#I’ve always been a little behind in life as far as other people my age so I’m not terribly torn up about it

[raccooncityriots]

At a confusing crossroads of “I really want to start looking for a house and start putting down a foundation, but I don’t want to live in this town” and “I have a decent job here that gives me a lot of benefits and I’d be foolish to leave right now”

[missmatchablossom]

summary: a 2am confession between you and your childhood best friend, gojo satoru

a.n.: cursing, a slightly steamy/suggestive kiss scene, little angsty but mostly fluff. This idea randomly popped into my head last night so I hope you enjoy :)

~

“Do you think we’ll work out?” he asked softly, tentatively. Completely uncharacteristic for the confident, forthright person people knew Satoru Gojo to be. 

Your best friend had always been larger than life, so focused on becoming the incredibly powerful sorcerer he is today that he never nurtured any of the lingering hope you kept around that he’d return your feelings. But Gojo was your sun, your moon, your stars - you were content to share the same sky as him. 

But something was changing between the two of you. You saw it in the goodbye hugs that started to last a second longer than they should’ve. You noticed it in sharpness of his eyes anytime anyone else so much as looked in your direction. Felt it in the softness of a smile he only showed to you.

Tonight, that small spark of hope you’d been keeping alight was growing dangerously. You tried your best to smother it, telling yourself you’d been friends for years and he never saw you that way, so why would that suddenly change?

But do people who are just friends slip out at 2am to go stargazing at the top of a hill? Do they lay beside each other on an old blanket, close enough to feel the heat of each other’s skin, but barely far enough that they aren’t touching?

Do they look at each other the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the real wonder to be beheld when just above you, the moon and stars are shining brilliantly?

“We always have. Why would that change?” you replied, turning your head back up to the constellations. Your heartbeat was sickening in your own ears, amplified by the silence left untouched as neither of you spoke.

The blanket shuffled as he sat up, his face barely out of your periphery. You copied his movements, propping yourself up on your elbows as you struggled to understand the look on his face.

“Because I’m in love with you. I’m tired of being friends,” he said calmly, though you the way his hands fisted betrayed his uncertainty. 

You froze for a second, wondering if this entire night had been a dream. Gojo Satoru, your best friend and unrequited love for years, liked you - no, loved you? You had to be dreaming.

A poke against your cheek broke you away from your thoughts.

“Please say something, or I’m gonna freak out,” your best friend said, looking more flustered than you’d ever seen him. His porcelain skin was dusted with pink, his gorgeous eyes frantically searching yours. 

You burst into laughter. The kind that had you gasping for air and wiping tears away.

“What the hell is so funny?” he asked, and your laughter continued to bubble out of you at the adorable furrow between his brows. 

You sat up to face him, wiping away a tear as your laughter died off. 

“Sorry, it’s just hard for me to believe this is happening right now. Especially because I’ve been desperately in love with you since we were kids,” you admitted, indulging yourself in the way his lips parted in shock, the way he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“You…you’ve been in love with me this whole time?” he said, so quietly it hurt your heart.

“Yup. Pretty much everyone knew too, I thought it was common knowledge?” you joked, leaning your head against your knee as you watched Gojo go through the 8 stages of grief.

“The hell it wasn’t. Why hasn’t anyone said anything to me? Why haven’t you ever said anything to me?” he said, pupils wide as he searched your face.

You leaned back down, crossing your arms behind your head.

“We all assumed you would’ve made a move ages ago if you liked me back. I was content to just be in your life at all - plus, no offense, but I’m like the only solid friend you have in your life. I promised you I always would be, I couldn’t let my own feelings change that.” you said, feeling the weight fly off your chest as you finally told him.

You felt a whoosh of cool air as Gojo leaned down beside you once more, mirroring your position as you laid on your back and looked up at the sky.

“I…I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot,” he said. You let out a laugh in disbelief.

“You really didn’t know, not even the thought crossed your mind?”

“Nope,” he replied, almost sounding anguished.

You turned to your side, propping up your head with the heel of your palm.

“What changed?” you asked genuinely, feeling your nerves traverse throughout your entire body as he mirrored your position, your faces barely a few inches apart.

“I realized it when we had to be apart for a while because of that mission. I was miserable, because I was accustomed to seeing your smile everyday. Hearing the random overdetailed recounting of your day. Your laughter. Fuck, I was even searching perfume stores to see if any of them came close to the way you smell,” he admitted, eliciting a furious blush from your cheeks.

You reached up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, admiring how his pearlescent locks seemed to glow under the moonlight.

“You have it that bad, huh?” you teased, watching his face relax ever so slightly as he rolled his eyes.

It was so fast you barely registered what happened, the way Gojo flipped you on top of him so you had no choice but to lay flush against him. You were stunned to silence as he wrapped his arms around your waist, catching you off guard with that brilliant, victorious smile of his.

“Oh, I absolutely do. But look who’s talking eh? You are sooo into me,” he said, smiling happily to himself. 

You buried your face into his chest to hide both your embarrassment and your painfully-wide smile. 

“Okay, okay, I am,” you admitted, feeling simultaneously shy and elated as Gojo tugged you even closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So, what now?” you asked.

You gasped as Gojo flipped you once more so you were pinned under him.

“Hm, well if I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me, I think we should kiss,” he said, his smile evident in his words. You’d been around him long enough to hear the tease in his voice, and you knew he was messing with you. 

“Just kidding. We can take it sl-”

His words came to a halt as you lifted up to press your lips against his ever so slightly, pulling back to rest your forehead against his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Fuck taking it slow, kiss me right now,” you all but demanded. You admired his grin for a split second before his lips were moving against yours, full and soft and sweet. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he said breathlessly. 

“Not longer than me,” you said between kisses.

His deep laugh resonated throughout your body, distracting you from the way his slender fingers were digging into your hips.

“You’re right. Let me make it up to you,” he said, pulling back long enough for you to look at him. His eyes were dark with desire, contrasting the flush that somehow made him look hotter.

He sat up, and his absence left you feeling chilled. It didn’t last long though, because he grabbed your hips once more and lifted you on top of him so you were straddled in his lap.

You smiled coyly as he positioned your arms around his neck, tugging you flush against him as he grinned at you proudly.

“You really like throwing me around huh?” you teased, though it came out more soft and gaspy than you intended as he began trailing kisses along your jaw.

“You have no idea,” he said, and you felt him smile against your skin as you tipped your head back to give him more access.

“Forget about sleeping tonight.”

[cupcakeslushie]

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Patreon Ko-Fi <— Commissions open!

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First of all I just wanna say, I am so flattered by the response from y’all for this little au!

This fandom is the best. ❤️💙🧡💜💛

———————————————————

None of my AUs are based off existing fanfic! Only my own artwork and replies to asks! ✌️

The main story behind the this AU actually started from a simple concept of me re-watching Arcane and thinking how interesting Donnie would be as Jinx, and wanting to sketch a few ideas. This led to me wondering about the other boys and everything spiraled into splitting them up as follows: Donnie grew up with Draxum from the beginning as his personal test subject, driving him mad like Jinx. Leo and Mikey get separated from Splinter and Raph about five years after Splinter escapes with them. Leo gets kidnapped by the Foot clan where Shredder is alive and trains him as his pupil as revenge against Splinter. Mikey finds his way into to Big Mama’s loving arms until she gets bored of him and throws him into her Battle Nexus. Raph is the only one to stay and be raised by Splinter, who is more diligent in his teachings. He befriends April and they grow up together, training to become ninja. Eventually the boys find each other again.

Mikey’s rescue arc: The starting point of the entire story!

Leo’s rescue arc: Currently running!

If you wanna read it on AO3! (Each new arc will be added, after they are completed!)

Shorts!

Stuck On You In The Leg

Leo's Cringe Moments 1, 2, 3

Don't ask Donnie about his past

Raph & Donnie bonding

Brutus Animatic - Leo and Raph's storyline

Donnie and April being silly

Usagi & Leo's history

Maps- Raph and April meet

Rise/Ew crossover

Distractions-ways the boys help Donnie on his bad days

Leo's concerns over Draxum

Leo & Splinter argument

Thirds- Donnie has a bad day

Raph Time- Something's been bothering Raph

Old Secrets- Mikey and Donnie get into a bit of a spat

Important tags are also in the search bar

#Sep!au life -a ton more everyday moments for the brothers

#Sep!au infodump

#Sep!au ref

#Sep!au future- Doomed timeline

#Sep!au fanwork - all the lovely works I've received!

Also massive timeline for anyone looking for a clearer explanation of events and don’t want to have to scavenge though all the mess of my previous replies!!!!!!

BOYS AGES

Warnings: This story has plenty of humor and family fluff but it can and will get pretty dark, please take care when checking it out. TW for child abuse, blood, horror, experimentation, self harm, mental health issues, abandonment issues, mind control, dark humor, and language (mostly from Mikey and Leo lol).

———

As far as anyone looking to make something based of the Separated AU, I am totally okay with most anything as long as credit is given but I will not be chill with tcest of any kind. I also ask you include no romance aside from the confirmed ships.

You can absolutely make anything that covers the things I’ve already mentioned in my replies, or if it’s just fam shenanigans, hanging out and dealing with recovery. I would love to see it and share it! You don’t have to bother with asking for the O.K. in that case. But I do ask that you maybe hold off on anything anyone might consider plot related or that’s not been addressed in the asks, and would be mostly speculation, cause I’ll be covering a whole host of before, and after reunion events, either in quick sketch comps or comics. If you’re still unsure you can always ask me. I would consider myself pretty easy going, so I’ll probably only say no if I think it’s something I have plans for, or if it really just doesn’t fit with the feel of the AU. I’m more likely to say yes if you have an idea of what you wanna do. Please, be specific in your ask, if you can. I don’t like telling people flat out no, so the more info I have the better!

That’s all for now! Again, I wanna thank y’all for being so awesome. I look forward to causing you all pain in the future!

[inlovewithgreta]

Lovers — Larissa Weems x Morticia Addams x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: You get caught pleasuring yourself alone without telling the two women in your life, and in return, you get a punishment that is full of pleasure.

Warnings: Praise, degradation, mommy kink, spanking, edging, squirting, marking, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, etc…

Word Count: 4.6k

a/n: if you would like to be part of my taglist, do let me know! I’m so excited to post this oneshot, I’ve never done anything with three people before so this is a first for me. I hope you lovelies enjoy and have an amazing day! ♡

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Today was a quiet day in the mansion. Staff was gone for the weekend, Larissa was at work, Morticia was reading in the library, and you were in the bedroom. You had told Morticia you were lying down for a nap, but that was not the case whatsoever.

Your mind had been having dirty thoughts. Dirtier than usual. The two women in your life have been doing other things, leaving you completely touch starved. It had been what felt like ages since either of them had laid a finger on you, and the heat rising between your legs was far too much to ignore any longer.

Grabbing the small bullet from your nightstand, you rested your head back against the silk pillowcase as you dragged the now vibrating toy down your naked body.

First, you toyed with your erect nipples, circling the buzzing toy across your chest, allowing each vibration to go straight to your core. You were already a moaning mess before you even reached your center.

Your legs were spread as far open as possible, the cold air along your dampened cunt creating goosebumps along your bare skin. Small whimpers were quick to fly out of your mouth, the sweet touch from the bullet sending you straight into complete bliss.

You were too focused on the pleasure to realize how loud your moans actually became. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the more intently she listened, the faster it was for her to figure out what it was.

You.

Moaning her name.

Morticia set her book aside, marking her spot for a later read, and lifted a high brow when she heard you moan once more. She quietly walked down the hallway, keeping her movements slow and steady to avoid the loud clicking from her heels.

As she reached the doorway, her eyes dilated at the unexpected sight before her. She eyed your naked body sprawled out in the middle of the grand bed. Legs were spread, back was arched, and a little black bullet sat between your legs.

"What a naughty little thing," She folded her arms across her chest. A loud gasp left your mouth at her sudden words, heat rushing straight to your cheeks from embarrassment. You weren't expecting Morticia to catch you in the act.

"Couldn't even bother to tell me? Tsk tsk." She clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, taking the few steps towards the bed.

You attempted to pull the toy from between your legs but Morticia had other plans, stopping your wrist with a stern grip.

"Don't go shy on me now, y/n. Finish. After all, you couldn't wait for me." She let go, placing both hands on her hips and gazing down at you with dark eyes. "Go on." She flicked her eyes to between your thighs.

You gulped, turning the toy back on and placing it back between your legs with a quiet whimper. As you began to pleasure yourself, Morticia slid her hands behind her back, slowly pulling the zipper from her dress down her back. The fabric dropped softly to the floor, revealing a black laced lingerie set that hugged her hourglass figure perfectly.

"I can't—" You shook your head, the pressure from her heated gaze making it harder for you to find your release. Under any other circumstance, it would take a mere second for you to finish, but Morticia was always the one doing it for you, not just watching you intently with a stoic face.

"You can. You will." She kicked her heels off.

"Please," You pleaded, salty tears steadily falling down your cheeks. You needed her. Needed her touch. "I-I can't!" You whimpered once more.

"So pathetic. My needy slut is desperate enough to touch herself but not enough to come."

Morticia crawled onto the bed, immediately taking the small bullet from your hands and holding it tightly in her own. She flipped her long raven locks behind her back before dipping her face between your thighs.

"Can't even finish yourself off without me," The toy presses roughly against your clit, causing your breath to hitch, "We're going to have to work on that one." Her dark eyes look up at yours before flicking down to your glistening cunt.

"It's too bad, you know," She lowered her upper body down to the mattress, arching her back, and forcing her barely clothed ass into the air. "Now mommy is going to have to destroy this little pussy of yours until I have you begging for mercy."

Her lips attached to your inner thighs, before trailing towards your center and licking a strip up your folds. Moans were quick to escape your throat as she pleasures you by both her mouth and the toy pressing against your sensitive bud.

"F-fuck!" Your chest heaved at a familiar knot forming in your abdomen. Hands gripped at the emerald green duvet below you, knuckles turning white at your rough grip. Morticia could feel you trembling, your body quivering at your close release.

"That's it. Come for me." The raven haired woman edged you on, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before nibbling on the soft flesh, leaving fresh love bites in their wake.

With a skillful flick to your cunt, Morticia had you spiraling almost instantaneously.

"Oh, 'Tish!" Her name flew out of your mouth just as she turned the toy off and carelessly tossing it aside.

You thought she was just helping ride out your high by removing the toy, but boy were you wrong.

Morticia wasn't done just yet.

You had touched yourself without her, and couldn't even finish yourself off at her command which was unacceptable. She had taken note of how often you've listened to Larissa's demands compared to her own, and part of her grew jealous. Should she have been? No. But was she? Oh, she most definitely was.

"Oh, you thought I was stopping right there?" Her hand sternly held you down by your inner thigh at your attempts to close your legs around her. "Tsk tsk," She scoffed, "I'm not even close to being done with you yet. And when 'Riss gets home, it'll be her turn. If you want to act like a slut, you'll certainly get treated like one."

The raven-haired beauty between your legs refused to slow her movements. Her tongue ravaged your clit while she easily thrusted two fingers into your cunt.

Small whimpers echoed off the walls at the curl of her slender fingers that hit you in just the right spot, making had your brain go empty.

"What's the matter, baby? No more screaming my name? We can't have that, now can we?" Her thrusts only grew faster as she watched your every move from just her pleasuring you.

The two of you were too lost in your sex world to hear the front door open and close at the entrance of your luxurious home. Larissa arrived earlier than expected, work going by quicker than she anticipated.

You crying out from your second orgasm had caught Larissa's attention when she took her coat off, her head snapping towards the opened bedroom door on the second floor.

"There it is." Morticia smirked, "I love it when my little whore screams for me. Don't go silent on me now." Tears fell down your face, coating the pillowcase beneath your head when her movements refused to slow.

"Please—" You pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand ached from the constant thrusting, but she refused to let it show. She was one to always keep to her word. She wanted to see you like this. She loved to see you like this. Weak before her, begging for her.

