#Shame that I hate city living and actively want to live out in the woods where it's harder to find out people

[doberbutts]

"I've topped bears twice my size" it sucks to see people living your dream 😔

You, too, can top bears twice your size!

Step one: find somewhere that bears looking for love and intimacy tend to gather

Step two: don't be a weirdo about it

Step three: when you hit it off with someone and progress to that point in your budding situation, discuss preferences

Step four: top the bear twice your size

[fishoutofcamelot]

Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because  he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together 

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Stud 9

Previously on Stud

“It’s been awhile.” 

“Near a decade?” 

“Well there was that convention in Prague. Maybe six, seven years ago?” 

“And the reunion at the Hargrove Estate.” 

“The presentations in Oslo?” 

“I think… I think that was right around when m mom--” Lexa furrowed as she tried to place the time that seemed to slip away from them. “I guess Prague was the last time.” 

“Five years then,” her old friend from college nodded thoughtfully. “Time is a dangerous thing. I hate it.” 

The lounge was intimate, dimly lit and clean, freshly modeled despite being an ancient and ritzy institution in its own right. Dark woods were illuminated by soft lights, large paintings covered the walls in dark gold frames. The chairs were velvet and the drinks were perfectly crafted from the best labels. The clamor of the familiar crowd in suits and ties and diamonds and dresses was just a murmur behind their secluded table 

Maggie James hadn’t changed a bit, just matured into a fulfilled version of herself, or so Lexa liked to imagine. She still had deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. Still had a soft smile. Her hair was cut shorter now, above the shoulders and wavy. Her demeanor was more assured, more herself, than the unsure girl in college, or even the graduate assistant at a presentation in Prague. 

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected to hear from the CFO of one of the largest companies on the planet after reading my lowly article and research.” 

“I don’t know about lowly,” Lexa smiled after sipping her drink. “I thought it was a good article. And your research was thorough.” 

“I just observe and postulate. Those other companies were the ones doing the hard part.” 

She was naturally demure. Maggie was not someone who had to work for a living. Her family owned an ancient merchant conglomerate and she was vaguely related to a Kennedy and a Duke or something. And though she had her phases, Lexa remembered her from school as someone who wanted to do her own thing. She didn’t cut up her black card, but she sure didn’t care to rely simply by biding her time. Lexa always liked that. 

They hadn’t been especially close, just gravitated to similar circles and were in the same degree program, naturally leading to an affiliation that boarded somewhere between acquaintances who knew too much and friends with no actual ties. 

The real surprise had been when Maggie actually returned the phone call Lexa gave after a few weeks of obsessing over the research and generally annoying her girlfriend with facts and tidbits, filling up a notebook with her own questions, ideas, and things she’d read. She’d garnered a lot of attention with her article and research. It almost wasn’t worth it for her to return the call of a somewhat acquaintances, somewhat friend that she hadn’t seen or heard from in upwards of six years. But Lexa’s last name was on buildings in almost ever major city, and regardless, she got a return call. 

“I did call you about the article, but also to catch up,” Lexa promised. 

“And remember those good times in college?” 

“We did have a few of those, didn’t we?” she grinned, looking over her glass, earning a shaking head and heavy sigh and smile. 

“Much to my girlfriend’s chagrin.” 

“You actually told her some stories?” Maggie raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “And she let you come tonight?” 

“Encouraged it actually. She’s sick of hearing me rave about your work and research. I’m allowed to have an intellectual crush on you, and that’s it.” 

“She’s a saint.” 

“You have no idea,” Lexa agreed and signaled for another round. “Last I heard, you were engaged to some Lockeridge. Didn’t work out?” 

Maggie held up her hand and wiggled an empty ring finger. 

“He didn’t particularly care that I was interested in anything other than the usual marriage retirement activities like kids and needlepoint or whatever.” 

“A shame.” 

“I heard you decided to go outside of the pool or acceptables,” Maggie shrugged. “I only have a few questions: How, and how did your father take it?” 

“You know my dad. He wouldn’t know acceptable if it shook his hand. He actually adores Clarke. And it was sheer luck. She just happened to be best friends with a mechanic I use to fix up old cars.” 

“Kismet.” 

“How did your parent’s take the loss of a Lockeridge hyphenation?” 

“Mom went into full mourning, black outfits for a week and three weeks in Italy,” Maggie recited as Lexa laughed. “Dad complained about his lost deposits on venues.” 

“And now?” 

“Now, I research sustainable and ethical management in corporations.” 

“I meant--”

“I don’t even own a car, so I haven’t run into any mechanics, and I was almost hoping you’d broken up with your saint and that’s why you’d called.”

“It actually our three year anniversary next month.” 

“Disgusting. You’re buying the drinks.” 

They both shared a smile and shook their heads, amused at themselves and the situation of their lives, both wondering how they hadn’t taken the time to be better friends, although a few drunken make outs had certainly ended any hopes of that back then. 

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me about the article and your company?” 

“I was having fun catching up, but I take sex off the table and now you’re all business.” 

“I know your time is valuable, and I don’t want you to think you have to waste it catching up,” she explained, leaving Lexa slightly baffled. 

“Your time is valuable too, and honestly, I am kind of having fun catching up. I kind of fell out with the old gang after Mom.” 

“I heard you did the falling.” 

“Probably,” Lexa nodded in agreement as she swapped out her empty glass for a new one. “I worked myself raw for three years straight.”

“But you still hear some of the rumblings from the old guard?” 

“Some. Care to fill me in on more before I proposition you?” 

“Intellectually?” 

“Strictly.” 

Maggie took a large sip from her drink and eyed the girl across from her, at ease and amused at their conversation, ever charming and wildly sexy without even meaning to do it, Lexa was someone who made her attention feel like nothing else mattered, and anyone would want to be within her company to experience it. All were welcome, but it was a blessing to hold her focus for an extended period of time, in any capacity. Maggie remembered making out with her in the bathroom of a club. She remembered making out with her at a party on the Lower East Side. She remembered Lexa’s messy waves, leather jacket, and fiery eyes that remained, even a decade later. But they weren’t for her anymore, and she was alright with the disappointment if it meant working with her. 

“Did you know Emma Hunton-Blather?” 

“Not biblically.” 

“I wouldn’t imagine so. She’s an ultra-religious mommy blogger now.” 

“Yikes,” Lexa winced. 

“And Francine Christenson already divorced twice.” 

“I think I saw one of those.” 

The evening was easy. The drinks flowed and the two caught up with their previous acquaintances. Lexa was grateful that it was going well considering how nervous she was about approaching an almost stranger. 

The drinks kept coming and before she could talk shop, Lexa was drunk and just enjoyed having fun.

XXXXXXXXX

“I love her.” 

“Oh god, not this again,” Clarke groaned, rolled over, and tugged the pillow with her over her head. 

“Not like I love you. I just am fascinated by her research.” 

“Is that what you call her boobs?” 

“Oh no,” Lexa shook her head, wobbling slightly as she plunked down on the edge of the bed and began awkwardly tugging off her shoes. “I can’t even seen boobs that aren’t yours boobs. I am boob-blind now.”

Despite herself, Clarke smiled at her drunken girlfriend. It wasn’t often that she came out, and when Drunk Lexa did, she often enjoyed it. There wasn’t any jealousy against Maggie James, just that Clarke liked a little more attention than she was getting with this new project. She also wished this old project hadn’t made out with her girlfriend, but that was neither here nor there. She’d feel the same way if Lexa was obsessed with recycling. She’d hate it and vote for global warming to make her stop fixating. 

Before she could finish with her shoes, Lexa flopped backwards, fully clothed and half on the bed. 

“Clarke. Hey, are you sleeping?” 

“No, darling. I’m up.” 

“I wish I’d never made out with Maggie, because I think we could have been have friends.”

“Good. Keep not making out with her and you can be.” 

“Ahhhh,” Lexa pointed at Clarke and laughed before letting her arm fall back down. 

“Plus, you could use more friends.” 

“Nah. I don’t.” 

“You do.” 

Clarke moved, putting the book she’d fallen asleep reading on the night stand and moving her way around the bed to help the pitiful thing that couldn’t get undressed. She stayed at Lexa’s strictly because it meant sloppy drunk needy Lexa. She also expected her about two hours earlier. 

“You need more friends. It’s good to have them.” 

“I have Gus,” Lexa listed, counting on her fingers as her girlfriend tugged off her shoes for her. “And Aden, and Anya, and Dad, and Indra, and um. And Maggie. And, um… uh…” 

“Only one of those are age appropriate, not related to you, and not salaried.” 

“And you! You’re my best friend. Who needs more than that?” 

She didn’t mean to, but Clarke smiled at that as she moved to unbutton Lexa’s shirt, earning a smile and laugh despite already closed eyes. 

“Oh, are you getting me naked, Ms. Griffin? Naughty naughty.” 

“How much did you drink?” 

“A little bit.” 

Clarke just shook her head and pulled Lexa up so she could pull off the shirt. She moves to the pants next, instructing her to lift her butt so she could tug them off. Lexa remained fairly still as Clarke searched for a spare shirt for her to sleep in. 

“Hey, hey, Clarke. Hey,” Lexa called in a whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“You really are my best friend.” 

Clarke smiled, her cheeks growing warm as she slid the shirt over the drunk’s arms and head, careful not to poke an eye or pull hair. Tenderly, she got a rag from the bathroom and wiped her face as best she could, earning almost purrs of contentment with the treatment. 

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Lexa ventured, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful.” Clarke pushed her girlfriend’s shoulders so that she fell back in bed easily. “Perfect. You can be on top.” 

“Get under the covers. It’s time for bed.” 

“Fine, but you should know that I am a good lay.” 

“I’m aware,” Clarke grinned as Lexa climbed in obediently. 

“I’m like really good at giving you orgasms. And you seem to like them.” 

“Oh, I do. But I’m tired and you’re drunk.”

“Those are two true facts,” Lexa nodded and yawned, rolling into her usual spot. Her arm was held open until Clarke joined her in bed. 

The lights off and the pair finally ready for bed, Clarke snuggled into her spot and felt Lexa’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of having her back. 

“Hey Lex?” Clarke whispered as arms held her tightly. 

“Change your mind about sex?” Lexa returned. “I’m still down.” 

“No. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my best friend, too.” 

“Good.” 

Her arms pulled tighter and Lexa kissed Clarke’s shoulder before falling into a very contented drunken slumber. 

XXXXXXXXX

Lexa loved her office. She loved that it was quiet and that even though she had taken a smaller role in th day to day operations, it was still there for her to work, uninterrupted and unimpeded. She loved her desk. She loved her view. She loved the certainty that came behind sitting her name plate, as if it told her who she was. There was a certain power that she took from it all. 

“Thanks for coming down,” Lexa offered as Maggie took a seat across from her desk. “I think i forgot to explain what interested me most about your research at drinks the other night.” 

“Yeah I think the fourth round of whisky made it a little difficult to keep track of complex ideas.” 

“I had a good time.” 

“Me too.” 

“My girlfriend let me know that I need more friends. The problem being that I don’t particularly like or trust most people.” 

“Or you’re too busy to put the effort into it. I get it. Trust me,” Maggie nodded, relaxing slightly as Anya brought in some coffee and placed it between them. “Thank you.” 

“I was told that all my friends work for me or are related to me,” Lexa explained as she sipped her coffee. “And even though I would consider us friends, or potentially friends. I want to hire you.” 

“I already have a job.” 

“Yes, but I have lots of money.” 

Maggie snorted at that, smiling, amused at Lexa’s candor. 

“I have lots of money too.” 

“I knew you would say that. I also knew that there wasn’t much I could offer you to sway you away from a fun research and doctoral position at a great university. I’m sure you find teaching rewarding.” 

Lexa stood from her desk and grabbed a folder from the corner, carefully looking it over in her hands. 

“The interesting thing I found in your report was that you were advocating for a system that not one single major corporation would even contemplate putting into existence.” 

“I’m sure some--”

“Free housing? College tuition? Four day work weeks? Work from home? Private insurance? Officer salary cuts? Who in there right mind is going to do that?” 

“I thought you were interested in my research.” 

“I am. Because my job was killing me. And I have a hypothesis for you.”

“I think that’s my job.” 

“You haven’t accepted yet,” Lexa reminded her as she leaned against the front of her desk. “If I implement your suggestions, will I not hate my job anymore?” 

“There’s no way for me to measure that.” 

“True. Will I feel better if we are a more ethical and knowledgeable company?” 

“Yes.” 

“Will we turn a profit?” 

“According to my data, yes. Although the scale of your business,” Maggie shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start hypothesizing on when.” 

“Hypothetically,” Lexa continued, smiling at how easy it was to get her interested. “What would you need to start testing your hypothesis? In real time. At this company.” 

There was a quiet that settled as Maggie stared at the CFO. Long and tall, Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, the mystery folder tucked under her arm. Her shirt was folded precisely up to her elbow, her collar pressed and pointy, her glasses perched perfectly and her hair coiffed with enough effort to look like it wasn’t trying at all. She didn’t betray a thought though. 

“Off the top of my head, I’d need access to everything. I’d need months of internal research and auditing, plus at least a handful of accountants and assistants. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.” 

“I do.” 

“You can’t.” 

“In this folder,” Lexa grinned, and held it in front of her friend. “Is one of our middling branches based in London. I want to give it to you.” 

“A company?” 

“Kind of. I want you to hire your team. I want you to help me implement your changes. I want to create a better world. I had to think of something that no one else could give you, to entice you. Is it working?” 

“Consider me enticed,” Maggie nodded, slowly accepting the folder and flipping it open, her mouth slightly agape. 

The buzzer on Lexa’s desk sounded and she pushed off, walking back to her chair. 

Ms. Woods, the car is here to take you to the airport. 

“Thanks, Anya. Give me a few more minutes.” 

“Going somewhere?” 

“Three year anniversary weekend,” Lexa smiled. “I had a bit of a rough year last year, but it’s all coming back around.” 

“You are incredibly good at multitasking. You’re pitching me while planning an epic event and doing how many other things.” 

“Take the week to think about it. Everything you need is in that folder.” 

“I’m going to need more than a fifteen minute meeting with yout see if this is even for real.”

“It’s real,” Lexa promised. “We can figure everything else out together, when you accept.” 

“If.” 

“I’ve been told I’m very persuasive. Take the week. I’ll be back next Tuesday and we can talk more then, if you’d like.” 

“I thought maybe a consultation, but this is…” Maggie shook her head and stared at the folder before shutting it quickly. “Hell of a friend.” 

“Come on, I’ll walk with you out,” Lexa offered as she grabbed her bag. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The ranch was still slightly visible in the sunset, the timing only slightly off with their arrival for the romantic weekend escape. Tall pines and cedars eclipsed it while the mountains stood tall and purple in the distance against a firestorm of clouds in the fading summer light. The cabin was one of her favorite places on the planet, and she couldn’t think of anywhere more secluded and perfect to hide away from the world with her beautiful girlfriend to celebrate three absolutely life-changing years. 

“I would have been happy with just a hotel room downtown,” Clarke chided as she entered the giant house. “This is too much.” 

“I figured it was a good excuse to use this place. It’s been years since I’ve been out,” Lexa explained as she dropped their bags in the foyer. 

She made sure everything was stocked and prepared and the staff wouldn’t be around. The caretakers didn’t mind a week off, and she was just excited to be away from the city and back somewhere quiet. 

“Is this the ranch your mom liked?” 

“Yeah, she’d make us spend a lot of spare time out here.” 

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.” 

“She designed it. Found an old hunting lodge and decided to convert it to a modern home. It was her labor of love.” 

“Thank ou,” Clarke smiled and hugged her girlfriend before kissing her cheek. “Show me around.” 

Lexa wasn’t particularly good at feeling so good, but she’d been excited and planned everything for the past month. So she took Clarke by the hand and showed her the grand room, the high ceiling and giant windows that looked out at the trees and the mountains as far as the eye could see. The fireplace was already roaring and inviting, but she took her toward the pool and hot tub area that went from outside to inside. She excitedly told her stories about being a kid, and all the stuff her and Aden would do. 

By the time they made it to the bedroom she wanted, Clarke flopped onto the bed and gave up trying to figure out where she was in the maze of a house. 

“So we get this whole place to ourselves for the next few days?” Clarke asked as Lexa gracefully slid beside her in the giant bed. 

“Mhm, so go ahead and just take your clothes off now. I actually should have told you that at the door.” 

“But I brought very cute lacy things you like me to wear.” 

“Oh, wait, yeah,” Lexa nodded eagerly. “That’s all you can wear.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“And sappy.” 

“Incredibly.” 

But it was perfect, and Lexa didn’t care that her girlfriend was mocking her. She leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed Clarke into the bed and went about the task of celebrating. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need you to carb up because I have a few more things planned for you,” Lexa explained as she reached forward and took another slice of pizza. 

“Shut up.” 

“I mean it. Dad keeps the W stored in the garage and I have waited three years to--”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke laughed and shook her head, pressing her palm over her chest with how amusing she found it. 

They were tangled in the sheets. They were tired and sated and happy and now nearly full from the dinner of pizza and beer. 

“That’s the real reason I decided to come here,” Lexa grinned. “The romantic, candlelight bath and fireplaces, and privacy were all a ruse. You’ve been ruse-d.” 

“I can’t believe I’ve kept you around for three years.” 

“Me neither.” 

“I should get a medal.” 

“I agree completely,” Lexa decided as she hopped up from the bed. “Wait right there.” 

Nearly tripping over herself, the CFO took the corner out of the room so quickly, Clarke was certain she hit the wall. The sound of padding bare feet could be heard in the bed, and for the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure why it made her fall a little more in love, if that were even possible. 

In a flash, Lexa returned, hopping into the bed, quick to hide whatever was in her hands. 

“This was supposed to be a year of no gifts,” Clarke chided. 

