#It will certainly be a big adventure for us both. Making my own plan to leave the house is not something I've done in a very long while

[satans-knitwear]

Silly Little Creatures being Silly Little Creatures = my favourite thing to behold.

[woso-dreamzzz]

World Cup V

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first World Cup

Everyone dreams of scoring a goal in the World Cup final. Hell, everyone dreams of scoring in even the qualifying rounds for the World Cup.

But, to you, it was almost certainly going to be a dream.

You were goalkeeper. You didn't score goals. You stopped them.

It was your whole job.

Your first World Cup was an honour. You were still young but it had been timed perfectly. When you were first called up to join Sweden's team, it was as the third keeper.

The two keepers before you had retired just before the selection for the World Cup squad. Two new keepers for the squad (both older than you) had been selected but you were the number one - a combination of your talent, training and just how many more international caps you had over your counterparts.

Coach Emma had been wary about putting you as the first choice but your performances at Arsenal spoke for themselves. There wasn't much she could do. No one else seemed to quite fit the bill like you did.

It had been a hard won road with two rounds of penalties in the knockout stage that you refused to be cowed by.

It all came down to this.

Sweden vs England.

You recognised a few of the girls from playing in the WSL and you gave them each a tense smile as you run through warmups. You sit in your cubby during the last team talk where Emma speaks about the game plan and how much work this will be and how much everyone needs to give it their all. You put on Zećira's old World Cup gloves. You flex your hands before clenching.

You replace her's with your own and roll your shoulders.

You walk out to the cheers of the crowd and take your position.

England are out with a vengeance and you make a few daring saves in the first half but it's mainly Sweden who dominate possession.

You're deadlocked in nil-nil throughout the first half and then the second half.

You leak into nine minutes of injury when one of your midfielders is dispossessed. You can hear Coach Emma yelling something at your defenders but you don't look to see the disarray of your backline. An England kit comes streaking up your left wing. She shoots but you're not worried because you already know that she has a tendency to shoot wide.

You collect the ball for a goal kick and one of England's finest starts a run towards you, to put on the pressure.

You could think of nothing but making sure this forward didn't get anywhere near your box or your ball.

You booted it up the pitch.

To be honest, it was an accident.

It hadn't been you trying anything. All you could think about was making sure England didn't even have a chance to score a goal.

You assumed one of your forwards would pick it up - some of them had this uncanny ability to know what you would do before you did.

Either way, you watched the ball sail over everyone's head...

The keeper was about as far off her line as she could be.

It sailed over her head, bounced and rolled into the bottom right corner.

You freeze in shock.

You hadn't meant to do that.

The crowd behind you screamed and you didn't have time to think before you were completely dogpiled by your teammates.

"Get off!" You laugh, trying to shake them off.

"There's no chance now!" Someone says.

"Keep them away from my goal and then there will be no chance," You reply, still completely trapped.

"Which goals is yours again?" Someone else teases," Because I think you've staked a thorough claim on England's too."

Your cheeks flush red and you bat her away. "Shut up."

"Never!" Someone declares," I'm pretty sure our goalkeeper just won us the game! You're never hearing the end of this!"

"Go away," You laugh," Go on. We've still got a few more minutes to play. Keep them off my goal and I'll let you talk about it all you want."

And they do keep England off your goal.

You sink to your knees in shock as you're dogpiled again. Swedish is flowing easily into your ears but you can't understand any of it. You slowly get to your feet and walk strangely calmly over to the stands.

You pass Coach Emma on the way. She's smiling, clapping you on the back. You think she says something too but you're too busy listening to the roaring of blood in your ears.

You hop the barrier and move into Momma's arms.

She holds you nice and tight as you still stare in shock. You think you're crying but you're numb to most things.

Momma's talking but her words are just static in your ears as you're moved from her to Morsa to moster Frido and then finally to Zećira.

You come back into the present when you see her. Shakily, you remove your gloves and hold them out to her.

She smiles and takes them. "I'm so proud of you. Best keeper in the world."

More tears slip down your cheeks. Your voice breaks. "Thank you."

"So proud of you," Morsa says as she and Momma appear over your shoulders," Clearly you're just like your Momma. Scoring goals."

"Is was an accident," You say softly.

"And it was a perfect accident," Momma says," I couldn't have done it better myself."

You laugh a little wetly. "Well," You say," I must have picked it up from all those times you kicked at me in the garden."

"Champion of the world!" Moster Frido declares, clapping you on the back and planting a kiss on your head," World Champion! Best keeper in the world!"

"Well," Momma says," This keeper needs to head back down to receive her medal. Go on, off you go." She pushes you away lightly.

You hop the barrier again and line up with the others.

There's a sense of pride as you walk across the stage, receive your medal and kiss the trophy.

You feel a little shaky as the trophy is lifted and you celebrate, screaming out your victory for the whole world to see.

You jump around with your teammates, each of them strongarming you into taking a picture with you and the trophy.

By the time you manage to get away, you're jogging over to the England side. You strip your shirt and hold it up into the crowd.

A hand reaches down to take it.

You look up.

Leah stares down at you. She leans over the railing.

"I should be mad at you," She says," But that was the best goal I've seen in a while. I'm very proud of you. Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?"

You look down bashfully and confess," I think Arsenal's getting a bit too small for me."

Leah laughs. "Yeah, I reckon that too." She pulls your shirt over her head. "You'll come back and visit?"

You bump your fist against hers. "Well, North London is red."

She grins at you. "Go on, World Cup winner. Off you go. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Leah."

You jog towards the Sweden side of the crowd again, pumping up your fist as people scream your name.

You skid to a stop in front of Morsa. You drop your medal over her neck.

"For you," You say," For all the World Cup medals you gave me."

[sorrinslays]

Belobog Roleswap AU

So this is a small thingamaching I've been thinking about sometimes. Truthfully, I just saw some versions of the same concept and while they were certainly interesting, they weren't really my style. So, I decided to try and make my own version.

To start off, I wanna say that I gave myself a few 'rules' to keep it consistent and whatnot. Specifically, I want it to be a true roleswap, so that means no true personality changes, at least not when it's unnecessary. The roleswap should make sense, like it should be able to happen realistically. Nobody expect the people of Belobog are roleswaped.

So I'll start by who we meet first and work my way down until we get all the characters.

We meet Gepard first. He is a petty thief/vigilante that fights fragmentum in his free time, mostly because nobody is willing to offer him a job. At some point, his parents were arrested for really huge crimes (up to interpretation). Due both Gepard and Serval being over the age of eighteen, they are in legal care of Lynx.

They have trouble finding a job due to their reputation and moved to the Underworld because the rent is cheaper. Soon they are forced to steal to get by. When the Underworld was sealed off, Gepard was in the Overworld, pickpocketing, separating him from his sisters. So, for ten years, he was forced to do petty crime to survive, abandoning his "dream" of becoming a Silvermane Guard.

All that changes when the Astral Express comes to Jarillo VI. After the Supreme Guardian "becomes suspicious" of the trailblazers, Sampo comes to Gepard, offering to show him one of the secret pathways to the Underworld. In exchange Gepard has to be the guide for the Express. (Sampard/Gepo fans rejoice, a canon interaction!)

Of course Gepard accepts. So when Seele is chasing after the trailblazers, Sampo sends a few smoke bombs and, with Gepard's help, gets them to the Underworld, reuniting the Landau siblings.

Next, we see Sampo and Luka. Sampo is the Captain of the Silvermane Guards. He's still a Masked Fool but after coming to Jarilo VI and seeing that the role of the Captain is basically empty (the old one is on his last breath) he decides to take up the role.

The first impression we have of him is that he is one lazy Captain. Always slacking off and "going with the flow". He doesn't do his paperwork or listen to anyone all that much. He kinda does his own thing and bothers everyone.

He's still the only one who can travel between the Overworld and the Underworld freely, but he does so in secret, behind the Supreme Guardian's back. He is still helping the leader of Wildfire and he's still the one to plan everything behind the scenes.

We learn that he's the one who got us to the Underworld through Gepard when Seele almost kills him.

When we get back to the Overworld, he greets us and we have to hold Seele from trying to murder him. He doesn't outright reveal anything but he does tell us that more soldiers have been dying under Natasha's rule because of her orders and he's been trying everything to find a way to prevent more soldiers from losing their lives.

He helps us sneak past the Guards, lying smoothly when something happens. Soon, they reach Natasha for the Boss Fight.

Luka is the Intelligence Officer. He used to be in the frontlines but he lost his arm in a very big fight and was "demoted" to a desk job. He hates it and oftentimes does Sampo's neglected paperwork so that the Captain owes him and takes Luka to the frontlines with him as "payback", which is why we see him when we first arrive.

When the crew is back from their adventure in the Underworld and he sees Sampo helping them, he questions the Captain. Soon enough, he joins the crew in fighting the fragmentum.

Followed by those three, we meet Natasha. As an orphan, she was picked to be the Supreme Guardian instead of Cocolia, so she never got the chance to live the life she could've actually enjoyed. When we meet her, she has a faint smile on her face, her voice are gentle and her words kind. Yet, something is eerily off about her, it's just very hard to put a finger on it.

Unlike the lies the Stellaron fed Cocolia of the world dying and everyone getting to live somewhere else, in "the new world", they tell Natasha that by killing everyone, they are gonna resurrect everyone and change their biology to be able to withstand the Eternal Freeze. The cold never bothering them ever again. They say that the moment all of Belobog dies, the life of the fragmentum would be transferred to the people, so they will never again be in danger of either the monsters or the cold.

Her story ends just like Cocolia's in the original timeline, losing her life to the Stellaron and the Astral Express.

Next in line, we have Seele. We meet her during the same scene as Natasha. She doesn't really question Natasha, at least not as much as OG Bronya. Not because she's stupid, no, but because she trusts Natasha whole-heartly. She just follows orders. It doesn't help that Natasha is hiding all the orders that are made specifically to kill as many soldiers as possible.

So, later on, when she finds out that Sampo, a somewhat of a father figure to her, went against Natasha and even kidnapped Seele herself with some "criminals"? She almost mauls Gepard, the "messenger", on the spot.

Of course, she gets her reality check when she sees how bad the situation in the Underworld really is. She sees Gepard in tears after finally reuniting with his sisters after 10 years, she sees kids who never ever went to school, she sees the lack of medical supplies, she sees how dirty everything is and she sees how the fragmentum has been affecting them too.

Just like canon, her romance with Bronya still happens and soon they are back in the Overworld. After a brief conversation with Sampo, she heads off to confront Natasha, and the rest follows canon.

Following Seele, we meet Oleg. He works at the Neverwinter workshop, the adoptive father of Luka. He used to be a Captain but after openly questioning Natasha's rule, he loses his job, leaving him to tinker at the workshop.

He's somewhat aware of what Sampo is doing, which is why he humours him and follows his orders of assisting the Astral Express. He isn't present during the Boss Fight, keeping the fragmentum at bay with Luka's help, he's devastated to learn about Natasha's death though.

Up next, we have Cocolia. She's a very smiley and kind doctor that greets us when we wake up from Sampo's smoke bombs. She is, gasp, in a happy relationship with Serval.

Competent is her middle name, and she mostly follows canon. Instead of Natasha, that doctor couple adopted Cocolia, which is why she becomes the Underworld's main doctor.

Not much to say about her, so let's move on to Bronya. She stops a fight from escalating when Seele causes a scene. While she still is very kindhearted, the Underworld has roughened her edges a bit.

We get bonding scenes between her and Seele and everything pretty much follows canon expect dialogue changes. I don't have much to say about her to be honest.

Pela! She works in the fight club, not because she wants to, but because she fell into debt due to trying to get her hands on the Tales of the Winterlands. Not much about her, sadly, Hoyo wasn't too keen on given her and Luka much screen time, I fear.

She helps us deal with the mine situation that happened in canon.

Now, we get to see Serval. She has an emotional reunion with Gepard and we learn that she is a member of Wildfire. Unfortunately aside from that nothing changes canon (blame the lack of Oleg in the story not me).

Now, we meet Lynx, who has befriended Svarog, the robot acting as her father figure. While Serval isn't a fan of Svarog, she doesn't discourage her little sister from befriending him.

Since day one, she is trying to get Svarog to agree to let people pass through the Furnace Core, she yearns for the outside and tries to find and all possible ways to change Svarog's calculations.

Of course it doesn't work until we, the variable, come to the Underworld.

Lastly, we meet Hook and Clara. Both are orphans adopted by Fersman, whose a Lieutenant under Sampo's command, send by the Captain. "The Moles", we learn, is a specific group of kids that wish to join the Silvermane Guards and, Sampo, to not break their hearts, made them honorary members.

Basically, he tells them sometimes to look out for any suspicious people, maybe follow one (if the job is not at all threatening), or the super duper important mission of getting lunch for him and the other soldiers. In this instance, he used them to lead the gang to Oleg and then to Sampo himself.

And that's it! Let me know your thoughts! If you have any questions about the AU, want a more in-depth explanation or wish to see scenes written about some of the things that happened feel free to ask!

[meowzilla93]

BaxterMCWeek Day 1: First Meeting

Happy Birthday my darling Monochromatic Man big thank you to @minthe-drawings for hosting this!!

o((>ω< ))o

Baxter was incredibly bored.

Traveling with his parents was always a chore but being stuck at the Cypress, being unable to dance or find a way to entertain himself made things even more so boring. Whilst his parents where busy ‘making connections’ they had banned him from dancing so that he couldn’t get into any trouble.