"I can't take anymore!" The pressure only kept building and building inside you, the uncomfortableness from your third orgasm slowly creeping up on you. "Tish I—" A throaty moan forced its way out when the older woman slid a third finger inside you, completely stretching out your walls.

"Your moans say otherwise, dearie." Morticia raised a high brow at the arching of your back.

Larissa had heard every moan, every word leaving both yours and Morticia's mouth as she made her way up the grand stairs and down the hallway leading to your shared chambers.

She had swiftly unclasped her tight updo, letting her long platinum hair fall down her back. Buttons flew to the ground as she grew too impatient to undo each hole of her blouse.

Larissa lowly hummed at the sight before her blue eyes. She was quick to drop her blouse to the floor, along with tugging at her skirt to slide it down past her thick legs to fall to the floor.

She wouldn't dare miss this opportunity to join in on your festivities. After all, Larissa thrived off being the completely opposite of Morticia in bed. While the raven haired woman was the more dirty-talking and dominant one, Larissa liked to be the praising one that kept you on edge and begging deliciously.

Her eyes flew from your naked figure whose legs were spread with your hand toying with your breast, to Morticia's perfectly rounded ass that hung in the air, her arousal prominently dampening the thin fabric covering her center.

"Don't worry, my love. Mommy's here." Your eyes snapped towards the tall blonde who strutted into the room unexpectedly.

Larissa didn't hesitate to join in, her hand gliding to Morticia's ass, up her spine, and into her long black locks. Fingers tucked into her hair, grabbing a small handful and gently pulling, eliciting a low moan from Morticia.

"Rissa—" You attempted to call out before a whimper cut off your words. The blonde's eyes were drawn to yours, her lips instantly making contact with your cheeks, kissing away each wet drop on your tear-stained cheek.

"You're doing so good, sweet thing. Just one more and you can take a little breather, hmm? We can't have you tiring so fast."

You nodded your head frantically, toes curling and back arching off the duvet as you came for the third time. Vision went blurry and legs shook as the blonde woman guided you through your orgasm with a gentle hand along your cheek.

"That's my good girl," Larissa cooed, wiping your hair from your sweaty forehead and giving you a sweet but passionate kiss to distract you from the twitching of your thighs.

You whimpered into the kiss when Morticia slid her fingers from you, instantly sliding them into her mouth to suck them clean with a small hum.

"Mmm, sweet indeed," The dark haired woman added, releasing her fingers with a pop, dark eyes trained on Larissa's bright blue hues. "Here, have a taste." Morticia insisted, bringing her fingers to the blonde's mouth, who accepted them without hesitation.

Larissa hummed, her left hand finding your hand and giving it an appreciative squeeze. Your eyes were trained on the two half naked women sitting in front of you. Morticia had inched towards Larissa, her hand leaving the woman's mouth to sneak between her legs.

You propped yourself on your elbows as you tried to calm your breathing, but failing to do so when Morticia gave you a knowing glance, smirking wickedly when an idea came to her head.

"You've been here not even a minute and you're already soaked through?" Morticia chuckled lowly, eyes glancing back at the blonde. "How about we put on a show for our slu—"

"Sweet girl," Larissa cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Our sweet sweet girl. . ." She trailed off, losing her train of thought when Morticia snuck a hand inside her panties. Larissa instantly moaned at the slender fingers circling her clit.

Her pale hand left yours to grab Morticia's freshly manicured hand, guiding her movements at her favorite pace.

At this godly sight, you were instantly wet once more. An almost painful heat instantly starting again.

The sight ahead of you made you seem nearly forgotten, but the heat between your legs was very much prominent. Just as you started to snake your hand towards your dripping cunt, Morticia's free hand gripped your wrist, her eyes never straying from the blonde in front of her.

"Tish, please." You begged, but your pleas never worked on her. Her grip only remained stern, keeping your hand in place, not allowing you to please yourself at the sight of her pleasuring Larissa.

The blonde quietly moaned before pulling Morticia's hand away from her cunt. "Somebody feels left out, Tish. Let her join. I want a taste of her anyways."

Reluctantly, Morticia retracted both of her hands, but a biting smirk returned to her face as she saw the plans Larissa had in store for you, lingering in her eyes.

"Don't be too easy on her Riss, this is after all a punishment."

"Ah, so that's why you two started without me." A dangerous smirk came to Larissa's face, one you know well. "So our little angel hasn't been so good today. . . What has she done?" Larissa asked the other woman, eyes curiously scanning your face.

"Was touching herself all by her lonesome. Didn't even bother to tell me. Heard her from the other room moaning like a whore."

Larissa shook her head, clicking her tongue in a disapproving manner, "You know better, darling." Larissa maneuvered her way around Morticia to switch places with her, making herself at home between your thighs.

Her body sat in the same position Morticia was just in, legs beneath her, upper body hovering over the duvet with her porcelain colored ass waving in the air.

Although your view of the woman was enough to have your arousal dripping onto the plush mattress, Morticia had the best view of all. Dark eyes wandered over the blondes smooth skin.

Larissa toyed with your thighs, pecking and nibbling at the soft flesh while Morticia traced a hand along the blonde's back, sliding a finger down her spine.

Morticia felt every inch and curve of Larissa's lower body, admiring the fine specimen that sat before her. Her lips made contact with the woman's hips, sending sweet kisses along her stretch marks that Larissa was once insecure about until the three of you got together.

You treated her like a goddess, after all, that's what she was to you. Everything about her was perfect. She was perfect, inside and out. And she appreciated every compliment, and especially every kiss to her most sacred spots.

"Rissa please," Your hips slightly bucked towards her face, begging for her to soothe the growing ache between your thighs.

"Patience, my love. You're going to need it." Larissa smirked, eyes dancing with amusement.

She knew just how much you were about to beg for her, and excitement was already coursing through her veins. Of course she was going to be more gentle than Morticia, but she was still going to give you the punishment you deserved for leaving them out of your activities.

Larissa flattened her tongue along your glistening cunt, slowly savoring every sweet taste of you. You shivered under her cool touch, hips being forced down against the mattress to avoid your overly sensitive bucking.

"Such a sweet little pussy, and all for me-" Larissa's words were cut off with a suppressed moan when Morticia slapped the blonde's ass with a piercing smack.

"Us." The raven haired woman corrected her, before soothing the immediate reddened area along Larissa's porcelain cheek.

Larissa tongue delved deep into you, bright blue eyes watching the growing tension between your knitted brows and the everlasting 'o' shape of your mouth as sounds refused to come out.

"Fuck, Rissa!" Your hand flew to her head, tugging at her long curly locks.

"Look at you, already a screaming little mess in just a mere second." Morticia teased you, fingers tucking under Larissa's panties and slowly gliding them down her thick legs to get a better view of the growing mess between the blonde's thighs. "Let's make it even louder for me, shall we? I want to hear how loud you both can be."

Morticia slid two fingers past Larissa's entrance with ease, pleasuring the tall goddess while she devoured you. Larissa's moans blended in with your own, putting a mischievous smirk along Morticia's face.

"Just like that." Her free hand rubbed the soft skin along Larissa's ass, preparing for her next move, "My two needy whores, complete moaning messes. Keep the noises coming."

Smack

Morticia used her free hand to send another sharp spank to Larissa's ass, and admiring the prominent jiggle that elicited from her smack.

You felt your release building and building, moans growing closer and closer together, giving Larissa just enough time to remove her tongue from your cunt. A whimper took place of a moan at the sudden loss of contact, and Larissa couldn't help the smirk that grew on her face.

"Didn't think I'd let you finish that easy, now did you?" She toyed, breath hitching in her throat when Morticia chuckled, suddenly curling her fingers inside the blonde.

She hit Larissa's most craved spot with each thrust, and all you could do was watch as Larissa became undone from Morticia, neediness growing more prominent now that your orgasm faded away.

"Come for me, Rissa." Morticia encouraged the blonde on just as Larissa brought her mouth back to your clit.

Moans of ecstasy got muffled as Larissa coated the other woman's fingers with her juices, her wetness dripping down Morticia's hand. Larissa's grip along your hips tightened, fingernails digging into your sensitive skin and leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake.

Morticia didn't dare stop her movements, wanting you to watch as Larissa came over and over again while you were being edged by the blonde for your punishment.

"Taking it like such a good girl," Larissa cooed, removing her tongue and replacing her pleasuring with her fingers, matching the same movements Morticia had been doing to her.

"Please—" You begged, "Let me come! I promise I won't touch myself again without you."

"I don't know, Tish. What do you think?" Larissa stopped her movements once she felt your walls tightening around her fingers. Small whimpers escaped your throat, the growing uncomfortable ache between your thighs forcing tears from your eyes.

"I say let her wait on it for a bit longer." Her devilish smirk forcing your grip along the sheets to tighten out of frustration.

"Mmm, fuck—" Larissa elicited a throaty moan.

Your head shook as you watched Larissa come for a second time, jealousy completely coursing through your veins.

Morticia sent wet kisses along Larissa's ass, gently guiding her through her orgasm. Her fingers moved from Larissa's used cunt and directly into her mouth, eliciting a small approving moan.

The scene in front of her was enough for Morticia to get off at the same time, her free hand rubbing circles along her own clit.

A shallow moan could be heard from Morticia as she came undone from her own touch. Her noise was just barely loud enough for both you and Larissa to hear, as Morticia was always the quieter one compared to you and Larissa.

Morticia then moved herself to sit next to you, legs tucked underneath her and thighs pressing together as she lifted Larissa's face, her thumb and forefinger pulling the blonde's face towards hers in a needy kiss.

Tears continued to flow, hips begging to buck and grind along Larissa's fingers as your gaze landed on the two women making out in front of you.

"Please!" You begged once more, "I'm taking your punishments so good. Just please— please let me come! I've learned my lesson!"

The two women broke from their heated kiss, both smirking towards each other at your pleas. Morticia ever so slightly nodded her head, allowing Larissa to bring her mouth to your clit and delve her fingers deeper.

Morticia slid a hand up your stomach, past your chest, and up to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your face to look at her. Her body leaned in, face only mere inches from your own, dark eyes full of nothing but lust.

"Come, my darling." Her signature red lips smashed sloppily against yours.

A familiar knot formed in your abdomen, appearing only momentarily until you finally came around Larissa's fingers with a relieved moan.

The blonde's movements slowed as she eased you through your orgasm, allowing the pleasure to last for as long as possible.

Your chest heaved, heartbeat racing as you attempted to catch your breath when Larissa stopped her movements.

"That's my good girl." Larissa smiled, wiping your release carelessly off her fingers and onto her thigh as she moved her body to sit opposite of Morticia on the other side of you.

Her hand cupped your cheek when Morticia pulled away, both of them wiping your tears away with their thumbs.

"She took her punishment so good, didn't she, Tish? Wasn't our little doll taking it like such a good girl?"

"She took it so well for us," Morticia played with one of your stray hairs. "I think she deserves a treat, Rissa."

"Oh indeed she does. Does our sweet girl want a taste of mommy?"

Morticia ran a hand down Larissa's barely clothed chest, moving the thin fabric to free Larissa's breasts from her bra. Your eyes widened at the sight before you, a bright gleam in your eye making itself prominent to the two woman before you.

"Use your words." Morticia added when she noticed your growing silence.

"Yes— God yes!"

Larissa chuckled, reaching behind her unclasp her bra, allowing the fabric to fall from her chest and out of the way.

"Lay down, Rissa." Morticia laid a hand on the blonde's bare shoulder, pushing her gently down onto the mattress. "Our beautiful and enchanting goddess."

"Let us worship you. Please." You chimed in, running your hand up her smooth leg, and stopping just before reaching her soaked cunt.

"If that's what you truly want, who am I to deny you of your desires? Be a good girl and help me finish, angel." Larissa spread her legs, giving you full access to her dripping center which you took in your mouth instantaneously.

Your tongue flicked across her sensitive bud, earning a gentle bucking of her hips. Morticia made contact with Larissa's breasts, one hand kneading while the other held a tit in her mouth, tongue swirling around the blonde's nipple.

"Mmm, just like that!" Larissa's head fell back against the duvet, eyes begging to roll to the back of her head.

Larissa hummed, her perfectly manicured hand reaching for your head to push you further against her, allowing the slight grinding of her hips against your face.

Morticia gave one last flick to Larissa's nipple before taking a moment to look at the moaning mess Larissa quickly became. A small smirk toyed at her lips when she came up with a new plan to add to the pleasure you were giving her.

The raven haired woman slid from the bed to grab the leftover bullet vibrator that she had discarded earlier, turning the toy on and bringing it to Larissa's view.

"If she gets to pleasure you, it's only fair I get to help." Morticia crawled back onto the bed, and brought the toy to Larissa's chest. The buzzing toy ran across Larissa's nipple, causing Larissa's back to arch and push her breasts harder against the vibrations.

"Tish please," Larissa's blue eyes met with Morticia's dark ones, her big doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes glanced up at Morticia with a knowing look, moving your head away from her clit, to insert two fingers deeply inside Larissa's cunt with ease. Her wetness allowed you to slide right in.

"Such a little begger. . ." Morticia teased.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth at the sight of Morticia slowly drag the vibrator down Larissa's chest, past her navel, and down to her sensitive clit.

Larissa moaned loudly at the new sensation. Your free hand gripped her waist, nails dragging across her porcelain skin in a small trail that ended in her inner thighs, leaving little red marks in their wake.

"Look at her taking you so well," Morticia cooed, noticing the third finger you inserted that caused Larissa to let out a whimpering moan at the stretching of her inner walls.

Morticia moved the toy in circular motions while she brought her mouth to Larissa's neck. Red lips attached to Larissa's pulse point, sucking and nibbling at the skin, a mix of red lipstick and hickeys soon covering the blonde's neck.

"Faster, baby—" Larissa's hand gripped your wrist, picking up your thrusts to a quicker and needier pace.

The blonde's legs stilled ever so slightly, every noise coming from her mouth halting as her breath hitched. Her orgasm came barreling down at her, taking full control over her curvaceous body.

But neither you or Morticia stopped your movements.

"Yes, god yes!"

While Morticia marked up Larissa's neck, the blonde's free hand made home on her own chest, pulling her nipple between her fingers and toying with the erect bud.

Larissa's other hand only grew tighter along your scalp, hips growing frantic as she hurtled towards her next release.

"That feels so good— Fuck, don't stop!"

At her words, Morticia pressed the vibrator roughly along Larissa's clit, adding pressure to send Larissa in a daze.

Larissa moaned a long list of profanities, along with both yours and Morticia's name as she squirted against your fingers. You smirked, knowing you could still get one more out of her.

"Always making such a mess, Rissa." Morticia clicked her tongue, loving the sight of Larissa fully submitting. This was the only time Larissa was ever this submissive, and god did it turn Morticia on.

Larissa's legs shook immensely, your pace only easing up just the slightest as to not completely overstimulate her.

"Just one more, beautiful," You cooed.

The blonde's head frantically shook, moans never quieting down as her grip on your hand grew tighter. She could feel her body tighten, her legs growing stiff with each passing second.

"I- oh god—" Larissa grunted, your fingers repeatedly hitting her soft tissue.

Morticia's free hand played with Larissa's hair just as the blonde screamed your name aloud when she came once more. Your skillful fingers eased their movements, helping Larissa ride out her high.

Larissa was completely flushed, her cheeks and chest held just the slightest shade of red. You slowly removed your fingers while Morticia turned the vibrator off, leaving Larissa a shaking mess. Her legs closed, chest heaving as she came down from her high.

"You did so good for us, Rissa." Morticia gave the blonde a small kiss, "Didn't she, doll?" Her dark eyes gazed into yours, catching your attention.

"She did amazing." You agreed with Morticia, before sucking your fingers clean.

Morticia scanned both yours and Larissa's faces, the exhaustion not going unnoticed by the raven haired woman.

"While you two catch your breath, how about I get a bath started and the three of us take a nice long warm bath together, how does that sound?"

"Please," You answered Morticia while Larissa nodded her head.

