture karen's true beauty!

hannah: i wish i could delete your posts off my brain.

roxie: all the alcohol in the world can't make me forget what i just saw.

yann: my children could see those posts! are you ashamed of yourself at all?! i am horrified by those posts!

karen:........i am disgusted, i know me and frank don't always see eye to eye, but he would never assault someone!

season 3:

ripley:.........'vanishes'

ingrid: i'm almost tempted to turn back to my ice cold self just by looking at those posts.

jack: what the fuck did i just look at?!

lars: those posts are just so weird........even when i got high, i didn't see stuff like that!

angela: i hope you are ashamed of yourself for what you have done.

carmen: i am not white at all! you are a horrible sorry excuse of a wannabe artist!

marina: you need all the therapy of the world, and i don't think it will even help you.

jonah: i'm going to lock my weapons up before anyone finds them after seeing your art.

elliot: your art is horrible, but i can't see your other account since i'm 17, but after everything i heard, i'm glad i'm not 18.

michelle:........prepare to get sued.

season 4:

arthur: i am horrified with what the future generation is coming to! i am so disgusted right now!

richard: this self experiment of what i saw is making me feel things i don't like at all.

viola: even bad written plays are better than what i saw and read!

maddie: i don't want to solve this case since it's horrifying!

charles:........i thought the inventions would be better, i guess i was wrong.......

isaac: at least i'm dead by the time this is created.

evie: this is why i stay with books......

rose: i don't know what to do about this.......this is horrifying.

diego: at least i make my art look decent, unlike this wannabe art i'm looking at!

season 5:

diane: this is the most horrifying thing i've ever seen, and i've been working in the law for a while!

gloria: i'm so glad my son isn't going to be looking at this stuff you created.

martine:'curses in french'

rita: i think i'm going to give myself amnesia.

rupert: amir, is the new generation always like this?

amir: no, no it's not.

gabriel: people are insane if they think insulting good art work is good.......

season 6:

christopher: what am i looking at right now?

zara: nightare fuel is what i'm looking at.

janis: my grandchildren have better manners than you.

theo: i'm getting my lawyers.

kai: and i'm fixing the time machine to prevent us from looking at this.

orlando: you have horrible taste in words!

penelope:.......maybe i should stop writing fanfiction for awhile.

season 7:

jacob: you must be working with the demons to have your head so far up your ass.

gwen: you don't put effort at all or think, i hope you realize you are wrong........but i don't have hope for you.

luke: now i wish i was old enough to drink to forget what i just saw.

ben: i'm disappointed that our fandom is becoming corrupted because of people like you, i know our games aren't the best, but we deserve some respect!

priya: i wish i was in my werewolf form so i won't remember this.

hope: i don't have hope for your future in this fandom.

felix: i'm going to look for an elixar to forget about this.

season 8:

JP: gauthier, please buy some bleach for all of us.

gauthier: yes papa, i want to forget about this.

hugo:......i think i'll consider changing my behavior for once in my life.

carrie: i did not come to paris to witness this!

nadia: disgusting.......writing noncon, sexualizing a minor! i know i call dead peopel pretty, but at least i ask for consent and make sure they are an adult! i hope you will realize your mistakes one day!

enzo: i think i might change my behavior as well.......like hugo said.

emile:'shaking'i am getting away from the internet is you are here to make it unsafe!

lea: i agree with emile!

and that's all

hinata

i know you will say something about this, and i will be honest with you

you put in no effort at all, you made fun of other people's art, this fandom already has enough problems in it

so us a favor and think before you act, this fandom has drama, like the others, but that doens't mean you need to create it, we just want to have fun and you aren't doing us a favor by creating stuff like this, and insulting other people's work

you can block me, becausee guess what?

i don't give a flying fuck about your opinion

[ninadove]

fav french media? (films, books, shows, games etc)

OH I LOVE THIS QUESTION THANK YOU SO MUCH 💖

I’m sure I’ll forget a lot of things and smack my own forehead in shame afterwards, but this is what comes to mind right away:

Literature:

Anything ever written by Victor Hugo is a masterpiece. This dude was a terrible human being, but he sure knew how to write, and he contributed to major changes in the social conscience of his contemporaries on many important topics (including but not limited to the death penalty and child labour). To give you a taste, here is my favourite poem ever, which he wrote, because of course he did.

My favourite piece of literature across all categories, though, is and forever will be Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand — the story of a man who convinced himself his unusually long nose makes him monstruous. The concept sounds so silly, I know, but this play is a masterpiece and a wonderful love letter to the French language.

Which brings me to my favourite comic series: De Cape et de Crocs by Alain Ayroles and Jean-Luc Masbou! Basically a twelve-volume-long fix-it fic, disguised as a tribute to French literature. Also, a beautiful bromance.

Visual arts:

Basically everyone in France can quote at least one line from Kaamelott, a comedic (?) series derived from the Arthurian legend. It is so well researched and hilarious — until it isn’t.

I’m sure there’s like, a very obvious movie choice that will come back to me in a minute, but I was raised on Disney and Scooby-Doo, so these are clogging my brain at the moment. Just give it time.

When I was very young, I would watch TV at my grandparents’ and enjoy Les Hydronautes, an animated series about an extraterrestrial explorer documenting the Earth’s marine wildlife in an effort to learn how to better protect her own planet (Aka There Are Many Benefits To Being A Marine Biologist: The Series), as well as C’est pas sorcier, a series of very fun documentaries on a plethora of subjects, from lavender farming to volcanic eruptions.

Obviously, Miraculous gets a place on the list too! 🐞🐈‍⬛

EDIT BECAUSE I FORGOT: Fantomette the animated series! This show is single-handedly responsible for my taste for smart women with amazing hair who ride motorbikes and kick ass. It even had Egytpology as a key part of the plot.

Music:

For me Formidable by Charles Aznavour is a classic, a very cute song, and a great place to start if you want to learn French!

A few other favourites include Fanny Ardant et moi by Vincent Delerm, Le Dîner by Bénabar (extremely funny to listen to while thinking about the Diamonds’ Dance) and J’ai cherché by Amir (This one is… Borderline when it comes to grammar, but cute enough that I grin and bear it. Also, it got us an honourable ranking at the Eurovision a while back, which is rare enough to be celebrated).

ALSO. I complain too much about bad translations and poor writing (see previous bullet point) not to show you kids how it’s done with Je vole from Aladdin (a genius play on words which delves into the two significations of the verb “voler”: to fly or to steal).

Video games:

Long ago, before I discovered the wonderful world of Nintendo, I would wait patiently every month for the new issue of Toboclic. This game had everything: cute animal mascots, stories, mini-games, arts-and-crafts suggestions, catchy songs, interactive documentaries… I’m sure my parents still have the CDs somewhere, but they probably don’t run anymore, which is a shame. I miss my friends.

Thank you so much for the ask, this was so fun to write!

@dragongutsixofficial please do this too so we can compare notes! 👀💖