“I’m terrible at following directions. I don’t know if you knew that or not yet, but it’s a harsh truth you should start to understand.” 

“You should listen to me.” 

“I should,” she nodded and held out a velvet box. “I’ll start tomorrow.” 

Clarke eyed her girlfriend warily and frowned at the blatant lie. But Lexa shrugged and smiled, nudging her to open the box. 

“Oh, Lex, this is…”

The keychain was a tiny logo of Lexa’s company. It was plain and simple and cost exactly $2.95, and now it was dangling from Clarke’s finger as she furrowed and smiled at it despite all else because it was certainly not what she was expecting. 

“It’s too much. You shouldn’t have.” 

“You deserve the best,” Lexa explained, scooting closer. “Last time we did this, I wasn’t read. You weren’t ready. It wasn’t right. But now...I think it’s right. I think I want to be with you all of the time. I want to come home from business trips and see you. I want to cook dinner together. I want to sleep with you every night. I want to live together.” 

Her hair was a mess, and when she was nervous, she talked with her hands. Clarke watched the entire thing without moving a muscle, because she might scare Lexa if she did. Instead, she looked at the key chain in her palm and listened. 

“You’ve been making a lot of moves lately, Woods.” 

“Well, the girl I love keeps pushing me to do better.” 

“What if you get sick of me?” 

“I won’t.” 

“What if I get sick of you?” 

“We’ll get a big place, so you can ignore me when I bug you,” Lexa promised. 

“You’re ready for this?” Clarke asked, giving her a hard look. 

“Very. Are you?” 

“Very.” 

Before she could say anything else, Lexa launched herself at her, and Clarke was tackled and kissed happily.

NEXT

[romulanfucker]

tell us abt tov

>:3333333 you humor me .....

im going to put this under a cut because its going to be 1) insanely long and 2) backstory secrets for the one person following me who's also a player in this campaign so borgan if youre reading this do not open (tw for discussions of violence, attempted murder, and cults. nothing graphic but. it is in there)

SO!!!! tov is a dragonborn sorcerer and he is my character for a waterdeep dragon heist campaign that has been on pause for ... far too long ... some basic physical description: - like 6.5 feet tall - silver scales, but they don't reflect light like most metallic scales would - i'm a full believer in the lizard shit so he's got a tail, clawed digitigrade feet, a long snout, and spinal ridges - he's buff for a sorcerer (in fact, there's an alternative universe version of him for which i have designed a full sheet where he's multiclassed into barbarian) so his backstory is (i'll try and fail to keep this short) that he comes from a clan of dragonborn who pride themselves on being the descedants of some of the original dragonborn created as soldiers of bahamut in the draconic wars (this is deep deep d&d lore so if you don't know; bahamut is one of the good guy dragon gods and there used to be a lot more of them and then they started getting greedy for power and created dragonborn to use a footsoldiers to fight their wars for them). as such, his clain retains a spark of that draconic magic in its blood; ie. members of his clan are born w/ a latent draconic magic. now it varies from person to person how much power they have, some have very potent magic, others can only cast some basic cantrips. and there have been some born without any latent magic at all - but very few, and tovroth senxcec (tov) is currently the only one alive without anything. obviously, this caused a lot of teasing and shame and notwhat in his childhood, and so his baby brother nagrax (rax for short) decided to try and tutor tov in book-learned magic instead.

it was very slow going. tov is bad at reading and worse at reading sigils, and their clan was also very rural and they had very limited access to arcane books. they spent years working on it, with no luck. eventually tov gave up and took an apprenticeship training as a jewelrymaker just to have Something productive to do.

then one day while in town, rax finds something buried in a library tome. it's an old historical document, it talks of a gateway to another plane, and if one passes through it, they will gain the power of that plane. and him and tov say hey actually, we know where that gateway is supposedly located. how bad could it hurt to just check it out, right?

so they charter a boat and sail for two months until they reach these ruins. now, problem. the historical text left out two very important details: one, the plane the gateway goes to is the shadowfell (if you don't know d&d its like ... the depression plane. everything is gray and horrid and food has no taste and everything either is suffering too much to notice you or actively trying to kill you) and two, because the shadowfell is like that, it takes a bit of your soul every time you enter.

so tov bops on through the gateway and ends up in the shadowfell, and its horrible and fucked up and he wants to leave, and as he turns to go, he sees this twisted visage of his brother, and something in him just ... snaps. he Needs to kill this thing, he needs to destroy it, more than he's ever needed anything.

he lunges at it, begins to fight it. in the fight, he travels back through the gateway. he realizes he's back in the real plane, and he's facing his real brother, not his shadowfell brother anymore. the urge doesn't cease and he keeps attacking.

his brother manages to subdue him, and he asks tov for answers. why would he attack his own brother like that? and tov answers him truthfully - the gateway took me to a horrible place, and i saw a horrible version of you, an evil version, and i wanted to destroy it. i must have come back while fighting it. and rax asks him. did you know you came back? did you know it was me you were trying to kill at the end? and tov says ............................. yes.

rax is (understandably) horrified, and he tells tov this has gone too far. he doesn't know who his brother is anymore. he isn't welcome at home. but as one last act of mercy, he's going to take the boat back alone and tell the clan that tov never came back through the gate, so as to preserve his memory.

and tov lets him go. so now he's alone across the sea, with this seed of hate and violence planted deep inside him but hey! at least he's a sorcerer now!!!!!

so he spends several years wandering around the woods, avoiding society as much as possible because he's terrified of that rage overtaking him again, and trying to figure out what to do with himself, because he doesnt know who he is anymore, and doesn't like what he's become. the more time he spends alone with himself, the worse it gets.

on a supply trip into town, he hear tales of some anonymous hero that killed a beast that had been harassing the town, and realized it was an animal he'd killed a few days ago. and he goes. hey, maybe monster hunting could be ... something? its a way to put that violence inside me to a beneficial cause, if i can take out things that have been bothering good people. so he starts wandering around, entering towns more often, looking for people in need of a freelance beastkiller.

this is where the campaign picks up!!! i'll spare you the details of the whole shebang because this is already SO long, but the important thing is that the party's currently caught in the crossfires of a few different criminal investigations, and to get some allies on their side, a few party members have joined guilds in the city.

tov personally joined the order of the gauntlet, a guild that's dedicated to law and justice. he almost didn't let himself join at first, because he didn't think he deserved to become a paragon of justice when he was Like That. but the leader of the guild, savra belabranta, took him aside and was like. look. this guild is a place to earn your forgiveness.

and she tells him that, before joining the guild, she was caught up in some very very nasty cult business. like. murder cult business. and she didn't think she could ever be a good person after she left, but people here believed that she could be, and she believes that tov can be too, if he'll let himself.

and for the first time since rax got back on the boat alone, tov is beginning to think that he might be able to become the kind of man who can go home and face his family again. so he joins. and he spends more and more time with savra, and he starts to really like her. like really like her.

so far in game, they've gone on one date and savra ended up having to sleep in the party's house after (they live in apartments above a bar) and so he lied and said they had a guest room and then shoved all of his belongings in a closet, directed her to his room, and slept on his party mate's floor. because he didn't want her to think he was propositioning her after just one date.

but like, the dm is 100% on my side in this, and we already have begun putting together a post-campaign marriage plot for them and im very soft about it all the time because like .... its just these two people at two different points in their journeys to forgive themselves, and they're helping each other reach that final goal, and they're both finding happiness they didn't think they'd ever actually see and i aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

anyways thats tov thanks for asking

[saultnpeppah]

Day 6: Bachelor(ette) Party

Sorry for the delay. Day 6: Bachelor(ette) Party

December 19. Wayne Manor. 06:11 EST

Diana

The decorations that are hanging within the manor make me smile as I hop down the stairs, pulling a sweatshirt on as I make my way to the front door, where someone is pounding on the heavy piece of wood loudly. I know who is on the other end, and I am happy to see they are early for once, but part of me can't help be frustrated that they interrupted the only morning I've had with Bruce in two weeks.

The wedding is in two weeks and the stress has finally started to catch up as both Bruce and I try our best to finalize the small details. The florist, the band, and the catering are all booked and ready. The dress has been done and is hanging in Alfred's closet away from Bruce's prying eyes, and Donna has assured me a few of her friends here in Gotham will get both the conservatory, where our ceremony will be held, and the ballroom, decorated for the wedding.

The manor has been in Bruce's family for generations, it only made sense to get married here. But instead of the outdoor wedding both his parents and grandparents had, we decided to remain indoors, knowing the cold snowy days of winter would not make our guests comfortable. It was the easiest decision we made.

The only thing that we need to do is tradition, but with all the stress and the wedding only a week after Christmas, it is one I can go without: my Bachelorette party. Donna, and the rest of my bridesmaids, however, did not feel the same, telling me a girl's night out would help relieve some of the stress this wedding was causing. I had only agreed after they promised we wouldn't be doing anything too crazy, seeing as though Christmas was next week and the wedding was a week later.

The knocking continues as I step off the last step, sliding toward the front door, before glancing out of the peephole. My hand grips the door handle and I yank it open, whispering, "You don't need to be that loud."

Donna only giggles and shakes her head, pushing me aside to gain access to the warmth that fills the manor. "It's not like you have neighbors," she says sarcastically.

I only shake my head, watching as Donna removes her coat and hangs it up beside the door, before I turn to watch the other two women step out of the car. Lois closes the driver's side door of her car and tightens her scarf, pulling it up over her nose for the short trek to the open manor door. Beside her is Shayera who, having spent years on the sunny west coast, shivers under her thick jacket. She pulls the hat atop her head further over her ears, trying to warm them, as she rushes past Lois into the manor and out of the cold.

Lois shakes her head, chuckling at the redhead, before she steps inside, moving aside to let me close the door behind her. "Poor woman can't handle the cold," Lois says, pulling the scarf from her mouth, letting it hang loosely around her neck as she pulls off her coat and sets it beside Donna's, who has quickly made her way into the kitchen with Shayera, both needing something to eat to distract from being up this early.

I nod and chuckle. I will never understand why someone who hates the cold as much as Shayera decided to go to college in the east coast where the snow was plentiful and the wind chilled your bones to the point you felt they could snap. "She'll live," I say with a smirk.

Lois chuckles and pulls her phone from her back pocket, checking the time. Alfred steps out from the door leading to the kitchen, a duffle bag in his hands, a smirk on his face. He hands the bag to Lois, who accepts it with a nod and thanks him, watching as he turns on his heel and walks back into the room, most likely shooing Donna and Shayera from the kitchen as they rush out of the room moments after he disappears behind the door.

"What's that?" I ask curiously, although I already know the answer. Although Donna is my maid of honor, Lois has been helping her plan long distance, and none of the four, Charlie included, have told me what they had planned for tonight.

I've tried to pester Charlie at work, trying to get her to spill even the smallest of details, but it was to no avail. Every time Charlie got a text or a call from Lois or Donna she would smirk at me, silently torturing me; I am saddened that she will not be there, but her wife, Laura, has just had a baby, and even though it's been a few weeks, baby Aria had a troubling entrance into the world, so I don't hold it against her. She needs to be home with her wife and daughter, and in all honesty, I'd rather be at her home snuggling that little bundle than doing whatever crazy idea the girls have thought up.

"It's your bag," Lois says with a shrug. "And you will get it when we get to our destination, so you don't know where we're going."

I scoff and shake my head, glancing down at the sweats and sweatshirt that is covering a thin tank top I wear, raising an eyebrow as I pull my hair up into a messy bun. "Can I at least go change?" I ask.

Lois nods. "Yes, but no funny business with Bruce," she warns, "we're going to be late if the two of you can't keep your hands off each other."

Shayera giggles but Donna gags, not wanting to know her sister has a very active sex life. That's probably for the best. "I'll try," I say with a smirk. I begin to bound up the stairs, stopping at the top of the staircase to ask over my shoulder, "What am I supposed to wear?" trying to get one last hint to where we're going.

Shayera shakes her finger, shaming me for my attempt at more information, and says, "Just throw on a tshirt and jeans, Prince." I only nod, watch as Shayera smirks, and jog down the hall to my bedroom. "Don't make me come up there," she calls from downstairs.

I fling the door to the room open to see Bruce step out of the bathroom, wiping a towel over his freshly shaven face. "I assume they're here to kidnap you," he asks, watching as I pull the sweatshirt and tank off at once, leaving the top half of my body bare.

"Yes," is all I say, quickly pulling articles of clothing out from the dresser in the corner of the room. I pull on the clothing, a squeal escaping my lips when I feel Bruce's arms wrap around my waist and pull me up against him, his hand sneaking under the shirt I have just pulled on. "Lois is going to kill you if you make me late," I say, although part of me wants him to risk it. It's been weeks since Bruce and I have had a day off together, and I want nothing more than to shoo the girls away and stay locked up in this room.

"I'm not scared of her," he says in a whisper against my neck and I chuckle.

"You should be," I say, pulling my sweats down and discarding them alongside the other articles of clothing I threw on in my rush to answer the door. "But Shayera is also down there."

Bruce hesitates, freezing his movements that have his hands working circles along my hip. He is all too familiar with Shayera's tactics, after having been the receiver of a punch to the gut our freshman year of college. He now knows better than to test her and her patience. "Fine," he says with a sigh. He places a kiss on the back of my neck, watching as my breath hitches in the back of my throat, before he lets out a raspy laugh of his own. "Go. Have fun," he says, sending me off on his well wishes as he crawls back into bed, wanting to get another few minutes of sleep after the late night we had.

I pull on a pair of jeans and finish my outfit off with a pair of boots, before I lean over and kiss him one last time. With that, I rush out of the room, careful to grab my phone and my purse on the way out, and join the three women downstairs, still cautious about what these three have planned.

XXXXXXXX

December 19. Gotham Rec Center. 12:12 EST

Bruce

"That's game!"

Clark releases his hold on the rim of the basketball hoop, landing on the hardwood floor with a small thud, as Oliver struts up to him and pats his shoulder, beaming with pride. "I believe we won," Oliver says with a grin, giving a high five to Clark and his other teammate, Wally West.

My partner, John Stewart, only shakes his head and curses under his breath. He is not a fan of losing, neither am I. "That's only because you have an extra player," he points out, pointing to Wally, who only raises his hand in surrender, unsure of how he got roped into the game in the first place.

Having met Wally two years prior at a convention in Central City, I was at first put off by his irrepressible personality. He could talk for hours and still not get the point across, and I would find myself toning him out, responding with a nod here and there only to not seem disinterested in what he was saying. But after a day or two, I was won over by his knowledge of forensic anthropology and science, soon creating a friendship over our quick witted banter and thirst for knowledge. Wally was the youngest of the group, a younger brother of sorts, but I knew I wanted him to be part of my wedding as soon as Diana had accepted my proposal. And Diana loved him. She found him cute and his antics were endearing.

Like Wally, I hadn't known John for more than a year or so, having met at one of the military bases I was touring, looking for ways to help the Marine Corps incorporate new technology WayneTech had been working on. At first John was very skeptical of me, so he had told me, but after working closely together for a few months, he warmed up and we were able to form a friendship, finding the time to play a game of basketball every other week.

"Yeah, yeah," Ollie says, brushing off John's comment. He tucks the basketball under his arm and walks to the bench, where we have stashed our water bottles, phones, and keys, picks up his water bottle, and chugs its contents. "Considering West here spent half the game running after the ball instead of actually playing, I think we were pretty well matched."

He flashes Wally a smirk and a wink, hearing the younger man scoff at his comment, before he lifts the end of his tshirt and wipes the sweat from his brow. I've known Ollie nearly all my life. Our fathers used to do business with each other, and as much as I consider Clark to be my best friend, Ollie is the only one who knows the stress of running a company with a reputation like Wayne Enterprises or Queens Consolidated; if only he were a bit more responsible and didn't threaten the future of his company playing stupid games, something I've warned him against multiple times.

"Well I'm starving," I finally say in an attempt to keep the peace. "How about we go get some lunch, and then you can all tell me what we're doing?"

Everyone nods their head in unison and we all grab our items, before we head to the locker room and change into our clothes, stuffing our dirt and sweat filled gym attire into very worn out duffle bags. When we finally walk out of the rec center and back into the cold air Christmas in Gotham brings, I can't help but chuckle when I see poor Oliver shivering in his jacket, as we make our way to where Alfred waits with a limo. They don't get weather like this in California. We quickly make our way inside, each greeting Alfred as we get seated, before the Englishman starts the vehicle and takes off to a prediscloused location - one that I was not involved in planning.

"So what are we doing tonight?" I ask casually, trying to gain some information on the bachelor party that the four have kept quiet the last month and a half.

I am starting to worry they forgot to plan something and are hoping I will be their source of entertainment here in the city, but when Oliver says, "We're getting out of this negative two thousand degree weather," I know I'm in for a long weekend.

I never agreed to go anywhere. I didn't tell Diana I would be leaving the city, and the more I think about it, I haven't heard from her all morning. Whatever her bridesmaids dragged her into, I only hope she has fun, and doesn't get into too much trouble. "What do you mean?" I ask, flipping through the unread emails on my phone.

Oliver doesn't answer. Instead he throws a sly smile toward Clark, who sits there, chewing a piece of gum, trying to keep himself from spilling the secret before the big reveal. I know I'm not going to get anymore information out of Oliver and Clark, John is as much of a fortress with information as Lois, and Wally is too afraid of the rest of the guys to say anything, so I am out of luck and stay quiet, trying to enjoy the ride.

By the time I am done clearing out my inbox, the limo stops and Alfred opens the back door, where we all crawl out and onto a runway, where my private jet is waiting. "No," I say, shaking my head profusely at Oliver, who has the biggest grin on his face that could mean nothing but trouble. "I don't even have anything packed."

"I took the liberty of packing your bag for you, Master Wayne," Alfred says with a grin, pulling a suitcase from the trunk of the vehicle. He places it on the floor before he reaches in and pulls out everyone else's bags and I realize I've been tricked. So much for a quiet Bachelor party.