Morticia stood from the bed, smirking to herself at the sight before her, Larissa completely spent and sprawled out on the bed while you laid next to her with a hand caressing Larissa's thigh.

Morticia left the two of you to catch your breath while she started in the bathroom, warm water and lavender bubbles filling the giant porcelain tub for you and Larissa to soak in. Morticia couldn't help but smile, knowing both you and Larissa would be too tired to wash yourselves, which allowed Morticia to happily take over and take care of the two people in the whole world she loved most.

[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[c-t-r-l14]

The Song A Dove Sings

—————————-🧡—————————-

Synopsis: You sing Xanthus a beautiful song; one he won’t forget for as long as he lives.

Warning: Mentions of blood.

———————————🧡——————————

As dawn made way for the morning rise, with the orange, pink and red hues rolling over into a sky blue, your eyelids fluttered open to the golden rays of sunlight poking its way through the curtains, and the gentle chirps of the birds roosting in nearby trees. The rays of sunlight that woven its way through the balcony window painted the room in an ethereal golden glow. You were enveloped in the warmness of the blankets, the strong hold of the man you loved most, and the faint, lingering smell of cologne and coca butter. You focused on the hushed sound of his breathing, and the warm air of his breath dancing on your neck. You looked at his peaceful expression, the way his blonde hair fell messily over his pale face, and those long, beautiful eyelashes that so perfectly complimented those stunning ruby red eyes you’ve adored so much. Like most people, you weren’t a fan of mornings—and it’s not for the typical reasons. Before you and Xanthus found each other, you woke up to a gaping cavity in your heart, suffocated by the air of solitude that filled the room. It didn’t matter how brightly the sun shined, how blue the sky was, or how loudly the birds sang; mundanity always hung above your head like a dark storm cloud. Seeing your partner’s face reminded you that you were not alone anymore. With every rise and fall of his chest, with every hushed breath that entered the atmosphere, you were reminded that your melancholic days were fewer and far in between. And so, with your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, yielding to the gentle call of sleep—you nestled further into the warm embrace of the one you loved most in this world.

Until you heard a familiar cooing sound. A familiar chirp—one that echoed in the air; its sound fluttering through the wind, just like the wings of the bird it belonged to.

A familiar song.

Your eyes popped open—any trace of fatigue and weariness melting away. As much as it pained you leave the serenity of Xanthus’ arms, you had to. So, with a quiet groan and a lot of caution, you slowly crept out of bed and tiptoed to the balcony window. And sure enough, there it was.

A Mourning Dove.

Your stomach swirled with nostalgia, and your chest felt heavy. It had been ages since you saw one, and even longer since you’ve heard its hauntingly beautiful call. As the bird sang, you took a moment to admire its muted colors—its little body covered in beige and light gray hues. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly as you watched the dove’s chest and throat puff out to make each sound.

“Love?” A groggy voice groaned behind you.

You turned around to see Xanthus sitting upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“There’s a mourning dove outside,” you replied.

He got out of bed and walked over to the balcony window.

“Ah. So there is. I haven’t seen one in so long, which makes sense—they aren’t native to the U.K.”

You didn’t answer. You merely watched it sing some more. And although, for a time, the silence between you two was very comforting, you could practically feel Xanthus’ inquisitive gaze.

“I take it that you really like this bird?”

“Yeah. A long time ago, back when I used to live with my parents—a dove that looked just like this one would perch on a ledge outside my window, and sing— once in every blue moon. I know a lot of people think that it sings a sad song, but I never thought so. I always felt comforted, and even a little joyful when I’d hear its song.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “I’ve always envied them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re free; they have peace. I didn’t have that growing up. For my entire life, I was forced to live in fear—always looking over my shoulder, always flinching at every corner. I never let myself fully trust people because I never knew what their true intentions were. It felt like I was…trapped in a cage. And since everyone was out to get me and family, I never really got a chance to actually live my life.”

The cage might’ve been spacious, filled with all the luxuries one could ever ask for—it might’ve been familiar, and full of the people you loved, but…

A cage is still a cage, nonetheless.

“Do you feel free now?” Xanthus asked.

You hummed and rested your head on his shoulder. Dontis was an absolute saint for opening up his home to you two. He’s helped you guys out in more ways in one. You certainly weren’t ungrateful for everything he’s done for you two, but at that point it’d been months since you’ve left his penthouse. Months since you’ve got to try new food, or interacted with new people. Months since you were able to live your life.

Yes, his house was full of luxuriously plush couches, beautiful paintings, and wide flat screen T.Vs, but you still weren’t free. A cage is still a cage. But even after everything you’ve been through, if there was one thing you’d gained—-it was peace. You’ve found peace with Xanthus, and that was enough for now.

“When I die, I think I wanna become a mourning dove.”

Xanthus turned his head toward you. “What?”

“I remember you telling me something about the jokes vampires make when they die. You told me that if you died, you’d come back as a bat. So, I’m telling you now that when I die, I’m gonna come back as a mourning dove. So make sure to keep your ears open;

‘Cause I’m gonna sing you a beautiful song.”

……..

No matter where he went or where he tried to hide, death followed Xanthus everywhere—but it never really bothered him until he met you. Humans lives were fleeting compared to his own, and as fragile as a porcelain tea cup, teetering dangerously on the edge of a high shelf; one nudge away from shattering into numerous irreparable pieces. He never liked thinking about your death, or what’d it be like if you were gone—so he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, and cherished your presence while you were still around.

But ever since you and him had that conversation, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he held your broken and bloodied body in his arms—your face drained of any color, your eyes dull and lifeless.

He didn’t stop thinking about it as he tore Audric to shreds after what he did to you. He could still feel the warmth of his blood dripping from his fingers.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he gave your eulogy, or when he and your loved ones walked to the graveyard.

And he most definitely didn’t stop thinking about it when they lowered your coffin 6 feet into the cold, dark ground.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave your grave—even after everyone left. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, or to mutter any sort of apology for getting you into this mess. For being so careless. For being so damn weak. All he could do was sit in front of your grave, with his face buried in his hands, and sob inconsolably. He’d lost the person he was supposed to protect; his lover, a piece of his soul. And now, he felt incomplete—broken, even. So, all he could do was sit there, and cry until there were no tears left to shed.

Until he heard a familiar coo. A familiar chirp.

A familiar song.

He took his face out of his hands, and looked up; the red, bloody tears still streaming out of his wide eyes. And sure enough, there it was, perched on your headstone:

A Mourning Dove.

Its little body was bathed in beige and light gray hues, its throat and chest puffed out as it sang. And Xanthus watched quietly in disbelief until it was over. He reached his hand out, and the dove perched on his finger. And as soon as the bird made contact, he felt it.

It was you.

You came back to say goodbye to him, one last time.

The dove cooed once more, and flew away—the faint flapping sounds of its wings fading further and further away. He watched as the dove flew toward the sky.

You were finally at peace. You were finally free.

——————————-🧡——————————————

A/N: Ever since part 8.1–when Xanthus jokes about dying and being reincarnated as a bat, I couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of animal listener would end up being. I really, really love mourning doves, and I’ve always thought that they’d be a good fit for listener.

Masterlist

[quillkiller]

Thoughts on barty and catholic guilt?

i’m gonna be real honest with you here….. i’ve never thought about it much at all.. i think a lot about the black siblings (brothers & sisters) and their potential religious guilt, but i haven’t really thought much about barty in that context :/

to me, barty sort of always exists as something almost ’other’.. like there’s just this sort of otherness to him and he doesn’t really feel things in a normal way or in the same way his peers feel or experience things. like.. he’s just sort of deviated and has been ever since he was a kid, i feel, and be that because of the abuse he experienced when he grew up, his lack of atonomy over his own body/life, or just the absolute absence of love and touch and comfort in his home. either way, it sort of fucked him up from a very young age and just sort of made him a little…. wrong…

this is why i was being so serious when i said (here’s the post) that barty + twincest (the rosiers) would actually be a very healthy relationship in bartys opinion ahdhrjajrk. like, his home was completely and entirely devoid of love except for when they pretend infront of others. so when he meets the rosier twins who don’t have any boundaries with each other when it comes to love and intimacy barty sort of genuinely thinks that’s what a family should be. there are no grey areas as far as barty’s concerned. it’s just either or. and he yearns to be involved in their family dynamic like he’s never yearned for anything before. because it’s literally the direct opposite of what his own family is. instead of pretending to love each other in public, the rosiers have to hide it and can only ever be themselves behind closed doors. and barty experiences that as normal, and as proof that the way they love each other is how a family should love each other. the fact that they love each other when no one else is looking and instead they have to prevent people from figuring them out <- that’s proof of real love to barty. that they’re actually a family. the fact that there are no boundaries between them when it comes to love and intimacy behind closed doors

anyway. i don’t think this was at all the answer you were looking for…… im sorry!!!! my barty prophets are @sugarsnappeases, @foursaints & @itsjaywalkers and if you want a better answer to his relationship with catholic/religious guilt i’m sure maybe they have better answers for you <3

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Agent Rushmore (CH 1)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1000

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating, and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Jethro Gibbs POV

I study the footage again and shake my head before motioning McGee to rewind the footage to play it over again and again. That is until Jen decides to interrupt my obsessing.

“Any news on who you think the unsub is?” She asks.

“Yes. However, this woman has no existence as far as we know. No facial recognition and she’s good at what she does. What we do know is that she has red hair, green eyes, she’s a trained assassin for sure, but we ruled out Mossad.” I say.

“That isn’t your unsub. She’s one of us. A federal agent. She’s undercover. She’s in deep. We only keep her file on paper as of now. Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. She underwent extensive training in a secret Russian organization. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late.” She murmurs.

I stare at Jen a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late…that had me curious.

“Escaped?” I question.

“Yes. Her parents sent her into this secret organization against her will. She was just a child. She was eight. One of the youngest there. She got away when she was seventeen and started her own life by taking down renowned criminals. We were intrigued by her skills, so we hired her. She has dabbled in all sorts of federal agencies, but NCIS holds a special place in her heart. It’s where she first learned that blood isn’t family.” She says.

“Sounds like you know her well.” I murmur.

“She stayed with me for awhile. She was distant at first. It was her way of protecting herself and keeping her guard up. Little by little, I worked through to her and she opened up. She’s an amazing young woman. She’s gone through so much, yet she’s still fighting to put others before herself. She’s remarkable really.” She says.

“How old…is this agent?” DiNozzo asks.

“Not that you seem to ask the age of most woman you take out, but she’s thirty-three. However, you aren’t her type.” She says.

“I’m everyone’s type, Director.” He teases.

“Hm. Not hers.” She says.

“Then what’s her type?” He asks.

“Older. She claims she likes her men experienced. However, I think she has a thing for the hair too. I’ve noticed most men she takes out has silver hair. She always picks some…colorful men.” She says.

I watch the footage of this Locklyn Rushmore. She moved swiftly and quickly. She moved with grace and somehow no one seemed to notice her. She was like a shadow.

“Uh, boss…Director…you may want to see this.” McGee says.

He pulls up a live newsfeed and we instantly see fire and smoke and people running. I read the headline about a bomb. My eyes focus on a redhead who stumbles out with her gun drawn.

“Locklyn.” Jen whispers, a hand going to her mouth.

We hear gunshots and she takes cover behind a car, firing off a few rounds herself. Police were yelling at her to put her weapon down, but she throws her credentials their way to silence them as she fires off at an unsub.

“Director Shepard, emergency meeting in M-TAC.” Her secretary says.

I follow Jen to M-TAC. I sit with her and see that the newsfeed was playing in here as several different faces appear.

“Locklyn’s cover has been blown, Director Shepard.” I hear.

“I’m aware. I want her back here as soon as possible. She’s safer with us and respectfully, she belongs with NCIS.” She says.

“She is in D.C. She knew her cover was blown and was making her way back to you, Director Shepard. However, they caught up with her before she could tell you.” He says.

“I’ll handle this. And Locklyn will be safe. We will figure out how her cover was blown and officially take down the Dixen family for good.” She says.

She stands and I follow her. She walks out to the railing and with a simple look, I went down to stand with my team.

“We will all be investigating a case that has been classified and highly confidential for years. Locklyn Rushmore will be returning back to NCIS, joining Special Agent Gibbs team. She’s been undercover for years, however she’s one of us. She will need our help and support during these trying times. She has a target on her back. Her cover was blown and now several dangerous individuals, a very powerful family, is wanting her dead.” She says.

Everyone nods and gets back to their respective duties. I stare at Jen a moment longer before I look between Ziva, McGee, and Tony.

“Clear off that desk for her. And do something about that stupid divider so she doesn’t feel singled out. Go!” I snap.

They get to work and I knew the real person to set up her desk. I head down to Abby’s lab and she was blasting music through the speakers. I turn it off and she turns to me with a pout, putting her hands on her hips.

“Gibbs! It was getting to the good part!” She exclaims.

“Abs, an agent who has been undercover for quite awhile is returning to NCIS. Her cover was blown and she has a very powerful family who is dangerous after her. I don’t know all the details, but I know that Jen wants her comfortable when she returns. She’s joining my team and I wanted to see if you’d be so kind to set up her desk.” I say and she nods with a smile.

“What’s her name? Do you know if she’s nice? Oh! Do you know her favorite color or maybe if she likes hugs?” She asks.

“Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. Jen says she is distant and guarded at first, but once you break her walls down…she sounds nice. I’m not sure if she’s a hugger though.” I say and she sighs, nodding her head.

[acciotherapists]

Far From Home (Chapter 53: Stephen Strange)

Loki x Reader

Y/n Y/l/n never thought her past would come back to find her. After all who would look for her on Midgard? But one day in the small town of Puento Antiguo her world is turned upside down when an old friend turns up, threatening everything she has built and the people she’d fought so hard to protect. What happens when the life she left behind finally catches up with her? What happens when the old flame she thought had burned out reignites within her?

Warnings: language (sorry, Steve), eventual smut (slow burn), angst, some mentions of torture (most things won’t be detailed but anything that gets a bit more specific will be warned at the beginning of the chapter)

Stephen Strange.

I turned to find the face belonging to the familiar voice and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

Wong chuckled softly. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” I replied.

“And me?” Loki asked, an edge in his voice. “Do I want to know?”

I shook my head and Stephen slowly approached us.

“W-what are you doing here? Who are they?” he pointed to Loki, Wanda, and Tony.

“They’re friends of mine,” I answered, ignoring his other question.

He placed the books on the counter in front of Wong, his eyes locked with mine.

“I-I don’t understand… It’s been 7 years… and you haven’t aged a day.”

“It’s complicated-.”

“Leave, Strange,” Wong hissed, taking the books from the counter and placing them to the side. “This matter does not concern you.”

Stephen gave a defeated sigh and left the library. 

Wong turned to me. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”

“So I knew you as Zoe almost 20 years ago when I was barely a student here… Stephen knew you as Mary seven years ago. I always knew you held secrets and your aging was slowed but I never imagined…” He looked back and forth between Loki and I. “You’re Asgardian, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“You mentioned people were looking for you when you first came to us… is that why you’re here now?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I think most of them are dead or scattered. It’s something else. It’s about the Sapphire and Scarlet Witches. You speak of them with such fear.”

“That’s what I was always taught… to fear them. The Ancient One warned us of such beings during much of my training. To say that you could be one of them… it goes against everything I know about them… and you.”

“You don’t understand, Wong. I’ve dreamt of them… of myself. I’ve seen it, Wong.”

He shook his head. “No, you must’ve seen wrong.” He goes to a bookcase covered in chains and removes a book, returning to us and flipping it open to an eerily familiar image. It was a colored sketch of two women surrounded by scarlet and sapphire on either side, purple flames meeting in the middle.

“They are said to either rule… or annihilate the cosmos.”

“You truly believe you are the Sapphire Witch?” Loki asked me and Wong watched us carefully.

“I can’t think of another way to explain what I saw… the way my abilities have grown beyond my control.”

I turned my attention back to Wong. “What does it say about the other one? The Scarlet Witch?”

He looked down at the book again. “Nothing much… other than the two beings are close and have seen or will have seen many battles together.”