This of course just made him all the more restless and more likely to look for a way to get into trouble. He had spoken with a few of the other children there, much in the same position as him, being told to ‘rest’ and being quite bored of it.

Hearing the music come across the grounds, Baxter was more and more tempted to find a way to escape the eyes of his instructors and make his way over to where the music sang to him. As he was trying to be as nonchalant as possible, he slowly made his way towards the edge of the crowd, making sure not to draw any attention towards himself.

Biding his time, Baxter simply waited for an opportunity to sneak away undetected, that was until a head of copper hair caught his attention; One that was making its way towards him.

Baxter was certain he had never seen the person before, the striking hair and the pair of mismatched pair of green and gold eyes making a definite impression on him in that moment. Paired with a smile that showed off their teeth, he could swear that they almost looked like a fox that had gotten away with doing sly. He could certainly understand the feeling.

As they made their way closer to him, he noted that this fox was as pale as he was, but their skin was marked with a smattering of freckles, unlike their tanned companion who was attempting to catch his attention as they got closer,

“Hey, so, this might sound weird, but what are you guys all doing here?”

Bright verdant eyes looked up at him, and before he was able to answer the admittedly ‘weird’ question, their fox-like companion chuckled before poking them in the ribs,

“Really, that’s the question you’re gonna go with? After the whole ‘perhaps we walked into an alternate universe’ spiel just earlier?”

Baxter couldn’t help but chuckle at that remark, causing both pairs of eyes to train themselves back onto him. This whole interaction was taking a different course than he anticipated, and it wasn’t something he disliked at all. Allowing a coy smile to cross his face, he decided to play along with their little adventure,

“We’re visitors who are in this town for a dance circuit. This dining area is reserved for our group only tonight. What is going on with you?”

As the shorter of the two chuckled uncomfortably, scratching their cheek, the Fox, as Baxter had chosen to label them, snorted at the reaction; Verdant eyes narrowed at the Fox before starting their apologies,

“Oops. We didn’t know that. There’s a soiree happening on the other side of the club for members and their guests, that’s where we came from. Please don’t tell on us.”

That caught Baxter’s attention; Leaning forward, he became more intrigued with he pair with each passing moment,

“I thought I noticed something that way. It’s been bothering me the entire evening. I was planning to check when it got darker.”

“Why wait?”

Baxter wasn’t certain he heard right, but as verdant eyes matched his own in wideness, he realized he most certainly did. Turning his head back to the Fox, he couldn’t get a proper sentence out,

“I-sorry. What?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, the Fox tilted their head at him, eyes sparkling with mischief,

“Why. Wait? Seems most of the adults here are busy. Come on! We will sneak you into our soiree! Doubt anyone will notice.”

Baxter wasn’t a stranger to getting himself into trouble or any amount of mischief, but these days that typically happened on his own. A stranger offering to help him sneak out of a boring event? That was certainly a first.

Eyes narrowing at the mischievous Fox in front of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny the offer. Taking a quick look around the area, he was confident that no one was paying attention to a trio of kids hovering at the edge of the crowd, he decided that if he were to take up this Fox on this offer, he had better do it now.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

The sly grin turning into a wide smile, Baxter knew he had made the right decision. What he was not expecting, is when the Fox nodded to their companion to quicky make their way back to their soiree, was a warm hand gripping onto his and pulling him along.

Allowing himself to get pulled along, Baxter didn’t even look back to see if anyone had seen him leave. His mind was focused on the person ahead of him, the one with the hair coloured of fallen leaves and a personality that certainly matched the moniker he had given them in his thoughts. He was finally able to take in what his Fox was wearing; A flowy dark green dress with golden accents stitched into it, paired with gold, kitten heeled shoes.

He really could help but think that they belong in a forest, every part of their aesthetic and personality convincing him further. Before he could muse any further about the person who’s hand still held onto his own, the music had started to grow louder and they had finally arrived at the event he was planning to sneak off to later in the evening.

A chuckle pulls him further from his thoughts as he turns and looks at his Fox, who wore a truly happy and satisfied smile; Eyes twinkling with mirth as they let go of his hand and instead swept their own out towards the crowd in front of them.

“Welcome! To our Summer Soiree!”

“Why thank you. I feel honoured to have been given a VIP pass to it.”

Baxter teased, but before he could say anything further, his Fox’s companion was trying to catch their attention.

“Aug, hang on where are –“

Their tanned companion had a worried look on his face as he searched the crowd, and Baxter considered this his time to bow out from their adventure and start on his own.

“It looks like you are both busy. I appreciate the assistance in getting here, but I’ll be able to entertain myself from here.”

He tilts his head in goodbye and watches as crestfallen expression appears on his Fox’s face. He couldn’t deny that he wished he could spend a bit more time with them, but he knew when his presence was no longer needed, and knew how to make himself scarce.

“I -wait hang on.”

Turning their attention back to their companion, his Fox was speaking quickly and quietly, their companion clearly a touch agitated, but the Fox seemed to not be worried about a thing. Not wanting to disturb them further, he quietly stepped back and walked away, taking in the lights and ambiance of the Soiree that he had found himself at.

As he walked around, noting the similar foods, drinks and set up that they had; Nothing drastically different from where he came from, but he could tell the energy here was much happier. More enjoyable to be a part of. Unlike the cold and proper stiffness, he had to deal with at the events he typically has to attend. He found himself enjoying just experiencing the ambiance of the event, and soon he wanted to join in on it.

Making his way toward the dancefloor, he listened to the band slowly coming to the end of current song as he looked around for a potential partner he could enjoy a quick dance with before he had to find his way back to were his parents were no doubt going to start looking for him. His mind wandered to his Fox from earlier in the evening, silently wishing he could see them one last time before he disappeared; That was until he found them standing at the edge of the dancefloor, seemingly looking for a partner to dance with.

Rarely does fate give people the chance to get what they wish for, and Baxter wasn’t going to give up this chance. Walking up, he taps his Fox on the shoulder and as they turn to see who had tried to grab their attention, their face goes from questioning to ecstatic in quick succession.

“Hello! I wondered where you went off to!”

It warmed him to think that someone cared about him, someone who was basically a stranger to him, but it brought a genuine smile to his face. With a flick of his hand, he quickly explains himself,

“I do apologise. I didn’t want to take you away from your friend and you had done so much to just sneak me in already. I didn’t want to impose.”

He watches as his Fox cocks an eyebrow at him, clearly amused at the language he was using. He knew too well that he spoke more formally than most kids, but it was something he took in stride.

“Though, now that I have found you this time round, may I ask; Are planning on dancing?”

“I am if I can find anyone to dance with me. My friend is off on a search and rescue mission, so I’ve been left on my own to find a new partner.”

Baxter would be lying if he said he wasn’t elated at hearing that, but he quickly squashed down any excited emotion and simply held out his hand towards his Fox,

“In that case, we should dance. It’s perfect timing, a new song is just about to start.”

“I think that would be quite fun. Plus at least this way, you won’t disappear as soon as I look away this time.”

The Fox teased him as they placed a hand in his. Without any further words, he simply gave her a wisp of a smile and walked out to the dancefloor. Once they had found a spot, he went into his proper form for dancing, and was pleasantly surprised when his partner had done the same.

The confident way his Fox settled into position, he would be hard pressed to imagine that they hadn’t had lessons in the past, and had been regularly training like he had. As the first notes of the song played through the night, Baxter took the lead in the dance, effortlessly guiding them both into the night. As he continued to guide his Fox across the dancefloor, he couldn’t help but be elated at the knowledge that he had a brilliant dancing partner, deftly matching his steps and competently keeping pace with the music.

Baxter was thoroughly enjoying himself in the company of his Fox, comfortably finding a rhythm with them as they dance. But as all good things do, it came to an end far too soon for his liking. As the music came to an end, he politely stepped back, releasing the warm hands of his fox, before taking a bow.

“Thank you for dancing with me, and for bringing me here tonight. It was truly a lovely experience.”

His Fox smiled ever so gently at him; He could feel the softness of their gaze as he straightened out.

As they were about to respond someone called out to them, catching their attention, though Baxter couldn’t make out what it was. With a disappointed look, they turned back to Baxter, their look having changed to a sad one, almost apologetic. Baxter could gather easily what that meant and so, made his excuses,

“It seems that I have now overstayed my welcome. Thank you once again for your kindness.”

As he turned to leave, he could see his Fox try to reach out to him, but stopped themselves before it was too obvious for anyone else to notice. But he did, and that mattered more than he cared to admit for some reason.

He took a few steps, before turning back, his Fox watching him leave, he decided to leave on last parting comment, before disappearing from their lives,

“Oh, by the by, you have nice legs.”

As a red flush appeared on their cheeks, Baxter flashed a toothy grin at them before he disappeared into the crowd, feeling warm and accomplished in his adventure of the day. He hoped to remember this night, and his Fox for many years to come; After all, magical moments like these do not come often, and Baxter did not consider himself as someone to be gifted a moment like this again in the future.

[yowlthinks]

Spying, monitoring and not talking about it

At the end of s1 Crowley tells Aziraphale that heaven and hell will leave then alone for a while, until The Really Big One, all of Heaven and Hell against Humanity. So what happens next? Are these two actually doing anything to prepare themselves for it? Lay down some insurance? At least clock it when it all kicks off?

Well, Crowley is playing spy with hell pretty much from the start of the time Shax replaced him: in s2e1 he is sitting in the usual "spy rendezvous " spot, we even see a spy mistake him for someone else. This is a meeting where they are both keen to get information out out of the other, and Crowley even asks if she is spying officially or for her own benefit.

So what this means is that he was expecting something to happen, all these 4 years, and certainly since replacement by Shax he's been looking out for it. What is more, he at least told Aziraphale about Shax replacing him and potentially that he has these little meetups with her to keep tabs on hell and help her navigate the human world a little. Why do I come to this conclusion? Because right in S2E1 he says "guess who Shax was asking me about", and Aziraphale knows who Shax is and is not surprised she was asking Crowley about something.

But what about Aziraphale, I hear you ask. What is the angel doing, apart from baking cake in lockdown and being a pillar of the community, with a spot of brainwashing his dear neighbours on the side?

It seems to me, he is actually looking out for the potential warning signs in his own way. When Crowley comes back with the apology dance, he pretends to be going through the paper cuttings / news clippings (?) - why is he doing that? Why does he have these clippings on his desk? What is he expecting to find there if not the signs of The Really Big One? Probably, as long as it is just Tadfield showing amazingly perfect weather, there is nothing to worry about, but something along the lines of, say, a sudden frog rain might be indicative of something serious coming in.

Now, do I think these two are actually coordinating their efforts, discussing plans and keeping each other fully up to date? No, of course not! In the classic fashion of "I'll look out for danger and protect us, but will try ny best to not scare you needlessly" and "I am making my own plans, but I am not gonna tell you anything about them, at least for now", these two are not communicating. Again.

To be fair, Crowley does tell about Shax's questions, but only prefacing it with "I wasn't gonna say anything, but". But then they both are keeping things quiet and are not brining the other one fully up to date (BoL threats, Shax's hitchhiker adventure, Gabriel's prophetic words not mentioned), and it all leads to a mess of the Final Fifteen's cliffhanger.

It adds up so nicely, and sets us up beautifully for a big breakthrough for these two idiots (affectionate) in s3. I seriously can't wait.

[houseoffourcats]

What Do You Need to Know Right Now? Pick a Pile & Find Out!

CW: Illustrations of nudity and bondage

I got a new deck yesterday, so I’m going to be using this for today’s reading. For those interested, this is the Fyodor Pavlov deck.

Like what you see here? Check out my Etsy page for a personalized reading!

Pile 1

VI of Wands - VIII of Swords - Knight of Wands

Here we have two powerful figures - both from the Suit of Wands - heading toward the figure in the VIII of Swords, who is utterly powerless, from either direction. The interesting thing, though, is that the figure in and Knight of Wands looks more like the captive than she does the figure in the VI of Wands.

Someone you admire has done some pretty cool things, and has been recognized for them pretty widely. You might be jealous; you might just admire and want to be like them. You’re struggling to be just as good as them, wondering why you’re not able to get anywhere close to that. But you can’t even see how much you’re dealing with that’s holding you back from that; you can feel some of your constraints, but there’s other aspects to this that make that sort of accomplishment more difficult for you than it may have been for the person you’re envisioning. The good news is that the qualities and accomplishments you admire can give you focus as to what you want to be and where you want to go. Still, you’re going to need to become your own version of what you admire through pulling and wriggling and fighting your way out of what’s holding you back, and learning what you’re good at in the process.

One other note here is that you shouldn’t forget what it was like to feel trapped and directionless, and instead go back for others. Like you, they won’t be able to just become someone else. But you can mentor them and help them become who they want to be.

Pile 2

The Devil - Death (Reversed) - Queen of Swords (Reversed)

Oof. This one is pretty heavy based on the Devil and the Death Major Arcana cards, and the Queen of Swords isn’t making it any easier.

This is a spread about being trapped, or at least feeling that way. Something, or someone, has got a hold on you. A bad habit, a bad relationship, or a cycle you keep repeating in trying to resolve a problem. You want out, even if it means trying to accomplish that in a self-destructive way, but you don’t see a way there, or the potential losses are too great to make that change at this point. Unfortunately, you’ve got someone in your life whose opinions you value greatly, or who might even be an authority figure, who is less than sympathetic in all this. From their skewed vantage point, it just looks like you’re acting self-destructively as an irresponsible form of escapism. They’re unnecessarily critical of you, tearing you down further rather than helping you in a kind and constructive way.