"You sneak," I accuse Alfred, who only shrugs his shoulders, promising to watch the manor for the weekend, before he gets into the driver's seat and takes off, leaving me stranded on the runway with the four men who each have devious grins on their faces. "I haven't even showered," I say, realizing that skipping the shower at the rec center, thinking I was going to be able to get a quick lunch and go home, was a mistake.

Clark shrugs his shoulder, bends down, and picks up three of the bags. "Shower on the plane," he says as he walks toward the plane, leaving me to shake my head, wondering how I got such sneaky friends.

XXXXXX

December 19. O'ahu, Hawaii. 16:03 HST

Diana

"I can't believe you brought me to the other side of the country," I say, my head still spinning from the flight that landed three hours ago. When Lois had driven to the airport, I figured we were headed to Atlantic City or New York. The furthest west I thought we would go was Vegas, but when I saw the destination on the ticket Lois tried to keep from me, I just about fainted.

Bruce had no idea where I was. As far as he knew, we were still nearby, having a girl's night at Lois' apartment, eating junk food and sipping margaritas. And while the margaritas were definitely a plenty, I had not expected to be sitting in a bikini by the beach while having my second drink of the night.

"Shut up and drink your margarita," Shayera says with a smirk as she and Donna come back to our table, dressed in their own beach attire, drinks in hand.

"She's right," Lois says, "besides, would you have come if we told you where we were taking you?" I only shake my head. "That's what I thought. By the way, Charlie wishes she could be here."

I let out a sigh. I wish my friend could have been here too, but she was with her wife and new daughter, and I couldn't fault her for that. Little Aria had definitely had an interesting birth story, scaring everyone that was anxiously awaiting her arrival, but now that all three were home and doing well, all that didn't matter. Still, Charlie was anxious about leaving the two of them a few weeks after her daughter's birth, not wanting to risk things. Now that I know we have traveled across the country, I understand her hesitation, and I send a quick text to let her know I miss her and can't wait to see that baby's sweet little face again.

Shayera takes a seat across from me and lets out a content sigh as she sips the drink in her hand, before she hands another glass to Donna, causing my eyebrow to raise. "What's that?" I ask, watching as Donna takes a sip and grins.

"Um, a margarita," she says with a shrug, unphased by the concern in my voice.

"Virgin?" I ask, tilting my head as I stare at my sister.

She contemplates her answer, before she shakes her head with a chuckle. "Of course not," she says, taking another sip.

I place my own cup on the table in front of me and snatch the glass from her hand, shaking my finger as she tries to protest. "Na uh," I say, "Drinking age is 21." I glance up at Shayera and furrow my brows. "How did you even get this anyway?"

Shayera chuckles and takes a large sip of her beverage, shrugs, and says, "That bartender was too busy flirting with her to realize she never got carded." After a pause she adds, "He also didn't charge me for the second drink, so I guess that's a win."

"Come on, Di," Donna begins, "Drinking age is eighteen at home."

I only shake my head once more. "We're not at home," I say, "And I don't feel like getting arrested for providing alcohol to a minor two weeks before my wedding."

Donna pouts, saddened by my newest rule, and Shayera tries to hide her playful scoff. "As I recall, you drank a lot heavier stuff than margaritas our freshman year, Diana," she says, stopping only when I kick her shin from under the table.

I know Shayera is right. I know I am a hypocrite for keeping Donna from drinking, even though I know she can handle her liquor better than half the people here, but while she is away from home, I am in charge of her well being, and I would hate for anything to happen to her, especially while we are away from Gotham. She's my sister, and if I have to be a little over protective of her, so be it.

Donna lets out a sigh, agitated that I did not let up, and pushes her chair back. "Fine," she says, standing from her seat. "I'll be right back." She walks back to the bar and I notice the bartender Shayera had mentioned before light up when he sees her, a smile on his face as his eyes fixate on Donna's, slowly listening to everything she orders.

"You've become a hard ass," Shayera says with a smirk, to which I roll my eyes and chuckle, knowing she understands where I am coming from.

I turn to face Lois and watch as she scans the room intently, her eyes roaming over every person in the room as she whispers something to herself. "You alright?" I find myself asking as I place a hand on her shoulder, pulling her attention away from a group of people at the opposite end of the bar.

Lois' eyes meet mine and she smiles, nods, and takes a sip of her drink. "I'm fine," she says, no further explanation given.

I nod, believing her, but I can't help but turn to scan the room myself. I have nearly completed a full sweep when I notice the group of people Lois had been staring at, my brows furrowing as I watch the men drink and laugh, each holding a beer as a few stare at the bikini clad women walking by, not a care in the world. When one of them turns, I shake my head and let out a scoff, before I rise from my seat and excuse myself from the table, intent on giving him a piece of my mind.

XXXXXX

December 19. O'ahu, Hawaii. 16:03 HST

Bruce

As we walk into the resort restaurant, I can't help but feel exhausted. An eleven hour flight was not something I had been planning this afternoon. If I had known this, I would have begged Diana to let me sleep instead of kissing her well into the morning - actually that is a lie, as I would always choose sleep deprivation over the deprivation of her lips on mine. The thought sends a flutter to my heart and I have to shake my head clear so that I can concentrate on not falling asleep as I walk.

The flight over was fairly monotonous. We had each taken showers in the bathroom at the rear of the plane, after which I claimed the bed in order to get one or two hours of shut eye while the others fended for themselves; Never had I been more grateful to have had my own private jet than I did today.

When we had landed, Oliver made sure we had a car waiting to take us to the resort, where we checked in, went to the suite to dump our luggage, and came downstairs to grab a drink, all in record time. And while at first I was convinced this was going to be a bad idea, where I would barely get to enjoy my time here and be exhausted a majority of the weekend, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was a "Bruce Wayne" thing to do.

"How about a drink?" Oliver asks. Everyone nods their head, ready to start a weekend of relaxation, and he turns to me. "Bruce, come help me, will ya?"

I only nod and follow Ollie to the bar, watching as he tries to get the attention from the blonde bartender who is busy making a few extra drinks, her co worker on the other side of the bar, leaning against the counter as he flirts with another tourist. It takes a minute to finally gain her attention, and she comes over to take our order. "Hello gorgeous," Oliver says, giving the bartender a wink as he places his card on the bar. He runs a hand through his own blonde hair and tries his hand at seducing her without a word, but she doesn't fall for it and simply asks for us to repeat our order. Defeated, Ollie says, "Five of whatever you have on tap," watching as she nods and goes to grab our order.

I am unable to help the laugh that falls from my mouth as I watch Oliver sigh and drop his head, before he leans against the bar. Ever since he and Dinah ended things, yet another one of his stupid mistakes, he can't seem to get his groove back with women. It's a little disheartening to see someone who was as big of a playboy as I was, strike out with women, although as a man who is getting married in two weeks, I can no longer condone that behavior. I only wish he takes my advice and actually tries to reach out to Dinah once more.

The music shuffles and another song begins, providing some more up beat tempos to the couples dancing on a small dance floor. This place is small, but it is not boring, and as I continue to watch the people out on the beach, I decide I'm going to bring Diana hereafter we are married, as she will love it.

"Hey, Oliver," I say, turning my attention back to the man who is silently staring at a few surfers in the background. He turns to me. "Thank you," I say.

Oliver shakes his head. "No, thank Clark," he answers, "he was the one who set this whole thing up."

I applaud him for giving the credit to my best man, but I know for a fact Clark couldn't have paid for everything here. But Oliver knows what I meant, and only offers me a sly smile, pats me on the back, and says, "But think of this as a thank you. You saved me and the company back in February, and I can't thank you enough for that, Bruce."

Before I can respond, the blonde bartender comes back, a tray of beers in hand. Oliver hands her a credit card and tells her to keep a tab open, before he quickly grabs the tray and walks off to join the guys, myself not too far behind. When he makes it back to the three, Oliver begins to hand out beers, laughing at the last line of a joke Wally said that I just missed.

Clark makes a toast to the rest of the weekend, and to the wedding everyone can't stop talking about, before we indulge in our own little party, chatting about everything beside the wedding, because as much as I love the thought of marrying Diana in two weeks, I can't be stuck in another conversation about which flowers go best with lace. I'll leave that up to the bride and her friends.

"Now that is a beautiful woman," Wally says as he finishes his beer. He sets the glass down on to the table, turning his head to get a better look at the woman sporting a blue bikini, as she trots toward the water, surfboard in hand. Oliver nudges his arm and wiggles his eyebrows, before he whistles loudly, and I want nothing more than to hide my face, not wanting to draw more attention to myself as Oliver and the guys already have.

"Have some respect," Clark says as he takes another drink of his beverage and I am once again surprised at the will power this man has. Ever since he started dating Lois, he has yet to look at another woman in a manner that is anything other than professional. Although when you find the woman who you love more than anything, no other person will compare. I'm a testament to that.

I take another sip of my drink when I feel someone tap my shoulder. "Excuse me, sir," I hear from behind me, "care to dance?"

I place my drink on the table and turn, ready to let the woman behind me know I am unable to fulfill her request, but when I see who it is, my face lights up and my lips curl into a wide smile. "What are you doing here?" I ask in utter disbelief, surprised to see that my fiance so happens to be at the same resort me and my groomsmen are at currently.

Diana giggles as she leans in to my open arms. She kisses my cheek and I wrap my arms around her, the feeling of her body flush against mine sending chills down my spine. How has it only been a few hours since I've seen her and yet I feel like I'm going through withdrawals?

"Lois," she says, but she looks past me at Clark and narrows her eyes. "Although I suspect Clark and Lois conceived this idea together."

I glance over Diana's shoulder and notice Lois, Shayera, and Donna sitting at a table, enjoying what look like margaritas and laughing at something Donna has said. Our friends are sneaky people but they mean well, and I can't fault them for that.

"So," I begin, moving closer to Diana so I can whisper in her ear, "do you think they'd notice if we left for a bit?"

She ponders my question, a sly smile on her face as she realizes I want to continue what was interrupted this morning. "Let's go," she says as she takes my hand and pulls me away from the guys, maneuvering me through the crowd surrounding the bar, before pulling me out of the restaurant and onto the sand that covers the beach.

We walk across the sand, hand in hand, trying to find a spot where we can find complete privacy. Diana tells me of how she and the girls flew to Hawaii, Lois and Donna keeping her preoccupied until they boarded their last flight; only then did she know where they were headed. She tells me how she tried to call me the second she landed, wanting to let me know she wasn't going to be home tomorrow morning like she had originally thought, but I hadn't received her message because I had been on my own trek to the island. I tell her about my day, how after she left Clark and Oliver arrived at the manor, enjoyed a quick breakfast, and went about my day, not knowing I would be sleeping in a bed on the other side of the country that night.

"I can't believe Oliver is paying for all this," Diana says as we plop ourselves down onto the sand.

I stare out to the ocean, where the sunset has already begun to cast a beautiful array of red and orange over the water, and nod. "I know," I say, agreeing that he is taking this thanks a bit too far, but if he wants to splurge on me and my fiance, I'll happily let him do so.

It is quiet for a moment, the only sounds coming from the small waves crashing on the shore, and I am grateful to know the only other people on this side of the beach have found their ways home, giving Diana and I the privacy we so desperately crave. It isn't long before she finds herself in my lap, arms wrapped around my neck, as she kisses me fiercely. Without hesitation my hands find themselves around her waist, pulling her closer, wanting to feel her body against mine.

My hands caress her back, my fingertips dancing along her bare back as my right hand makes its way up into her hair. My fingers tangle into those dark locks I love and when I give it a small yank, she lets out a moan that ignites something inside of me. My lips kiss a trail from her lips to her neck, knowing what this does to her, a smirk on my face when I hear her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

"Bruce," she whispers, "we shouldn't be doing this here."

I nod as I place my lips over hers once more. I know she's right, but her in my arms feels so right, and I don't care where we are, I want her. I part my lips, knowing I need to respond, however the voices that come from a few feet away make me freeze in my tracks.

"I think they're over there," I hear. My heart races as I recognize the deep voice. It's John, and he and the shadowy figure he is with begin to run to where Diana and I sit.

"Diana," I whisper, "we have company."

She pulls away from me and looks over her shoulder just in time to see John and Shayera come running up, stopping when they realize the compromising position they have found us in.

"Woah, are we interrupting something?" Shayera asks with a smug smile. She crosses her arms over her chest, staring intently at Diana and I as John tries to look away, trying to avoid both Diana and I, and Shayera's bikini clad chest, which is right in his line of sight.

"Yes," Diana says, letting out a sigh as she stands and fixes the skirt she wears.

"Good," Shayera says. "It's only been a few hours and you can't keep your hands off each other."

I stand from the sand and brush off my shorts and shrug. "Can you blame me," I ask honestly. Shayera glances at Diana, pondering my question, and nods to herself with a sigh, before she shakes her head and waves away her private thoughts. "Beside, you guys are the ones who brought us to the same resort."

John sighs. "I told Clark that was a bad idea. Now they're going to try to sneak off every chance they can."

Diana glances at me and winks, before she lifts her hand and uses a finger to cross an x over her heart. "I promise. We'll stay away from each other until we all go home."

Shayera doesn't seem to accept Diana's response, but she soon shrugs her shoulders and lets it go. Diana turns to give me one last kiss, smiling as she looks into my eyes, before she turns and follows Shayera back down to the restaurant and resort.

John, who has been staring at Shayera, clears his throat and turns to me. "Oliver says we have plans," he says. I nod and we walk back to the restaurant, where the other three guys are waiting, ready for a night of partying and drinking, and although all I want is to still be wrapped in Diana's arms, I know that'll come in time. Two more weeks, Bruce. Two more weeks until I get to marry her.

I realize nothing too exciting happened here, but this was the one I was unsure of. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

@fyeahwonderbat

[fuckyeahqueermusic]

FY!QM’s Favorite Releases of 2019 Part 1

I know you were all waiting with bated breath for my annual list of favorite releases from the year and I apologize for the delay. December and January were trash months at my job and I had zero energy to write, but as of today that is all over! So as a gift to myself I finally finished writing this up. Let’s pretend I just had to think really really hard about my favorites and that’s why it took so long.

Part 1 is all the releases that I really liked, but either a.) are kinda honorable mention material or b.) I couldn’t think of a ton to write about it lol. They’re in no particular order because I do not care! You should go listen to all these! The usual disclaimer applies: these are just my favorite records from this year, I am no authority on what is the best and what isn’t, I just am an expert on what I like, and it’s this shit. All album titles link to my favorite song off of each record on bandcamp because I hate Spotify a lot even though I begrudgingly use it.

Part 2 will come out tomorrow because I really want to capitalize on the Super Bowl, y’know?

The Menzingers — Hello Exile I think it is safe to say at this point that The Menzingers is one of guitar music’s most consistently good acts. They are passionate sing-a-long creating machines, and with Hello Exile they gave us a new heap of them to yell along to at their shows. And having seen them play some of these live, I can confirm they are perfect for that setting.

My only criticism of Hello Exile might be that it doesn’t go anywhere unexpected, and the band is maybe a little too comfortable in the niche they’ve found for themselves. Though I guess there is something to be said for doing what you know and doing it incredibly well. But these guys are great songwriters, and I’d love to see them push themselves a little harder to evolve.

Empath  — Active Listening: Night on Earth I saw Empath open for Touche Amore and La Dispute a few months back and had no idea what to expect, but they fucking RIPPED and were far and away the best band on that bill (no offense to LD or TA. Actually maybe to LD; one of them had a fucking himalayan salt lamp sitting on their amp).

But anyways, Empath is fucking weird and chaotic and so much fucking fun, with bizarre synth textures, harsh guitar, and absolutely frantic drumming. And this album is all over the place, holding itself together with a through line of nature samples, bringing small moments of calm and a chance to breathe before everything comes crashing down again. I’d love to see them at a headlining show full of their fans, because this is music that deserves that kind of energy.

Catbite — S/T I love ska and I will never apologize. Catbite is one of the most exciting new ska bands out there. They’ve only been around for two years, but they’ve already found their niche and solidified their identity as a heavily second wave influenced band that grew up in the third wave, who are the forefront of the fourth. They’re the future of ska and I am so pumped to see them eventually get the full recognition they deserve in this genre.

Future Teens — Heartbreak Season I truly cannot believe “Frequent Crier” bops as hard as it does. This song about all the places to cry while you lament a relationship that ended years ago will have you dancing while you weep, and that pretty much sums up Future Teens’ whole deal. This album can gut you, but you’ll be so busy bopping along you won’t even mind.

Aaron West & the Roaring Twenties — Routine Maintenance  I know it’s cheating, but you should just read what Spencer wrote about this album; he put it perfectly. While I don’t immediately love this one as much as We Don’t Have Each Other (I love a divorce album and it is a top tier divorce album), it is the better record, and I’m so glad Aaron has started to figure out his new place in the world and that Dan Campbell is telling us his story.

Aly & AJ — Sanctuary  The cover of this EP is truly one of the worst album covers I have ever seen. I like to describe it to people as “naked opera gloves milk bath. Also they are SISTERS.” Every art direction decision they have made for this EP has been truly bonkers! But despite the horrendous, horrendous cover, Aly & AJ have come through with a tremendous set of jams once again! I am not sure how it happened, but between 2017’s Ten Years and this EP, they have become one of my favorite pop acts, creating mid-tempo synthy jam after mid-tempo synthy jam. They are far from reinventing the pop wheel, but they have figured out their niche and perfected it. If you haven’t listened to Aly & AJ since “Potential Break Up Song,” it’s time to dive back in, because you’ve been missing some of the most solid pop made in the 2010’s. (Also, they believe in evolution now it’s FINE). 