My heart was racing in my chest. I knew the Scarlet Witch seemed familiar but it wasn’t until I felt her nails dig into my arm that I realized what I’d been missing. I could practically hear her heart racing next to me as Wong spoke in a language I didn’t understand before translating it from the book.

“God help the soul who crosses them.”

***********

Taglist: @nelachu2423 @purplekitten30@lokisprettygirl22@midnights-ramblings@huntress-artemiss@lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @the-archangel-in-asgard@crimson25@thedistractedagglomeration

[panicawa]

ADHD+feedback=agony

This is going to be a long and possibly boring text post about art and posting art online, with some self-reflection on top. I don’t usually do these and it’s been ages since I’ve actually written any kind of a longer text, but I really need to put these thoughts onto imaginary digital paper. I’d appreciate if you read it through and if you could give me any form of feedback on this! Your own experiences and etc. I do art because it’s a part of my ADHD-ridden personality, this desire to create always buzzing inside, it’s neither and both work and hobby for me, something I love and hate the most in life, because it tortures me as much as it fills me with joy. So if you ask me ‘hey, what’s your purpose for drawing? What’s your goal, your endgame?’ the answer is really ‘there’s none, it’s more of a curse, it’s just something that makes me alive so I can’t help but continue, cause if I stop it feels like I’d vanish or lose myself completely’. I can’t say I’ve done all other forms of media to express myself, but I’ve tried a lot of things (poetry, photography, music, cosplay, crafting and so on and so forth) and nothing comes close to drawing. And I’m not even sure if ‘expressing myself’ is a right way to put it because it’s not that my art is any kind of deep and meaningful, I just illustrate plots and characters I find appealing in some way or another, for the most part. Now, I don’t consider myself to be a professional, but I also have 20+ years of experience at this point so I might as well be, depending on how you look at it. All self-beating aside, I like to think that my art is at somewhat plausible level at the moment? I am proud of how far I’ve come despite everything and I can still see a lot of progress happening, and god knows I work my ass off to continue improving. The main thing I want to address here is how erratic and incomprehensible my online feedback has been recently and how it makes my brain perform loops of dissociation.  I wish I didn’t care for feedback at all, but sadly I do,  it’s what gives me the most dopamine. I’ve recently discovered it’s yet-another ADHD thing. Nothing else in life makes me as fulfilled as seeing other people enjoy my pictures, it’s just pure joy without any downsides to it. It’s really not about financial gain from art or fame and popularity, but just creating something new and then seeing people have a positive emotional response to it is what lights up my life and helps to get through all the shit it throws at me. And considering that my family is mostly completely disinterested in what I create (which has been hurting me more than I can describe since I was a little baby), and my paranoia makes it hard to accept compliments from friends and partners, online feedback has been the best medicine for me. I used to tell myself one day I will get good enough to have some following that would be excited about my art and give me constant feedback in return, because that’s what I always saw happen to other artists. I never aimed to be the most popular or to achieve certain numbers of likes, just being ‘good, on average’ was the ideal for me as long as I’ve had a constant crowd behind. I thought, a lot of musicians of the past don’t really make any more new hit songs, but they still can gather a crowd of long-term fans at a concert, right? Once you make it to some level of popularity you never really go into a complete oblivion, as long as you’re still working your craft and putting it out there? And there have been times in my life where I thought that the moment has finally happened and was now my reality, that my art was finally well enough to climb into ‘popular post’ tiers, and that I have gathered enough audience to have a stable interest in my publications, but it never lasted too long. I understand how social media work, how people change hobbies and fandoms, and how the world around us changes altogether, but recently the ride has been too wild for me to comprehend. Although I have a significant number of followers on all my main social media (tumblr, twitter, IG) (and a lot of those followers are fresh newcomers too), the feedback has just been... all over the place. I understand that I’m dipping into different fandoms here and there (then again, the vast majority of them are extremely popular on their own, so you’d think that should help the situation too?) and I’m experimenting with my art styles, but no matter how hard I try there’s just no consistency. I post something that I’m sure will do well and it does. I post something I’m sure will do well again and it completely flops. I post some scribes for fun and it goes super high. I post another funny thing and there’s no response. One post gets 10k likes, the next one gets 30 likes. Then the next one gets 5k. Then 15. I feel like I have no control over it at all, no understanding. It feels like playing a roulette. Just up to chance every time. It’s the same on all social platforms so I don’t think I could attribute it to algorithms only. How can I ever try to invest time and energy into bigger projects if I can’t even estimate if it has a chance of being any sort of likeable? Is my art just extremely non-consistent on its own and I just don’t notice? What’s going on??? I’m entirely grateful for big numbers but I’d really rather have them spread through most things I post? Of course some publications are going to be more popular than others, it’s perfectly fine, but while 300 likes on some posts and 600 likes on other is understandable, the gaps between 10k+ and less-than-30 are just too extreme? Especially when they happen one after the other? I swear I never see this with other people and it just makes my brain intolerable. For all those of you who have reached the bottom of this rant, thank you! If you have any thoughts to share or similar experiences, please do let me know! My main concern here is how to battle this feeling of am-I-going-insane-or-what, and not the numbers of likes. Finding any way out of this would be good because it has really interfered with my art process lately and I hateeee it!

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. it’s been a secret for the longest time

A/N: Hey, guys!!! I've been working on this story for about a week or so, I'm so excited to finally be posting it!!! A couple of weeks ago, I became absolutely obsessed with the song inspiration for this and eventually my brain started applying it to Trilance and I'd say the result is absolutely beautiful. This is actually Chapter 1 out of at least 2 (though I might continue with more than that if people really want me to). Originally this was going to be much longer, it was actually going to include a whole smut scene which would've almost doubled the word count at least, maybe even fully doubled it, but my laptop needs to charge and I need to go to sleep, lmao. So you guys get part one now and part two sometime tomorrow!! Imma have to go back through and do some proofreading later on, but for the most part, it should be good to go!!! Happy reading!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot

Summary: For months now, Tristan and Lancelot have played a game of secret flirting, lustful longing, and maybe even something a bit more. But now that a certain date has finally been set, they're running out of time to decide what they want and Tristan decides he's going to finally make a move to advance things forward.

Tags: Aged up characters (somewhere around 21-24), alcohol, sexual tension, slight Guinevere bashing (💀💀), cheating/infidelity sorta (depends on how you look at it, I guess? But people have tried to come at me for not tagging cheating in the past, so, lmao)

Song Inspiration: Shameless By Camila Cabello (Highly recommend, btw)

Word Count: 4,883

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

Lancelot holds his breath as he waits. It's time. This is when he always shows up. Well, when they always show up, but he could care less about her. It's only him that he's concerned about. And there he is. Right on time. He watches from across the crowded club as two people come in through the front entrance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi that have followed them here were barely noticeable thanks to the heavy door blocking the club from the outside world quickly closing behind them.

A pinkette and a silverette make their way through the dancefloor slowly, stopping and talking to people, going by the bar to get their first round of drinks. Both of them are the closest thing to royalty you can get in their country, and in this club that means they are royalty as far as anyone is concerned. And they definitely live up to the title. A prince and a soon-to-be princess.

They're both beautiful. Stunning, even. They're shining stars, a picture perfect couple. The ultimate couple goals. Their life is perfect and nothing could be better. Everyone wants someone to love them like those two love each other. All anyone wants in life is to find someone who treats them as well as the prince treats the princess. That's all according to the world-wide media, anyways. But again, Lance doesn't care about anyone but the prince.

Finally, after a few minutes, they make their way over to where Lancelot is. Because of course. If they're the prince and princess, then he's a nobleman, his father being the royal advisor to the King himself, after all, if he were to continue his kingdom metaphors. He could even go so far as to say he was a family friend, though he's personally never spent much time with any of them.

"Lancelot, hello!" The princess addresses him kindly. "How have you been?"

He meets her eyes reluctantly. Not because he's afraid or intimidated by her, quite the opposite, in fact. There's just better places for him to look at right now. "I've been well, and you, your majesties?" He tacks on his little nickname for them with a playful grin.

She flushes slightly, but just shakes her head at him with a roll of her eyes while the prince beside her lets out a deep chuckle that absolutely lights Lance up inside. "We've been very well, isn't that right, my love?" The prince looks from Lance to the woman beside him as he speaks.

"Oh, yes, so much has happened recently. We must catch you up once we've finished making our round of greetings." The princess looked to be positively bursting with excitement. She then looks to the rest of his booth with curiosity and confusion, seeming to just now notice the lack of a brunette beside him. "Both of you. Where's your princess, Lance?" She questions, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she teases him with his own nickname for her.

Oh gods, don't let her hear you call her that. She would never let any of us live it down and then we'd have some real problems. He thinks with a mental sigh of exasperation. "She had a business call to attend to, I'm sure she'll be back by the time you two are." He states politely.

They both nod. "We'll be off then, see you in a few." Is called back at him as they turn and walk away. He shakes his head and turns back to the table, downing the rest of his drink in order to keep himself from staring at the Prince's backside as he walks away. He sets his glass back down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he sags in his seat.

The prince and princess. Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors. Son of Meliodas Taizman and daughter of Chester Connors. Chester is someone who started out as nothing more than average middle-class and managed to work his way up the ladder and into the livelihood of the rich after finding a way to create a new piece of technology that allows people to rediscover long lost memories.

Meliodas is the Mayor of the city of Liones, the capitol of our country and the biggest and most populated place in all of Britannia. He's married to the previous Mayor's daughter, so some like to say that he didn't rightfully earn his place as leader of the people, but the truth is, he had already started making a name for himself before he'd even met his current wife, through his connection with the Sin Committee.

They were a group of activists who came from out of town. They're an interesting mix of people. Each of them have their own individual cause that they wanted to focus on the most, so they'd be in charge of that topic, situation, idea, etc. But whenever there was a protest or a meeting or a vote, all the other members would gather to help out. There was 7 of them, so they each chose one of the seven deadly sins to use as a code name, which is also where their official group name came from. They gathered for all kinds of stuff. Protests, uprisings, voting polls, they made speeches and outed assholes who tried to make themselves look good. And they didn't just do it in Liones, they did it all over Britannia. Danafall, Edinburgh, Benwick. They were changemakers and they were damn good at it.

They were planning on eventually traveling out of Liones and continuing on, but then Meliodas met the mayor's daughter, Elizabeth Liones. And he decided to stay so that he could be with her, settle down and actually grow out some roots somewhere. And the rest of his group followed suit, each one finding some reason or another to stay here and build an official life for themselves. Eventually Meliodas and Elizabeth got married and not long after, Meliodas ran for Mayor as Elizabeth's father stepped down.

So, the prince. Yeah, Lance thinks it's a pretty fitting name, considering the whole damn city is named after his family. That choice of nickname definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that if told to, he would immediately fall to the man's feet and do whatever else was asked of him without hesitation. It definitely doesn't have to do with the fact that for months, the only constant thought in his mind is what Tristan's skin might feel like and how his lips might taste. And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Lance has never wanted any man, any person, more than he's wanted Tristan Liones. Definitely not.

"What's up with you? Tired already?" A voice breaks him from his thoughts as the brunette slides into the booth next to him, having finished up with her phone call.

The only thing making me tired is you, Lance thinks wryly. "No, just lost in thought, thinking over some stuff." He replies, flashing her a quick half-hearted smile. "Isolde and Tristan stopped by to say hi. Isolde says she wants to tell us about some things. They should be back anytime now." He informs her.

"Oh good, it's been awhile since we've seen them, it'll be good to catch up." She states, smiling as she loops her right arm through Lance's left one and leans her head on his shoulder. Lance suppresses a sigh and places an arm around her shoulders out of obligation more than anything else, the girl under his arm sighing contentedly and snuggling closer. He grimaces, glad she can't currently see his face. Luckily, he's saved from having to linger too much on her, as Tristan and Isolde take that moment to appear once again.

"Oh, Guinevere, you're back! Lance said you would be back before we were, but I was worried when he mentioned it being a business call." Isolde admits to the woman at his side.

"Oh, it was nothing, everything is fine now." Guinevere waves her hand in front of her with an air of nonchalance.

Lance stops focusing on the women's interaction as he finally gives in to his urge that's almost instinct by now to look at Tristan. Tristan, who currently appears to be burning holes into Guinevere's arm with his eyes, glaring directly at where her arm is looped with his. Oh. Jealousy was not something seen often on the prince, but Lance is just now realizing that it is a very good look on him. Especially when it's about Lance himself.

Tristan must've felt Lance's eyes on him because his multi-colored eyes were suddenly meeting bright red. Lance's breath hitched. He was suddenly pinned by the hot spark in those green and blue irises of his. Something had changed, had finally shifted in this long game of theirs. He knew right then that tonight would be different. He didn't know how yet, but he was excited to find out, and he made sure to hold his realization and how he felt about it into his expression, with a hint of questioning. The silver-haired prince shook his head with a quick wink, just the tiniest of movements that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. 'Not right now, you'll see.' Is what he was saying. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, another barely there movement, and smirked. Tristan is the only reason he really even continues to come here and he never disappoints, not that Lance has ever expected him to.

"So," Tristan speaks up then, clearly having paid enough attention to the other conversation happening to know when to interrupt. "Shall we head up to the lounge? It's so much easier to talk privately up there." He suggests, looking away from Lance and between the pinkette and brunette.

"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Guinevere says, already getting up with her drink in hand. Lance follows suit as Isolde chimes her own agreement and the four of them head up the club's spiral stairs, the prince and princess leading the way and Lance swears that Tristan is swaying his hips slightly. Gods, he'll be the absolute death of me, Lance groans inwardly.

They enter one of the VIP lounges, the one they enter completely empty except for the bartender at the bar in the back of the room. Lance orders a second drink as the other three go sit down and he walks over to join them soon ever. When he reaches the table that they chose, he freezes for a moment. The place that was picked to sit at was a round, single booth with two spaces to enter it. On Lance's right, he could easily sit down right next to Guinevere, just like he always does, just like he should. But next to Guinevere is Isolde and next to Isolde is Tristan with an open spot right next to him and for a split second, Lance genuinely considers turning to the left and sitting next to the prince. But he catches himself and dutifully takes the spot to the right.

As he slides into his seat and places an arm across the top of the booth behind Guinevere's head, he looks to Tristan with nothing but a deep longing, finding the same emotion reflected back at him. He swallows and turns away from him, afraid he might do something stupid if he continues looking at him in that moment.

"So, Isolde? What's all this exciting news you guys have to tell us?" Lance asks as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his drink. He notices out of the corner of his eyes that Guinevere also turns to her as she leans into his side again. He forces himself not to shift away from her.

Isolde suddenly gives out a quiet squeal. "Okay! So," She looks at Tristan for a moment before turning back to them, Lance watching as the positions of the prince and princess mirror almost exactly Lance and Guinevere's. But he doesn't think much of it as Isolde continues talking. "Tristan and I have finally gotten a date for the wedding figured out!!" She exclaims happily, positively beaming. Guinevere gasps and shares in Isolde's excitement, the two women taking a moment to ramble together.

Tristan gives out a low chuckle and Lance turns to him again, something off about the sound that escaped him. The prince seems tense, his expression tight, and it becomes clear to the blonde that his chuckle wasn't born out of any kind of amusement, though it could easily appear that way to the two others in their party, as they were barely paying him any attention in this moment. Lance's brows furrow, a slight tilt of his head asking Tristan what his reaction was for. Yeah, so they figured out a date for the wedding already. Not ideal for Tristan, he was sure, but-

"Yes!" The fakest smile he had ever seen to date plasters itself across the prince's face. "August 28th." He states. "Of this year." And right there was the answer to Lance's question. Four months. Tristan and Isolde were getting married in four months. The public had only known them to be engaged for three.

"Ohhh, an end of summer wedding will be beautiful." Guinevere says in awe.

"Oh, won't it?" Isolde coos, her hands clasping in front of her.

"In just four months, huh? That's a lot sooner than I would've expected." Lance pipes up, his eyes not having left Tristan's at all yet.