Remember that both Death and the Devil are more powerful than even the Queen of Swords, so this is above her paygrade. Here you are, meanwhile, having to grapple with all three of them on your own. That’s a lot! You might not be in a position to tell the Queen to go take her “help” and shove it, but remind yourself as often as possible that criticism coming from the outside is based on incomplete information, and that no one would be stuck in your position just for fun.

Pile 3

II of Wands - The High Priestess - The World

With two Major Arcana cards, this spread suggests you’re about to start something big, with big results - of a good kind!

You’re in the planning stages of your adventure here, perhaps working on them with someone who’s done this before. The plans aren’t the final word, though. The situation will almost certainly call upon you to use what you’ve learned and observed along the way to improvise. Don’t necessarily disregard the advice of someone who’s helped you in this - whether that’s a partner or advisor or experts you’ve read from - but recognize that things may have changed since their opinion was formed, and your intuition is an important piece to that.

If you take this approach of combining both careful planning and intuitive responses to unexpected situations, the outcome will be better than you even expected. You’ll feel accomplished as well as fulfilled, and the theme of completion in the World card suggests that you’ll have done well by the people who helped you along the way too.

If you liked this reading, I hope you’ll check out my Etsy page for further, personalized guidance. For now, though, I hope you’ll enjoy this picture of Queen Arya, First of Her Name, laying claim to the table and all that’s upon it (namely, my new deck):

[blackjackkent]

Daily prompting...

"Did you just call this a family?" - Astarion

"You're like a brother to me" - Wyll

"You're always welcome in my home" - Jaheira

(Prompts for Found Families)

:D TY as always! Hope you enjoy! (As usual I had particular fun with the Jaheira one. XD )

-----

"Did you just call this a family?"

“There he is!” Karlach grins from ear to ear, swooping into Astarion’s line of sight. “Hiding off in the shadows as usual.”

“Observing, darling,” Astarion corrects her with a shrug. “I wasn’t making any effort to hide. And you certainly had no trouble finding me.” He lifts one eyebrow, looking her over. “I see Avernus hasn’t yet managed to dampen your spirits.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe not - though, gods, does it try. Not sure I’ve slept proper since the brain. But then I put my sword through a devil or two and it perks me right up. And how about you? I hear you’re a big-time adventurer now.”

“Oh, I get by, I get by,” he says with affected modesty, giving an airy wave with one hand. “Nothing like your military escapades, I should think; still up to all the old skulking but to a better purpose.”

“Wheyyy,” she says cheerfully, bouncing her weight from one foot to the other. “Who’d’a thought, right? You and me, both alive and tearing up bad guys, six months down the line. Turned out damn good, all things considered.”

He allows himself a slight smile. “In spite of all those who wronged us,” he murmurs. “I will admit… it does feel good to be able to show up and say I’ve made something of myself, at least for the time being. Though if I’d known Withers was planning to whisk us all off to a family reunion, I would have prepared a better outfit.”

Her grin widens. “Family reunion, eh? Did you just call this a family? You, Mister Loner Supreme?”

Having no circulation, he can’t blush, but his ears twitch and he clears his throat sharply. “Slip of the tongue, I assure you,” he says. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with such saccharine sentimentality on my lips.”

Karlach puts her hands around her mouth and shouts to the rest of the party. “HEY, EVERYONE! ASTARION JUST ADMITTED WE’RE A FAMILY.”

A chorus of cheerful shouts answers her, with Lae’zel’s voice rising sardonically above them from the far end of the camp. “Of course we are, kainyank!”

-----

"You're like a brother to me"

The siege has been going on for several hours when Hector hears Wyll give a low laugh all of a sudden. It’s about the last thing he expects to hear given they’re hunkered down outside the fortress of one of Zariel’s top lieutenants; certainly he couldn’t feel less like laughing himself.

Nevertheless, he grins involuntarily in response to the sound from his friend, but his eyebrows lift in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

Wyll chuckles again, shifting to lean his back against the wall of their makeshift trench. “Oh-- nothing. You’ll think it a quite odd thought, I suspect. I just… thought, out of nowhere, about that time I asked you to dance, back in the shadowlands.”

“Oh.” Hector blinks slowly. It is an odd thought, under the circumstances. “I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

“Nor I. Well, I wasn’t really thinking about it per se,” Wyll hastens to explain. “More about… how I got here. Everything we left behind. But not you, and not Karlach. You’re still with me, after everything.” He shakes his head ruefully and angles his hips up so he can peer over the top edge of the trench. “You must have thought me a bloody fool.”

“Wyll,” Hector says, very seriously. “I still barely knew my own arse from a hole in the ground then. I admired you tremendously.” A pause. “I felt terrible for hurting you, though.”

“Bah.” Wyll smiles reassuringly. “It’s far better this way. You… you’re like a brother to me, Hec. Wouldn’t trade that for the world.” His grin twitches into a teasing smirk. “Besides - I’ve seen you try to dance since, and it’s not pretty.”

“Knife to my heart, Wyll. Knife to my very heart.”

-----

"You're always welcome in my home"

“High Harper--” The man is very young, most certainly a new recruit, so wet behind the ears that he is practically dripping on the front porch of Elerrathin’s Home. He looks at Jaheira with that earnest respect that comes from those who have heard of her only in song and never met her in person. “My apologies for disturbing you at this hour.”

“Of course,” Jaheira says. Her expression is deadpan; it is an expression she is well-practiced at, expertly masking whether she is irritated, amused, or simply curious. “You are always welcome in my home, my young friend. As are all Harpers.” She steps back, drawing the door open. “You will, of course, submit to the usual security check.”

He blinks-- and then his expression steadies; to his credit, he does not allow himself to be thrown by the unexpected statement. “As you say, High Harper,” he says earnestly, following her inside. “Of course it behooves someone of your rank to take all precautions.”

“Most certainly,” she says. “Wait here, please.” She halts him in the middle of the house’s small living room, then calls, “Fig! Your services!”

A small child of perhaps five years old emerges from one of the side rooms; her shoulders are squared and her eyes eager and excited. “Yes, Commander!” she pipes up.

The child stalks directly in front of the young Harper and stares up at him imperiously. “Name?” she says fiercely.

The Harper blinks again, casts a sideways look at Jaheira, but the High Harper’s face is still completely unreadable. “Uh. Simons,” he stammers, looking back at the little girl. “Wesley Simons. Harper.”

“Uh huh.” Fig screws up her face with an expression of deep concentration and walks a slow circle around him, examining him from all sides. “And uh…” She tilts her head, then glances at Jaheira and asks in a stage whisper, “What is it next?”

“Divest,” Jaheira murmurs, with the very slightest hint of a smile.

“Oh yeah.” Fig points a stubby finger at Wesley’s chest. “Divest yourself!” Then, again in a whisper, “That means take your sword off.”

Wesley’s lips twitch. “Ah. Yes, ma’am,” he says; with a single quick motion, he strips off his sword belt and lays the weapon on the table. 

Fig nods approval. “He’s clean, Commander!” she says; her serious demeanor breaks and she grins excitedly. “Did I do good?”

“Perfectly done, cub. Now run along.” Jaheira waits until the girl has darted back out of the room, then looks at Wesley and jerks her head to the side. “You - come. We shall speak in my office.”

Wesley follows her with a soft laugh. “Is this hazing, then, High Harper? Or does she do this with all your visitors?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harper Simons,” Jaheira says gravely. “This is standard procedure.”

[checkoutmybookshelf]

I Want to Be Where The Pirates Are...

So...I'm aware that one cannot genetically engineer books to specific readers, but if one could...the Dangerous Damsels books have my DNA baked in. Especially when the lore of the world involves both a pirate's league and a witches' league--who naturally detest each other--splitting off from the same common ancestor, a sketchily prophesied heir, and a long-lost amulet that some goody two-shoes put in a museum. It's time for witches and pirates to have a reckoning, and it's time for Charlotte Pettifer to fall in love with--in no particular order--the sky, magical chaos, and a big scary pirate. Let's talk The League of Gentlewomen Witches.

This is your obligatory SPOILER WARNING because I have exactly zero compunctions about SPOILING everything about this book. Also, this is your CONTENT WARNING for brief mentions and discussions of child abuse and panic/PTSD attacks.

Miss Charlotte Pettifer is extremely not a witch because witches don't exist, thank you very much. She is also a well-reared, respectable lady. But where Cecilia Bassingthwaite was soft amd respectable while also just happening to be an expert in the piractical arts, Charlotte is willing to toss soft away for adventure within about five seconds of being given the opportunity. And she certainly does get the opportunity amidst the chaos of the entire Wisteria Society and Wicken League attempting to steal Black Beryl's amulet. Ultimately, the inimitable Lady Armitage comes up with it, and Charlotte's plan is to hold pirate Alex O'Riley at gunpoint in his own flying house so he will take her in hot pursuit.

It takes about five minutes of Taming of the Shrew/Much Ado About Nothing shenanaganery before we get Charlotte and Alex's first kiss, but these two adorable dumbasses spend the next 90% of the book insisting that of course they hate each other, and of course this is a kidnapping/hostage situation, and of course all the really rambunctious sex they're having is just tension release so they can effectively track down the amulet.

Reader, I adore these two.

Neither one is terribly good at emotions, and they spend most of the book avoiding talking about anything plainly and explicitly. Instead. They settle for the most tender, sweet moments in the midst of mortal danger and some of the best double entendres and innuendos (all speckled with Irish pirate roguery and some genuinely wonderful literary allusions) I have ever read. There are also some delightfully self-aware trope subversion moments--for example, Charlotte insists that she needs a change of clothes to do piracy, and Alex keeps insisting she dies not until she gets to "trousers," whereupon he is suddenly very much on board with this idea. There is also the inn the pair wind up in, which--tragically--has two beds. They very quickly remedy the situation by pushing the beds together in order to ensure they they end up in their "only one bed" as expediently as possible. When I tell you that I laughed literally out loud when they fell down the crack between the two beds and ended up just sleeping (literally and figuratively) on the floor, I am being entirely serious.

The sex and shenanagins and courting disguised as tracking down Lady Armitage--and some genuine running from the Wisteria Society and Wicken League--continue until they stumble on Lady A's house by sheer coincidence and she literally has to *interrupt their play-fight flirting* to go "Do you want this goddamn amulet or not?"

Charlotte wants the amulet--as Black Beryl's prophesied heir, it's hers, naturally--but this is where the issue with not talking about your feelings starts biting her and Alex in the ass a little, because it is literally MID-BATTLE WITH Lady A when Alex looks at Charlotte and goes "We have to destroy this amulet, Lottie."

Which for us readers makes some sense, because we have gotten a little bit of Akex's traumatic backstory at this point, enough to understand that it's witch-related, but all Charlotte really knows is that it left some deep-ass emotional scars that she's still kind of floored tbat Alex let her get any glimpse of at all. But because they're not on the same page, they fumble the amulet and their own escape and end up in Lady A's dungeon.

No, I didn't question how a pirate's flying battle house has a dungeon. And if you're questioning it, this is not the book for you.

Charlotte is pacing like a caged tiger trying to find a way out while Alex just kind of marvels at her--this man is soooooo gone for her it's not even funny and we kind of adore it. Eventually, however, with nothing but time on their hands, Alex and Charlotte have no choice but to actually sit down and talk seriously to each other. Which leads to honestly my favorite little section of this entire book.

Alex O'Riley's backstory is HELLA dark. The TLDR is essentially that a his father had an affair with a witch, and that made Alex's mother die of a broken heart. So we start with a mom dead at age five. Then dad becomes an alcoholic who beats him bloody and one tries to drown him. Add to that abusive nuns at school and a stepmother who used to lock him in the cellar and withhold food, and it's kind of incredible that Alex is a functional human who can still manage to smuggle food into Ireland for people experiencing poverty and starvation. He coped by not feeling things and building a pirate rake reputation to avoid getting feelings-close to anyone. Unfortunately, Charlotte is over here explaining why he's right about destroying the amulet and saying that she would give up witchy superpowers for him, and he is getting hit directly in the feels and scars she doesn't understand the scope of.

So Alex has what is either a panic attack, PTSD flashback, or a bit of both. We get the highlights of his childhood trauma and the absolute heartbreak that all he can say to Charlotte as he slips into the memories is "sorry." Which isn't an apology to Charlotte for losing control, not really, or at least that's not all it is. That word is the key to this traumatic memory, and it's just cruel that he can say it in the here and now but the child he was was too hurt and frightened and at the mercy of a witchy stepmother to save himself. Literally, my heart. I was not expecting to cry at this screwball rom com, but damn if India Holton didn't get me.

But what I really loved was Charlotte's response to his panic attack. Thanks to the patriarchy and rampant goddamn ableism, this scene is done badly SO OFTEN. I literally wrote an entire academic article about how versions of this scene are done poorly multiple times in Iron Man 3. But Charlotte does it right. If she's afraid, Alex doesn't need to see that, and he doesn't. She asks him what he needs, and more importantly, she listens to him. She is supportive of his feelings in the moment. She VALIDATES him. And she doesn't let him minimize his own feelings or experiences while simultaneously offering him a metaphorical hand to take to pull himself up--she's not forcing him to make any moves here. It's a quiet, soft scene that does everything right, and I love that we can let our big scary pirate lad have these real, human moments and we aren't castigating or shaming him for having feelings. We are, in fact, validating and supporting him. The post-panic or post-PTSD attack scene is done so badly in so many books and movies, but this one is done with care, and I love that to tiny little peices.