Sleater-Kinney — The Center Won’t Hold Okay, so this one is a cheat, because The Center Won’t Hold is not one of my favorite albums of the year, but the more time I spend with it, the more it has become my most respected album of the year.

I don’t really like this record, but I do think it is a great album. It is ambitious and surprising, a huge departure from their previous work, which critics and fans much smarter than me have examined at length. Sleater-Kinney could’ve easily crafted another album like No Cities To Love, which itself was an evolution from the sound they departed with on 2006’s The Woods, but it was an evolution that felt natural. It was easy to see point A to point B. With The Center Won’t Hold, point C is way on the other side of the map, and there is no easily discernible direct route. And while whatever is happening on this record isn’t totally my thing, I respect that they took a big swing. It’s a huge shame that it cost them Janet Weiss, though, and I don’t know if that is a loss they’ll ever truly recover from

[ill-skillsgard]

Ascent - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Ascent

Warning: 18+ voyeurism/masturbation/language

Description:  A collection of scents and scenes strung together by strange sequences of secrecy and surveyance.

A/N: DAMNIT YOU GUYS. This is my 3rd time posting this fic. It will no longer include the image of the sexy Bill look-alike wanking because wE cAn’T hAvE NiCe tHiNgS. Also, please don’t ask me to send the image because I can’t be sure of ages and I won’t be dinged for providing pr0nz to potentially underage people. I’m so sorry. I tried!

ISO: Quiet roommate; preferably female. Males acceptable too if you're cleanly. Split rent loft in quaint & upscale Rosewell neighbourhood with everything included. 1200 upfront first and last and then rent can be negotiated. E-mail. Do not call/text.

I only had 900 dollars on me but I figured if I e-mailed the person that had put out the ad and set up a time to meet the following week then I could earn enough in tips to cover the rest. Easy as that. Breathing became a little less laboured once I sat back on my futon and realized that I wasn't quite as fucked as I initially thought. Then I wondered how in the hell somebody could use the words quaint and upscale to describe the same neighbourhood. Which one was it? Quaint or upscale? How could it be both? All I was sure of was that I had to find a roommate quickly. The new landlord of my apartment building had decided that I had something to do with the junkies shooting up in the storage unit behind the building, as though I had knowledge of it the whole time and failed to make a report of it, therefore, making me part of the problem. But it wasn't just that; this guy was a jackass of ultimate proportions- a seedy little rich momma's boy that had inherited his parents' sense of self-entitlement and strings of real estate offices spanning across the city and surrounding counties. We did not click at all upon first meeting when he made his rounds to see exactly what kind of tenants he would be dealing with. In fact, the moment I opened the door to my apartment and he peered in to see the apparent cluster-bomb that had gone off in my bachelorette pad, he set his sights on destroying me, or at the very least, evicting me. If only I hadn't answered the door in my stained sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt from a decade ago when my taste in music remained under-developed. If only I hadn't had the day's worth of crusted mascara stuck in the inner corners of my eyes like black boogers. If I had thrown my hair up in a semi-cute messy bun, rolled down the waistband of my stretchy pants and tossed on my only reputable sweater maybe things could have gone differently. But I didn't. Instead, I let him catch a glimpse into the trash-covered world of crooked posters, laundry and pizza boxes. His prissy, Gucci-wearing ass got one whiff of my body odour and my fate was sealed. Whatever though, shit happens. Even if Millennial pretty-boy newbie landlord hated me, I didn't quite hate myself. Sure, I had had better times in my life but there had also been much worse. I was just going through my annual depression when the Summer was long gone and the scent of leaves rotting in the gutters rang in the impending frost. Who wanted to do anything but sit around and play video games or watch TV for six straight hours after work? Certainly not I. I e-mailed the guy living in Rosewell because I had been through that area once or twice and remembered that it was one of the nicer neighbourhoods; its remnants of old city charm and decadent architecture still intact. That's when I gave it a second thought. 1200 for first and last month's rent was not that much, considering the location. My brain caught up with me and I recognized that there would probably be dozens of people replying to the listing and that my chances were diminished to almost nothing. Oh well, I read on and circled more potential ads with the tip of a fresh permanent marker that was starting to give me a headrush. By some grace of luck, I received an e-mail back the next day from the person that had put out the Rosewell advertisement. It dawned on me that I also didn't know whether he or she was a he or a she or a they. It seemed mundane to ask but the person didn't include their name in the reply and their email address was an obscure reference that I wasn't sure I understood. My imagination decided to take a jog and came upon the silly little notion that perhaps this was one of those things when serial killers lure in unsuspecting victims with promises of rent so cheap in a gentle neighbourhood where nobody would think to look for a body. It was classic of me but I couldn't pretend like I wasn't thinking about it. At least death would help put a stopper in my rut. I didn't know what to expect, walking up to the building with a face sectioned off into quadrants- each with their own tiny glass door and artful wrought iron laced balcony. What kind of a person lived inside? Was it a peppy university student with a small dog and a knack for pulling off an active-wear-is-all-I-wear look? Could it be another snotty, uptight rich boy like my fuck-bag of a landlord? Or perhaps it was a nice older lady that fancied her wine and lived in an effortlessly baroque den, lined with books and trinkets from her travels abroad. Either way, I just hoped they approved of me since I had taken the time to shower, put on a bit of makeup and dress like the clothes I owned weren't questionably clean or variably dirty all the time. The door was painted black and nobody could see through the glimmering panels of stained glass that made up an intricate checkerboard of red and blue with two cantaloupe roses coiling up and away from each other, petals agape and ready to fall. I gave the door a good look over with a smug grimace that was just a feint for my awe. The place was definitely too nice for me but I soldiered on and smiled when I heard the door being unlocked. A man opened the door and the scent of wood and something else immediately wafted out like a ghost casually passing by. Not only was he a man, but a looming sculpture dressed in a sagging brown wool sweater that threw me off from my rehearsed speech. He was tall, pale and had such striking eyes behind his glasses that I couldn't quite meet them without feeling some hint of discomfort. It was like somebody had tossed a limp rug on the statue of David the way his knitted sleeves hung loosely around thick veiny wrists. "Hi. Bill," he motioned to himself. "Won't you come in?" "Um, yeah. Sure." The mud room was painted in tarnished blood orange and was home to a wooden rack full of men's shoes. There were trainers with hints of dirt on the toes and soles, leather dress shoes with the fancy gold buckles on the front, more dress shoes, stylish suede ankle boots, and beaver fur lined moccasins. I could taste the transition from the cool Autumn air to the musky inside of the home. The floors were all wood, the banister leading upstairs was carved from another expensive type of tree and the shelving units were solid oak stretching from floor to high ceiling. Every wall was home to some kind of meticulously placed decorative object. But there were also family photos to lend the place a warm and happy glow. Or it could have just been how the sun shone through the clear bay windows. I was led through the house, past a large cupboard tucked beneath the staircase and a small writing desk that was home to a  vintage typewriter cased in filigrees of polished silver. It was then I noticed all the framed book pages lining the walls. We entered a kitchen and I was blown away by how roomy it was compared to the tight, warm front that made up the mudroom and what I had determined was a living room that had been converted into a reading room. There was no TV but there was a chaise lounge with a stack of old books reaching up to a cascading hand-carved armrest. "This is the kitchen. The fridge will be mostly yours. I just use the bottom shelf and the crisper on the left. I just ask that you keep your section clean." "Right," I nodded. "The stove is gas, the fireplace is gas... Everything is gas in here. Um... It gets kind of cold in the winter because the electric baseboards don't really work. If you turn them on it makes the whole place smell like burning sawdust. So... You can use a plug-in heater in your room but... Just wear slippers on the floors." "Oh, okay. Good to know." "Uh... Yeah. The laundry room is through there. I also keep my bike back there. There's another rack mount for a bike if you have one." "No, just my car." "Hmm," Bill pondered with a grimace. I bit my lip and hoped that he wasn't biting his lip from derision. He took in a breath through one of the daintiest noses I had ever seen on a man and adjusted his glasses for a moment before pulling them off completely to wipe the lenses on the hem of his brown knit sweater. "Parking can be kind of a bitch around here," he warned. "Yeah, " I chuckled. "I probably pulled around the block six times before something opened up." "You'll have to get used to that... Or just get a bike like everyone else." With a forced laugh, I attempted to hide the odd sense of shame that he had instilled by suggesting that nobody around these parts bothered with silly things like motor vehicles. Fuck, that could mean he was some sort of health nut that would turn his nose up if he saw the types of meals I made for myself and how lazy I could get. Aside from his alarming curtness, Bill seemed to be calm and easygoing. The house was a wooden ladder of a place; stacked with his worldly possessions and Scandinavian accouterments. It was easy to conclude that he was a single man that kept to himself and I did my best to show him that I fit into the same category. Although, it seemed as though he had already decided that I was moving in. He referred to everything as his, mine or ours and led me through the rest of the house like both our minds were already made up. "Here's the room. It's right next to mine. You have an en-suite bathroom. Toilet kind of acts up once in a while and the shower drain is prone to clogging but it's all easy fixes. Oh... And the walls are kind of thin. I ask that if you have guests over in the evening to keep the socializing downstairs. I suppose I can't really stop you from having people in your room but... I do enjoy my quiet." "That's okay. I don't really hang out with too many people," I said. Bill strolled into the center of the empty room, the soles of his shoes hitting the floor echoed off the bright white walls. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he spun on a heel to face me. His shoulders drew up to his ears and for the first time, he cracked a smile. It didn't last long and was accompanied by a shrug of closure. "What do you think?" He asked. "It's nice. I like it. A lot. It's very... Homey." Bill nodded, "yes. So will you take it?" "Uh... You don't have any questions for me? Or anyone else to show the place to?" His full lips set into another grimace as though my question scratched the scab off of a wound that had yet to close. Swallowing hard, I immediately began to regret my inquiry. I should have just been grateful that he saw fit to trust me without so much as delving into my history. "To be frank, I'm not really interested in knowing a lot about you. The less we know about each other, the better. I just need a quiet tenant that won't bother me much and you seem like a sensible woman with your own distractions." "Oh." "I don't mean to sound insensitive." "It's okay. I get it." "You have a job, of course?" "Yes." "Well, that's all I need to know. Just make your rent payments on time and we'll get along." "Not a problem. Sounds good." The entire moving process took a little over a month to complete. I gave my notices where they were due, rented a small truck to pack my things into and drove it across town after handing the keys to the fuck-bag landlord who seemed more than thrilled to watch me departing. Bill had already given me keys to the house and when I arrived the first of the month he was nowhere to be found. Luckily, my possessions didn't extend further than my bed, wardrobe, futon and a couple of side tables that had collected more dust than I thought. After hauling up the ripping black trash bags I had stuffed full of clothes, I tried to decipher a way to get my bed up the winding stairs without scratching the wood or getting myself stuck in a corner. It would have been easier if I had another set of hands and I wanted to clear the halls of all my things before Bill came home and saw the clutter in the front hall. Something told me he was not a fan of mess and I had left a heaving trail all over the mudroom, halls and stairs. With my bed frame already stuck on the first few steps, I decided to sit down and reevaluate my strategy. It was definitely a two-person job that I would not be able to complete on my own. "Fuck, " I cursed as I pulled out my cell phone to make a call to the only person I knew that would be willing to give me a hand; my cousin. On the third ring, I heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming through. I was sat on the stairs pouting, my cell clutched to my ear and my breath hitched in my throat.  Bill looked up at me from the first-floor landing through the rails of the staircase and smirked at me. "Need some help?" He asked. I immediately terminated the call to my cousin before he could pick up. Shooting up from the fifth step up, I smoothed out the front of my shirt and tried to make it seem like I wasn't about to burst into tears of frustration. "Um, yes. Sorry. I thought I could do it by myself." "No worries," Bill said as he lifted the edge of the bed frame that was hanging off the first step. We dislodged the frame and slowly carried it upstairs but not without a few grunts of effort and sighs when we finally made it to the top floor. Bill's arms were bulging with the strain and when he helped me gently lay the frame down on the floor I couldn't help but stare at the muscles I never knew he had. We had only had a handful of encounters and each time he had been wearing baggy clothes that veiled the true form of his body. Bill helped me bring everything else I had upstairs and once the last of my belongings arrived he evaluated the mess that I would have to organize myself. Half my clothes were spilling out of bags and my furniture was yet to find a proper place. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Unless you have anything else?" "No. This is it. Thanks for your help." "No problem," he nodded with a small pointed smile that brought out a sweetness in his face before exiting the room. I heard the sounds of his footsteps drumming down the stairs but before I had the chance to get to work unpacking, Bill came back. When I looked up at him he had a peculiar look on his face that I couldn't read. It may have been a cross between uncertainty and embarrassment. "You um... These were on the stairs," he showed me what he had clutched in his hand and the moment I realized that the black material in his hand was a pair of my underwear, I paled. "Oh my god," I laughed uneasily. "I'm so sorry. They must have fallen out when I was dragging the bags up the steps. My panties looked crumpled and insignificant in his large hand as he dangled them between two fingers for me to grab. When I caught them I stuffed them in my pocket immediately and blushed even harder than I had when he had come home to see me flustered on the stairs. "It's all right. Could be worse things to find," he pointed out. "I guess so," I chuckled. Bill smirked at me, eyes darting to the pocket that contained the stray panties and gave me one last glance before leaving me to stew in my mortification. Once I was certain Bill was gone, I took the panties out to evaluate just how embarrassed I should have been. The last thing I needed was for my new roommate to have already discovered a pair of my dirty underwear on the floor. They were generic and made of stretchy faux lace that covered next to no ass cheek but I would have considered them to be a good go-to pair nonetheless. Based on visual inspection and a quick sniff, I was assured that everything checked out and Bill hadn't had the displeasure of picking up a pair of my period panties with the permanent stains in the crotch. If anyone had to have found a pair of my underwear I was glad it was a sexy pair and not ones that I had been hanging onto since high school. But because it was a man that had found them, I felt a strange yearning for approval. I thought about what he could have been thinking about for a long time as I set up my bed and unpacked my necessities. It was going to be weird having a roommate.

~*~

Bill was a strange man. Bill had an office in his room and a writing desk stacked with papers and manuscripts. Bill was a writer. When I asked him if I could read something he had written he said nothing. He only peered at me warily over his wire-framed glasses. We were in the kitchen at the same time and I figured it friendly to strike up a conversation. I had seen all of his papers and looked at all of the stuff he had in the house by then and deduced that he had to have been a writer. All I got from him was a gentle shrug of his stately shoulders and a mumble that I couldn't hear. "You're a writer, aren't you?" I continued. "Yes. I suppose, in a way I am." "Ever had anything published?" Bill rapidly shook his head and muttered, "not here, no. Back home... In university. But not here." The subject of him being a writer seemed touchy so I left my line of questioning at that while I boiled water to make tea. I couldn't help but watch him on the other side of the kitchen preparing his lunch because he was comically lanky yet carried himself with graciousness and poise. His side profile was vexing to me as well. It was then that I realized that Bill was not just commonly handsome, but sculpted in a way that I wasn't used to seeing. With a cute boyish nose and arrestive eyes that shone light green through the lenses of his glasses, I felt that old familiar pang of a crush plunging its way from my chest to my gut and all the way down to my groin. He didn't speak much and I hardly ever saw him because he was always in his room with the door shut. I had a feeling that me bringing up his writing had alarmed him into keeping the door closed at all times. It must have been an adjustment for him to go from living alone to having somebody sleeping in the room right next to him. I tried not to make much of the crush but the times that I did see Bill I always tried to stare for as long as possible. He was a mystery to me; a person living in the very same quarters but with a totally separate life that I had no windows into. Bill had pictures of him and a lot of other people that looked kind of like him so I tried to piece together what his family was like without asking him personally. The family photos were all in chunky brass frames and placed in a strategically sporadic way on the wall shelf. There were many books and three different runs of encyclopedic information stacked side by side with their brightly dyed leather spines displaying a prestigious title and the volume number, but it was the pictures that intrigued me most. By the looks of it, Bill had a lot of brothers and a sister. The longer I analyzed each shelf the more I managed to paint a picture of him for myself based on his belongings. There was a photo of Bill next to some other men of similar heights and facial structures, all dressed warmly and huddled together, each with his own version of a charming smile on. It was amusing to see pictures of him smiling since he had hardly tossed more than a crooked smirk my way. I wasn't sure if Bill was standoffish or if he thought me a slob because of the first day I arrived. The house was cleaner than any place I had ever had by myself and I gathered that he liked to keep it that way. I remembered what it had said in his ad about cleanliness. Maybe I had disgusted him. He had been so sold on having me as his roommate but that was weeks ago and he hadn't tried to engage me much since. It didn't weigh heavily on my mind for long. After all, even though I was the crusty definition of a bachelorette, I could put it together that trying to fuck my roommate that I didn't know was probably a surefire way to complicate things beyond repair. And the place was nice. I wanted to stay and I wanted Bill to like me.

~*~

I walked into his room when I knew for certain that he was gone. I don't know why the sudden urge overtook me and steered me to his bedroom door. I opened it and a waft of his scent came over me. It was like fresh cotton and chopped wood or an old book that had been kept in pristine condition. His writing desk beckoned me so I went without hesitation to cast my eyes over the papers on its surface. There were some printed pages full of words with hand-written notes scribbled in the margins. One of the most eye-catching pieces was a mostly blank white page that had been the last of the bunch to be placed upon the altar of his creative expositions.

I can't get enough of the scent that she left behind.

After reading that one line, I snapped out of my mindless intrusion and left his bedroom at once. Why I had gone in there in the first place was a mystery and I was overcome with guilt that pushed me in the direction of avoidance. I felt somehow he would know that I had gone into his room without permission.