"Yes, well, Isolde just couldn't wait any longer." Tristan states. "And apparently neither could my parents. August was supposed to be a completely unavailable month. But upon hearing that August was ideal over September or November, he completely canceled all matters of business for the month. That way we could have "the pick of the lot", he said." Tristan spat out, his words getting colder as he continued, and this time it didn't seem to be for a reason that he cared to hide.

Lance's suspicions were confirmed when Isolde spoke up next. "Oh, Tristan, cut your father some slack. I know you were excited for that trip, but your father just wants to help us in any way he can." She tells him, her voice on the verge of scolding. The tone made Lance almost scoff.

Tristan looked down at Isolde with a much softer expression than he had just a moment before and smiles at her. "You're right as always, I'm sorry. Forgive my thoughtlessness." And then the prince lays a soft kiss on the princess' lips, and the young nobleman has to look away quickly at the sight. Lance takes a long drink from his glass as he surveys the rest of the lounge outside of their booth, seeing it still empty as it was before. He's about to excuse himself for a moment, needing some air, when he's stopped from doing so.

"Isolde, do you mind if I talk to Lancelot privately for awhile? Most of the rest of your announcements have to do with the wedding more than anything else and Guinevere seems a lot more interested in those details than Lance does. Plus, I feel like I should finally get to know a bit more about the man. His father is practically my uncle and yet I feel I've barely spent any time with Lancelot himself." Tristan explains to his fiance, looking at her with casual questioning.

Isolde smiles at him, believing his explanation entirely. "Of course!" Suddenly she lights up even more. "Oh! Anne should be here soon, too! Guin, have you met Anne yet? You would absolutely love her!" Isolde gushes as she looks to the brunette.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think so, but if she's a friend of yours, then I have no doubt that we'll get along." She states warmly. Isolde beams at her as Tristan exits the booth to let Isolde out and Lance follows his lead, letting Guinevere out. Isolde and Tristan share a peck on the lips and Lance turns to Guinevere to do the same, knowing she'll expect it.

"Take your time, don't rush, okay? I want you to have fun with your friends. We are here for that purpose, after all." Tristan points out to Isolde.

Isolde grins and throws her arms around him in a quick hug and for a moment, the smile on Tristan's face is back to being genuine, obvious affection on his face for the woman before him. Just not the kind that it's supposed to be. "Thank you. Have fun with your new friend, Trist." Isolde says before turning and looping her arm with Guinevere's, dragging her away as the brunette waves at Lance as she goes. Once the two of them have left the lounge and headed down the stairs to go meet up with Anne, Lance turns back to the booth, seeing Tristan already sitting once again. Lance sits back down as well, both of them choosing spots that allow them to be exactly across from each other.

They both stay silent for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, both seeming to be in quiet contemplation. Then Tristan breaks the silence first. "So, when are you and your fiancé going to make an announcement? The public doesn't even know that you two are engaged yet." He points out.

Ah, yes. His fiancé. Not by his own choice, of course. He doesn't have a single romantic notion towards her. In fact, he doesn't really have any platonic ones towards her, either. Guinevere is too arrogant for her own good and has way too big an ego, not to mention her whole I-know-everything attitude. It's all just a big turn off for him. But he's stuck with her. For now, at least. She's the person that his parents chose for him. Just like Isolde is the one that Tristan's parents chose for him. Some people have said recently that arranged marriages are way too old school and going out of style, but in reality, they're just as common now as they were 200 years ago.

"I'm not an actor like you, Prince Tristan." Lance tells him with a wry smile. "Guinevere is well aware that I'm not in love with her and she doesn't want to start up the wedding process until I do fall in love with her, because, apparently, she's absolutely certain that I will eventually."

Tristan tilts his head to the side slightly. "And how do you know that I'm acting with Isolde?" He asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he chuckles softly. "Considering you look at me in ways I've never once seen you even consider looking at her, I'd say you're more likely to be in love with me than with her."

Tristan's eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth and Lance's do, too, once his own words register in his mind. That right there was territory neither of had even dared go into before. There's never been any communication of feelings besides lust, passion, and curiosity. There couldn't be any romance between the two, could there? He was frozen, unsure how to recover from his own suggestion.

"Well. You certainly are observant, that's for sure." The silverette seems to have recovered faster than him, though his voice is much softer than it was before.

The topic switch definitely helps. Lance locks eyes with him, pouring every ounce of want he has for the man into his eyes without a single bit of shame or hesitation. "Yes, but you already know that, don't you?" Flashes run through his mind of all the times they've checked each other out or sent silent flirtations towards each other.

From the way Tristan bites his lip, he's thinking of the same thing. But instead of replying, he slides further into the booth, until he's in the middle of the half circle. He pats the spot right beside him. "Come over here." He orders.

Lance hesitates for a moment. Not because he doesn't want to be closer to Tristan. He knows that once he moves closer, it'll be the turning point of whatever this is between them. All of this is completely new. As he noticed before, he makes note of it again. Something is different about tonight. And he has a feeling he's about to find out exactly what it is. But he hangs back a little longer. It's like when a roller coaster reaches the top but then stops for just those extra few seconds, building up the anticipation so that you feel it just that tiniest bit more when the ride finally dips and takes the drop down. And it seems his decision was the right one.

When Lance doesn't immediately come over to him, Tristan bows his head down slightly, then looks back up at Lance through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. "Please?" The single word comes out as half whisper, half purr and Lance suddenly feels the need to adjust himself. Fuck.

Lance slides across the booth until he's right beside the prince, only about an inch of space between their bodies. He's tense now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. Eventually he decides to just place them on the table in front of him. He left his drink across the table, so he just lays his hands flat on the dark wood. Then Tristan places his hand on top of Lance's and he startles slightly, sucking in a deep breath at the contact. He can hear Tristan's breath hitch beside him and he knows that he must've felt it, too. The bolt of lightning that struck through to the very core of his being as soon as their skin connected. But Tristan continues despite it.

"Just take a second to relax, okay?" He says casually in a low voice. And then he starts moving his hand across Lance's wrist and over his arm slowly, causing Lance to do the opposite of relax. It felt like electricity was coursing throughout his entire arm, spreading out from where Tristan's hand was. He watches with wide eyes as the silverette's hand reaches the crook of his elbow and starts making it's way up.

"Relax, remember?" Is whispered into his ear as he feels the slight brush of hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes as his whole body shudders.

He tries his best to follow the instruction, urging his body to relax against the seat. Then Tristan changes the position of his hand slightly, pressing the tips of his nails against Lance's shirt and then lightly dragging them against the skin over his collarbone and Lance melts. His head falls back against the top of the cushion behind him and bites his lip as the other man's palm presses flat to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding up the side of his neck and over his collarbone, until his hand finally stops, resting gently against Lance's cheek. The electricity has followed his hands path, leaving a pleasant burn in it's wake, every part of him that's been touched feeling so warm.

He slowly opens his eyes as he sits back up, looking at Tristan. The prince has a look of pure awe on his face as he stares at him, as if something Lance just did has absolutely amazed him. Lance reaches up and threads his fingers into some of the hair at the top of the prince's head and runs them through it gently. Tristan's eyes flutter closed and he hums, a pleased sound. Once his fingers reach the tips of his long hair, he brings his hand back up and mimics what Tristan did, his hand curved around his cheek. When Tristan opens his eyes again, the blue and green in them is barely visible with how wide his pupils are blown.

"Lance." He whispers, his voice shaking slightly now. "I don't exactly know what it is going on between us. What all these feelings are and what they'll lead to. I know that I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody or anything in my entire life. But," He brings his free hand up to wrap around the wrist of the hand Lance has on his face, tracing small circles into his skin with his thumb. "I feel like it's something more than that. Like even if I finally have you, I won't be able to let you go." He admits, giving Lance that same shy look as before, but with a hint of fear in it this time. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Lance swallows before answering. "I think I know what you mean." Is all he whispers back. He has his own theories of what it all was, but he isn't sure he's ready to confront that just yet. Tristan runs his eyes over Lance's face a few times, like he's searching for something. Then they lock eyes once again and Lance suddenly realizes that it's not Tristan's voice that's shaky. Tristan himself is trembling. Before Lance can question him, he speaks up again.

"I don't know what it is," A fierce determination sparks in his eyes and Lance is both surprised and entranced by it. "But I want to." He says just barely above his breath. "I want to-" He cuts himself off, like he's afraid of what was about to come out of his mouth.

"What is it?" Lance asks him. "What do you want to do?" He brings his other hand up to cup Tristan's other cheek gently, looking at him pleadingly. Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly what the prince wanted, because he wanted it, too, but he needed to hear him say it first.

Tristan leans into his touch and lets out a sound close to a whimper. "I want to find out together. You and I. We could do it, you know. Because you were right. Of course you were. Isolde has never been anything more than a sister to me, a friend. I hate the idea of marrying her and everything that's meant to come with it. Tomorrow, I can break things off with her. Tell my parents that there's someone else. I don't care how mad they get at me. And then you and I, we can take this however far it goes, as long as you do the same. We can make our own choices for once instead of just always doing what everyone else wants us to." His own eyes are pleading now and the fear is even more evident. Lance realizes that the fear is of rejection. That his proposal will be brushed off and turned away from.

"And what would your choice be, Prince Tristan?" He asks, his own voice trembling.

"As of right now, my choice would be you, Sir Lancelot." Tristan says with certainty.

"What if I don't want that?" Lance asks him. Not because he's considering no. Not at all. Only because he's curious as to what the alternative is.

Tristan leans in slightly, taking his hand from Lance's wrist and reaching up to run a thumb down his temple and over his cheekbone before his hand lands on his jaw and stays there. "Then we won't continue this any further. I couldn't handle doing anything more if you don't want the same as me. But it's your choice. Kiss me right now and I'm yours. Walk away from me right now and we'll never be this close again, everything we've been doing will stop."

Lance looks at him. The answer was clear as soon as the idea left Tristan's pretty pink lips. Leave Guinevere and the stupid arranged marriage behind in order to pursue Tristan and see where the feelings between them go? It wasn't even a question. Lance gives him a grin. "Stupid of you to think that I could ever walk away from you." He tells him. And then Lance is crashing his lips against Tristan's.

~*~

A/N: So, how is it so far??? Did you guys like it?? Cause I honestly loved writing this. I love these boys sm and this AU was really fun to come up with. You guys will get the rest tomorrow!!! Please, lemme know all your thoughts on this!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Love y'all 💜💜💜

~*~

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@darkelf-7

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[tinymoonrider]

Tuberose

Summary: The servant, a friend of the prince, is finally old enough to take over the chores of their mother. The prince, upon learning that his friend is starting to date, starts getting a little... Strange... (Prince x reader)

Warnings: Character death, kidnapping, fear, obsession, yandere, and blood

The main character is gender neutral

My family had been serving the Larson family for years. By the time I had reached my eighteenth birthday, I was to take over the chores my mother was in charge of. "That's why having children in this profession pays off!" she'd always tell me with a tired smile on her face.

Eventually her and my aunt, would try to play match maker in hopes that I would be able to leave this life behind. They'd set up dates with people who had stable jobs in the village. My mother hoped that getting a partner with a stable job could also help me get a job somewhere else outside of the castle. They'd especially try to get me to go on dates with those who were from other villages. "Please just try. For me? I don't want you scrubbing floors and plunging toilets for the rest of your life." They'd push me forward, getting me to leave with my date. To be very honest, a couple of them have managed to catch my eye, but, whenever I try to reach out to them again, it seems as though they weren't interested.

Although I appreciate my mother and my aunt trying so hard for me, I just think that all of this is in vain. None of the people I've met up with want to see me again. Besides, I don't mind working for the palace. They provide all of their workers with food and shelter. It's not so bad here.

I wring out a rag over the soapy water mixture contained in the rusty bucket next to me and continue scrubbing the tiled floor. The sound of sharp clicking of heels makes their way over to me, I try to make myself look busy in case it's the queen making her rounds on the servants. The shiny surface of the area I've cleaned so far reveals the face of the young prince, Alexander.

Alex was about my age, only a year's difference between us. We grew up together in the castle, in fact, for a while I was assigned as his personal chambermaid. Although it only lasted for a week, we managed to become great friends. Unfortunately I was fired after the explosion incident in the servants kitchen (he only had half of his eyebrow left, but at the very least he wasn't dead). When I was ruled unfit to be his chambermaid, I remember Alex crying his eyes out over it. The night I was fired, Alex had one final request: more pillows and blankets and for me, specifically, to bring it to his room. Upon bringing it to his room, I was "formally kidnapped" for the night. I slept on his bed next to him, the extra pillows and blankets forming a little nest around us. I told him a story to help him sleep that night, as he couldn't sleep. He said that his mother would've read stories to him had she not been busy. At the time, I knew that she really wasn't doing anything at that time of the night. She just didn't have the energy to deal with her son. She couldn't bear the guilt.

The next day, after a light scolding from both of our mothers, I wasn't allowed to hangout with Alex for a couple of months. Even after our sentence was over, Alex was forced to learn all the ways of being a prince and the heir to the kingdom. Anytime he saw me, he was more than excited but, mainly kept to himself. It was only after his parents had encouraged him to pursue other princesses from other villages that Alex had really changed. Any free chance he had, he would cling to me, following me around the castle, pulling me away from my chores, and even acting out to get what he wanted from me.

A hand covers my eyes and another wraps around my waist. "Darling~... Guess who." A deep sing-song voice whispered in my ear. I rolled my eyes and decided to mess with him a little bit. Teasing him never got old.

"James? From the library right?" Alex growled from behind me, "Oh my gosh, I thought I'd never hear from you again- how are you?" I stifled a laugh as his grip got tighter, "Thanks again for buying me that book, I honestly couldn't put it down. It's so interesting... Say, now that I have you, I was wondering if you wanted to go out again sometime?~" Alex spun me around and wrapped his arms tightly around my back.

"It's not James." He huffed, "It's me, Alexander. Whoever this James is, doesn't deserve to go out with you. He doesn't even know what you'd like..." Pouting, he lets me go and turns away from me. Rolling my eyes, I start to giggle.

"Alex, I was joking around with you. I haven't heard from James in a while." I sigh, "Besides, I heard from his parents that he hasn't been home for a couple of weeks... They said he went missing." I play with the rag in my hand and wonder where he could be.

"You shouldn't worry about low life scum like him." My eyebrows knit together as I glare at him. "You never met James. How dare you say something like that."

Alex challenges me, "I know about his criminal record. I'm sure Mr. Prince-charming never told you about that!" His hands find purchase on my waist. He squeezes, "You're better off not going out with him ever again." He mumbles something under his breath and turns back around. Snapping his fingers, he gestures for me to follow him. I shake my head and pack up my cleaning supplies, following him to where he wanted me to go. We head outside towards the gardens. A place we often frequented when the weather was nice. Sitting down in the gazebo, I relaxed with him in the cool breeze. I enjoyed the scenery around me, the colorful spring flowers danced along with the wind, their scent was as beautiful as they looked. Alex's eyes never left me in moments like this. It was like he was studying me, making mental notes of how I looked and felt in those moments.

"You should stop going on dates." Alex scooted closer to me on the bench, his hand reaching for mine. Ignoring him, I lifted my head up slightly, refusing to hear what he had to say.

"That's not something for you to decide."

"But it is."

"Oh really?" I looked at him, searching his eyes for the gull he had to say such a thing to my face. "How so?"

"I technically control the church too you know. You might not be able to marry in this village if I say so." I took a deep breath.

"It's not your life. If you do that, I'll never forgive you." I got up from my seat, the moment soured by his declaration. His hand reached for mine, desperate to keep me there with him for a little longer. I ripped it away from him. "I have to get back to work. I do have a busy job to get back to, unlike some people..."

Leaving him there, he watched on in bewilderment.

"What did I do wrong?"

--

In the servants kitchen, I started on some stew that could last me for a couple of weeks with enough rationing. Prepping the ingredients, I had gotten ready the pot I was going to cook it in. Soon a clearing throat rang throughout the kitchen, turning around on my heels, I was met by one of the royal dinner servants standing there, looking at me expectantly.