After this, Charlotte and Alex quite handily get out if the dungeon and fight Lady Armitage for the amulet again. During the fight, Charlotte outs herself in front of a witch hunter to save Alex's life, and her ass is saved in return by the absolutely WONDERFUL Constantinopla. At which point Charlotte joins Cecelia and Constantinopla on a jury-rigged popcorn stall to help bring Lady A's house down since she still has the amulet. Meanwhile, Ned, Alex, and Tom just kind of sit back and watch, prompting Alex to ask, "Does anyone else get the feeling that in fact we're their boys?"

Alex O'Riley understands how the world works.

Ultimately, Lady Armitage ruined house, the lady herself, and the amulet go crashing into the sea and are presumed dead by everyone but the reader, who discovers at the end that the lady doth survived too much, the real amulet has been safe in a vault the whole time, and another unsuspecting man is forcibly married to Lady A.

Charlotte's story ends rather more happily. She gives up the restraints of the Wicken League and abdicates leadership about five minutes after she gets it so Alex can "kidnap" her and restore the status quo of animosity between witches and pirates. Charlotte gets to go be spontaneous, fierce, and kickass with her hot Irish pirate, and frankly I love that for both of them.

We just briefly need to hit a couple of subplots here. First, I want to address Alex's butler, Bixby. Bixby is the protagonist of the next book, so I'm sure we will get more of him then, but for the purposes of THIS book, he joins the battle butler coven with Sam Vimes's Wilikins and Artemis Fowl's Domovi Butler. I would pay I don't even know how much money to get these three in a room together for the battle butler equivalent of a stitch and bitch. The gossip and shop talk and trade secrets would be LEGENDARY.

Second, we need to address Miss Judith Plim, the head of the Wicken League and Charlotte's aunt. This woman makes Granny Weatherwax look warm, gregarious, and flexible. She was insistent on keeping everything of Charlotte's that was exuberant and joyful tied down and smothered, and she's over here trying to prevent Charlotte and Alex from getting together. For *reasons*, Aunt Judith ends up with Detective Inspector Matthew Creeve, an avid witch hunter. This one...should probably just speak for itself, so here:

"You are a fetid witch." Miss Plim blushed. "And if I am not mistaken, sir, you are that revolting and heartless scourge of the earth, a witch hunter." He took a few steps toward her, his hips jerking in an attempt at manly swaggering. "What is your name?" "Judy," she said. "Matthew," he told her. [...] "I am fetid, bad, reprehensible," she said huskily. "How are you going to punish me, Matthew?"

And it goes pretty much where you'd expect it to from there. Not gonna lie, this felt a little random in the sense of "Camillo and Paulina get together at the end of Winter's Tale," but it was drop-dead funny, so I'm not complaining.

Third is the little subplot with Constantinopla, Tom, and Lady Armitage. In addition to stealing the amulet, Lady Armitage rather incidentally also steals Tom, and Alex has to keep reminding Charlotte that they probably ought to steal Tom back right alongside the amulet. Especially as Lady A is known for her prolific husband homicides. The deeply amusing payoff to this is that they get in the room just AFTER Lady A and Tom are married and have to kind of Princess Bride the whole thing because poor Tom is TERRIFIED of what Constantinopla will do if she finds out he said "I do" to another woman. Charlotte pretty much just goes "So don't tell her. It's fine. We'll bribe and/or threaten the Vicar. Just keep your trap shut and she never has to know." This blows Tom's mind entirely, but he rolls with it because he is deeply in love with his original fiance.

Before I wrap this up, I once again need to shout out India Holton's writing style. The sheer mastery of sneaky and hilarious literary allusions mixed with genuine sweetness and sincerity, and strong as hell characrer writing make these books stand out in my head. The prose itself is as much of a pleasure as the story and characters, and that's so rarely the case these days. These books are written for English major romance girlies (gender neutral) and the books love their readers back. So very, very much.

And that is where we will leave it for now! I've had my local bookshop order in the third Dangerous Damsels book for me, and I am very excited for it. If you haven't yet picked up The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels, I recommend it before reading this book.

[in2thenewworld]

Hello! I'd like a genshin matchup please :)

I'm a girl, I use any pronouns and I don't mind getting matched with any gender!

I'm a Capricorn!

Appearance: I'm 5'4 and half, I have blue hair (blue microlocs) and I wear glasses. My fashion style is pretty all over the place, I'll put a link of my pinterest board! https://pin.it/25wJU40. I'm always seen wearing gold hoop earrings and a necklace that has my name on it :)

Personality: I'd describe my self as independent, passionate, reserved (most of the time), sarcastic, I'm always making snarky comments! I'm a chill person, I'm not that loud but it just depends who I'm with 🤷🏾‍♀️. If I'm really comfortable with someone I will flirt left and right, but I'll also bully them (not in like a mean way or serious way, I just like to make fun of people that I know won't actually take me seriously). I'm not someone who likes to ask for help (that's a flaw of mine), I will struggle but I like to do things my self and on my own so it's uncomfortable for me to ask for help. When I'm really comfortable with someone, that's when I'll start to be a little loud. When I'm with people I'm comfortable with I'm assertive, confident and outgoing. I'm also a really honest person, i like to tell people how it is and not sugar coat. I'd like to say I'm strong willed, I belive what I believe and it's not often that I'll let someone change my opinion but many times I will not speak up and keep my opinion to myself but that doesn't mean my opinion will change (y'know what I mean??). I'm also easy-going, I'm a person that's easy to get along with as long as you're not a bad person or annoy me or smth.

Interests: I'm a dancer! I love dancing, reading, playing the guitar, and playing video games. I like greek mythology, history and philosophy! I listen to many artists but my favorites are the cure, the smith's, and Tyler, the creator. I enjoy listening to persona music as well :) I like chess (even though I'm not good at all). I'm fluent in french!

In a partner/love language: my love language is quality time, I'm not someone who is big on physical touch but if I'm comfortable with someone I'll let it slide. I'd say my secondary love language is acts of service! I don't have any specific dates I'd like to go one, anything is fine with me mostly. An aquarium date, Musem date, late night drive, restaurant, staying at home, it's the thought that counts. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I belive that's it! Thank you and take your time!

hi!! another very easy choice for me hehe, i hope you enjoy c:

loading your match! *✧₊✪͡◡ू✪͡

your match is…

BEIDOU!

Beidou first notices you, as shallow as it is, because of your looks. More specifically, your fashion sense and your hair. She only initially sees you from a distance but she is totally captivated.

Ever her forward self, the captain approaches you with a rather cheesy introduction, something about having an eye for treasure.

Speaking of as much, once you two are together she’s always keeping an eye out for new jewellery pieces she can get you to add to your collection. It’s not the only gift she’ll give by any means- you’ll notice this is a huge love language of hers- but it’s certainly her favourite to.

Quality time is also massively important for Beidou, and she’ll be so thankful for any little favours you do for her.

A variety of dates is exactly what you’ll get with Beidou. Teyvat is vast and constantly brings her on new adventures, so she’ll quickly rack up a list of places she wants to bring you everytime you two are apart. You’ll find yourself in quiet and serene wonders you never even knew existed, as well as lively towns bursting with life.

Her mind is quite the vault, and she always has a story to tell. She would love to hear of your interests in things like history and mythology especially. She’ll talk with you forever about that kind of thing.

You’re both so easygoing, it’s typical for you both to go with whatever is thrown your way. Impulse plans are far from uncommon whenever you’re with Beidou, but that’s what makes being with her so exhilarating!

Beidou adores your humour and sarcasm. Your minds exist on the very same plain. She’ll 100% bring out your more loud side whenever you’re together. She’ll poke fun at you, just as much as you do her.

She’s also highly observant, so although you’re an independent character, she can tell when you’re feeling down. Yet, she also understands the want to not ask for help because she’s always trying to prove herself strong and reliable. You can always rely on each other though, and you have this mutual understanding where no one makes a big deal, which is much more comforting than the alternative.

I can imagine once you’re more comfortable with Beidou’s friends and crew, you’d have lots of game nights, sat round a table. Or, you could always play one on one. You say you’re not very good at chess, but you’re bound to impress a few people at least. You’d be surprised.

They’d also love if you played some music for them! Beidou feels like the definition of a proud girlfriend just watching you. 😌

Your honesty and refusal to sugarcoat things resonates a lot with Beidou. She’s someone who would always much rather be met with the truth. She can’t stand being lied to, even if it’s with good intend and she understands it. She’s grateful you’re comfortable enough with her to let her know even when she’s out of line or you disagree about something.

Despite your nature to usually stand alone, Beidou can’t help but have a protective streak. No one lays a hand on her girlfriend, or they’ll have to go through her! You’ll assure her you can handle yourself. She trusts you entirely, yet there’s just something in her that loves to play the hero once in a while. (She’ll never want to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable though! She’ll always step back when asked, it’s just another way she tries to show her love is all.)

Overall, I think you both fit each other really well, and you’d get on perfectly. C:

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 30

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER THIRTY:  GAEL

The moment the door opens and Vandryss steps inside I know I’m going to die.  I don’t even have to see the particular look on her face to know that this does not bode well at all for either myself or my father, it’s clear enough just from all the noise we’ve been picking up from outside.  Even with the door locked tight I’ve still been able to keep vague track of what’s going on out there, first hearing raised voices from barked orders and what I assumed was a distinctly increased level of concern.  Then much more muffled sounds of struggle and violence from above, as well as more than one particularly large percussive crash that shook the building hard enough, even from all the way down here, that I almost lost my own footing.  And now, finally, shouting from much closer, just outside, including more than one voice I recognised.

At least for a few moments, I was starting to hope, slender as it may have been.  Hearing Shay in particular, it was almost a relief.  Da was a good deal more worried up until then, finally giving up on trying to think of his plans for our escape, or more likely just my own, and instead simply starting to unburden himself as he saw the end potentially approaching for both of us.  He told me that he loved me, that he was so proud of me, that he couldn’t possibly imagine me turning out any more amazing than what he saw before him now.  It was almost enough to make me cry, even as I tried hard to keep his spirits up, telling him we could still get out of this, that my friends could well win through out there.  Certainly it sounded like a possibility.

Now, as Vandryss immediately focuses on me and her brows just start to knit while her lips draw thinner than I’ve ever seen them before … honestly, even if they are winning out there I’m already doubting I’ll actually live to see our victory.  Then I realise that Tavarrat’s stepped in with someone I don’t know in tow, and turns her key in the lock to seal us in before finally stepping into the room proper.  Looking a good deal more fretful than her companion, breathing hard in something approaching shock while her eyes are wide.  As though her mind’s not really here right now.

I take a big step back and the wall’s right behind me, I can’t go further.  Sucking in a deep breath, I raise my hands, trying to come up with something to say that might defuse the mood that’s already pervading the room, but nothing comes.  Not that I could think anything up, I’m getting to know this horrible woman well enough to guess that she’ll do whatever she wants no matter what I say.

Vandryss watches me for a long beat, her eyes slowly narrowing as she looks me up and down, then back up again, her jaw clenching and loosening over and over again just as her fingers keep clenching into fists and relaxing again.  Finally she takes a step forward, then stops, hissing:  “Damn it!”  low but very full of venom.

“We can’t … Van, I can’t just leave him!”  Tavarrat’s clutching her staff tightly, pacing over the same few feet back and forth while she’s staring at the door.  “This isn’t right … I can’t do it.  He’s going to … please, I need you to help me –”

“For fuck’s sake, Luthan!”  Vandryss snaps, turning to give her a sharp sidelong glare while her fists clench again.  “He told you to go!  He’s fucking right, we need to go.  He’s buying you this chance.  Do you want to waste it?”

Gods, this cruel bitch … as much as Tavarrat has burned all her opportunities to make me feel sorry for her, I can’t help feeling some small sympathy all the same hearing that.  But I hold my tongue, trying my best not to draw unnecessary attention right now.

“Yes, you should leave.”  My father strikes up now as I hear the clink of his chains as he starts to draw himself up into a more upright sitting position, at least as much as he can manage given how exhausted and broken he is.  “You should … truly, it sounds like your time’s running out quickly now.  You could all just disappear now, and I’m sure that you’ll be able to get away.  I’m certainly not going to try chasing you.  Not right now.  Perhaps not at all, if you left us both unharmed.”

She doesn’t quite bare her teeth as she turns to him, but Vandryss gives him a sour look all the same as she takes a step his way now.  Even though I really don’t think he’s even speaking to her, I suspect those words are meant more for Tavarrat right now.  Trying to appeal to the more rational of the two of them.  I’m sure he’d find it painfully hard to speak so civilly to our constant torturer after all she’s done to both of us in this room.

The third one … I’ve never seen him before, but one glance at him tells me he can’t be one of their regular henchmen.  The handful I’ve seen in my time here have a somewhat uniform look, motley as they all seem to dress and style themselves.  This one … to be honest, he almost seems more akin to the kind of company I keep these days.

He’s a half-orc, young and quite strapping really, although while he’s broad and solid across his shoulders he still seems somewhat leaner than some I’ve come across in my time, built more for speed than strength.  He’s definitely every inch the fighter his kin are, though, this much is obvious at a glance.  Dressed in a somewhat slapdash mixture of boiled leather and battered pieces of splint armour, the only truly uniform gear he’s wearing is a strange buckskin kilt, long to his knees, more pieces of splint steel stitched across the loose flaps.  I’ve never seen fashion such as this, and I’d be hard pressed to imagine what it’s actually intended for, even if I was more martially minded to begin with.  Mostly I’m just concentrating on how he’s armed right now, anyway, judging how much of an inherent threat he is, seeing a battered longsword hung at his hip and a substantial collection of smaller blades strapped about him too.  Enough to make me think he graduated from a similar school of thought to Kesla when it comes to his steel.