~*~

A man from work had asked me out on a date and I stood in the shower vigorously washing the shampoo out of my hair. I was already late and had to scramble to put together an outfit out of what little clean clothing I had. There had been no time for me to do any laundry so I made do with an old sundress that I had worn the shit out of the Summer before, a pair of black nylon leggings with a hole in the crotch and the only pair of underwear that I could find that wasn't stretched out from me wearing them. I had laid out everything on my bed and bustled around trying to find my good face moisturizer and the only high-end lipstick that I had been coveting for the better part of two years. When I got dressed, I had somehow lost pieces of my attire along the way and rushed around looking for the underwear that I had dubbed acceptable to wear out on a date. My phone went off with a notification from my date saying that he was circling around the block again because he couldn't find a place to park. I quickly messaged him back and told him I would be down in five short minutes. Forgoing the panties, I hiked on my nylons and hoped that the skirt of my dress would manage to cover me enough all night that I didn't accidentally flash my pussy while getting in and out of his car. The date was boring and I didn't find myself connecting with him as we had at work. Maybe it was because we were co-workers or maybe it was because he was smiling too much at me the whole time, but I decided to put an end to the night after a dessert and the last of a bottle of cheap wine. When I got home, I shut the door and pulled my vibrator out of my empty underwear drawer.

~*~

In the morning on one of my days off, I stood in the kitchen making myself a pathetic breakfast of two pieces of toast with a slice of tomato and chunks of a too-ripe avocado splattered between them. First I was focused and calm and then suddenly I felt like something had materialized behind me. When I turned around, I let out a gasp as I noticed Bill standing next to me with no shirt on, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. "Sorry," he breathed through his nose. "Need a glass, please." I got out of his way and watched as he opened the cupboard that I had been standing in front of and took out a clean glass to pour water into. My eyes were drawn to the burgeoning of hair from his armpits when he reached to the top shelf. Without saying a word, he filled his glass from the tap and then walked back upstairs casually sipping his water. I don't know how he had managed to sneak up on me without me hearing the floorboards protesting beneath his feet but it had happened and my heart continued to race until I heard him enter his bedroom right above the kitchen.

~*~

I had tossed my laundry into the dryer and let it run while I left for work. When I got home my laundry was all folded and put back in my basket. My jeans and work pants were on the bottom, my shirts the second tier and then several pairs of my panties had been folded neatly in halves and placed on top. "Um... Okay," I whispered to myself, lifting the basket off the dryer that was still rumbling full of Bill's laundry.

~*~

A nap was on the immediate horizon for me when I got home from work. I kicked my shoes off as soon as I got in the door and made right for my bedroom. Bill must not have heard me climbing the stairs as I hadn't heard him come up behind me the week before because his door was open and what I saw halted me in my place and robbed me of the abilities to breath or think. There he was, laying on his bed naked with his right hand wrapped around his dick. But it wasn't that he was stroking himself that caught me completely off-guard, it was what he clutched to his nose and mouth with his other hand; the pair of my panties that he had discovered on the floor all those weeks ago when I first moved in. Rooted with panic and intrigue, I covered my mouth and watched on from the third-to-last step at the man taking deep breaths of my underwear while he pulled on his cock and massaged his balls. When I heard a faint groan leave his mouth I felt my floodgates crashing open. The tingle I felt budding from my clit grew so strong that my hands went numb and my face turned red-hot. There was no way that Bill hadn't heard me coming in the door and ascending the steps. But if he knew that I was there watching him play with himself, he didn't acknowledge it. He was in his own world of pleasure, getting high off the fumes that I had infused into the fabric of the underwear he was meddling with his fingers. I wanted to watch him shoot his cum from the tip of his cock but I was so scared that he would see me that I cowered back so that if his gaze did travel beyond the walls of his bedroom, perhaps he wouldn't catch me staring. Another long, deep moan left him and the sound of it somehow filled every sense I had. It was as though I could smell what he was smelling, feel how he was feeling and the taste left behind in my mouth was wetted with saliva being over-produced by my own sexual appetite. I pictured him kissing my clit, pushing my legs back and using his tongue to bore into me, letting it run down, down, down so he could taste every inch of me. A gasp nearly escaped me when I saw him push the crotch of my stolen panties into his mouth. His head dropped back into his pillows and his slow, languid strokes of his cock turned erratic. "Fuck!" He emitted after spitting the panties out and dragging them down his body to wrap around the base of his shaft. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Mmm, my god." After a minute of every muscle in his body flexing, it looked like he was inches away from coming and I leaned forward with my hand out on the last step to balance myself so I could watch the end result. It took a bit longer than I expected but I watched on unblinkingly until he finally managed to pump out an orgasm that ripped through his body and exited him in a glorious spurt of cum. Then there was another spurt and another, all landing in a perfect sticky mess over his stomach and chest. The sun coming in through his window glittered over his spackled body while a dryness hardened my tongue. I gawked as he moved to mop up his own mess with my black lace panties. What he was going to do next was as much a mystery to me as the last ten minutes I had spent as a voyeur. His cock laid over the top of his thigh and shrunk with each passing second while he rolled my panties up into a ball with his fist. All of his muscles relaxed and he sank further into the bed, closed his eyes all the while my stolen cum-soaked panties remained clutched to his chest like a cross. I could almost smell the musk permeating from the open door. Slowly, I descended the stairs one by painstaking one.

[pickalilywrites]

It's that time of year~! Requests are open! The only type of fic want for this time of year is a modern New Years party of the veterans! Yes, this includes the MP and Garrisons with the Scouts. Main ships are: Rivetra, MikeNana, RicoIan and poor Moblit trying to stop Hanji from getting drunk before midnight.

the last new year’s request! thank you everyone for sending a holiday request in and please have a good new year :) 

ah i tried alcohol again today (it was the third or fourth time i think) but i rly hated it ^^” 

Something to Drink to

MikeNana. Rivetra. MobuHan. RicoIan. Canonverse. 

1488 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

There is seldom a reason to celebrate in the Scouting Legion. Seeing the birth of another year is something to drink to when tomorrow is so uncertain, but the liquor always tastes bittersweet going down because of the guilt of outliving their fallen brethren. Still, it would be strange not to celebrate at all and thus the Scouting Legion gathers for yet another New Year’s celebration with decent food and second-rate alcohol, congratulating each other on living another year and praying that they will be able to see each other next year. “How are you drinking so much?” Nanaba asks Mike. She tilts her head as she watches him down another drink. “It’s not even very good, is it? I don’t remember the last time we had good alcohol.” “I just make do with what we have. Hanji seems to be having a good time.” Mike stops drinking to gesture to the squad leader, who is busy on the other side of the room drinking like there’s no tomorrow while the rest of their squad tries to stop them. He reaches behind him, picking up another glass of gin that he’s already prepared. “Care for a drink?” 

Nanaba sighs, but there’s a smile on her face. “I might as well, right?” she says as she takes the cup from him. “So, what are we drinking to, Mike?” “Hmm.” He’s already drinking, a thoughtful expression on his face. After he had taken a sip, Mike raises his glass to Nanaba. “For luck.” “For the luck we had last year or the luck we’ll have for this upcoming one?” Nanaba asks, smiling when he clinks his glass against hers. He raises the glass to his lips once more, his eyes twinkling as he looks at her. “Both,” he tells her before taking a sip and draining the last of his glass. 

“I don’t see how so many people are making toasts,” Levi mutters, his arms folded across his chest as he leans against the wall. He’s only been there for a few hours, but he’s already itching to leave. He turns to Petra as she returns with drinks. “I suppose we have a lot to be thankful for this year, Captain,” Petra says as she hands him a glass. She stands next to him, moving closer to the wall but not quite leaning against it. “Having enough funds to have such a celebration in the first place, for example, and being fortunate enough to even attend this party this year.” “I guess you could call it luck,” Levi says, although he doesn’t think the word is quite right. He looks at his cup, observing the beautiful gold of the whiskey. “What would you drink to, Ral?” “Me?” Petra asks in surprise. She frowns, a thoughtful expression on her face. She could prattle off a list of things to toast to, but she should probably keep it simple. The soldier lifts her glass towards her captain with a gentle smile. “To a decent drink.” It’s probably a strange toast, but Levi finally nods and lifts his glass against Petra’s. “To a decent drink,” he repeats. He brings the whiskey to his lips, expecting it to be sweet and woody, but it only tastes bitter and overwhelming like charred wood. It’s so terrible that he nearly spits it out, but he manages to swallow it. He gives Petra a scathing look. “This is hardly even decent, Ral.” “You’re very right, sir. It’s pretty terrible,” Petra says, wrinkling her nose as she takes another sip. Ah, but it was worth it to see such a horrified expression on her captain’s face. 

“Is Squad Leader Hanji going to be alright if they keep drinking like that?” Nifa asks worriedly. As a newer recruit to Hanji’s squad, Nifa was not yet familiar with the squad leader or their annual tradition at the New Year’s party. “Probably not,” Rashad says, rubbing his chin, but he simply stands back and watches like most of the others gathered around Hanji as they down another keg of beer. “They’ll have a wicked hangover tomorrow and will probably spend the rest of tonight vomiting if they’re not careful.” “Then shouldn’t we stop them?” Nifa asks nervously. “Nah, this is what happens every year,” Lauda says, rubbing Nifa on the back. “Besides, Moblit is doing the best he can to make them stop.” Even though there are many people watching, only one person is actively trying to stop Hanji from making their first mistake of the new year. Moblit, Hanji’s second-in-command, is kneeling beside them, begging them for the hundredth time to stop. “Please, Squad Leader Hanji,” Moblit says, his hand on their back. It’s difficult to tell if his words are getting through to them because they continue to chug down the enormous container of beer. “If you keep this up, you won’t have a liver by tomorrow morning!” “Ah, the only way you’ll be able to stop me is if you drink the rest of the alcohol before I do, Moblit!” Hanji says, raising their head to catch a breath. They look over at Moblit, a wicked grin spread across their face. Moblit resists the urge to do just that, knowing that the reason why his squad leader had said that was because they want a drinking partner. He’s fallen for their trick for too many years in a row to be fooled again, but he worries when he sees them return to the keg of beer. How much had they drunk? A quarter? A third? Half? More? Their cheeks are flushed a bright red and it will only be a moment before their speech is slurred. It’s true that this alcohol is terrible – it’s far less potent than anything you could buy in the city – but he’s sure that drinking a whole entire keg would still destroy a person. “Squad leader!” Moblit says suddenly, his voice so loud that it startles the people behind him as well. He rolls up his sleeves, a determined look on his face. He clamps his fingers onto the straw that Hanji is using to drink from the keg, stopping the flow of beer. “Please allow me a drink as well!” Hanji is surprised for a moment, but then laughs as they slap Moblit on the back. “You’re a good man, Moblit!” Hanji says. They sit back, nearly falling backward as they do so. They gesture towards the keg enthusiastically as they invite Moblit to take the next drink. “Drink up, drink up!” “Will Moblit be alright?” Nifa asks, her brow knitted together with worry. She wonders if she should step forward and volunteer to help drink as well. “He’ll be fine,” Lauda assures her with a laugh. “There’s no one else that can hold their liquor like Moblit can.” “Ah, I see,” Nifa says, but she still watches with a concerned look on her face as the others cheer Moblit on while he takes a drink from the keg. Perhaps this is just another New Year’s tradition that she needs to get used to. 

“Not to your taste?” Ian asks when he sees Rico wince after taking a sip of rum. “It’s just very strong,” Rico tells him. She frowns at the white rum that half-fills her cup. She’s never been much of a drinker, which is a shame because Garrison parties are very big on drinking. She adjusts her glasses as she lifts her drink, observing the reflection of others through the clear liquor. “How is it that we always have such great alcohol? I hear the liquor at Scouting Legion parties are hardly passable.” “I suppose Commander Pixis just knows how to pick alcohol,” Ian says. He grins when he sees Rico roll her eyes. “Also, he always wins the poker game for the leftover alcohol in the storage at the end of the year. Erwin might be a genius on the battlefield, but he’s terrible when it comes to card games.” “I see,” Rico says. She wonders if Anka knows that Commander Pixis gambles in addition to day drinking. She raises her glass towards Ian. “Shall we have a toast?” “A toast?” Ian says, raising his eyebrows. He shoves one hand in his pocket, nodding as he thinks of a proper toast. “How about to another year of living?” “Hm,” is all Rico says. She was hoping that it would be something less, dreary. “Another year to working under Commander Pixis?” Ian suggests. “Warmer,” Rico says. Her glass is close to his, but not quite touching. “Then another year with each other,” Ian says with a warm smile, and she finally taps his glass against his. She’s a little too confident when taking a swallow, drinking too much of it at once and coughing once it burned down her throat. In the end, Ian has to fetch her a glass of water to help cleanse her palate.  

[artificialqueens]

The Language of Flowers, Chapter 3.5 (Multi) - Albatross

AN: Well this chapter took a hot minute to write but its done just in time for the holiday. Next update might be a bit later than two weeks, I want to work on some of the new fics I have scheduled for Dec. For those of you celebrating; have a safe holiday, especially if you have to be around difficult family today:

The following Sunday Katya moved in without any incident other than a broken picture and perhaps a small chunk of wood missing from the door frame to her room that she swore was like that before she got there. Courtney just rolled her eyes and let it go with a forgiving smile. After Katya had left for classes the following day she found the missing piece of wood kicked under the small table between their rooms and reattached it with a bit of Elmer’s glue. No harm, no foul. For all she know she might have done herself one day without realizing it.

Courtney was quite surprised with how easily she settled into having a new roommate. After one very unfortunate three month experiment with a very messy “friend” who seemed to have encouraged an ant colony to move in alongside her; she told herself never again. But desperate times call for desperate measures and Courtney had to face facts; she couldn’t afford to live alone after the last rent increase and she didn’t really want to find anywhere else anymore. She was almost banging her head on Katya’s door when the younger woman answered while holding an identical notification slip that had been taped to everyone’s door whilst they were out. Very reluctantly, Courtney asked, “Is that offer still open?”

She expected Katya to make a joke of it, something to the effect of “Which offer?” But she didn’t…she just gave her a supportive smile and nodded her head. Seems she had been having the same thoughts too. It was a shame though…Courtney had prepared a number of witty remarks for all of Katya’s possible comments, yet she had no chance to use them…Pity.

Instead the two made plans to alert the building supervisor of their impending rearrangements and hashed out who would move in with whom…If you asked each one how they made their decision, Courtney would say they had an open and frank discussion regarding it. Katya however would declare that it was decided by a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors…Your decision who you want to believe. Either way, it was determined that Katya would move into Courtney’s spare room at the end of the month and their choice to live together worked out quite well for both of them.

Katya was clean and orderly, her unusual taste in baubles aside, and for the most part she was rather quiet in the apartment…ignoring the few instances when Violet spent the night. Even after all this time, Courtney found she could barely look at either woman after she heard their sessions late at night. Though they did try their best to keep it down; the wall were thin…so very little was left to the imagination. It was a small relief the frequency had steadily dropped but unfortunately, Courtney could probably give a very detailed description of Violet’s favorite bedroom activities if she were asked…and could find the strength to answer.

But apart from fewer hookups that Courtney had more or less witnessed, Violet was becoming a regular guest in their apartment in the normal capacity. Occasionally she and Katya could be found cooking in the kitchen or watching TV on the couch but Courtney was hardly there long enough to really take notice of how long she stayed or how often she came by. Most of her time was still spent with Willam, who seemed to be trying to make plans with her almost every day. She was flattered, she had to admit, but she sometimes wondered what it was that Willam saw in her. They had similar interests, sure, but they were still very different in most aspects of their lives. Courtney was outgoing and boisterous only as needed while with Willam, that seemed to be her default. Courtney reveled in peaceful, homey atmospheres whereas Willam thrived anywhere she could be surrounded by people.

And people certainly seemed to love her, or at least enough of them did. Sure, they were plenty that would go so far as to say they hated Willam with a passion but more than enough welcomed her wherever she went and that was all she really needed. She could be the belle of the ball if she wanted yet she chose to hang around someone who much more comfortable going along with the crowd. Courtney certainly wasn’t a wallflower but she wasn’t vying to be the center of attention…at least not if she were competing against Willam. She just allowed herself to be taken along for the ride wherever Willam wanted to drag her…which as of late involved less clubs and more unconventional settings, at least for Willam.

Increasingly, Courtney found herself accompanying the dirty blonde as they engaged in some unexpected and occasionally quite ordinary activities. They had spent days at the beach together, going to brunch and dinner, movies at the theaters or Willam’s apartment, even trips to amusements parks and festivals. They had even tried hiking together…once. The sudden downpour that had caught both women by surprise as they marched through the woods was more than enough to dampen their enthusiasm to try again.

When Courtney had first met Willam, she never thought that this would be where they’d end up but she wasn’t complaining. Even though they bickered, even fought at times, about petty shit the other person did that annoyed them; Courtney was more than content with the relationship she shared with Willam. It was hard at times to imagine her life before she met the other woman…It seemed so lackluster now. She was similar to Katya, there was no doubt about that, yet still there was something about her that made her so different and Courtney still had yet to figure out what exactly it was. And certainly since Katya became a more prominent fixture in her life, Courtney was seeing different sides of Willam.

Although Courtney hadn’t really intended to keep Willam away from her apartment, she always declined having Willam come by if she knew Katya would be there. She wasn’t entirely sure why but she didn’t want the two meeting…at least not yet. Eventually they would have to but Courtney was determined to keep them apart as long as possible. She also had made it a point to keep herself from mentioning Katya in Willam’s presence if she could help it. The younger woman always held her tongue but Courtney got the feeling she still held some resentment for the fact that Katya was Courtney’s first and only choice as a new roommate. She seemed to have accepted Courtney’s apology but whenever she heard the blonde talking about her new roommate, her demeanor would always become more standoffish and annoyed…so Courtney just stopped talking about her whenever she could.

Easy fix.