"Yes, sir?" Putting down a tomato, they gesture for me to come near.

"Prince Alexander has requested an audience with you up in the dining room." Wiping my hands on my apron, I follow the servant up to the dinning room where Alex and his parents were eating. I stood on the other side of the table from him, waiting patiently for him to acknowledge my presence so I could leave. I was still so upset with him from earlier. His off hand comment, still simmering in my mind. Upon seeing me however, he only smiled and continued to finish eating. He made faces at me to try to get me to smile wanting me to cheer up from earlier. When I didn't do what he wanted, he put down his utensils and cleared his throat, gaining his parents' attention.

"Mother, father, I have some very exciting news for you." He paused for effect and waved off the other servants, pointing at me to stay. Once all of the other servants had left, he continued, "As I mentioned to you both earlier, I found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with..." His mother smiled, while his father grinned as he took a stab at his steak. The king, gestured for me to get him another refill for his drink. Popping open a bottle of wine, I refilled his cup as Alex kept talking. Making my way around the table, I eventually made my way to Alex, his hand wrapped around my apron, tugging at me like a child asking for attention.

"I managed to get permission from their parents. They were more than excited to see us be wed. All I need is for you to approve of the marriage." His mother nodded.

"Of course, we would need to meet them first of course." She continued to eat away at her meal, Alex's hand tugging at me again. I manage to wiggle myself out of his hands to put away the wine. Making eye contact with him, urging him to stop, he silently begs me to come back next to him. When I don't listen, he rolls his eyes and gets out of his chair, his parents watching him with curiosity.

"Prince Alex, sir, I can get whatever you may need. All you need to do is ask," I make my way over to him gesturing for him to sit down rather harshly. He shakes his head at me and pulls out a chair next to me. Taking my arm, he pulls me down to the open seat and pushes it in. Grabbing an empty plate from a cart, he starts fixing the plate with the food on the table until it's overflowing. Setting it down in front of me, he gives me a couple of his forks and his glass of wine. Bewildered, I glared at Alex, upset with him for breaking the rules.

"Alex," his mother starts, her eyes, stabbing at me, "you know the rules right? No servants at the table. They have their own place to eat downstairs." Her voice raises slightly. His father watches intently at what his son would do. I start to pull away from the table as quietly as possible. Alex, pushes me back.

"I shouldn't be here right now, I can come back." I say to no one in particular, they ignore me.

"They're not a servant." He grabs a fork and takes a piece of meat from my plate, lifting it up to my lips. I don't bite.

His father sighs as his wife complains to her husband, trying to get him to do something about me sitting there with them at the table. "You know what, you're right, Alexander, they're not a servant." Now addressing me, he says sternly, "You are to pack your things and leave this castle. You are to be gone by morning or else I'll have the guards to remove you themselves." He turns towards Alex, mouthing, "don't you even think about doing what you are about to do."

Alex grins. "They're going to be married to me." I turn towards him, begging him to say that he's just joking around. He doesn't. The room is silent. It feels as though a heavy weight hugs my chest tightly. What? His mother glares at me, telling me with her eyes to drop dead so he could marry one of the many options already lined up for him. "Mother, would you stop being so rude?-- You know, you should really relax that face of yours, your crows feet will only grow if you don't." She lifts her hands to her face. Alex takes my hand into his and squeezes. Offering me a soft smile, he pulls me up to my feet and guides me so I stand behind him.

"So, what do you say? You both already know her! She's lived here all her life so she knows the castle like the back of her hand-- as well as everyone in it." The queen starts to sob quietly, "She's a very hard worker and a very quick learner-"

"No." The king places a hand on his wife's shoulder. Rubbing her back, he gently pulls her into his chest. Alex's hand, still holding mine, tightens.

"What?"

"You heard me. There are so many better options out there than that." He points at me with his fork, "Options that can easily improve relations between kingdoms." The queen sobs harder, "That wretched thing behind you is no more than a servant. They can't help you. They can't help anyone! In any way that counts at least. As royalty, you have a duty to marry. Not for love but for purpose." Alex's hands try to curl in on themselves, my fingers unfortunately in the way. It feels as though they would pop off of my hand at any moment. Unable to hold my voice back any longer, I let out a small whimper. Alex's attention immediately snaps to me, the conversation between him and his father long forgotten.

"I'm so sorry, my Love. Come on, let's go to my chambers. We can talk more there." Pulling me so that I was in front of him, he guided me to his room. His father calls out for us, declaring that the conversation wasn't over. Alex ignores him, pulling me along with him, forcing me to ignore his father too. Not that I wanted to speak with him, especially without Alex.

Once in his chambers, he locks the door behind me, guiding me to his bed. "How about we find you something to wear..." I feel like my brain is about to turn into mush and leak out of my ears. He pulls out a long sleeved white undershirt. Comparing the size of it to my body, he makes a satisfied noise. Nodding to himself, he rummages his closet looking for a pair of bottoms that would be able to fit me.

"Alex, I can't marry you." My vision blurs, I can't control my breathing. Alex's face falls flat.

"Is this about what my parents said? 'Cause, Honey, we could just elope! I'll take a couple of jewels and cash from the treasury and then we can buy a farm-- I remember how much you like animals-- we'll be at the edge of the village so no one will bother us!" My head involuntarily shakes at the idea.

"How stupid are you?" I look at him, unable to hold the tears back, "We can't just elope! You're next in line for the throne, you can't just leave." He frowns. "Your parents are right, this isn't a good idea." I offer a small smile, trying to lessen the tension in the room, "If we go back now, and apologize-"

"No! Don't you see? I love you," he wines, "I want you. Only you. Screw other women. Screw this fucked kingdom!"

"Alex-"

"No," he stated, "I love you. I want you. I want every single fucking part of you. You are my life. My love. None of those other assholes deserve an angel like you." He grabs my hands and leans closer to my face, "You were made, for me. You are mine as I am yours. You will understand that in time. You will understand just how much I crave you. Every single fucking part of you." He leans in, this breath fanning at my face. My chest hurts at how fast my heart is beating. His lips brush against mine when a knock at the door interrupts us. Alex sighs and goes to answer it. A mumbled exchange between the two and he begrudgingly excuses himself from the room. Locking the door behind him, I'm left alone with my thoughts.

After a couple of hours, a personal chambermaid of his, unlocks the door and hands me a note as well as a glass of water. With a small, shy smile and curtsy, she leaves the room, the sound of the lock clicking back into place. Unfolding the note, I read through the carefully written loops and swoops of his letter, wondering what is taking him so long.

"Apologies, Hon, I'll be a little late to bed tonight. I have to take care of something but, I promise that we can continue our little conversation tomorrow. Maybe even walk through the gardens? Play with a couple of the animals from the pet shop you love to visit so much? Anyway, go ahead and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning my Love.

-Alex"

I let out a deep sigh and took a sip of the water given to me and changed into the shirt he had taken out. Plopping down onto the bed, my eyes instantly felt a wave of drowsiness wash over me. With my body relaxing, my mind drifts away from my body, almost missing the piercing scream that rings through the castle. Almost.

--

The next morning, I'm neatly tucked under the soft covers of Alex's bed. Sunlight filtered through his sheer curtains gracefully. As if he had known I had woken up, Alex walked in with a breakfast tray. On it were all of my favorite foods, a glass of orange juice, and a vase of white tuberose flowers. They had bloomed in the garden not too long ago. I remember mentioning how beautiful they looked in the sea of color. How pure they seemed in that sea. I guess he remembered.

Setting the little portable table on my lap, he settled himself next to me, grabbing my fork and stabbing a piece of somewhat burnt bacon. Nudging my lips, he waits for me to take a bite. Opening my mouth to talk, he shoves the bacon past my lips and smiles. After eating a couple of bites, I decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Can we continue our conversation from last night?"

He nods, "Are you accepting my marriage proposal?" He takes a bite himself and waits for my answer. I shake my head, reaching for the spare fork, he takes it off the table and throws it across the room. He lifts more food towards my lips for another bite. Trying to take the fork from his hands ends in vain as he dodges and manages to get the food past my lips once more. "Well you won't have much of a choice..." Confused, I ask him for answers only for him to shake his head. We finish our breakfast in silence. Ordering me to get dressed and to meet him outside, chambermaids rush in to help me.

I'm led towards the main room of the castle where many soldiers, a couple of villagers, and Alex circle around something  on the floor. Quietly, I take my place next to Alex, the fancy clothes he had me wear felt out of place on my body. Usually the clothes I'm allowed to wear around the castle, as per the queen's orders, were basically a bunch of old rags stitched together. Upon seeing what they were looking at in the middle of the circle, my heart rate starts to increase. A white sheet outlines a body laying on the floor. A faint odor wafts towards my face. I look at Alex for answers to which he whispers, "The queen is dead."

--

Later that day, while in the gazebo with Alex, he explains to me that he had found his mother earlier that morning bathing in her own blood on the floor. A distinct line carved into her neck like a smile. His father, the king was missing. He looked straight into the distance at the sea of flowers. The sky was a dark grey. His face is both full and void of emotion. I couldn't fathom how he had felt in that moment. The head of the church had come up to him just before we left to go outside, telling him that he was to lead the village until they were able to find the king. They had also mentioned that they would be able to help him out for the time being but, ultimately, the final decision would be dealt with by Alex.

He leans into my chest, wrapping his arms around me, he inhales my scent and buries his face into my chest. Mumbling his secrets into my heart, I sit still and run my hands through his hair. "I'm going to need you. I'm going to need your support. I can't do this alone. Not without you." I nod.

"Of course, whatever you need."

--

It had been three years since that day. I had stuck by Alex's side, learning alongside him on his journey to becoming the new ruler. Alex's proposal had slipped to the back of my mind, not that he ever brought it up since then. I assumed he had forgotten about it too. Or maybe he had other things on his plate that he needed to worry about. Either way, I was more than happy to just support him on the sidelines, giving him guidance whenever he needed it the most. I was so busy helping out to take care of the kingdom, my mother, and the other chores that I had been neglecting, that I was blind to what was happening in the background.

One day, Alex had called me into the dining room for another audience. We had both been so busy that this would've been the first day we'd finally be able to see each other for more than ten minutes. Opening the door, I had walked in on Alex lighting a couple of candles on the table. The lights were off, the warm glow was our only light source in the room. As soon as I opened the door, all of the servants had rushed out of the room, giving a curt bow and curtsy as they passed by me. Sitting down at the table, we ate dinner and enjoyed each other's presence for the night. In the middle of the table a bouquet of tuberose flowers sat, their scent evoked pleasant memories from before all that had happened as of late.

"So, I have a bit of news for you. Would you like the good or the bad news first?" He gave me a sad smile, one reminiscent of the one he had when his mother had died.

"Bad." I braced myself for what was coming.

"They... They found my father. He was held up in one of the villagers basements at the edge of town... This villager and his family..." He paused excusing himself to take a deep breath, "the man killed my mother and didn't leave much left of my father to recover unfortunately..." I put my hand over my mouth and apologized.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that."

"They're together in a better place now. That's all that matters." His sad smile turned hopeful, "The good news is, they read my father's will and it seems as though we will be getting married after all." He stood up from his chair, "There was a fail safe put into place in case I was to take over the throne while still being a bachelor..." He kneels on the ground in the space beside me, laying his head on my lap he continues, "I am to be married to you. To you quite specifically. It seems as though they... Changed their minds about you..." Taking my hands into his, he kisses each individual finger and knuckles, "How lucky right? The wedding is to be in no less than two weeks. We can get married earlier than that but, I want to make sure we have enough time to plan everything. Including the honeymoon." I rip my hands away from his reach.

"Excuse me?"

"I want everything to be perfect. The church is more than willing to take over while we visit other countries and just relax. Our army has been built up over the years and is more than capable of handling things while we're gone..." I tried to collect myself before I struck him across the face. Excusing myself, I stand up from my seat, my chair falling behind me, I rush towards the doors. Pushing against them with all my might, they don't budge. Rattling the door knobs, I bang against the doors, calling out to anyone that could hear me.

"Someone please, open the door! I want to leave- I need to leave!" Alex appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Honey, I have the key, they couldn't even open it if they wanted to." I start to cry.

"What did you do?" I turn towards him fighting his hold as he calmly pulls me against his chest. A smile, a warm genuine smile, tugs at his features.

"What are you talking about, Darling?"

"I'm not stupid. I'm not blind. You obviously had something to do with this." I manage to push him off, backing off to another corner of the room. Using the table, I generate some ounce of distance between us. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, an obvious chase about to ensue. "This is all too convenient for you. Your parents never liked me. They wouldn't want you to marry me. They'd rather find a way to bargain for a princess of a rival village to marry you, even in death, they'd find a way." He chuckles.

"Is that so?" His chuckles turn into full on laughs. "Honestly Darling, you should be thankful. I did this for you- for us!" My mind was spinning, it felt as though the room was swaying. My dinner threatened to come back up. "Elise!" A chambermaid knocks on the door and Alex goes to unlock it. He promptly grabs me by the arm and drags me away from Alex. As I followed them outside the room, I managed to slip from their grip, running out into the court yard. The chambermaid called for me to come back. I managed to make it outside of the castle and out towards the front of the building, the garden beds that decorate it, helping me to relax. Sneaking towards the exit of the castle walls, I'm immediately dragged back inside by one of the guards. The guard who had found me carried me on his shoulder I was unable to see anything besides his back. The creaking of a door alerts me that I've reached my destination. As I'm put back onto my feet, the guard kicks me down the stairs of the wine cellar. All of the lights are off, the void effectively swallowing me whole. The only source of light being at the top of the stairs, where Alex appears at the door. With a disappointed look on his face, I try to get up and race towards the top.

"Alex, please!"

"You had your chance. I think you need to take a time-out to learn your place. I'll see you in the morning, Darling."

My only source of light is snuffed out by my future husband. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, the turn of the key, clicks the lock in place. The cold, empty void drags me back down stairs.

I am swallowed whole, and never seen again.

[delucadarlingwriting]

Have Her Cake and Eat It - Part 3

I've been trying to be two chapters ahead before posting any parts of this, but part 5 is going to be hella long (patrol scene), so I don't want to go another week without posting. Hopefully it helps me feel some momentum!

Summary: Kira struggles against the pressure of being a handler-in-training.

Word Count: 3,813

First | Last Part | Next Part (tbd)

***

[Kira POV, Wayhaven Square Inn]

Though Kira used to pass the inn every day on her walk to school, Kira has never once actually stepped through the front door. She’s gone to the attached restaurant several times, it’s where she had dinner before prom and a few other special occasions. The inn itself was never of much interest though. 

As she steps through the polished oak door, the woman behind the counter does a double take at the sight of her. 

“My goodness, is that…Kira Kingston?” she asks, gasping with a hand on her chest. Her silvery hair is piled up on her head in a messy bun as she pretends to adjust her glasses. It takes Kira a moment, but the bright purple lipstick and orange cat brooch stuck through a crocheted vest jostles Kira’s memory.

“Hello, Mrs. Reed,” Kira says. Being so far out in the middle of nowhere, the innkeeper was very often one of the people fetching water glasses in the restaurant, no doubt out of lack of anything else to do. Kira has to wonder how many guests she actually sees in a year. 

The older woman glances back at Nate and Mason, an intrigued eyebrow arching over sharp eyes. 

“My, my,” she says. She smiles slyly. “Now, that’s not much like the Kira I remember, always chasing the pretty girls.”

“Wh—!” Kira sputters. Nate and Mason both laugh, the cretins, though at least Nate has the grace to be quiet about it. “Mrs. Reed, these are my colleagues. I’m here on business!”

“Business?” She blinks, then lets out a loud ah. “I suppose that makes sense, the Agency wanting rooms then. I should’ve known you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. I nearly mistook you for her when you first walked in. She’s aged terribly well, hasn’t she?”