For the most part he just seems confused by what’s going on in here now, like he doesn’t know why they’ve brought him in here in the first place.  Genuinely baffled, in fact, looking Vandryss over with a regard which seems equal parts wary suspicion and badly concealed dislike.  This is enough to convince me that he must be one of the Mallys’ people instead, which makes sense given his obvious sellsword garb.  Not necessarily an enemy in this then, at least not in this specific moment, but unlikely to be an automatic friend either.

“You might want to hold your tongue, Foxtail.”  Vandryss hisses now, stepping closer to my father now.  “I have no further reason to keep you alive now.  In fact it would be far wiser for me to simply kill you now, before we leave.  Sever any ties we might have left here now.  Remove a threat before it presents itself, perhaps.”  She leans close, bending at her waist while she plants her hands on her hips.  “Both of you.  You might be better off begging me for some mercy, at least for your child.”

The half-orc blinks at that, turning to look at me now, and as he does so his frown starts to turn into something more complicated … open worry, I realise after a moment.  I don’t know what that’s about, but it gives me some hope, just a sliver, but better than nothing.

“I don’t see why.” Da growls now, and when I turn back I see he’s regarding her with a particularly desolate look on what’s left of his face that’s not still swollen and bruised.  “You’ve offered none to us so far, only torture and threats of much worse.  You’ve laid your intentions bare and I know any offers you make are as hollow as your cruel, black heart.  I know better than to beg mercy of a monster, Vandryss.  I just want you to see some bloody sense.”

Straightening up, she takes a small step back and turns enough I can make out her face again, and when I see she’s actually smiling I go cold.  Gods … somehow that feels like the worst sign I could possibly see in this situation.  “Sense?  Really?”  She chuckles for a moment, and it’s a discordant, twisted sound that makes my skin crawl, as unsettling and simply wrong as everything else about her.  “That’s fucking rich.  All right, I’ll look at the situation with a modicum of sense.”  She shifts her weight as she taps her chin for a few beats, gazing up at the ceiling in what feels more like a mockery of consideration as a genuine act.  “Hmmm … you know what?  I do see sense.  The sense in doing the smart thing right now.  For us.”

Her sword’s out so fast I don’t have a chance to react as she lunges forward and stabs him.  By the time I’ve realised what’s happened she’s already withdrawing, and I start to run forward, only for the half-orc to react first and scramble forward to wrap me up in powerful, thickly muscled arms, holding me as fast in place as if I was caged with iron too.  I start struggling immediately, but he just tightens his grip so I can’t even move, never mind reach my father as she steps away from him, whipping her sword off to the side to shake off his blood.  Before stepping back to stab him again.

This time I find my voice enough to cry out, no words but just a grating, broken howl that immediately hurts my still tender throat, and even though I already know this is pointless I try to break free regardless.  I’m no more successful than the first try, all I can do is sob as I watch my father gape down at the gushing wounds through his chest in pure shock.  He tries to speak but nothing comes, just a ragged, winded gasp that sounds horrible.

Giving her sword a few more expansive flourishes to the side, Vandryss turns away from him before sheathing it again and stalking up to Tavarrat, who’s still pacing back and forth as she gawks at the door.  She reaches out and grabs the rogue wizard’s shoulder, roughly turning her around as she grabs the other and immediately starts shaking her.  “For fuck’s sake … snap out of it, just stupid bitch!  We have to go!  Get your shit in order and work your fucking magic!  Now!”

For a moment Tavarrat just stares at her, her mouth working but nothing coming out, so Vandryss just lets go with her right hand and winds up to slap her very hard indeed across her face with a truly savage backhander.  It hits her hard enough I don’t doubt she’d go straight down if the pale woman wasn’t still holding onto her like grim death, and as she reels back, taking another long beat to focus, I see her lip’s split and bleeding badly.

“Oh … ow … Van, I … what are you –”

Vandryss shakes her again for good measure, then finally releases her to stumble for several shaky steps before she finally finds her balance again.  As she frowns before starting to cast about, finally finding her staff and bending to collect it again, she spits a little more blood out on the floor and groans before grunting:  “Ah … damn you … all right, just give me a moment, for Minerva’s sake.”

Hearing her invoke our beautiful goddess that she’s so gravely sullied with her awful treachery finally loosens my tongue, and I just unleash upon her, feeling my face flush as the heat rises from the anger surging through me, making my head swim with noise.  “Oh you bitch … you wicked evil bitch,  how dare you use that name in our presence?!  Have you no fucking shame?  You’ll burn in ten thousand hells for what you’ve done, I promise you!  Minerva will never forgive you for this!  You’re cursed, I swear it!  You’re fucking cursed!”

She rounds on me now, wide-eyed, watching me for a long, drawn out moment as her grip tightens on her staff.  Then her face hardens and she turns away quickly, hissing something I can’t make out under her breath before shaking her free hand out.  “Damn it … come on then.  Let’s just be done with this.”

“All right, then …”  Vandryss hisses the words, and as she steps close to me again I look down at her hands to see they’re working again, clenching and loosening like before, suggesting that she’s preparing to draw one of her blades and stab me too.  Oh gods … no, I’m not ready, I can’t … no, I have to see him again, I have to tell him –

Clearing her throat, Vandryss steps close enough I can almost smell her horrible breath again, standing up straight enough she almost doesn’t need to crane to look up into my eyes.  Suddenly she seems alarmingly calm, but right now that really does feel worse.  “We’re going now.  You, what’s your name … oh never mind, I really don’t care.  When we’re gone, kill this one.  I really don’t care how, I just want you to make it slow.  I made a promise to her father, after all.  Make it hurt, make her suffer.  Some humiliation wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

As she backs up, starting to turn to join Tavarrat now, I feel the arms around me start to loosen, not enough for me to break free, but still noticeable.  His breath is hot on my ear as he speaks, sounding flustered now, and I detect a subtle accent in his speech, nothing so thick as the half-hob cleric’s but clear enough.  Abharet, I should think.  “”What are you … no, I don’t reckon I will, there’s no way –”

Turning back, she looks right past me now with hot, blazing eyes, giving him a truly savage look now, and it’s enough to chill my blood all over again.  “Yes you fucking will.  You owe us, I’ll remind you now, you stupid little boy.  Your useless bitch of a leader already agreed to this, she’s obliged and so are all of you.  So if I tell you to murder this little bitch here, and do it slow, in the worst way you possibly can, you will do it.  Or I promise I will have every single one of your friends die in the worst ways I can possibly imagine.”  She steps closer now, craning again, more to get to his height as her eyes seem to bulge now, she’s staring at him so hard.  “Do not test me, boy.”

Whipping around without another word, she stalks straight to Tavarrat and takes her hand as it’s offered … then they’re gone in the blink of a half-glimpsed dimensional doorway that seems to close right through them both as the wizard utters her incantation, and we’re left alone in relative quiet now, just the two of us.

For a long beat nothing happens, I just wait here in his still iron hard grasp as he breathes more heavily against my back now, and even though I can’t see his face I can feel the tension in him all the same, the indecision.  I’m about to speak, thinking perhaps I could try appealing to his better nature, he certainly doesn’t seem like an evil person, any more than the other two I’ve met from his crew seemed to be.  Then he lets go and I almost fall forward onto my face, it’s so sudden that I’m entirely unprepared for it.

Instead I stumble forward for a few steps and then, as soon as I’ve caught myself, turn on the spot and rush straight to my father.  I fall to my knees just before I arrive and reach out, my right hand going to his face while my left hovers just shy of his wounds, hesitant to probe these awful gaping breaches in his flesh that already look to have spilled so much of his blood into his lap.  I’m sobbing again, my vision blurring as the tears come, and when I speak now my voice is already cracking, my sore throat suddenly thick.  “Oh da … oh my gods … what did she … oh no, please don’t … what can I … I can’t … what do I do?”

At first he just sits there, still gasping and heaving as he tries and very much fails to drag in fresh breath, and it’s immediately, painfully clear to me why, she’s run him clean through both of his lungs.  Even as he’s bleeding like a stuck pig they’re both filling with blood, and he’s drowning right here where’s he’s sitting.  When he finally musters enough strength to try talking all that he can manage is a rasping, choked wheeze and a little splash of particularly bright, bubbly blood that splatters my face.  This only makes me cry harder, and now I can’t speak either.

Then I hear the subtlest hissing whisper of steel on leather behind me, and two slow, hesitant footfalls, and when I look up into my father’s eyes I see them grow wider as they look above me.  Behind me.  At what’s approaching my back.  I already know what I’ll see before I turn to look.

“I’m sorry … please, just … I’m sorry.  I got no choice.”

The half-orc’s drawn his sword now, and while the blade is made from just the kind of workmanlike steel I expected it still looks strong enough for the job, and the edges and sharp, needle-fine point have been kept wickedly keen too.  It’s an implied threat all on its own, despite his reluctant, troubled face and locked-off stance, sword dangling low at his side as though he’s not already committed to what he’s about to do.  But he still takes another step towards me, and I hear my father wheeze again, trying to speak with greater urgency now.

Meanwhile I get up, very slowly, and as I turn towards him I raise my hands, just as gradually, wary of making any sudden moves now as I start to take similarly careful steps to my side.  “Okay … all right, Master … no, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, can I have your name, at least?”

Frowning a little, he pauses for a beat, licking his lips as he watches me.  “I … what?  No, I … I can’t just … Kuth.  It’s … it’s Kuth …”

“Kuth.”  I roll it around my mouth for a moment before repeating it.  “Kuth … it’s very … it’s good to meet you … um … sorry, yes … well met, Kuth.  I’m Gael.  Gael Foxtail.  You seem like a smart, careful, kind boy, you really do.  I’m sure you are.  You don’t want to kill me, you’ve already made that clear.  And I definitely don’t want to die, Kuth.  I’ve done nothing to harm you, and so far, I’m sure you haven’t done anything to harm me either.  So there’s no reason for any of this.  You can just put that away and leave, or you could even help me, perhaps … help me save my da, I don’t want him to die either … please …”

“No …”  he grunts, taking a more focused step towards me now, his frown deepening as his jaw tightens, and now he raises the sword as he takes another step forward.  “No.  No, I … no.  I can’t do that.  She’s right, I got no choice, I gotta kill you.  You don’t understand, we’re stuck, Dram said as much, none of us got any choice in this.  I have to kill you.  I’m sorry …”

“Please …”  da manages to choke out, but it makes him cough up significantly more of that awful bubbling blood as he does it.  “Don’t … please don’t … not my … not my … please …”

As Kuth looks to him for a moment I take a few quicker, more urgent steps to the side and push myself back towards the wall, waiting until my back’s to it before finally stooping to pick up a big handful of the chains still attached to the bands around my wrists.  When he turns back and sees me here now his face darkens considerably, his eyes starting the inexorable roll from yellowed amber to deeper red as he bares his teeth and takes a bigger, more focused step towards me.  Then another …

On the third he sets foot on the exact spot I was hoping, absolute praying he would, and in that instant I send up a silent prayer to Minerva that this actually works, otherwise I know I’m going to die.

Ever since I was last left alone in here with da, I’ve been wracking my brains, desperate for any way to get us both out of this horrific situation, the slightest possible tactical advantage I could possibly muster.  There’s almost nothing at my disposal, Tavarrat has done a remarkable job of severing both of us from all of our magic with these invocation fetters, even without the chains lashing him to the pipes da would still be as helpless as a kitten, and I am too.  Or at least that’s what they all thought.

Perhaps it’s just that she’s so much further removed from her time in the Academy than I am, my own extensive, intensive magical education still so usefully fresh in my memories.  Or maybe she just overlooked it in her overconfidence.  Whatever the case may be, she missed one extremely subtle flaw in her logic that, if it does work, will allow me to circumvent the fetters’ deadening in one key way.

When Kuth puts his foot down on that third step, he steps on a sigil I drew on the hard stone of the floor, under a piece of carpet I was able to prise up and then tack back down, and completes an otherwise inert magical circuit.  When they first came back there were a few moments where I worried they might have rumbled me, that Vandryss at least, with her uncanny, horrible ways, might have caught on, might have smelt it if nothing else.  Keyed in on the smell of still relative fresh blood in the air, perhaps …

Partly it was just that I have nothing else to write in, Tavarrat stripped me of my components as well as my robes so I have no chalk or charcoal to draw lines on any surfaces.  But in fact the blood is very much the key in this.  I’ve explained this to Kesla more than once, I remember, that blood is the most powerful component we have in magic.  So I rubbed and tugged and scraped my left wrist as much as I could, chafing and abrading it against the cuff over and over until it bled.  I hoped I could pass it off as just desperation, trying to yank my hand out after all, if they did see it hopefully they’d just chastise me for being so foolish as to try something so pointless.  Instead they missed it, clearly distracted by far more pressing matters going on outside which they were desperate to run from.  Meanwhile I now had the perfect ingredient to make this work.

Because the invocation fetters only deaden my magic, they don’t destroy it, I still have it flowing through my veins, dormant but ready and waiting for me to unleash it, I simply can’t while these bonds are clamped around me.  But when my blood is outside my body, I can at least use an otherwise inert cantrip to set up a booby trap that someone could blunder into and activate without even realising it …

Despite the thin, cheap carpet laid over the top of it, I still catch sight of the sudden flare of bright blue light as the sigil keys in under his foot, and I feel the throb of the sudden activation pulse through me as my own otherwise deadened blood responds in sympathy.  The first Kuth knows of anything happening, however, is when bright, crackling arcs of dancing static race up his limbs with blinding speed to quickly encompass his entire body, shocking him to his core.  For a few moments he stays where he is, shuddering and quaking in place as all of his muscles seize up at once while the immense power of several miniature lightning bolts lance right through him … then the charge shorts out and he just sways for a moment, stiff and still as he smokes heavily, before finally dropping backwards like a felled tree.