Though Courtney’s life has definitely become more eventful since meeting Willam, a small part of her longed to return to that first meeting and warn herself not to become so attached. She had always thought of herself as an independent, free-spirit who didn’t need to rely on the company of others to feel content…that was why she was so comfortable living on her own. Yet since meeting Willam, she found herself feeling lonely far more often and in a way that tended to confuse her. Even if she were surrounded by customers or the coworkers she loved…if Willam wasn’t there, sometimes a wave of somethingthat would wash over her. Not quite yearning…no more like she was homesick…for Willam. So when the dirty blonde had taken to visiting her at the shop more often, she never said a word against it. She came to look forward to that point in the late afternoon when Willam would saunter in after clocking out at her own job and stay with Courtney through the end of the night or come by to pick her up if she happened to work the opening shift that morning. Those predictable moments where she knew she would see Willam again made it more bearable but it still frustrated her all same to have become so emotionally reliant on another person.

Today she was feeling that annoyance in full force; Willam was working overtime so Courtney would not have a chance to see until much later this evening. If she hadn’t been scheduled for the morning shift, it probably would have been more tolerable, but here she was stuck in the dead zone between the morning and afternoon rush with nothing to do other than daydream and reflect on how pathetic her life had become.

She stole a glance over to Jinkx who had thrown herself deep into the world of books once more. Unless Courtney missed her guess, it looked to be the same novel Sharon had given her all those weeks ago. The bookmark Jinkx was using seemed to have been made from some of the ribbon that had been wrapped around the paperback but that was something Courtney had noticed long ago. Still it brought a smile to her face whenever she thought of all the little things they do just for each other. She wondered briefly if Sharon had any notion at the time of what chain reaction she would set off when she first gave that book to Jinkx. Not that Courtney was complaining; she was glad the shop was busier. The owners certainly deserved that success but all the same; one small action sparked a whole explosion that led to Jinkx’s arrangements becoming one of the city’s featured novelties.

That brought Courtney’s attention to the front counter. Sharon was currently reviewing the credentials of some new plant retailers she might use in the future as suppliers for Jinkx’s more unusual flower requests. She certainly was going the extra mile for her assistant and it seemed to be so obvious that she had a thing for the redhead, yet Jinkx was oblivious…and Sharon was making no move to change that…It was frustrating watching it play out day after day. Courtney desperately wanted someone to push things along. She couldn’t and most definitely wouldn’t after the promise she made to Willam but Ivy on the other hand…certainly she could see what was going on or maybe even had some insight into Jinkx’s feelings…No, even if she did, that would only help on Jinkx’s side and Courtney knew the redhead well enough to know she’d never make the first move…it would have to be Sharon…Of the two, she was easily more of a risk taker…she just needs the right nudge to get things going.

Violet!

If anyone could help, it would definitely be Violet; she knew both women very well and of course, she knew how to play Sharon like a fiddle when she wants to! She’d be perfect…But almost certainly word would get back to Willam and that would result in yet another fight…undoubtedly one of epic proportions. Damn. Looks like Courtney will have to keep her promise whether she wants to or not.

Mm…

In the lazy way that minds tend to wander off, she began to think about Violet…and a little bit about Katya too. The pair complemented each other quite well and they seemed very compatible, particularly in bed. Why hadn’t they made a move? They seemed like they could be happy in a relationship together…maybe one of them does want a relationship and the other wants to keep it casual…Katya would probably be the one to want something more in Courtney’s mind; she was more of a nester and Violet seemed to be a little too wild to want to settled down just yet…Or maybe Courtney is reading too much into the situation and just has relationships on her mind. It’s quite possible both just want a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement. Much like Sharon and Willam’s thing…before they broke it off that is. Courtney now knew why Sharon decided to call it quits but she never questioned Willam how she felt about it. Sure, she said that it never meant anything but Willam was never the type to really talk about her feelings anyway…

Courtney’s thoughts were now treading towards territory best left unexplored but she was helpless to stop herself now…she found herself wondering if Willam and Violet ever hooked up…or even if Sharon and Violet had…

No.

She was almost certain that their relationship genuinely was more mother-daughter in nature and nothing more. Even if Sharon did used to sleep with Willam, it was hard to imagine her even attempting something like that with Violet…even tossing aside the brunette’s predilections in bed.

Violet worked well with Katya because they each had that same taste for the burlesque and the fetishes that often went with it. As intimidating as Sharon could be, Courtney never really got the vibe from her in the same way she had from Violet. In truth, some of what she had heard from Violet concerned her…she could never bring herself to attempt what she was sure Violet engaged in wholeheartedly. She probably leant herself more in the direction of, well…Jinkx.

Demure.

Maybe even so far as to say vanilla but definitely more sensual…more focused on the emotional aspects rather than the physical. Courtney could readily believe that Jinkx would be the type who’s careful and considerate with her partners…taking their needs into account more than her own. That’s why she would complement Sharon better than she would Ivy. She could easily see Sharon neglecting herself, maybe even for Jinkx’s sake, in front of others but behind the scenes Jinkx would make sure that every gesture was repaid…no minute detail forgotten. Yin to Yang.

And that of course led Courtney’s thoughts right back to Sharon…

The older blonde was the perfect balance between the younger women. She had Violet’s dominate streak for sure but also a softer, gentler side like Jinkx’s. That was what Courtney needed right now. Violet was too intense and Jinkx was too passive, but Sharon…Sharon was the perfect blend of each woman’s best qualities…

Courtney could easily imagine Sharon pulling her into her lap and holding her there with very little effort as she marked Courtney like she was her own. She wanted that so badly right now. To feel safe and secured in someone else’s hold even as they teased her to no end. And she had no doubt that Sharon wouldn’t be one to tease. She’d wear that taunting smirk on her painted lips as she got Courtney so worked up that she could barely think in coherent sentences. Tease her as she stripped away the layers of clothing one by one all while removing none of her own…Placing her on the counter where anyone could see as they walked past the shop. Whispering filthy things into her ear, making her beg for any little touch as she drew her fingers across Courtney’s inner thighs.

Why could she picture this so easily?

Willam would be almost the same…at first. She’d put up a tough front but once Courtney was at her mercy, she’d finally let down her guard. As her fingers slipped inside those taunts would melt into compliments as she brings the blonde closer to the edge. Maybe she would even call her ‘princess’. But despite the change in tone, Courtney would still beg. She knows she wouldn’t have to; Willam would never deny her anything but something in her would make her want to repeat all the things she wanted-needed Willam to do to her. And she’d comply with every one. She’d fuck her nice and slow even though Courtney demanded she go faster…and she would, but not right away. She wanted the moment to last.

And Willam would watch her the entire time, taking in every little detail for future reference. Loving how she could tear apart calm and composed little Courtney so quickly…And then as she was teetering right on the edge and about to plunge into the depths, Willam would kiss her. She’d muffled the screams so no one else could hear them but her. They were hers alone to enjoy and she was greedy when it came to Courtney. She always had been and-

“Court, are you okay?” Jinkx asked with a thoroughly concerned tone. “You’re looking a bit flushed.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

Daydreaming at work about that? Courtney had really outdone herself. And now two of those very women were starting to crowd in on her as she tried to calm herself down and recover from the embarrassment. There’s not much else that could make this worse, or at least she hoped there wasn’t.

“Do you need to lie down or drink some water?” Sharon asked anxiously as she placed a hand on Courtney’s shaking shoulders. This was about the last thing she needed right now.

“I’m fine,” she lied firmly, though her voice wavered just a tad as she added, “I’m just going to…to run to the bathroom real quick.”

Before her cheeks could get any brighter, she bolted out of her chair and in the direction of the small restroom at the opposite end of the shop. It looked as though Sharon was about to follow after her for a brief moment but to Courtney’s immense relief she stay within a few feet of the work benches with Jinkx at her side. Courtney had no clue what she would do if the older blonde had come after her…probably something stupid that would make her want to bury her head in shame…not that the little scene she made out there didn’t inspire a similar feeling.

She was mentally kicking herself for falling so deep into that fantasy that it became noticeable to the others. At least they didn’t seem to figure what exactly was going on but how was she going to cover for herself? Her mind felt like it was trapped in a maze coming upon dead end after dead end as she tried to recollect her thoughts. No matter what she tried to think of, her mind kept returning to the ache in her core that she knew she couldn’t do anything to ease…at least not here. She was already ashamed of herself enough, she wasn’t going to add 'getting herself off in the shop’s bathroom’ to that list.

No, she still had some self control. She could wait until she got home. All she had to do was make herself look presentable again, put up a good poker face for the rest of her shift, and then race back home to finish what she had started. And maybe even by then, the need would disappear…That could totally happen right?

*********

It didn’t.

Not that Courtney really expected it to but a girl could hope.

The rest of her shift felt like pure torture between Jinkx’s worried glances and Sharon constantly telling her to take it easy or even just to go home. Not that Courtney would leave them right before the next rush was due to arrive. She was determine to finish out her work day as she normally would but when the other two women slipped into their own versions of mother-mode? It was almost too much and Courtney often felt like she’d die of embarrassment before she got a chance to clock out. It was such a relief when Ivy came in early and Courtney could dash off to her apartment.

She knew she would need to take care of this quick; she was supposed to go out with Willam tonight and there was no way she was going to let any of these thoughts linger until then. She just needed to get off and that would be the end of it. Just because she daydreamt about Willam fucking her didn’t mean she was attracted her. Of course not. She just hadn’t gotten laid in awhile so of course her thoughts would drift towards the women she sees almost every day, Willam included.

When Courtney first burst into the apartment, she was overjoyed that it appeared to be empty. Lately Katya had been moving her study sessions to the library and every time she left, her book bag would be missing from it’s usual place just below the coat rack. The moment Courtney walked through the door, that was the first thing she looked for. The fact that it was gone meant she could get down to business right away but that hope quickly died after she found the bag had been moved to just outside Katya’s room and muffled music could be heard beyond the closed door. Well at least she wouldn’t be able to hear Courtney…not she was intending to get that loud any way.

Like a girl on a mission, Courtney barricaded herself in room, making sure to lock the door for good measure. As Courtney had discovered very soon after Katya moved in; knocking and waiting for an answer seemed to be a foreign concept to her. She had practically no shame and closed doors meant nothing to the younger blonde. More than once Courtney had to yell at her to get out of the bathroom while she was showering because she just had to talk to her at that exact moment. If anything like that happened within the next few minutes she might just have to scream.

But no other sound filled the apartment aside from the soft rock filtering through the shared wall. And with that knowledge firmly in her mind Courtney allowed herself to strip off her clothes…well, everything but her bra, just in case…for what little that mattered. Digging amongst her drawers she quickly found the two objects she was looking for. Even before Katya moved in, Courtney always left anything related to her sex life tucked safely in the back corner of her bottom dresser drawer. Despite living alone for so long, she had a hidden fear someone would manage to find it and the anticipated shame caused her to bury it far out of sight. But now was not the time for subtlety…this needed to be taken care of immediately.

Normally, Courtney would take the time to tease herself; she knew the reward was always so much greater in the end if she did but today her fingers were not what she wanted. She needed something that would get the job done quickly and efficiently and thankfully she had just the item for that. Long ago, back when she had just moved into the city from out in the suburbs, a friend had jokingly given her a vibrator as housewarming gift…saying something along the lines of “Just in case it takes you while to find a real one.” Courtney had played it off as best as she could (her cheeks were pink for several minutes after) but it was just a week or two before she mustered up the courage to try using it. She never had one before, always too embarrassed to go into a shop or even to order one online, but she was curious…And it was quite a life-changer. Not as good as the real thing but definitely easier than her digits.

Typically, she’d use a combination of both if she had the time but all she needed now was to get off. With so little of her usual teasing, it took a little extra time for her to feel comfortable with it inside her, even with extra lube, but once she turned it to the first setting and felt the soft pulsing kick in, she was able to relax and enjoy herself. She bit her lip as she slowly began to rock against the vibrator and pressed the button to the next setting. This particular model was incredibly basic, offering only 5 speeds of the steady vibrating setting and one of an alternating fast and slow sensations. Usually Courtney would hover between the 3rd and 4th speeds and that would be all she really needed to get off. The 5th setting sometimes just felt like a little too much to enjoy and the final option? Well, she never was really tempted to try it.

Quickly she became too used to the second speed and pressed the button once more to switch to the third. It finally felt like she was getting somewhere. Just a few more minutes of this and she could bring herself to edge, maybe she’ll even dare to press the button one more time right before she’s about to cum just to make it a little more intense…She’ll just wait and see…But as she felt herself creeping closer, a very unwelcomed noised filled the room.

Her fucking phone!

Why hadn’t she turned it off?

She didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who was calling. Of course it would be Willam. The universe seemed to love to throw every little irritation her way today. Only because she knew the dirty blonde would keep calling until she picked up, she very reluctantly decided to answer the phone. She had a brief moment of debate as to whether or not she should pause the vibrator and stop all together but the need was too great. It wasn’t that loud anyway, Willam wouldn’t hear and what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her, right?

Slightly breathless and mildly frustrated, Courtney asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

“You tell me,” Willam shot back. “Got a text from Sharon saying you weren’t feeling well earlier. Want to tell me about that?”

Of course she would call about that. Courtney was a little surprised Sharon had gone that far but right now she was more annoyed than touched. She just wanted to get herself off in peace, couldn’t she have a few minutes to do that?

Instead of groaning out loud like she was inclined to, Courtney simply gave a shaky laugh and replied, “Oh, that…I think it was just something I ate maybe…nothing to get worked up about.”

Involuntarily, she squeezed her legs just a little bit tighter as she let out that small lie and like karma trying to punish her, that turned out to be quite a big mistake. The pressure was just enough to turn the vibrator to the next setting and the sudden change was more than enough to catch Courtney off guard. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes crossed just slightly before she remembered she still had Willam on the line.

She missed part of what the other woman had said but managed to catch the very end of her response, “-nd if you’re not feeling okay, you know you can call me. I would have come pick you up…”

Courtney almost let out a needy little whine at the vulnerability she heard in Willam’s voice and quickly took notice of her heart beating faster in her chest. Pushing the feeling aside for now, Courtney vaguely inquired, “Yeah?”

There was a slight hint of defensiveness in Willam’s tone as she reaffirmed, “Yeah…I would. Just tell me next time…Don’t want to hear it from someone else.”

“I will next time…Thanks, Bill,” Courtney said fondly.

“Whatever,” the dirty blonde replied all too quickly. It was easy for Courtney to tell she was embarrassed by the admission and right now she’d give anything to see that look on Willam again…it seems her fantasy Willam might be a little closer to reality than she thought…Willam probably would be as much of softie as Courtney had imagined her to be.

Wait, no. She was not going to start thinking about that again. There was nothing more between her and Willam. What’s happening right now is just an unfortunate mix of horniness playing off of hearing Willam’s softer side for once. That’s it, Courtney firmly told herself.

To distract from the vibrating between her legs and the ache that was almost unbearable again, Courtney asked how Willam’s day was going. The dirty blonde was all too eager to jump into a new topic, especially one concerning herself, and soon she was recounting all the little things that had happened during her shift so far.

As Courtney listened, she found herself lulled into a distracted state just by the sound of Willam’s voice. Something about it was so provocative right now and soon her free hand was lazily trailing its way down towards her thighs. The guilt in the pit of her stomach screamed at her that this was so wrong; getting off as her best friend chatted away in her ear, but it was just that taboo that made this so enticing. When would she get this chance again?

Pressing the mute button, Courtney let out a quiet moan as drew her fingers along her folds and traced one softly against her clit. Everything down there felt so sensitive that even the lightest touch was driving her close to edge once more. Very slowly she rocked her hips against the vibrator, trying to find that one spot that would take her right to her limit. Her mind was growing hazy as Willam droned on and Courtney found herself imagining the dirty blonde in bed with her…with her fingers in place of the vibrator…drawing her closer and closer to her release…whispering right into her ear rather than through the cheap electronics in her phone. God, she needed another body with her.

But all too soon Willam announced she would have to end the call, none the wiser to what chaste little Courtney was actually doing on the other end.

“Sorry, my break’s almost up. I need to get back to work…” Willam said apologetically. “You still there?”

Scrambling to turn the speaker back on, Courtney said hastily, “Yeah, sorry. Had you on mute, was just eating something.”

“When aren’t you?” the younger woman joked. “We still on for later though? We can put it off till you’re feeling better…”

“I’m fine,” Courtney promised as she choked down a broken moan.

Unconvinced, Willam proposed, “Why don’t we just stay in tonight?…We can have another movie night…I’ll even pick up some of that shitty wine you love so much.”

Smiling to herself, the blonde agreed, “Yeah, that sounds fun. Text me when you’re leaving, okay?”

“Will do. Alright, gotta run. I’ll see you later!”

With that Willam ended the call and Courtney was free to fully immerse herself once more. She getting so close she could taste it. Just another minute or two…But as she inched closer and closer, curiosity got the better of her…Why not try the last setting for once? It would probably be just enough to end it and if not she could always switch it back.

Daring to take a chance, she skipped right past the 5th setting and dove straight into the 6th. It was misleading at first…She was almost disappointed as it began with a speed even slower than the first option. Then suddenly it picked up the pace; it was just below her normal speed for about 20 seconds then it dropped once more…not a lot but still noticeable. Courtney could feel her body relaxing too much from the lack of stimulation then without warning, the pulsing kicked into high gear. It was so intense, she just barely managed to bite her lip in time to stop a desperate moan from slipping out. She was squirming in place, just close enough and about to go over when the speed dropped once more. Unable to stop herself, she let out a begging whine and almost choked on her own breath as pulsating quicken once more. This played out for over three minutes until she was nearly at the point of tears with how close she had gotten…Just one more strong pulse would be enough and she was long overdue.

As if on cue, it began and Courtney could herself being consumed entirely by the pleasure. Then all too quickly it began to die down again but not like before…the vibrating was weaker, not because of the setting…no, it was the batteries! The batteries were fucking dying! Why did it have to be now of all times? Couldn’t they last just a few seconds longer?