“...I guess so,” Kira says, feeling too awkward to say much else. She manages to wrangle keys for the three of them, assuring Mrs. Reed that someone would come for the fourth later on. Mason is still chuckling to himself as she leads the way upstairs.

“Shut up,” Kira hisses. Mason smirks, hands in his pockets as he strolls along.

“You never mentioned being a skirt chaser, that’s all,” he says. 

“I wasn’t,” Kira says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “For god’s sake, I’ve only dated two people in my life, and I’ve been happily committed to one of them for years now!”

“Yeah, two,” Mason replies. He shudders. “Longer than I’d want.”

“You can barely commit to keeping your trousers buttoned,” Nate says. 

“I aim to please,” Mason says with a low purr, falling back as Nate moves to pass him and walk beside Kira as they hit the first landing of the stairs.

“It seems like you know most of the people in town,” Nate says. 

“Not as many as I used to,” Kira says. Wayhaven never seemed to change when she was a child, but suddenly she’s away for a few years and so much is different upon her return. Including the people. “I’m glad to see people I recognize though.”

“It’s quite sweet,” Nate says with a soft smile. “You said you know the detective, right? You two seemed familiar.”

“Not as familiar as Kira wishes,” Mason pipes in. Kira turns back to swat at him, but he leans back, anchoring himself with a hand on the railing, before she can make contact.

“She’s just an old friend,” Kira says, hands on her hips as she glares down at him. “And she’s our mission now, so don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t,” Mason says, a touch defensive. He bristles a little, but doesn’t argue further. Kira turns away, her braid slicing through the air and smacking him in the face. He growls, but the reminder of their mission has Kira irritated all over again.

“And what happened during the interview with Trevor Cunningham cannot happen again,” Kira says, her footsteps made heavier with her emotions. “You both made me look like a jackass! And yourselves worse than!”

“Yes, we did,” Nate agrees, shoulders drooped. “And we’re sorry about it. We’re just used to how things have been for so long. We should have known better.”

She groans. Thinking about how infuriated Barbie was about it makes her want to find a nice rock to crawl under. At the same time, maybe part of being a handler is anticipating issues like this and heading them off before they happen. The team always seems to work just a bit better when Rebecca is around, after all. 

“Just…do better,” Kira pleads.

“Is it really that big of a deal? We’re just doing our job. That leggy detective should be able to cope with that,” Mason says. He shuts up when Nate and Kira both glare at him. 

It’s weird, going from being part of the team to being sort-of-kind-of in charge of the team. Technically Adam is still in charge, with Rebecca being just above him, but everyone’s going to be looking to Kira for direction eventually. She’s not sure how to navigate the shifting dynamics.  Maybe this is why Adam always seems more distant than the others, despite how he cares just as much as any of them.

Nate heaves a deep sigh as they reach the top of the stairs. The hallway splits off in either direction, empty and silent. For a moment they linger, eyes on Nate as he mulls over what he wants to say. 

“It’s a shame we can’t tell her what kind of danger she’s in,” he says eventually. Mason huffs.

“It’ll be more trouble than it’s worth if she knows,” Mason says. Kira nods, though she doesn’t know if she agrees or disagrees. Nate frowns, a line forming between his eyebrows. An argument starts to form around his mouth. 

“You know the Agency’s rules,” Kira says before he can get started, putting a soothing hand on her friend’s arm. “It really sucks, but the rules are what they are for a reason. Besides, Unit Bravo is a crack team. We’ll do such a good job she’ll never even need to know a thing, and she can just continue living her normal life without disruption.”

Though his shoulders loosen for a moment, there’s still a trace of worry around Nate’s eyes. He’s always had a soft spot for humans as long as Kira’s known him, but this is more than she’s used to. 

“I suppose,” Nate mutters.

“You could always do a quick patrol to keep an eye on her,” Kira suggests. She checks her watch; Barbie had mentioned wanting to write up that report, so she’ll likely be around the police station for a while. Having an extra pair of eyes on her definitely wouldn’t hurt.

Nate brightens. “Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”

“I’ll go too,” Mason says. He grimaces as they both look at him in disbelief. Rarely does Mason volunteer to do work. Nate recovers first with a smile.

“I’d love the company,” he says, a hand flexing at his side. Mason gives a sharp nod, falling in at his side. The two of them head right back down the stairs and out the front door, their movements so fluid and in sync that Kira can’t help watching them leave.

Truth be told, Kira wishes she was with them. Learning that Barbie is to be the next victim has put her ill at ease, especially knowing that Barbie is, alarmingly, Wayhaven’s detective. She would have never guessed that Barbie would take a job putting herself in danger. Then again, what she truly knows of Barbie is wrapped up in the fact that she was just a kid when they spent the bulk of their time together, not a peer. Biting her lip, she hopes that Barbie can see her as more than that now. Though after the dressing down Barbie gave her and the vampires after the interview, she’s never felt more like a child playing dress up in her mom’s clothes. 

This is the thought that drives her to find her room and shed her suit as quickly as possible. It’s been a long day, especially considering she didn’t sleep a wink last night. They’d been so close to catching Murphy at the Farris Warehouse before running into Barbie. Then Rebecca tells them Barbie is, in fact, one of the people with the special blood mutation, and the team will be staying put to keep her from being murdered like all the others. It had given Kira so much to think about that she couldn’t settle in at all.

Kira finds her room and shoulders through the door once it’s unlocked, kicking it shut and tossing all her clothes off before stomping into the ensuite bathroom. The cold tiles make her jump a little as she aims for the shower. Maybe she should’ve turned the water on so it could heat up before taking all her clothes off. 

The old shower rattles and gurgles, spitting out an icy spray that has Kira squeaking as she jumps back. She retreats into the bedroom to grab her shower cap, shoving her mid-back length braid into it. Thankfully, steam starts to rise within moments, and she’s able to step into the shower. The moment the water hits her chilled skin, Kira shivers and relaxes into it. This is way better than the accommodations in Alaska. 

Kira smiles to herself a little, thinking about Mason. He could barely get his complaints out with how hard his teeth were chattering. Despite not being nearly as cold here in Wayhaven, she expects he’ll still find plenty to say about the chill wind that comes in off the Atlantic. 

Being back in Wayhaven is a mixed bag. Kira loves being home so much, even if she wishes it were under better circumstances. It also has her on edge. Wayhaven is such a small town that she knows the one person she’s most dreading seeing again is sure to find her eventually. There’s just no way to avoid it, even if she’s determined to put it off as long as possible. 

From outside the shower there’s a soft shifting. Kira cracks an eye open and peers through the frosted glass wall of the shower. There’s a silhouette of a familiar figure just outside, tugging clothes off in an urgent manner. Kira hides a giggle behind her hand as the figure starts hopping around on one foot, trying to extract a very tight pair of skinny jeans. 

“I hear that!” Farah complains once she’s free. The shower door slides open to reveal her cute, pouty face. Kira reaches up and pushes the shower head aside so it won’t splash her as Farah starts carefully pulling a shower cap over her curls. Pink with silver stars, to match Kira’s green with gold hearts. 

Once that’s taken care of, Farah steps in and reaches up to bring the spray of water back over them both before Kira can stop her.

“Ow!” Farah yelps, jumping back. Kira’s already reaching to twist the shower knob to a cooler setting. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Kira says with a chuckle. Farah puts a hand under the water tentatively, only stepping back under once it’s just a few steps past tepid. Once it’s comfortable enough, she steps under and pulls Kira against her. Kira leans into Farah, tucking her head against Farah’s neck, inhaling her sweet scent and nuzzling against the softness of her skin. 

Though they’ve only been apart a few hours, Kira still finds herself relieved to have Farah close again. She wraps her arms around Farah’s waist, sliding her hands up and down her back. As familiar as Farah’s body is to her by this point, she still finds herself trying to memorize every inch of her by touch. 

“Missed me?” Farah murmurs, a smile in her voice. Kira hums and nods, pressing a kiss to Farah’s neck. It makes Farah shudder, and Kira only just resists the urge to give her a little love bite. 

“You don’t even know how much,” Kira says, pulling back. Farah smiles brightly, her amber eyes sparkling like gemstones. 

“Aw, I missed you too, Kiki,” Farah says. She cups Kira’s face and leans in for a quick kiss. Kira could do with a lot more of that, but she doesn’t want to turn pruny in the meantime, so she reaches back for her washcloth and soap to move things along. Farah does the same, lathering up her washcloth as she gives Kira a once over. “You look tired.”

“Very flattering,” Kira teases her. Farah laughs.

“Everything go alright?” she asks, still smiling, but with a trace of concern. Kira sighs and gives her head a shake.

“It was fine, but not great.” Kira scrubs at her arm until the skin turns pink. “We managed to piss Barbie off, barely got anything out of the witness, and I’m starting to think I should just quit and open up that boutique after all.”

“Woah, babe,” Farah says, holding her hands up soothingly. “Come on now, that’s not like you.”

“What if my mom is wrong about me being able to take over as handler?” Kira bursts. She wants to tug at her braid, but it’s still tucked into her shower cap, so she twists the washcloth between her hands instead. “She’s basically the best the Agency has ever had. I can’t even manage to handle an interaction in my own hometown with someone I grew up with!”

“Babe, babe! Easy now.” Farah lays her palms against Kira’s shoulders and squeezes. “You’re bonkers good at your job, but it takes time, right?”

“Right…” Kira says, but it feels like she should already know how to do this. She’s watched her mother do it for long enough. 

“Plus, I’m sure you’re all twisted up and stressed because the girl you’ve been crushing on since you were a little kid is involved,” Farah says, not nearly as innocently as she’d like Kira to believe. Kira squawks and swats at her, making Farah cackle.

“I don’t need this from you too!” Kira whines. Farah just grins and scoots Kira out of the way so she can rinse off. 

The conversation hits a lull, Kira mesmerized for a few moments by the lines drawn down Farah’s body by the water. Farah meets her eye, smirking, the attention more than welcome.

They both finish washing up, though there might be a little soapy groping in there before they rinse themselves and get out of the shower to dry off. Kira pulls on some pajamas and tosses herself onto the bed with her brush and gets started on the task of brushing out all of her hair. It’s well past her butt at this point, and though it can be a real pain to take care of, she makes sure to brush it out every single night. Farah ties her hair up into a pink silk scarf once she’s dressed, then joins Kira, using a second brush to help her out. 

Kira sighs, heart fluttering. “I got so lucky with you.”

“Almost as lucky as me!” Farah exclaims, looking very smug as she gently tugs the brush through Kira’s hair. “So…About this Barbie girl.”

“I really shouldn’t have told you I used to have a crush on her,” Kira says with a sigh. The mattress creaks as Farah scoots closer. 

“Aw, I’m not jealous if that’s what you think,” Farah says with a laugh. “Come on, you’ve got me.”

“Exactly. And I have eyes for no one else,” Kira assures her. She leans over and Farah meets her for another kiss, her mouth warm and soft.

“I’m mostly just asking because I know it can be…tough,” Farah says haltingly. Kira pauses brushing to look at her. Farah’s hands have paused too as she thinks. “Liking someone you know won’t reciprocate is a weird thing to deal with.”

Kira’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Speaking from experience, my dove?”

For once, Farah struggles to find words. She ends up forcing a smile and says, “Maybe we can talk about it some other time?”

Concern floods Kira immediately, but a quick once over tells her that Farah isn’t in distress at least. She nods, squeezing Farah’s knee.  

“I’m always happy to listen,” Kira assures her. Farah smiles so hard her cheeks round out and squish the corners of her eyes. Her heart flutters, and if she were standing, her knees wouldn’t hold her up. 

A question still lingers in her mind, so she pushes back her infatuation, trying to get back to business.

“How did your hunt go with Adam?” Kira asks. Immediately Farah groans and blows a raspberry.

“It sucked,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We didn’t find anything.”

“No evidence of our killer?” Kira asks. Farah shakes her head.

“Nada. Squat. Literally nothing. He’s as good as ever at covering his own tracks.” Farah scratches at her cheek idly. “I guess it’s kind of lucky your detective is one of those weird blood mutation people, since that means he’ll probably stick around in one place longer.”

“Yay us,” Kira says, a sudden bout of nausea hitting her. Farah gives a sheepish smile and shrugs. She doesn’t really want to linger on the thought of her hometown or her old friend being in so much danger, but it is, unfortunately, her job now. “Do you think he might have had thralls dump the body?”

“That’s what Adam said he thinks, though we can’t be sure. There was so much garbage in the dumpsters we couldn’t get a good whiff of anything under it.” Farah wrinkles her nose. “Not that it would matter much if we could. Thralls only smell like thralls when they’re thralls. Once they’re human again they just smell like human.”

“Well, the witness we spoke to did mention chanting, so we can be reasonably assured he’s still making and using thralls,” Kira says, though as Farah said, it’s not like knowing that makes much of a difference. It’s hard to track thralls down when they’re not active.

“Don’t worry, babe, we’ll get it figured out,” Farah says, running the brush through Kira’s hair one last time before tossing it on the bedside table. She flops back against the pillow. “May as well take it easy for tonight.”

“I feel like I take it easy every night compared to you and the others,” Kira grumbles. She rubs her temples to try and keep the stress headache that’s snapping at her heels away. 

“Do you wish your mom was here?” Farah asks. Kira considers that question before answering; Farah has always found the tension present between Kira and Rebecca stressful. 

“Not really,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “It’s a lot to handle, but I’m glad she trusts me enough to give me a little space to learn being a handler. A leader.”

“It’s a dead sexy look on you,” Farah says with an appreciative purr, wiggling her hips at Kira. She laughs and rubs a hand over Farah’s leg, the dark hair there rasping against her palm. 

“Thanks,” Kira says. She walks two fingers up Farah’s stomach, to her chest, and then up to her chin before leaning over to kiss her. Farah hums happily, leaning up into it. 

There’s a lot about this mission that’s weird and different and kind of scary. They’re in Wayhaven, her friend is involved, and it’s a protection mission now. They’ve never known ahead of time who Murphy was targeting, so they’ve just been following the trail of bodies up until this point. Kira still isn’t sure how Rebecca knows Barbie is next on the list, but she does trust that her mom’s word is good. Guarding an asset is way different from tracking one down though. That’s not Unit Bravo’s speciality in the least. It’ll take some getting used to for everyone.

When she pulls back, Farah presses her thumb to the spot between Kira’s eyebrows and says, “Stress monster.”

“Get used to it,” Kira says, grabbing her wrist and bringing it down to kiss Farah’s pulsepoint. 

“Do you want me to go run around her apartment or something, to make sure nothing’s snooping around?” Farah asks. Kira shakes her head.

“Nate and Mason are already doing that.” She checks the time on the clock on the nightstand. “Though maybe I should go talk to Adam about creating an official patrol rota.”

Groaning, Farah snags Kira around the waist and drags her down beside her on the bed. A huff escapes Kira as she’s aggressively snuggled.

“Or,” Farah says, batting some of Kira’s hair out of her face. “You could just stay here. With me. You know, your beautiful, sexy girlfriend?”

“We’re on a job!”

“That doesn’t make me any less beautiful or sexy,” Farah argues.

“No, but it does mean I need to make sure everything is taken care of before I settle in for the night,” Kira says. Farah rummages a hand around the bed and extracts her cell phone.

“Just text him,” Farah says, practically shoving the phone at Kira’s face. “Plus, it’s not as if he hasn’t already probably made one, right?”

That’s a good point, actually. Kira concedes, taking the phone and texts Adam asking if he needs help creating a schedule. His response is to send a photo of a handwritten schedule, done in perfect handwriting on some grid paper. 

“Alright, we’re good for the night,” Kira admits. It still feels like cheating. She can’t shake the feeling of needing to get up and get back to work. Working with vampires makes her feel like a slacker for sleeping away a third of her life. 

Farah takes the phone from Kira’s hands and puts it aside before looping an arm around her waist and tugging her down close. Kira lets out a breath as she is swiftly pushed on her side and spooned.

“You smell so soapy,” Farah says. Kira laughs.