I stay where I am for a long beat, watching closely as I slowly drop into a tight crouch.  Not quite holding my breath, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest even so, the potential threat of violence still hanging in the air enough to keep me anxious.  Then I finally start to relax by increments, hoping that maybe it’s done enough damage to at least put him out of commission for a while.  I doubt he’s actually dead, he’s still pretty big, and a half-orc to boot, they’re notoriously tough.  But hopefully that’s still it from him, at least for now.

So I take a deep breath and start to inch forward, approaching with caution as I lean forward into a low, wary creep towards him.  I’m easing my way around him, close to his sword arm now, when he suddenly gasps, as if he’s only just started breathing again, and his hands finally uncurl from fists so his sword finally clatters to the floor beside him.  It’s enough to make me jump, springing back on my tight flanks, and I clutch the bundled chains close to me as I watch him for another fraught, nerve-wracking moment, waiting to see if he moves again.

He doesn’t but after another moment he starts to groan, very faintly, a long, low note of profound pain.  I have to clench my jaw tight and purposely ignore him now to keep from feeling profoundly sorry for what I’ve just done, instead inching towards his sword now, reaching for it with due caution.

The moment I touch the hilt it burns my fingers horribly, the pain is genuinely shocking, like accidentally putting my hand on a stove I had no idea was blazing hot, and I almost fall on my backside pulling back this time.  I give my hand a furious shake with a wounded hiss, before sticking all of my fingertips in my mouth and sucking on them hard, feeling fresh tears pricking my eyes again.

Then da coughs again and tries to speak:  “Gael …”  Once more he descends to coughing, but tries to muddle through.  “Oh … go.  You need … to go … go now.  Don’t worry … about me …”

As he pitches another coughing fit which brings up even more blood, I wince in sympathy while my chest tightens along with my throat and my tears start to run free again.  “Oh, but … no.  No, what about … I can’t just –”

“GO!!!”  He manages to snarl the word, and then just vomits up even more blood.  More coughing follows, wetter than before and a good deal more ragged, and with each spasm of his chest more blood spills from his ragged wounds.  I almost defy him, wanting to return to him so badly, to try to plug those holes, but I know I have no way to stem that awful flow, the only hope for him now is out there, if my friends really are fighting their way through to us now.  Which I know they must be …

So I start to move for the door, carefully picking my way past the sprawled form at my feet, swiping my cleaner sleeve across my face while I take a big, snotty sniff.  “All right … but I’ll be right back.  I’ll get –”

A very hot hand grasps my ankle before I can get all the way past and I go down long before I have a hope of catching myself.  It jogs my shoulder badly when I land, and while it’s long since been healed from when I broke it last week my body seems to remember the pain all the same, and it’s bad enough to make me cry out.  I suck in a desperate breath and yank my foot free of those steely fingers, starting to kick away from him now as he rolls over with a wounded groan and blinks bloodshot eyes that take a moment to focus on me.  But he’s still got too much of his old strength in him as he reaches for me now, and I shuffle back as fast as I can on my backside, desperate to clear as much distance as I can from him before running for the door.

Except that I forgot about the chains in all this confusion, so when he grabs hold of a handful of trailing links he yanks me over onto my side again and starts to tow me towards him again with alarming speed.  Looking supremely angry now as he gnashes his bloody teeth, growling senseless gibberish that nonetheless manages to sound terribly threatening.

Lashing out as soon as I’m close enough, I crack my boot-heel as hard as I can across his face, but this just produces a furious little snarl as he spits a little blood and, from the look of it, a few teeth.  He loses his grip, but nowhere near as much as I’d like, barely giving me enough slack to start pulling away before he renews his efforts and works on towing me back again.

So I do the only thing I can think of in the moment, with the only weapon I have to hand.  Picking up a long coil of loose chain, I wind it up behind my head and give it a good sharp twist before snapping it into his face.  It strikes him across the bridge of his nose with a savage, clinking snap, and he lets go immediately, cradling his now well-broken nose with both hands as blood starts to spurt between his fingers.  He utters another hollow moan as he doubles over, while I take full advantage of the distraction to roll over and shove myself to my feet, already starting to bolt for the door.

The chain snags again before I even get close to it, and this time I’m moving fast enough that it jerks me right off my feet.  I don’t have a chance to catch myself as I tumble backwards, landing hard enough to batter all the air out of me while my head spins for a long moment as I try to shake some sense back into it.  By the time I’ve rolled up into a sitting position I can feel the chains start to tug on me again, and I scramble to scrape up as much of the remaining span as I can, digging my heels hard into the carpet under me now as I take up my end of the slack.  Only now feeling the angry, sore line of hot pain across my tongue where I bit it when I crashed down, tasting blood filling my mouth which I spit out without care for where it actually goes as I finally start to get angry.

For the first few moments I manage to hold myself there, but I can’t drag in any more of the length strung out taut between us as it becomes clear that, even after the massive jolt I gave him, he’s still a good deal stronger than I am.  I wind as much of what I’ve still got as I can around my forearms as I lean back and tense my legs as much as I can, but within moments my shoulders and back and thighs are screaming at me and the links start cutting into my hands.  Then the carpet starts to tear under my heels and I realise this just won’t work.

When the threadbare material under my feet finally gives out entirely and rips loose in one long frayed strip right under me, he starts to drag me back so forcefully I spin right around before I can catch myself.  I feel the cheap weave burning my arm right through my sleeve and back as I’m pulled right into his grasp, and as he starts to rear up on shaky knees I kick out to try and fend him off.  It doesn’t do anything, it’s like kicking a solid oak log wrapped in boiled leather.

Letting go of what little chain I’ve still got in my grip, I just start pummelling him with my fists as he starts to awkwardly straddle me.  I make contact at least half a dozen times, landing two pretty decent punches in his face that nonetheless don’t seem to much of anything, he just batters my hands aside and rears back to swing down and crack me across my face in return.

It's like stars exploding in my skull, a bright flash before everything turns into dancing lights and a kaleidoscope of crazy colours that I’m slow to realise is my vision gone all kinds of blurry as it spins wildly.  I try to will my arms to work enough to strike him again, but I can’t feel much of anything beside the dull but bright ache across the whole lower half of my face so I have no idea if I even make contact this time.  The next thing I do notice is when he grabs hold of my collar and pulls me up off the floor just enough to shove me back down good and hard, slamming me into the floor with enough force to thump out all of my air again.  I’m left lying where I am, wheezing violently, as my senses finally come back to me.

Just as he leans down and, almost leisurely, curls the fingers of both hands around my throat.  In the back of my mind I hear some small part of my cry out:  Oh for the love of the gods, not this again! … but mostly I just become immediately, desperately aware that I’d barely had any chance to get any air back in my lungs in time before he did this, so within moments I’m starting to suffocate as he proceeds to choke me.  Squeezing with even more force than Vandryss used before, I can already feel the tendons in my neck starting to bend and tear under the sheer force of it.

Within moments I’m fighting for my life, my legs kicking violently underneath him while I try to batter his arms away, but it’s like fighting two worryingly thick spans of solid steel, it only hurts me.  Meanwhile my lungs are burning and my head is swimming while my vision starts to dim and compact into a narrow tunnel edged with red-rimmed black.  I can hear my father trying to cry out from a thousand miles away, but mostly I just hear that awful rushing sound in my ears, just one of the many things I hoped I’d never experience again that are all coming at once expressly to torment me now in my final moments …

Looking up through that narrowing hole of existence at his face now, slipping further away as I watch, I can see he’s not really there anymore, he’s just a mask of furious rage, his green-skinned face flushed dark while his teeth are clenched tight and his eyes bulging.  Their irises are even more red than the blood still streaking his teeth and smearing his lower face, there’s no more sense in them now than mercy.  Right now he might murder me without even realising he’s doing Vandryss’ bidding after all …

I don’t even realise I’ve reached out with my right hand, not even knowing where I’m grasping, until I find one of the knives at his flanks and drag it free to plunge into his side.  There’s a moment of resistance that’s probably the armour under his arm, but this pops after a beat and the blade slides in with a strange hot sizzle that’s my first indication that the knife is just as hot as the sword was before.  The pain comes a moment after as I feel the hilt sear my palm and fingers, but I just grit my teeth and push it as deep as it’ll go, right up to the hilt.

This doesn’t seem to have much of an effect, so I just drag it out and drive it right back in again, more forcefully this time so there’s less resistance, and I keep doing it over and over, waiting for him to finally notice.  It must take at least a dozen quick, deep punctures in his side, from waist to armpit, before he starts to falter, but the grip at my throat barely slips, and I realise now that I have seconds before I pass out, and then I know I’m truly fucked.

So I don’t bother with the side this time, instead drawing the knife back to jab up into the side of his throat, just under his broad jawline.  Again I drive it in right to the hilt, giving it a little twist as the blood starts to jet furtively under my curled thumb.  Some of it hits me in the face and I wish I could turn my head under that brutal grip, but he still doesn’t relent.  So I grit my teeth tighter and work on forcing it across the front of his throat, following the line of his jaw as I try to open the whole thing up all the way across.  If I had any air left in me I would scream with the effort.

This time enough blood splashes my face that I immediately go blind, tasting it too as it pours down my throat while I gasp from the suddenness of the spray and the shock of it filling my eyes.  But this seems to be the final straw as he reels back, his hands jerking away from my throat to leave me coughing and spluttering as I almost vomit up the blood I’ve already swallowed.  Dragging in massive lungfuls of air that make my aching throat and tortured lungs burn, I swipe my free sleeve across my eyes to clear enough of the blood from their lids to start blinking again, and when I’m finally able to look up again I see him stumble away.  The moment my legs are free I scramble back with my heels and elbows, still gripping the knife in my tightly locked fingers, watching him grasp his gaping throat, trying to stem the flow as a truly awful gurling sound issues from his severed windpipe.  In truth I’m a little amazed I actually managed to carve right through that …

He starts flailing his way towards the door now, but he must be losing a pint of blood with each pumping spurt of his ruined throat and his limbs are turning to jellied rubber, threatening to spill him onto his face with each failed effort to stand.  Watching his withdrawal I feel my anger flare, and I don’t even try to fight it, jumping up to charge forward on admittedly clumsy legs myself, mostly just stumbling onto him now.  As I flounder across his back I clumsily mount  his hips and rear back with the knife gripped in both hands now, finally unleashing the scream I was previously denied as I bring it down in a forceful stab between his shoulder-blades.  I can’t tell if it’s this or just the weight of my landing on him that finally bears him down, but he collapses while I drag the knife out and stab him again, doing the same over and over again long after he’s stopped moving.

I don’t even register the pounding on the other side of the door until something gives and it spills out of its frame, seeming to yield in the very top corner I originally predicted.  Seeing this is what finally breaks me out of my catatonic action, slumping onto my elbows as I gawk with a slack jaw at the door crashing to the floor with a particularly large woman on top of it.

Kesla, grunting with visible pain as she grasps her side while flashing her white teeth wide as she thumps down and then bounces before finally settling and rolling over onto her back, whimpering a little as she does so.  For a long, drawn out beat I just look at her, not quite able to believe she’s really here, but then the last of my lingering resolve breaks and I slump forward as I start bawling.  Finally crashing as the adrenaline that fuelled my desperate battle for survival peters out and the tears come to drown me right here, doubled over on what must surely be a lifeless corpse.

Eventually I feel a strong hand touch my shoulder, soft and hesitant, while I just shiver and sob with my face pressed against the tough leather on the late half-orc’s back.  Ragged and wet, I start to realise, as sense starts to return to me, warning me I must have my face laid right where I’ve been stabbing away with the stolen knife.  Getting covered with the still warm blood seeping from the wounds.  Not that I care much.

The touch at my shoulder grows firmer, and it doesn’t make me start, I know well enough who it is without having to look up.  So when those steely fingers start to search for a better grip before finally curling around my upper arm and then start to pull me off the corpse’s back, I don’t fight it, I just let it happen.  Finally catching sight of my friend as she pulls me into her lap.

Seeing Kesla looking down at me now, in significant pain even though I can’t see any real damage despite the state of her, but still just relieved to see me, almost kills most of my sorrow right now.  I reach up to touch her face, I can’t help it, even now I still need that tactile reassurance she’s really here.  She reaches up and grasps my hand with her own and starts to smile, a little tight from her pain but still so warm even so, and I think I might see a little moisture starting to well in her eyes too.

Then I remember what’s happened in here, and in particular beyond my own experiences, and I stiffen as the tears start to come again in earnest.  “Oh … oh no, Kesla you have to … you have to help him!  Quickly, he’s hurt!  It’s so bad, Vandryss, she …”  My voice breaks now, every word I say is like prickling needles inside my throat and it all comes out in ragged croaks, it’s a miracle I even manage to say that much before it just turns to sobs again.

Looking up, Kesla must catch sight of him almost immediately as her eyes widen and she stiffens too, only to wince as soon as she does.  Even so, she still turns around enough to shout out behind her, betraying so much more pain in her voice now.  “Shit!  Shay!  SHAY!!!  GET SOME HELP IN HERE!!!  RIGHT NOW!!!  Get Krakka, ANYBODY!!!  Just DO IT!!!  QUICK!!!”