She tried to switch the setting back to one of the steady pulses but it was too late. The batteries were almost completely dead and she had been so close! It wasn’t fair!

Her fingers were in her hair ready to rip it out when she remembered the little box of batteries she kept in the kitchen drawer. Like a flash, she slid out the vibrator and threw on a robe before sprinting out to the kitchen. She must have looked like a madwoman as she frantically searched through the drawer for that stupid box. And when she finally found it, her hopes were dashed yet again. Just one was left! She needed two!

She knew that pack was full just the other week, where could the others-Katya!

Speed-walking back to the bedrooms, Courtney knocked on the younger woman’s door feeling like a hot mess. To her credit it only took Katya a few seconds to appear but it felt like an eternity to Courtney. Seemingly unfazed or else not noticing her roommate’s frazzled state, Katya asked the older woman what was wrong.

Trying her best to remain her usual polite self, Courtney asked, “The batteries in the drawer…did you use any of them recently?”

Katya nodded her head in affirmation but before she could comment any further, Courtney interrupted, “Could I borrow one of them real quick? Just for a few minutes! I’ll get a new pack but I need two like right now…please.”

Arching her eyebrow at the older woman’s frantic speech, Katya beckoned her inside and walked towards her nightstand. Unabashedly, she opened the drawer to reveal quite an interesting collection of bedroom accessories. Courtney’s stomach churned at the thought of Violet and Katya having used these before but she could worry about that later. She just needed her own equipment as soon as possible.

Rifling through the drawer Katya pulled out a seemingly random vibrator of her own and removed both of the batteries with air of practice. Courtney’s gaze dropped to one of the items entangled amongst the rest and could barely pull her eyes away even as Katya extended the batteries towards her.

“No rush,” she teased with a wink as Courtney opened her hand to accept the pair of double AAs. Seems Katya knew full well what she was up to next door.

“Thanks,” she muttered as her cheeks turned a fiery red and made her way towards the door.

To her dread, Katya called out for her just as she made it half across the room and very hesitantly she spun back around to face her roommate. Stepping forward, Katya asked sincerely, “Is that going to be enough?”

Awkwardly, Courtney clutched her hand around the batteries and dropped her gaze to the floor as she muttered, “Um…well…”

Katya stepped in front of her and placed a gentle hand to Courtney’s flushed cheek, turning her head back to look at her. The expression she held was one of genuine concern and strangely enough, seemed to extend an offer. Courtney heard broken syllables and unintelligible sounds fall from her lips as Katya tilted her head inquiringly. She knew Courtney understood what she was proposing and waited patiently as the older woman tried to come up with a complete sentence. Very slowly, she leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Courtney’s mouth. Almost immediately, Courtney felt her head shift involuntarily to brush her lips to Katya’s before she had a chance to fully retreat. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, the younger blonde reiterated, “It’s not going to mean anything…and it won’t make things weird…just something we both need right now.”

Taking in a shaky breath, Courtney nodded and pushed her lips back against her roommate’s. They were cautious at first, still testing the waters and allowing the other woman ample opportunity to call it off. As soon as Courtney began to walk Katya backwards towards the bed, they both knew they weren’t going to stop…not for anything.

Once the back of Katya’s legs hit the mattress, a switch seemed to go off in Courtney’s mind. She became much more deliberate in her movements, more sure of herself. She guided Katya down onto the edge of the bed, taking her place gradually in her lap as she laid claim to the younger woman’s mouth. Katya broke the kiss with a slight laugh as she teased, “Mm, aggressive. I like it.”

The older blonde flushed at the statement. This behavior was a bit out of character for her. Usually the only times she ever displayed this much dominance was when she chanced to take home a man who tended to be more on the inexperienced side, more shy. She’d provide the confidence for both of them as she showed him what to do. With women though? She’d only ever stayed passive, waiting for instructions because women were still more of mystery to her.

Brushing the pad of her thumb across Courtney’s cheek, Katya traced her lips up the older woman’s neck to her ear and let out a husky whisper, “Any requests? I’ll try anything.”

This caught her off guard, her wide-eyed staring proved that. She should have expected the offer, it was Katya after all. Explorative, unassuming Katya; seemingly willing to try anything for her partner’s sake. Why not take a chance if it was being offered?

Courtney’s hands shook as she rested them on Katya’s shoulders while she tried to think of how to phrase her response. There was something she wanted to try…two things actually. The younger woman waited patiently until Courtney found the courage to whisper what she wanted. Without any judgment, she assured the woman in her lap, “I can do that.”

She pressed one more brief kiss to Courtney’s lips before picking her up and setting her down on the mattress beside her. She paced back to her nightstand and searched for the item Courtney had been eyeing before. The older blonde looked away out of embarrassment as Katya unashamedly pulled out the lime green strap on from the slightly cluttered mess in the drawer. At a quick glance, Courtney realized that it was both dual ended and just a tad bigger than what she had been using earlier.

She squirmed on the mattress trying unsuccessfully not to stare as Katya carefully began to strip off her clothes. Though she really wasn’t wearing anything particularly special, the way she worked her body free from her clothing reminded Courtney very much of the delicate manner in which Katya would remove her costume on stage during her performances. She was both casual and showy; displaying skill but not enough to be intimidating. With surprising speed, something she must have acquired through much practice, Katya made quick work of arranging the harness around her hips and inserting her own end with a pleased sigh. Once the remote was securely clipped to the side, she turned her attention back to Courtney who now was licking her lips as she tried not to be overwhelmed by the sight in front of her.

If Courtney’s mouth hadn’t been so dry, she almost would have giggled at how comical the ensemble looked. The unnatural color only made it look a little more ridiculous as Katya took her place in front of her once more. Still something was so intriguing about it, she hadn’t realized she was staring so much until she felt the younger woman tilting her chin up to connect their gaze.

“Still alright to continue?” she asked without a hint of pressure in her voice.

Courtney nodded absently, allowing their lips to pass over one another before Katya inquired softly, “Can I take this off?” as she toyed with the collar of Courtney’s robe.

Suddenly she felt both over and under dressed. The thin robe covered most of her body but underneath she only had her bra. Her cheeks filled with color from her self-consciousness as she untied the waistband and began to shrug off the remaining fabric. As Katya helped pull it the rest of it all the way off, Courtney tried to give her a fair warning, “I’m not really wearing much else under-”

A soft gasp escaped from the younger blonde before Courtney was able to finished her sentence. She cast a quick glance to Katya only to be surprised to find a very light pink tinting her cheeks as her eyes raked down Courtney’s body. She knew she was well toned and was quite used to how men would look at her in bed but Katya’s stare…it made her feel beautiful…and nervous. Her mind was quick to remind her of all of the flaws she felt she had but Katya’s gaze never showed any sign of finding any. She simply drank in the sight before her for a minute before reclaiming Courtney’s lips for a passionate kiss.

As the two worked their way further back onto the mattress, Katya’s fingertips traced over all of the soft, delicate curves that laid below her. Though Courtney knew this wasn’t going to mean anything further afterwards, she still had an idea that this moment was always going to hold a special place in her memory. Very thoroughly, Katya kissed her way down Courtney’s neck, pausing for a moment to assist in taking off the final piece of clothing separating them. Tossing the bra over the edge of the bed, Katya carefully took one nipple into her mouth as her thumb toyed with the other.

An unwilling mewl clawed its way from Courtney’s throat and filled Katya’s ears. She was very confident of her talent in bed but Courtney’s reactions only helped to reassure her of that. The noises that escaped from the older woman were like music encouraging her to do everything she could for this beautiful woman in front her. Though hesitant, Courtney tried to return the gestures quite a few times but Katya pushed her hands away every single time.

“Don’t worry about me, just want to take care you right now,” she assured the blonde below her. “Just enjoy being a pillow princess tonight.”

Courtney whined softly at the one word. That was the second part of what she had asked from Katya for this session. She knew she was treading into dangerous territory with this request but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment…Not when Katya was so willing to comply. She’ll figure out what it means later, for now she was just going to listen to Katya and enjoy everything she was offering.

The foreplay went on for several minutes, Katya teasing her nipples, cupping her breasts, slowly trailing her fingertips and lips down every inch of skin except for one area. Courtney was a mess…she looked it and she felt it. What she had experienced in her own room was nothing compared to how Katya had worked her up. Finally after all that torture, the younger blonde conceded to touch Courtney where she desperately needed it. Katya’s fingers felt so good inside her that she didn’t want to wait any longer to get to the main course. But Katya had quite a teasing streak, one she probably exercised often with Violet. She would brush oh so gently against Courtney’s g-spot but not enough to give her all of the satisfaction. Her folds were slick as Katya worked her fingers in and out, pausing every so often to tease her clit as the blonde shuddered beneath her.

Her mind felt like it had been put through a sieve before Katya gave in to her pleading for more. The younger woman poured an extra dose of lubricant into her hand for good measure and spread it along the length that was soon to be inserted. Getting herself into position, Katya placed the vibrator outside Courtney’s entrance and leant down close to Courtney’s ear. Feeling the woman trembling in anticipation of what was to come, she whispered, ���Shh, don’t worry. Gonna go slow.”

Sucking softly at the skin below Courtney’s jawline, Katya began to push in with an extreme amount of care. Once it was fully inside of her, the blonde let out a sigh of satisfaction. This was just what she needed. It wasn’t quite like the real thing but it was close enough.

Giving her partner enough time to get comfortable, Katya left soft nips and licks along Courtney’s neck and shoulders. As soon her breathing was in check, Katya said, “I’m gonna turn it on now, okay?”

Courtney nodded, not quite knowing what to expect but the second she felt the vibrator whirring to life, her arms clutched tightly around the younger woman’s back. The initial setting was already intense even disregarding her current overstimulated state. If this was what Katya and Violet had been using before, it was no wonder the brunette could barely keep her voice down. Courtney was just barely able to bite back a scream that would have rivaled one of Violet’s.

“Like that, princess?” Katya asked with a smirk.

Frantically nodding her head, Courtney found she couldn’t make any other verbal response aside from a desperate, low moan. Again Katya waited a few seconds to allow Courtney to get used to the feeling before beginning to move. The pace was slow at first but gradually she built up a steady rhythm as the older blonde began to completely lose it. She was quite used to the feeling by now, knowing how to move so that she enjoys the sensations as much as her partner, but being that this was her first time with Courtney; she did her best to be careful and in tune with her reactions.

There certainly wasn’t any lack of enjoyment on Courtney’s end; her eyes watered in pleasure as her legs wrapped tightly around Katya’s waist. A pair of hands found their way to her hips, helping to accentuate the steady thrusts. With each passing second Courtney found herself creeping closer and closer to her elusive orgasm. She felt her fingers curl themselves into the long locks above her, ignoring the way they shifted into a dirty blonde in her mind. She was just so close that she didn’t care how she achieved it, just that she did as soon as possible. It only took a few more strokes before she was calling out a warning and closed her eyes tightly as she pretended Willam was the one whispering in her, “That’s it, princess. Let me see what pretty face you’ll make.”

Courtney had no idea how long her eyes stayed shut as she rode out her long awaited orgasm. All she knew was that she finally got her release and a look at Katya confirmed she had as well. The younger blonde was panting heavily as she struggled to keep her shaking body from collapsing on top of her partner. As gently as she could manage, she withdrew from inside Courtney and removed the harness with absolutely none of the finesse she had when first putting it on.

Completely satisfied, Courtney found herself curling into Katya’s warm body nearly the second she rolled off to the empty space on the mattress. She felt like she was finally able to thinking clearly for the first time since early that day. A quick examination of her feelings assured her that despite Sharon appearing in her original daydream; she had absolutely no romantic feelings for the other woman…Willam though…that was a different story. Somewhere deep in her core she felt a twinge of guilt for thinking about the other woman in such a way. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to face her later tonight…Perhaps she should call it off saying she suddenly began feeling worse…But what if Willam tried coming over to take care of her? Courtney really wouldn’t put it past her at this point.

She was almost groaning out loud when Katya interrupted her thoughts. With a teasing glint in her eyes, she asked very seriously, “So…who were you thinking of?”

Courtney’s cheeks turned a bright red as she replied defensively, “What makes you ask?”

Smirking, the younger woman stated, “Well, it wasn’t my name you were screaming…'Bill’ I think it was?”

A surge of shame ran through Courtney as she buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. Very muffled, she started to apologize, “Oh, Kat! I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Katya interrupted lightly as she ran her hand comfortingly over the blonde’s arm, “I wasn’t exactly thinking of you the entire time either…”

Lifting her head up, Courtney questioned cautiously, “Violet?”

To her surprise Katya shook her head and replied with a doleful smile, “No…but I’ll tell you mine if you tell me about yours.”

Very reluctantly, the older blonde admitted in a muttered tone, “Willam.”

“Who’s he?”

Swallowing back her nerves, Courtney corrected her roommate, “…She.”

Katya’s eye went wide with surprise as she exclaimed with a joyful grin, “Courtney! I didn’t know you actually swung that way!”

“Wha-How?” Courtney asked flabbergasted, “You’ve been flirting with me pretty much since we met! I thought you knew.”

“No, I was just doing that as a joke! You always played it off so I thought you knew I wasn’t being serious,” the younger blonde explained. Facepalming herself, she added in, “Oh, God, if I had known you actually-”

“You’d have tried harder,” Courtney accused with a disapproving stare.

“Damn right! No, seriously though, I’d never seen you take an interest in a woman before, so I just…assumed.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Courtney stated defensively, “Well, it’s not really common for me but…”

“This one’s special?” Katya suggested with a sympathetic smile.

“Looks like it,” the blonde admitted a bit dejectedly.

“Why don’t you make a move then?”

Struggling to come up with an answer, Courtney mumbled, “I…well…She’s…”

“Straight?” Katya guessed as her brows knit together in concern.

“No, definitely not straight,” the older woman explained pessimistically, “I’m just…not really her type.”

“How do you know?”

“…Cause I’ve seen who she’s been with…who she’s taken home from the clubs…” Courtney stated gloomily. “Do you know Violet’s business partner? Sharon?”

With a secretive smile, Katya replied, “I’ve heard of her…Violet loves to get her worked up. She used to always ask me for jokes to annoy her with.”

“Oh, God, really?” Courtney laughed out.

“Yep. But what about her?”

“Well, she and Willam…you know…they had a bit of thing, like you and Violet, until Sharon starting falling for someone else…But that’s Willam’s type…more experienced, I guess. Edgier, you know?”

Katya let out a noise of understanding and didn’t press any further. Still feeling a bit embarrassed from her admission, she quickly changed the subject to inquire, “Now tell me about yours.”

“Trixie,” Katya replied simply.

Shaking her head, Courtney stated confusedly, “Never met her.”

“Well, you have actually…kind of.”

Courtney tilted her head in further confusion as she tried to think of when she might have met this mystery woman. Seeing her roommate still coming up empty, Katya reminded her, “Remember when you picked me up from the library last week? She was working there. One of the student employees…The blonde one…”

“Oh, I remem-wait…” Courtney trailed off as the memories from that day began to form in her mind. “Wasn’t she the one glaring at you the entire time?”

“And you too!” Katya shot back defensively.

Brows furrowed, the older blonde asked, “Why her?”

“She’s nice…” Katya said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Really?” Courtney asked in disbelief. From what she remembered of this woman, 'nice’ seemed to be a bit of stretch.

“She is!” Katya insisted. “Last semester, you remember when I got really sick, right? Like I missed classes for almost a week?”

Courtney nodded, recollecting that event very well. At the time they were unsure if it was the flu or food poisoning but either way Katya had been sick to her stomach for several days. She had been forced to miss pretty much all of her performances that week as well as her classes, including a small test. It was only with the help of a doctor’s note that she was able to reschedule that examination for when she was feeling better.

Continuing on with her explanation, Katya stated emphatically, “She was the one that helped me catch up for some of them…The first day after I came back, I was completely lost…I was almost ready to run to the registrar’s office to drop most of them cause I couldn’t think of way that I could cover everything I missed. But she pulled me aside after our last class and offered to help…No else did…The professors didn’t care, but Trixie did. Even when I annoyed her during the tutoring sessions, she stayed. Sure, she banged her head on the desk a few times but she didn’t give up on me. ”

“Kat…” Courtney fawned softly. “That’s actually really sweet of her…Had you even talked before that?”

“Well, sort of…We worked on a project for another Lit. class before…We have similar majors so our classes overlap sometimes,” Katya mentioned vaguely.

Courtney could tell that there was more to the story than what Katya let on. With a little probing, she finally admitted, “We worked together in the library after her shift a few times to get the outline done…one time when she finished early, she asked if I wanted to come back to her apartment instead…”

“And what happened?” Courtney asked suspiciously.

Shamefully, Katya was forced to confess, “I got nervous…and ended up really annoying her. She kicked me out of her building after about an hour. She hasn’t invited me back since then and she’s never accepted my offer to come over…she usually just looks a little terrified when I ask…but we still talk though!…Like she’s brought coffee over when I’m staying late to study or sometimes she’ll sit with me when she’s taking a break!…But she kicks me out of the library if I start to piss her off.”

“What is that you do exactly that makes her so upset?”

“She doesn’t really like it when I tell those corny jokes…or when I call her Tracy…or Barbara…Barbie…or use that voice she hates.”

Knowing she’ll regret it soon after, Courtney asked, “How often do you do that?”

“Pretty much every week?” Katya answered sheepishly.

Groaning, Courtney scolded, “Katya! No wonder she glares at you!”

“What?” Katya exclaimed defensively, “That’s pretty much how I always flirt; relentless harassment until they give in or get a restraining order and she hasn’t done either yet so I’m still good to go.”

Courtney’s hand immediately shot up to rub at her temples in as she let out a sigh of exasperation.

Very proudly, Katya declared, “Her icy stare melted my heart.”