“We just showered, you probably smell the same,” Kira says. Farah blows a raspberry against her neck until Kira shrieks, wiggling against Farah’s grasp until she relents. Kira giggles and wipes away the spit left behind. “It’s not like you’d rather I smell sweaty.”

“Says who?” Farah teases, jutting her hips up against Kira’s ass. Heat prickles up Kira’s spine and spreads out in a fine mist over her skin. Farah purrs, nuzzling against Kira’s shoulder while her fingertips run in slow circles over Kira’s lower belly.

“This isn’t very restful,” Kira jokes, arching her back. 

“I can wear you out, baby,” Farah purrs. That sounds like the best idea Kira’s heard all day. She slides her palm down Farah’s forearm, wraps her fingers around Farah’s wrist, and slides it down the front of her shorts. 

If she’s going to slack off, she could certainly be doing worse.

[ecemichi]

Ring.A.Bell Chapter 11

Leo: Sigh~, Naru's as picky as ever~. I swear, I thought I saw my own mom standin' behind her!

Midori: Waah… sitting on my legs made them fall asleep… I can’t stand up…

Mao: Whew... Hey, Takamine, you good? Here, lemme help you up.

Midori: T—thanks…

Up we go~o now, ahh, my legs are tingling…

Midori: Both Narukami-senpai and Anzu-san left right away. We got left behind…

Keito: Now then, Narukami said, “I’ll give you a day, so confront your own feelings before then!” but what should we even do…

Eichi: Why, we'll do exactly as instructed and deepen our bonds the way those our age normally do: by participating in girl talk.

Mao: Guh?! (Cough, cough)!

Midori: Wha-!? Isara-senpai just spit out the water he was drinking!? Are you okay…?

Mao: Urg... G-Girl talk? So, uh, you’re pretty familiar with that sort of thing, then?

Midori: Umm. That kind of conversation is not exactly something you talk about among men, though…

Eichi: Oh? You don't? I've heard it’s rather common that teenagers would spend their evenings together gossiping about such things during school trips.

Mao: Since when...? Well, no, I sorta get it. I can imagine how talk devolves into that sort of thing when everyone gets riled up at a place like a sleepover with a ton of people.

Keito: Hm. Well, hearing about each other’s stories might actually be a good method.

And talking about it out loud might help get our feelings in order, as well as turn our confused hearts into coherent thoughts.

Midori: Waaah… I don’t wanna… do that.

Eichi: Fufu. You mustn't give up now, Takamine-kun. We're far past the point of no return.

Now then, let's hear the tale of everyone's first love, shall we? The one who shall start us off... is Mao, as mandated by the former Student Council President to the current.

Mao: Huh?! M-Me first?! Please don't abuse your authority like that~...

Um... First love, huh... I don't really have an interesting story like that.

I guess... there was a girl in my kindergarten class I thought was pretty cute?

I didn't really get it back then, but I guess in hindsight that might've been my first love...

—Hold on, why do I gotta talk about this?!

Keito: Huh. I remember a thing or two like that, as well.

When I was a little kid, I used to play around the mountains at the back of the temple with another kid my age, who was the grandchild of one of our sponsors for the temple. Well, calling it my first love might be a little foolish though.

Eichi: Wow, even someone like Keito was able to experience something normal.

Keito: How incorrigible. What do you think I am?

Eichi: But I’ve never heard about that, even though I’ve known you since you were little, Keito! I had no idea you had those kinds of memories from back then.

Fufu. I’m just relieved you have memories like that, just like everyone else. So, how about you, Takamine-kun?

Midori: Weh!? Uhhh… Mine is similar to Isara-senpai’s…

When I was in kindergarden, there was a super kind teacher who’d always care for me… And I was extremely attached to them.

I’d go out of my way and create all sorts of reasons to see them and get praised, and stuff…?

Mao: Ah, that's a classic! Fallin' in love with a kind teacher... I had a friend who'd always say he was gonna marry ours, too.

Leo: Mm~, the moment we met, we clicked instantly... I wonder if that's the moment I fell in love~?

Midori: Eh? You had a first love? Tsukinaga-senpai did…?

Leo: Hmph! Of course I'd had one before! You're so rude~.

Midori: (I thought he’d be the most indifferent to love… Heck, he’s even indifferent to earthly life…)

Leo: For me... It was a day where even Hell'd be called cool. I decided to drop in to a music store, and that's where we—

Keito: Oh? Considering it’s you who’s telling the story, that’s unexpectedly quite romantic. Was it the employee working there? Or was it a customer?

Leo: Wahahaha! ☆ That's right! It was a super romantic meeting! Ah, such beauty I did behold, I couldn't stop myself from reaching out—

Mao: Whoa! You actually reached out and grabbed her?!

Leo: Yeah, so what? Got a problem with it?

Mao: Rather than just a problem, I think there's plenty of problems with it..

Leo: Anyway, listen up. The moment we touched, a clear sound rang in my ears— and that was the first time I’d ever played the C key! And that! That moment! Was the moment I fell in love with music!

Mao: What the hell! What a waste of time! And I was so invested, too...!

Leo: What d'you mean, a waste of time?! How dare you mock the memory of my first love! Grrrrr!

Keito: Haaah. In a way, that story was very much like you. The last one to go is Eichi, surely you won’t pull off something like making everyone tell theirs and refrain from telling yours?

Eichi: Perish the thought, Keito. I'll do as Narukami-kun asked of us and tell all, as well.

My own first love... is "yet to come".

Keito: You bastard… Do you plan on fleeing like that on your own?

Eichi: What else am I supposed to say? It isn't as if I had much of a mind for love while growing up, being as in and out of the hospital as I was.

Ah, but perhaps... It isn't too much of an exaggeration to say that the dreadful yearning I felt towards what anyone would call "a healthy body" would be my own version of falling in love.

Mao: Seriously?! Don't you think that's a little unfair after everything we've confessed?

Eichi: At best, you could call my younger years dull. Nonetheless, that is all I have to say. Thanks to your bittersweet reminiscences, however... I feel as if I was able to taste the very flavor of youth. ♪

Mao Leo Eichi and Arashi tl: Peace

Midori and Keito tl: me

JP proof: Mika Enstars

ENG proof:ryuseipuka

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[trashbinbackyard]

0 - The fool

A journal entry of an unknown author, written in code.

I have been thinking. Of time, and we as a people have always been the same. The child from 400 years ago would cling to her mothers hem the same way the children accompanying their parents in the grand bazaar would today. People have felt the overwhelming joy of love, the heartbreak of loss, and keep mementos of their dearest ones. 

Truly, most of my discoveries on dig sites have been little glimpses into the life of the ordinary, the forgettable people who have come before us. Of course, these aren’t considered finds worthy of grand research or public acclaim, and I feel like people outside of my field do not find comfort and appreciation of the ordinary. It is my duty to acknowledge them, and to remember them, so wherever they might be, they shall find comfort that their lives, no matter how small, had meaning.

So, a little prelude to what happened today.

Grand people come few and far between, a single king or queen could define an entire century, and in their shadow, would be the ordinary, toiling away, forgotten.

The many wise men and women before me have given our era of life, the name “Second age” after the astonishing event known as the Rapture, it is believed to be the source of our magic, and its very nature, but nothing beyond that was widely known. That was until I met him. 

To the clergy he was more precious than anything, a relic in his own right. He had accurately called me out for snooping in the archives of the grand temple, under the altar for Sune. At first I didn’t realize who exactly I was speaking to, and frankly I was a little on edge. A tall elven man dressed in all black stood behind me from where I was reading some tomes. I couldn’t really make out details in the dim light.

“You’re an inquisitive one,” I remember him saying, in a tone that I found quite pleasant, not accusatory, nor aggressive, curious, even.

I let my mouth get the better of me and babbled on and on about the many fields of research I’ve dabbled in, and that my current interests lie in the first age, that I was very close to finding out where a great lord used to have a winter estate, and that the according to the historians, he was great patron of arts. Oh to just think of it leaves me giddy, to see all the art collected by someone from that age, what time defining pieces would he have, what they would tell me about the lives of the people, what they appreciate, valued, revered, what they found appealing.

At that point I’m sure I had rambled on for so long, the man had started leaning against a wall with what I assume was his best attempt at a polite look, hiding his boredom. I'm sure he had seen and heard things much more magnificent than an art collection.

He was very gracious in his listening, and In fact offered for me to come meet him at his estate. Which brings me to today.

The estate address I was given was in the Pera district, on the other side the grand river from where I resided, the location quite idyllic, on the tall hill near the shore. The manor itself didn’t stand out, a three story building of light sandstone, no names on the door, nor the street.

I walked in like the man had instructed me to do. A tressym greeted me as I nearly stumbled on the poor thing. It kept vocalizing and rubbing against my legs for a while, which would’ve been the highlight of my day if not for the revelations to come. It hopped up the flight of stairs soon after, looking at me 

Seeing no one else, I assumed I was meant to follow the tressym, so I did. It led me to a terrace between the second and third floor. A tea set had been laid out, three chairs around a circle table. The view on the balcony was one of the best I’ve witnessed in Nia Vasileos.

Turns out I wasn’t the only one admiring the view. The man who had invited me here stood leaning against the balcony railing, his ear twitched at the sound of my footsteps and I knew he had noticed me entering.

He turned to greet me, and now in the broad daylight (which was a beautiful, sunny day), I could see him better, still dressed in all black. His black hair was long and straight, with white roots, a scar crossed his brow, his eyes… an impossible shade of bright orange, like fire burning. I got a little uneasy to be fairly honest. Now, there was an air of something grander, something ancient around us. I was looking history in the eyes.

He was very polite, despite the immense power he held. He had set up an afternoon tea for us, he let me know that he had followed me around for much longer than I would think, that I was an “interesting person” to know. And that I may ask him anything I wanted to know, but he held onto his right to not necessarily answer.

We had the most delightful conversation. I asked him about the first age, how old was he, what were his favorite things from the first age, are there others like him?

He entertained all of my questions, even the silly small ones, in the midst of taking sips of the perfectly brewed black tea. 

The tressym had curled up the third chair, and he would occasionally give it a few scritches, I asked about it, he said it was his partner’s, now, he hadn’t really given me a straight answer when I asked if there’s is any more people… or beings, like him. I would assume someone beyond the reach of time would be… lonely. 

He gave a laugh and shook his head, “oh believe me, it is a lonely existence, but at least I can share it with someone”, he would turn his head to the sea, “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how many of us there are, the world is a large place after all”.

I followed his gaze to the sea. The scenery, the very moment, was idyllic, the gentle lap of the waves against the cliffside under us, the occasional whistle of the boats passing us by, the cheerful screams of children jumping off the cliffs into the warm water below.

A gentle breeze blew through my hair, through his hair, and I turned to look back at him, waiting if he had anything else to say still.

“A little too large.” He said, with a hint of melancholy in his voice, “But you still have time, enough to see a lot of it, should you wish”.

[ordinary-eternalmachinery]

On Femininity - Pt. 1

One of my very first memories is related to femininity or rather, becoming aware of it.

I must have been 4 or 5, and my mom was picking me up from school. I vaguely remember her talking above my head, chatting to another girl’s mom who was – I think – bemoaning the amount of money she spent on these shoes or that dress or whatever.

My mom said “oh, mine doesn’t really care what she wears.”

The conversation is wrapped in the hazy mist of early childhood memories, but I can still remember clearly that in that moment, I felt a jolt of pride. “Yes,” I thought, “this is me, I don’t care what I wear. I’m not a girly girl.”

I doubt my mom ever meant to give me the message that femininity is bad - in fact, she spent the following decade and a half begging me to please take her money and go fucking shopping for something presentable to wear on Christmas dinner.

Regardless of her intentions, though, I had already internalised a certain idea of femininity at that early age - and my mom’s remark sparked the realisation that I didn’t have to be girly just because I was a girl.

At that point in time, girly, to me, meant the following:

Girls are proper, quiet, demure, they don’t get dirty, they wear uncomfortable clothes, they’re preoccupied about their looks, always put other people first, sigh while looking out the window and dream about having babies and will most likely end up shackled to someone else. Girls wear pink and frilly dresses. Girls are whiny and stupid and vain.

Boys had all the fun games and cartoons and comfy clothes and whatnot. I mean, I'm talking about the mid-90s, when videogames weren't exactly marketed to girls yet. Hell, I'm sure dinosaurs weren't girly at the time.

I remember my mom coming home from work and my babysitter telling her, in a hushed voice "she's been good today. she's been watching boy cartoons!", half amused, half asking "is this okay?"

I am pretty sure I proclaimed to my entire family, multiple times, that I’d never have kids, never get married, and never even have a boyfriend. I might have gone as far to say I’d never even have sex with a man (one does wonder what would’ve happened if someone told me about lesbians at that age).

I remember reading Little Women and being absolutely smitten with Jo March's character and equally disappointed when she ended up getting married and giving up on her dreams.

I had a period of intense obsession with Greek mythology and obviously, my absolute favorite goddess was Artemis, because she was a virgin huntress who lived in the woods surrounded by nymphs and hounds and only ever did whatever the fuck she wanted.

Knowing what I know now, I’m not even sure whether I was rejecting femininity or heteronormativity or both, but at that point the two concepts were very much conflated both in my mind and in the public opinion.

And after all, why would I want to buy into the traditional package? Did it do any good for any of the women I saw around me, both in real life and in media? All married women were someone’s supporting actress, in my experience. Working behind the scenes for someone else’s glory.

I remember being absolutely fucking pissed when I realized that at one point I would go through puberty and get a period and grow boobs. It's strange to think about that now that I know what gender dysphoria is, because what I was experiencing was not dysphoria. I've never had any doubts about my gender identity: I have never liked being a woman, but I’ve always known I am one. But to me, acquiring what I then considered the physical markers of womanhood meant I would’ve had to become a real woman, with all the trappings that entailed.

I unsurprisingly grew up to be a tomboy (hate the word but bear with me)

I refused to wear dresses until I was 16 or so. You wouldn’t catch me dead with make-up on.

This is probably sounding like I was a cool teen, but it was pretty much the opposite - I was very much fucken uncool. What I was going for wasn't just "not feminine". It wasn't necessarily masculine either. It was... not planned or thought out or in any way intentional - my whole vibe was “I don’t give a fuck about how I present myself and I want to make it clear to everyone that I don't spend half a second in front of the mirror (because that's cringe)”.

(No, seriously, I had an XXXL grey hoodie that got down to my knees. For a while I had a single nail painted bright green. I had a ginormous headset that for some reason had a 3m long cable that I kept together with a zip tie. I walked around dressed like a fucking anime character except this was 2008 and anime wasn't popular. Maybe Gen Z can get away with the clown aesthetic now. Idk.)

Did I feel comfortable like that though? Was I confident in my looks and in who I was?

No. I didn't and I wasn't.

A while ago, I discussed this with a dear female friend of mine (hi I love you!!) who was also a tomboy. We met in our late teens and among other things, we bonded over our mutual mistrust of extremely feminine, conventionally attractive girls.

A couple years ago, I asked her, were we actually happy with ourselves back then? Did we like what we saw in the mirror?

No. No, we both weren't.

See, all the women we saw in media were at least pretty. This is a whole other can of worms - suffice to cfr this meme.

This is a whole can of worms in and of itself, but it does apply to the “tomboy” archetype.

All of the cool non-girly girls we wanted to be like were thin (but ate a lot), wore baggy but flattering outfits (that they obviously didn't buy themselves), had perfect winged eyeliner (but you wouldn’t spot them within a 5-km mile from Sephora).

We wanted to be like them. We wanted to be attractive and get validation. But working towards that ideal (learning to do our make-up and buying actual clothes instead of stealing our dads' sweaters) would have compromised us ideologically.

Like all other teenage girls, my friend and I also had an unattainable beauty ideal; unlike the other girls, though, we couldn’t even attempt to get closer to it, because putting an effort in our appearance would’ve made us… vain. Shallow. Girly.

Just like other girls.

Femininity was something I just couldn’t try my hand at. If I didn’t care about being feminine, I couldn’t fail at it.

It was a weird cage to be in.

(to be continued)