Now she curls up and pulls me further into her grip, wrapping her arms around me as she hugs me tight, and as I sink into the warm familiarity of her embrace I just start to go away.  The floodgates open again and I let all the grief and terror and just pure sorrow of all I’ve been through these past few days spill out of me, all at once.  She squeezes tighter in response, letting me get it out, and it’s enough to let me know I’m finally safe again …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[thedisneychef]

African Meat Bobotie Recipe Easy – Boma and Tusker House

When I decided to make this recipe, it was only because it has been requested several times in the last few months. Honesty, I’ve never had it in the parks and looking at the recipe itself this looked totally unappetizing. Raisins, sugar, and meat? I just wasn’t seeing the attraction. It just seemed… Well… Gross. Even my husband, who’s usually up for anything Disney food related was making other plans for dinner. It was just too exotic for him. I was dreading putting this on the table for dinner. There was no way this was passing the picky eater kid test. But this is a signature dish, a classic recipe from Boma and Tusker House. People rave about it and every time I go to Tusker House, the bobotie pan is completely empty. “You have to go to Boma” is always paired with “try the bobotie!” on Disney food forums. Surely, this has to be better than it looks? I think I started to clue in to just how delicious this recipe was after I sampled while I was cooking. The smell was certainly enticing (it reminded me of the samosa stand at our local farmer market) and almost exotic… And when I took a sample spoonful, which shortly turned into a sample serving, I was in love. Sweet and savory with a great, creamy texture and an unbelievable aroma, I couldn’t wait to try it when it was finished with the egg custard topping. My husband wasn’t sold until he saw it come out of the oven and “I can make my own dinner, it’s not a problem” turned into a tepid “I guess I’ll try it.” But even he, who’s a much less adventurous eater than I am, really enjoyed it and that first uneasy bite turned into a request for seconds and I think even thirds. I’m amazed to say that this even passed the kid test… Everybody ate their food with a minimum of complaining and truly enjoyed it. Who knew something with crazy ingredients that I barely wanted to make would turn into a family favorite? I certainly didn’t. Meat bobotie is an African meat pie dish (introduced to Africa by Dutch traders of all things), almost like cottage or shepherds pie in England.  However, instead of being topped with potatoes, it’s topped with eggs and the meat itself has a sweet, very mild spicy kick with nuts and raisins added for texture and flavor contrast.  It’s so hard to describe, but honestly one of the most interesting dishes I’ve ever eaten and one I can’t recommend enough. Exotic, unique, really flavorful, and fairly easy to make. A great way to try some new flavors and foods while still using fairly common and “safe” ingredients for picky eaters. When I made this recipe, I used a meatloaf mix of beef, veal, and pork… Ground lamb isn’t something I can find in the grocery stores around here (not that there is a snowballs chance in summer that anybody here would eat lamb) and I felt that the meatloaf mix would give me meat that easily kept its shape after cutting while staying moist. While it’s been awhile that I used curry in a dish, I was instantly reminded (and thought I should remind readers) that the stuff stains like you wouldn’t believe. Clothes, counter tops, napkins, you name it. While a shot of bleach spray gets it out pretty easily, work with it carefully. My only other note was that this recipe does not call for using a water bath. However, I think that cooking this in a water bath may be actually better than just putting it in the oven. Not that going without it will ruin the meal, I think that if I had used it I’d have gotten a more even cook on the custard while reducing the time in the oven. No big deal. My most important note on prep for this is to make sure… Really, really, really, really sure… That when you drain the meat after it has been cooked on the stovetop, make sure you get as much fat out as absolutely possible. When it cooks in the oven, the fat actually seeps up around the edges and on to the custard, seriously impacting both cook time and the level of browning on the custard. If you find that fat has risen during baking onto the custard, gently use a spoon to try to scoop it out… And be warned again, the only thing that stains worse than curry is curry infused fat. I know how crazy this recipe sounds. Even typing it out, I can’t believe all of the ingredients came together into something that tastes as wonderful as it did. But honestly, this is one of my new favorite family meals. It may even be my new “company is coming over, let’s serve something neat” meal.  It’s certainly well worth making and I promise, especially for the folks out there who need their Boma fix, this will hit the spot. Read the full article

[teacherintransition]

Now? I’m Not Ready for This!

You can choose change, but internal change?

Baby, your mind does its own thing!

The best laid plans of mice and men …finish with cliche of your own choosing. Did you say, “work out fine if carefully planned out?” BUZZ! Not it. Did you say, “often ends in disaster?” Partial credit. Did you say, “have a life of their own?” SPOT ON! Even if the plans work out masterfully, it’s often the happenstance of luck when that happens. By all means, plan carefully, dot your “i’s” and cross your “t’s;” but hold on, it could be a bumpy ride. A new life with new directions apply their own consequences and results without checking with you first.

Endured and survived the pandemic? Yes, but truly lucky on that account. (Knock on wood) Full pension earned and retired? Yes, thank the Lloyd for working in one of the few careers that still offer pensions. Our world held together. My wife resigns from a job she held for thirty three years to travel nurse? Let’s be like Nike and “just do it!” All this wild and crazy guys stuff has worked out well for us, (knock on wood) but what do you do when the change comes from within and you didn’t see it coming? Blindsided. Kim’s third gig ends in early May and we head back to Nac until we leave for Italy in June. When we return in July, she will be on the lookout for gig #4.

Edit Image

You’re thinking, “ohhh,I get it; you’re tired of being away from your home!” Well …not really. In fact, the idea of spending an extended time at Tha Haem an Abode o Tha Rich Fowk isn’t too appealing. We like being in new places, we love our home too; but our time frame isn’t set for this disaffection so early. We have another year or two left traveling before we turn out the lights in Nacogdoches …our home since 1988. This happened gradually. When in Alexandria, we went home every other week. Three weeks overseas, then to Granbury until November. We went home ever four weeks or so while there. Since being in Round Rock, we’ve been home once. I was feeling restless the time we were home from November to January. What is going on here?

Didn’t expect this. I mean it’s kind of a good thing, my heart still has a spirit of adventure and all; but it’s also problematic. We don’t want to feel unhappy every three months, but I, more than the wife, have to maintain focus. What’s the risk? Whats the worry with all of the big changes we’ve made since August of 2020? We didn’t instigate this state of mind and patience is necessary. This is certainly true logistically, but we have to plan carefully. We both know that living out our lives in East Texas is not an option. Our boys are all over the state so nothing is tying us to the Piney woods. This situation presents us and possibly anyone making big life changes with areas of concern. Be patient, slow down, consider all options avoid being impulsive.

I was talking with a friend about this cautious course of action, and I had my own words thrown back at me …it’s ok, it didn’t hurt. My friend said, “aren’t you the live in the moment, throw caution to the wind fellow?” Who me? Yeah, I know it’s me. I’m so glad I’m not alone and have a partner to plan life with and there ya go. I’m not in this alone and we’ve pretty much been on the same page through all of this and that’s the way I’ll keep it. (Knock on wood) Yes, spontaneity is marvelous, but know as close as possible where you’ll land. No man is an island, I’ve got to consider everyone. I’ll advise that to my hearty readers as well. Our family has been so supportive of us, and Kim and I have supported each other’s choices. We haven’t messed up …yet! (Knock on wood) Robert DeNiro’s character in Heat lived by the philosophy, “don’t get attached to anything you aren’t willing to walk out on in thirty seconds if you feel the heat coming around the corner.”* That’s pretty extreme; the life we built and lived deserves more respect and attention. Stick to the schedule, don’t jump the gun, discuss with loved ones, be thankful and considerate of your loved ones and have confidence in your partnership. It’ll be ok.

I’m lucky to have really good friends back in Nacogdoches and I’m lucky to have made new friends on the road. We will work things out together… atta girl.

*Mann, Micheal; Heat; Warner Bros. Studios; 1995

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

029 of 2023

What do you have pierced?

My left ear three times, my right ear two times, my lower lip two times, and my left eyebrow.

How do you spend your summer nights?

Travelling and chilling out, also depends on who I am with.

If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?

Finland. I’ve always wanted to visit.

Would you take anyone with you?

Yeah, my husband and my dad.

What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen)

Black pen, blue is a colour to me.

Favourite month and why?

June because the longest days of the year.

What brand logo is closest to you currently?

Acer, on my laptop.

Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them.

My husband, in person.

What’s the best job you’ve ever had?

The one I’ve been having for years and counting, my current one as an electrician.

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?

Cleaning the toilets in a library, but I was a student then and I needed money. Thankfully I got my current job shortly after I graduated.

What email service do you use?

Gmail and Hotmail, and one from my uni, hopefully still active.

Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in?

Yeah, a big picture and a calendar.

What did you have for dinner yesterday?

Chicken wings to share.

Have you had other blogs on Tumblr?

I have a main (personal) blog. This one is a side blog.

Do you have any other blogs currently?

Just as I said.

What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of?

None, I’ve never been into such things.

Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick)

No, I don’t.

What things annoy you more than anything else.

Fries are not French okay?

What kind of position are you in at the moment?

Sitting on the couch.

Do you wear much jewellery?

No. Only my wedding ring and occasionally a chain necklace.

How many times have you moved house?

Four or five, something like that.

How many devices do you own which can access the internet?

My phone, my tablet and my laptop, so three.

Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy?

Yeah, my cats. And travels.

What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing?

I’m wearing grey sweatpants because lazy Sunday.

When was the last time you drank water?

20 years ago?

Have you ever tried the cinnamon challenge?

Never heard of it.

Are you listening to music right now?

Not at the moment, but there’s a song in my head.

Do you like maxi dresses?

Not on myself, obviously.

Was the last person you talked to in person related to you?

Not blood-related, but he’s my love.

Will you keep your last name when you get married?

I’m married already and here no one takes anyone’s last name while getting married.

Would you rather have orange juice or milk with your breakfast?

I like both, but milk from the morning would certainly result in adventures.

What are your plans for your next birthday?

Just buy a piece of cake and stick a candle in it.

Have you ever been called a tease?

More than once.

Are you a dark-haired, dark-eyed person?

I am indeed, except that my eyes are not brown, they are dark grey.

Are you so flexible that you can put your feet behind your head?

Yeah, I am.

Would you rather watch basketball or play basketball?

Play, definitely. I love basketball.

Do you like fish or chicken more?

Chicken, if ever, but I like certain types of fish as well.

What color are your eyes?

Dark grey. I sometimes wish they were brighter.

What scares you more: snakes or spiders?

Snakes, I don’t trust them. I like spiders, though.

Has anyone told you they missed you lately?

Yeah, some of my workmates. They’re happy that I’m back to work.

What’s your middle name?

Stijn.

Do you have any siblings?

Yeah, a younger sister.

What are you doing right now?

This survey, I guess. There’s TV in the background, playing from my tablet because my husband is using our TV as a monitor for his PS5.

Have you ever liked someone but were afraid to tell them?

OMG YES. Two guys last year. I just wanted to be friends and nothing more, but well. Things ended and they still don’t know how I felt, I guess.

Are your lips chapped at the moment?

Yeah, a little bit. As always.

When was the last time you were in a car with someone besides family?

Does my husband count as family? If so, then last year with this driver who took me to the hospital and it was 7th December and I haven’t seen him since then.

What are you wearing on your feet?

Grey socks with snowlake pattern. Very winter-ish, except that it’s 10°C outside.

Think back to August, were you in a relationship?

I was, with the same guy as now.

What kind of shoes did you wear today?

None because, for a change, I didn’t leave the house.

Do you currently have a hickey?

I do, on my neck. It’s a week old, though.

What color is your hair naturally?

Dark brown.

Does anyone ever spell your name wrong?

Well, there are some ways to spell my first name and mine is the most common in Dutch-speaking areas, so the Dutch-speaking people usually assume it correctly. There are some alternative spellings of my last name as well, so I typically have to spell it letter by letter, because my last name is much more common in the Netherlands than in Belgium. My middle name is pretty plain and nearly i,possible to misspell by the Dutch-sopeaking people. The rest of the world that is unfamiliar with Dutch language tends to be confused.

Do you think that texting on a date is rude?

Yeah, if you go on a date with someone, just pay attention to them.

How old do you look?

Apparently anything from 17 to 25, but I’m gonna be 33 this year.

Look in your inbox, who’s your last message from?

My phone provider. “Enjoy your stay in France” XD

What are you doing tomorrow?

I’m going to the sea, I guess. I want to go out.

What’s the weather like?

It’s dark outside, but it was raining recently.

Do you have any fun plans for tomorrow?

Just answered this.

What was the highlight of your week?

Going to work. I enjoyed every minute of it.

[quickreaver]

Word choice absolutely matters, and words have meanings and implications, and maybe we're in a little bit of conflict over the chosen words used to describe Sam: spoiled, self-centered, sheltered, babied. If we step back and actually look at the facts of Sam Winchester's life, these are not words I'd have chosen to describe him or his situation. But the fact that others do says something about the way they view the situation, yeah? Negative words have negative connotations. Sam, not wanting to be homeless and desiring an education and to not die young doesn't actually make him spoiled. These are reasonable, normal, good responses to poverty and in this case also to abuse and neglect. But it does make him a bit of a class traitor to his family, which isn't necessarily untrue! Yet I still can't blame Sam for wanting to get outta this class and make change.

Here are a few things I'm mulling over:

The show adopts Dean's POV early and a lot (for smart, storytelling reasons), however Dean isn't exactly a consistently reliable, nuanced narrator. Dean was shocked as heck that Sam confessed to being a lonely kid. "Hey, you had ME, wtf??" But …

If you're left by yourself much of the time, and you hop from school to school and have no friends for more than a few months at a chunk (then you're ripped away from those scant friends repeatedly, no forwarding addresses, no phone numbers allowed), and you develop into a self-reliant kid, navigating an adult world largely alone because your dad and brother are either off working together or it's expected of you to know how to wield a gun at nine, stay off the cops' radar, etc, you think nothing of doing that at, say, 15. It's not like Sam was sheltered or coddled; he was uninformed and felt unheard, and there's a big semantical difference, to me. Like you touched on, fandom-hoarder, if anything, he was left out of the loop and had to come up with his own assessments and solutions, regardless of Dean's best intentions. If Sam’d had all the facts (that Dean had, at any rate), if Dean would've told Sam how John treated Dean, or what John expected of them and why, instead of just demanding compliance without explanation, Sam would almost certainly have made different choices.

And also, here's a thought: John might've had a vested interest in putting distance between the boys. It served his purposes. Keeping Sam out of the supernatural fray—because John knew Sam had a direct tie to it—and using Dean as his support and instrument of control, was the tactic John took but it was incredibly alienating for Sam, as a smart, independent personality who knew full well he wasn't being told the whole story. He felt discounted, not protected. If Sam hadn't been innately inclined to these traits, John's protocol might've worked brilliantly. But alas!

Instead, it got Sam's roommate possessed by a demon, and his girlfriend fried on the ceiling of their shared apartment, kicking off the adventures (and misadventures) of the family Winchester and hit show “Supernatural”. ;) Sam somehow managed to preserve his sense of self, and the feeling that he deserved to wrench himself from a dangerous life (even though cosmic destiny had other plans, regardless). This is just a different flavor of “selfishness”, to John's (and sometimes Dean's) “My way or the highway” demands. Sam took the highway, and John told him to never come back. Dean felt abandoned by Sam, but he stuck with John. Sam was literally abandoned by both, but to him, the risk was worth it. (This reply is a conglomeration of thoughts from not just me, but a gaggle of my fandom buds who have many good thoughts and POVs, and are as weary of exaggerated sacrificial parent!Dean and spoiled brat!Sam as I am. It's a trope that often gets a lot of traction in fandom due to delicious iddiness and less-delicious projection, so I do get where it comes from! But I disagree with how often it's asserted as unquestioned canon, and the empathy and pathos fandom feels towards Dean’s position in the narrative, but relatively little reciprocal sympathy for Sam’s.)  

A lot of people seem to be taking that "s1 sam is kinda spoiled" post as wank and sam negative/dean glorifying and... idk if I'm just reading it wrong, but I didn't take it that way AT ALL, and seeing people pop off upset over it is weird rn. I'm kinda reeling. It's just...commentary on s1 dynamic? Yeah 'spoiled' is not exactly the term I would've used, but I didn't take it as a negative like others apparently have??

Bratty, somewhat self centered S1-Sam is my beloved. Because he has to be that way. Because he doesn't have all the info --and that's not his fault, and it was self preservation to want out of that life, but the fact remains that some of the things Sam doesn't KNOW he doesnt know gives him space to BE self centered. Most young people are self centered in some way -- this is not a moral judgement; it's how brains work. And Sam HAD to be self centered, because he was so often responsible for himself.

Sam being alone a lot does not negate the ways his family sheltered and babied him, though. Some people also seem upset about this word choice, as if it means Sam had it easy and didn't have to deal with the trauma of hunting life -- um, NO, that is not what I mean. When people shelter and baby someone, it hampers their agency. Life is multifaceted that way. The reasons for doing it may come out of deep love -- in spn it's a combination of misguided love AND emotional self protection that lead both John and Dean to not tell Sam key things about their life. Even so, Sam not having all the information DOES affect his behavior -- even his snark -- but because of the baby of the family effect, s1 Sam isn't even aware of some of the ways Dean tried to protect him by omission; has seemingly never considered there's things about Dean he doesn't know, or aspects to situations he wasn't aware of at the time -- things that may have, in his own opinion, changed how he reacted to Dean about it.

Maybe it's the part about Dean sheltering Sam from truths 'the way a mother would' that has everyone really upset. I think the post took liberties with their read of parentified Dean there, but I still enjoy the idea that some things Dean never told Sam was him trying to preserve some vestiges of Sam's innocence. Liking/exploring that idea doesn't have to mean thinking Dean was a selfless paragon of motherly virtues or whatever. C'mon, y'all -- nuance.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[boydiisaster]

It's so awesome there's blogs like yours out there trying to provide content for GN and Male fans. It's so hard to find anything even GN, and as a nonbinary person I just want you to know how much it's appreciated! If you're okay with taking requests right now, I have an Obey Me one? Do you have any headcanons on a poly/throuple relationship between a GN MC, Satan, and Solomon? Those two are surprisingly good friends in canon and alike in a lot of ways, I love them both so much!

throuple satan and solomon headcanons

reader: gender neutral, they/them pronouns

tw/cw: a bit of spoilers and fighting/blood mentions

author's note: AWW YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY YOU'RE SO NICE, ANON :,) i'm trying my hardest to provide more content for other male and gender neutral readers out there, so i really hope that what i write is enjoyable for yall <33 also i haven't the slightest idea of satan and solomon's canon relationship because i'm only at like lesson 30 smth and don't keep up with my messages so i just pulled most of their dynamic for this out of my ass ( ._.)

It was like a cat just met a dog when Satan and Solomon started dating. They have similarities, sure, but whereas Satan is cold and calculated with his spells, plans, and pranks, it's as if Solomon doesn't think. Like, ever.

How was someone so smart so insufferably stupid at the same time? It's as if Satan is his babysitter more than he's his boyfriend.

Oh god and when Solomon ropes you into doing something with him-

"I hate you both," Satan grumbles, checking your temperature and seeing how it's well above the normal temperature for humans. "Solomon, you can't just drag MC on all your dangerous adventures. They're much more human than you are."

"Just because I accidentally made a spell that cursed me with immortality doesn't mean I'm any less human than they are." Solomon crosses his arms at his boyfriend's hurtful words. "Besides, MC wanted to come with me. Isn't that right, MC?"

You didn't speak. That was probably because you had passed out from how incredibly fatigued you were. Your skin was sticky and noticeably sweaty, eyes closed shut while letting out painful whimpers.

"Tell me again just what happened to them?" Satan groans as he opens a spell book. God knows where he got it. He did that a lot. He was like a video game character or something the way he'd just pull books or spell jars from out his ass. He was always the one Mammon would ask for a pencil, because hell he had like hundreds on him at all times.

"Well," Solomon cheekily smiles and scratches the back of his neck. "We went looking for some herbs for a new spell I concocted."

"Uh huh?"

"And MC sort of... fell."

"What did they fall on, Solomon?"

Said man falls silent. "Solomon?" Satan drags out his lover's name, threatening him, to which all Solomon can do is smile again, this time more nervous.

"They kind of, maybe, fell into a bush of what could have been poisonous flowers...."

"What kind of poisonous flowers, Solomon?" Satan glares at him.

Solomon thinks for a moment, then clasps his hands together. "Let's just say that if we don't get Diavolo or Lucifer in the next," he looks toward a clock, "fifteen or so minutes, MC might fall asleep for probably a whole millennium."

That earns the sorcerer a big thwack to the back of his head by Satan's spell book.

That was probably the first major incident where you were dragged into Solomon's dangerous plans, but it certainly wasn't the last. Most of the time you either ended up with several scrapes or bruises, things Satan or Solomon could easily patch up on their own. But sometimes you'd come back missing a shirt or as a cat.

(It's hard for Satan to be mad at Solomon for accidentally turning you into a cat, but he manages it because you were furious.)

... You were a really cute cat though, MC.

A cat was frantically trying to climb up Satan's pant leg. He was out in the garden tending to his flowers when a kitty he'd never seen before made their way through the bushes and crashed into his leg.

"Hello little one," he smiled at the cat. "Are you lost?"

The cat let out a pitiful wail and latched themselves onto Satan's leg. Satan frowned a bit and started to get worried. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

He picked up the cat to examine them. They were a cute little thing with [eye color] eyes and a sleek fur coat. Satan couldn't see anything physically wrong with them. Their paws looked fine, and there was no blood anywhere.

"Did you lose your mom? Maybe your kitten?" he began to muse, then Solomon exploded through the bushes looking frantic as ever.

"Have you seen a cat?" he gasped for air. "About this tall, [eye color] eyes, clearly upset?"

"You mean this one?" Satan held up the cat he found.

"Yes! Give them here-"

The cat hissed and clawed at Solomon's hand, burying themselves further into Satan's grasp. They growled, then looked toward Satan to let out another pitiful whine.

"MC, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Solomon cried.

The cat hissed again.

"I'm sorry, did you just say MC?"

Solomon stiffened. He started to laugh nervously, fiddling with his cuffs. "Uh... would you break up with me if I told you I turned our darling MC into a tiny cat...? If so then no, I didn't say MC."

"You did what?!"

"Oh would you look at the time! I have a meeting with Lord Diavolo I must attend to right now, goodbye Satan, I love you!"

And then Solomon left, leaving Satan to fix whatever spell he put on their partner by himself. Satan wasn't angry about it, but the look of pure rage on your little furry face was enough to let Satan know that if he kept you as a cat for a moment longer you'd raise hell upon everyone in the vicinity.

Having a pact with a demon means that pretty much everything you do is shared with said demon. You feel emotions stronger, god forbid if you feel their specific emotions. You could be angry at Mammon for swiping a bag of candy you bought for yourself, but you act as if Mammon robbed you of every last thing you had just because of the pact you share with Satan. He feels awful about that, even though you reassure him time and time again that:

1.) It's not his fault, and

2.) You wanted a pact with him

Even so, please give Satan cuddles and kisses after he gets all sulky. He acts composed, but on the inside he's so incredibly self-conscious of both his sin and his pact with you.

"You need to be more careful," Satan quietly mused as he bandaged your hurt hands and face. You had gotten into a fight at school because a demon shoved you, and now you were currently inside Satan's room, getting blood all over his pretty carpet.

"I know," you softly sighed and hissed once the rubbing alcohol came into contact with the cuts on your face. "I just, I don't know. It set me off for some reason."

Your boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then applied a bandage to your cheek. "It's because of the pact."

"Satan-"

"You know I'm right, MC." Satan didn't look at you when he talked. Instead he looked at his lap, which had the first aid kit he was using to fix you up in it. "I know I talk about this a lot but... I am truly sorry for doing this to you."

"Hey," you cupped his cheek. "It's not your fault. I can learn to live with this. I learnt to handle my greed, envy, and gluttony when I built pacts with your brothers, right?"

"You shouldn't have to though. Maybe it's best if I-"

You silently kissed him. It was a bittersweet kiss, one filled with love yet unspeakable sadness and hurt. Satan was so self-conscious of his sin, yet you loved him still anyway. You wished he could see that.

"Don't finish that thought," you whispered as you pulled away. Resting your forehead against his, you continued. "I love you. Despite your sin, despite how you were born, despite everything; I love you. I chose you, and I wanted a pact with you." You smiled, and Satan couldn't help but blush at your next sentence.

"You silly demon. You really can't see how amazing you are, huh? It's okay though, because both me and Solomon will always be here to remind you."

Solomon touches all your pact marks constantly. When you take off your shirt it's hard to stop him from touching Leviathan's mark located directly on your back. He's always rubbing his fingers over Beelzebub's symbol on your stomach, always outlining Mammon's mark on your wrist. Sometimes he kisses Belphegor's symbol on your throat. When meeting your eyes, he never fails to stare into the one that holds Lucifer's mark, and even though you cover your thighs almost all the time, it's like Solomon can tell where Asmodeus's mark is. It's his favorite place on your thigh to touch.

You sighed whenever you felt Solomon's lips touch the small of your back. A smile made its way onto your own lips as you giggled.

"I didn't expect Satan to place his mark somewhere so... subtle," he admitted as he popped up to press a kiss to your cheek.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He was playing with your wrist again, looking at the symbol of greed that adorns your skin.

"Solomon," you started.

Your lover hummed. You could tell he was beginning to grow drowsy. His eyes were closed and his movements slowed.

"Are you... jealous?"

That woke him up. He made you face him, and the expression he wore was unreadable. It worried you. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean, like," you grew embarrassed. "Um... you're always touching my pact marks, or always looking at them, and I don't know. Are you mad at me for them?"

The sorcerer gently grasped your hands. His fingers were weirdly soft considering how much he uses them. He sat there for a moment, just running his thumbs over your palms before speaking.

"I am a little," he admitted. "But I'm not mad at you. If anything I'm proud."

You smiled a bit. It was a lopsided and awkward sort of smile, but to Solomon it was the most beautiful thing in the world, as cheesy as that sounded.. He loves seeing his partners happy. He loves seeing you happy.

"You're much stronger than you think," Solomon continued. "Being able to hold seven different pact marks, ones belonging to Avatars, as a human with no sort of prior knowledge on magic?" He beamed. "You're incredible."

That only embarrassed you more. You groaned a bit and tried swatting Solomon away to hide your face, but your lover only pulled you in for a short yet loving kiss.

"You're cute, you know that?"

"You're cuter," you retorted. Solomon just smiled.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear. Speaking of which," he leaned back on your bed and made grabby hands at you, indicating that he wanted you to lay next to him. "I'm tired. Cuddle me."

"So needy," you joked, but instantly complied to Solomon's request. He was never like this in public. It was nice seeing him so open and vulnerable... and cute.