“That’s an…oxymoron, Kat,” the older blonde mentioned blankly.

“Just like me!”

Another sigh fell from Courtney’s lips as she pushed herself further into Katya’s arms and thought about both of their seemingly helpless situations. Sadly, she commented, “We’re a mess, huh?”

“Just a bit,” Katya agreed. “…I really kind of want to ask her out though…”

“What’s stopping you? She’s not straight, right?”

“No,” Katya laughed, “I know she’s not…She’s loud and proud…Well, maybe not as loud as I am but…she doesn’t keep it a secret. She brought it up while we were studying together…”

Already guessing the answer, Courtney asked, “Mixed signals then?”

“Very…I just…really don’t get her. She’s kind of like a frozen lake or something…all icy on top but you know there’s life underneath. Sometimes I feel like I’m ice fishing; I keep making holes and finding amazing things below the surface but then everything just freezes up again and I have to start over…I don’t really know what to do…”

“Well, do you think she might like you, too?”

“Maybe?” Katya mumbled unsurely, “She keeps coming back, so…”

After thinking to herself for a moment, Courtney questioned, “Have you tried finding out? Besides what you call 'flirting’?”

“No…” Katya trailed off with unhappy curl on her lips, “I…I don’t want to read into it too much and be wrong, you know? I really like her, even if she’s just a friend…I don’t want to screw that up.”

Nodding her head understandingly, Courtney gave a noise of empathy. She was quite familiar with that feeling and she’d seen plenty of other friends experiencing that as well. Maybe even Sharon was, too…

The pair remained silent for a few moments but Courtney was still thinking about Katya’s situation. She wanted to help, she just wished she knew of way for them to gently broach the subject without being too obvious and-Jinkx!

Her bouquets would be perfect for this! That’s what they had been created for originally so why not revive that again? And it’d be so romantic too!

Courtney could hardly contain a squeal of joy as she rotated in Katya’s grasp to flash her a bright smile.

“I’ve got just the thing!” she announced proudly.

With a look of tentative curiosity, Katya asked what she had meant. Quickly, the older blonde explained how Jinkx had taken to preparing bouquets with personalized meanings. Each one was crafted based on each customer’s unique situation. If anyone could help Katya create an arrangement with just the right message; it’d be Jinkx. Although Katya agreed that it sounded like a good idea, she was reluctant to involve someone else. Why couldn’t Courtney make the bouquet instead?

“Jinkx really is the best at it,” she asserted to the younger woman, “She understands the meanings a lot more than Ivy or I would. And she’s really sweet too. You’d like her, promise.”

Still Katya was unsure. She really would prefer if she only had to discuss this with close friends. It wasn’t exactly easy for her to talk about this sort of thing but Courtney always made her feel comfortable…Talking about it with a stranger just seemed like it would be too awkward.

“Why don’t you think about it for awhile?” Courtney suggested as she stole a quick glance to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Pushing herself from the bed, she began to collect her robe and bra while adding in, “I’m gonna be heading out in a bit but we can talk about it again tomorrow, okay?”

With a small grateful smile, Katya nodded her head and made to clean up her own part of the mess. She almost missed how close Courtney was to her until she turned around to find herself face to face with the older woman. She had a very light tint on her cheeks as the Aussie cupped her face and pressed a quick peck to her lips. Almost shyly, Courtney whispered, “And thank you…for helping me…It was fun.”

“We could go another round,” Katya offered with a teasing waggle of her eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes, Courtney politely declined but still she leant in for one final kiss.

“We’ll talk more later, alright?”

That night Courtney found her way over to Willam’s apartment and as promised a bottle of her 'shitty’ wine was waiting for her on the counter. Although Willam would never admit it if asked, Courtney noticed that she was paying particularly close attention to her as the night went on. She made casual inquiries as to how she was feeling, making sure she ate something along with the wine, even allowing Courtney to pick most of the movies. It was so thoughtful but despite Willam’s best intentions, the gestures only left Courtney feeling more and more guilty as the night went on. But still a gradual warmth filled her chest until she was almost to the point of blushing as Willam casually fixed some flyaway strands of hair. All she could bring herself do was mumble a quick thanks and turn her head back to the screen as she took another deep sip from her wine glass.

Before either woman could recognize their fatigue, they fell asleep that night tangled up in one another on the couch. Courtney’s head rested on Willam’s stomach while her arms were wrapped snugly around the other woman’s waist and Willam herself had her legs hooked loosely around Courtney’s and one draped across the blonde’s midsection. Neither of their positions were elegant nor entirely comfortable but each was more than satisfied with the sight they woke up to the next morning.

***********

A few days later Katya asked Courtney to come with her to 'Pines and Needles’. After talking things through with Violet, Katya relented and decided to have a bouquet prepared by Jinkx. If both of her close friends were recommending this woman, then she must be good right? They opted to head over on Courtney’s day off during the time when she knew there wouldn’t be many customers in the shop. She didn’t want Katya to feel any more discomfort than what she was already experiencing. After knowing the younger woman for so long, she could tell that a hint of her nerves were starting to show as they made their way towards the shop.

She was deflecting from her own situation by trying to encourage Courtney to pursue her own romantic interest. Every comment created a queasy little lurch in her stomach as her shame from earlier still had not abated. If anything it had become quite a constant in her life the last few days. Every time she saw Willam, the dirty blonde would be doing something so innocent and suddenly Courtney’s mind would flash back to what she had done…especially with Katya. The main problem was…she kind of wanted to do it again. She even began having lazy daydreams about the other girl as she laid in bed. None of these were sexual in nature, all just simple domestic things; kissing her, laying wrapped up together on the couch, or just cooking together. Almost all of these were things she’s done in one form or another with Willam, aside from kissing, but rather than as friends, she wanted there to be more.

And Katya could certainly recognize that her feelings had grown. She was now trying to convince Courtney to make a similar move and take a chance like she was doing…but Courtney could never do that…There was no way someone like Willam could be interested in her…They just weren’t compatible in that way.

It was a relief when the shop’s door came into view. Courtney would finally have a break from Katya’s well-intentioned but misguided efforts and-Fuck!

Why was Willam here?

She hardly ever came around the shop unless Courtney was working! Why’d she have to be here today of all days? If Katya realizes who this was, who’d know what she’d do to tease Courtney?

Studiously ignoring the other woman for the time being, she returned Sharon’s greeting and strictly kept her eyes away from Willam as soon as the dirty blonde spun around. While she explained why she was here to her coworkers, she heard the faint drumming of fingernails against the work table. Doing her best to resist the temptation, she refused to look anywhere close to that direction. She certainly didn’t miss how Jinkx’s eyes cut to Willam and she actually wouldn’t be surprised if Katya had picked up on it as well.

Trying to keep things moving, Courtney began to introduce her roommate but that was when the fiasco started. Courtney had no idea what possessed Katya to throw out that fake Russian accent. She could hardly believe her ears as she heard the other woman repeating her full name in probably one of her worst attempts yet at sounding like a native Russian. One look at Jinkx and Courtney could tell the younger woman had no clue what to make of the person in front of her, especially as Katya broke what little illusion there was by repeating her nickname in a perfect American accent.

Perhaps this wasn’t as good of an idea as she thought…

Sharon was having none of it and quickly diverted Katya’s attention away from her increasingly frazzled looking assistant. This whole thing had definitely been a mistake, Courtney realized. She ought to have just come in when she knew Violet was working. Things would have gone so much smoother. The older blonde could barely contain her shock as Katya began flirting with her boss!

What was wrong with her?

An involuntary glance towards Willam informed her that the younger woman well on her way to becoming thoroughly annoyed. She was all but scowling as the scene unfolded in front of her and Courtney had a sinking feeling that things were not going to improve any time soon. Trying to reign in her roommate’s shameless behavior, Courtney did her best to scold her and of course it backfired almost immediately. As much as she wanted to be angry, the smile sent her way had completely blindsided her and her glare ended up looking quite mollified.

Courtney could sense that Willam was steadily becoming more and more ticked off but at least Katya’s attention had been taken off of Sharon and Jinkx. She felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist as Katya beamed, “Don’t worry, принцесса; you’re still my favorite.”

That was the final straw for Willam. That was her pet name and Courtney knew it. She was absolutely furious as she openly glared at the two women. Courtney could feel her cheeks burning as her sight connected with Willam’s for the first time that day. And Katya still had no fucking clue. She seemed to be happily oblivious to growing tension in the room, even smiling proudly as Sharon unlovingly concluded the nature of her relationship to her business partner. It seems Sharon’s best solution for dealing with this young woman was to ignore her completely and focus her questioning on Courtney.

Eager to reclaim control of the situation, Courtney quickly explained Katya’s reason for their visit despite Sharon’s snarky remarks. As the older woman sauntered up to the front counter to prepare the bill, the real interrogation with Willam began. She wasn’t even trying to hide the hostility on her voice as she asked, “I think it’s safe to assume this isn’t for Violet?”

To her credit, Katya did appear to be more somber as she answered Willam’s questions. Though Katya hadn’t talked with her about it, Courtney felt the issue as probably bit of sensitive spot for her. She was quite attached to Violet, their continual efforts to hang out were proof of that, but it still must have been difficult for her to break the news to the younger woman despite the casual nature of their relationship. And having a stranger butting into her private affairs was enough to put anyone on edge.

Willam might have thought she was defending her friend’s interest but she was absolutely crossing a line in Courtney’s mind. She tried to subtly tell the dirty blonde that she needed to lay off but Willam was not backing down. Her aggressive attitude was quickly working on Courtney’s nerves, particularly as she noticed how uncomfortable Katya was becoming under Willam’s intense glare. Not wanting to escalate the situation any further, at least in front of the others, Courtney asked Willam to accompany her to back…though admittedly it came out as less of a request and more of a demand.

The dirty blonde seemed inclined to refuse but with a flippant shrug of her shoulders, she agreed to follow Courtney to the break room. She tried her best to remain calm as they walked together silently but the more she thought about Willam’s behavior; the more enraged she became. Willam had absolutely no call to be so rude to someone she’s never met before, especially considering that she probably wasn’t even fully aware of the exact nature of Katya and Violet’s relationship.

Once inside the room, Courtney found herself unable to maintain her composure. Sounding far harsher than she meant it to, she snapped at Willam, “Mind telling me what the hell your problem was out there?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the dirty blonde replied in a huff.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she accused, eyes narrowing further. “Why are you acting like such a bitch to Katya? You don’t even know her!”

“Who’s fault is that, princess?” Willam spat back bitterly. Her body was shaking with anger as the final word rolled off her tongue. Courtney didn’t feel much better; mixed in with her own fury was a heavy dose of guilt. She had kept Willam away from Katya…actively. And it seems she was quite right to given how this meeting has gone.

Ignoring the pink slowly consuming her face, Courtney stated firmly, “Katya and Violet’s relationship is none of your business. You need to stay out of it.”

Scoffing, Willam quickly shot back, “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you! That’s why you brought her here after all, wasn’t it? So you could fuck around in her relationship since I wouldn’t let you near Sharon’s?”

“That’s not what this is about and you-”

“What are you going to do when Katya drops this one, huh?” Willam barked at her. “Pick out the next victim for her? You gonna find her next fuck buddy? Beit?”

At this point Courtney’s face felt like it was on fire as she stood shell-shocked and Willam’s expression mutated into one of horrified anger and betrayal.

“You have!” she accused in a hoarse whisper. Her voice cracking was not something Courtney would ever forget as she continued on with her ranting, “That’s why you let her move in, isn’t it? God, I can’t fucking believe you!”

Pushing aside her own shame, the blonde shouted defensively, “Who I sleep with is none of your business!”

“It is when Violet’s involved!”

“Do I go turning up my nose at who I’ve seen you take home?” she demanded.

Scowling, Willam snapped back, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” “I’ve seen how low your standards are!” Courtney declared unkindly. She was really going for a low blow but she couldn’t stop herself any more as her frustration took over. “Flirting with anyone that’ll look your way for more than a minute! Anyone who’ll buy you a drink-”

“Like you’re fucking one to talk,” the younger woman yelled over her. “Your head is so far up your own ass you never even notice who’s looking at you. No wonder you keep going home alone!”

“Fuck you! How can I leave with anyone when you’re always dragging me back to your place?!?”

“Oh, so now you’re blaming me cause you can’t get laid?” she asked in mocking disbelief. “I’m not stopping you from doing anything! You’re always the one running after me and do I ever turn you away? No!”

“You don’t want me around? Fine!” Courtney spat out as she marched towards the store front. “I’m happy to leave to you alone. We’ll both be better off!”

Following hotly on her heels, Willam shook her head and called after her, “Oh, no! You are not getting out of this that easily. We are not done talking about this!”

“Yes, we ar-Katya!” Courtney scolded as she found Katya teasing Sharon as she stormed across the room muttering something about a drink. This was the last fucking thing she needed!

Immediately the young blonde choked back a guilty swallow as she caught sight of Courtney’s pissed off expression. What had she been doing to these poor women while Courtney was away? It had barely been five minutes that she’d been in the back, how had she managed to so thoroughly harass Sharon in such a short amount of time? At least she had the good grace to look ashamed of herself as Courtney rejoined her at the work benches.

Turning back for a final look to see if Willam was still trailing behind her, Courtney felt her heart break as she watched Sharon leading the dirty blonde to her apartment with her hand resting on her lower back. Tears were stinging at the corner of her eyes as she heard Katya rambling off a few more puns she had saved up. Shooting her an intense glare, Katya swiftly cut herself off mid-sentence, something about 'I’m still rooting for you’ or similar, but Courtney could tell she was dying to get one more joke in.

Reluctantly, she consented with a long-suffering tone, “…Last one.”

Running a soothing hand over her roommate’s back, Katya offered a consoling smile and said, “I’ll leaf it alone.”

Both her and Jinkx were unable to contain a groan but it finally seemed as though Katya had calmed down, as much as possible for her that is. The rest of their time there was fairly uneventful to Courtney’s immense relief. Her mind was still bogged down as she replayed her argument with Willam on a continuous loop. A few times she found herself spacing out as her thoughts dove into all the different directions their conversation had gone. She hated to admit it but Willam was right on a few things; it was entirely by her own doing that this unfortunate event had been Willam’s first time meeting Katya, as was the nights she spent alone. Her interest in sleeping with other people had faded to a degree, enough that she supposed it became apparent to Willam. She found she just wasn’t as into hooking up as often as she had been previously, preferring instead to just spend time with Willam. That was why she never made any objections to when they’d leave a club early and crash at her place.

When the bouquet was finally finished, she made sure to thank Jinkx repeatedly for helping Katya. She truly hoped this would help spark a genuine relationship for the younger woman. She really seemed to like this girl and Katya certainly deserved that happiness, despite Willam’s unfair assumptions about her. As they drove to Katya’s campus to drop off the flowers at the library, Courtney found herself watching the young woman holding onto the vase as though it were the most sacred object in the world. It seemed like all of her hopes were contained in this one small clutch of plants and Courtney couldn’t help but to feel nervous for how it might be received.

She offered to walk into the building with Katya, but she was determined to do it alone. Courtney accepted her resolution and promised to wait in the car for her. Almost 20 minutes passed by with Courtney feeling ever anxious as to what was taking so long. Had her courage faded before she was able to talk to Trixie? Was she just standing inside the door too paralyzed to move? Or maybe Trixie rejected her and she was now sobbing in the bathroom somewhere.

Finding all the possibilities to be too much, Courtney resolved to wait another 10 minutes before she would storm into the library in search of her roommate. After another five minutes or so Katya emerged from the building with a jubilant smile on her face and Courtney released an audible sigh. Seems things had gone well after all. Katya could hardly contain her grin as she exclaimed, “Trixie loved it! I’d never seen her smile like that before.”

Very much relieved, Courtney drove them home and allowed her thoughts to return to the events in the shop. Before Katya could disappear into her room, Courtney decided to ask what exactly had happened while she with Sharon and Jinkx. She knew Katya had a penchant for bad jokes, especially to distract from her own anxiety, but it was never quite that bad.

With a sheepish grin, the young woman admitted, “When I told Violet I was going to the shop…well, she asked me to try out my best material for Sharon. Said she wanted a little payback for all the legwork she had to do hunting down suppliers in her free time, whatever that means.”

“Oh, my God,” Courtney laughed. Of course Violet would arrange for someone to annoy Sharon while she was off. How could Courtney expect anything less from her at this point?

Courtney’s chuckling seemed perfectly controlled at first but then out of nowhere it suddenly broke off with a choked noise and her mind flashed from Violet to Willam. Before she could even process the change, tears began streaming down her face as a sob ripped through her body. Katya’s grin instantly vanished as she pulled the older woman into her arms and guided her to sit down on the couch. It felt like everything having to do with Willam hit her all at once and she was helpless to stop herself from breaking down in her roommate’s grasp. She was pissed at herself for being so pathetic, for getting into that stupid fight, and most of all for developing this stupid infatuation with her friend…maybe even her former friend.

She wasn’t sure if they could come back from this, not after what she had said.

Katya rubbed her hands along Courtney’s back as she continued to cry about her hopeless situation. She appreciated how Katya didn’t try to rush her talk, not that she would have gotten an intelligible answer anyway. Minutes later after the tears finally slowed and she felt like she could breathe again, Katya inquired gently, “The fight?”

Courtney nodded her head sadly, burying her face in roommate’s hair as another tremor passed through her. Softly, the younger woman asked, “Do you want to talk about it now?”

The Aussie shook her head; 'No.’

“Later?”

Nodding, Courtney let out an unhappy noise of confirmation.

“Okay,” Katya agreed, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” the older blonde mumbled as she fought to keep her voice from breaking. “Can we lay here for just a bit?”

“As long as you need,” Katya assured her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***********

And later that night they did talk. Courtney fought back a fresh onslaught of tears but she made it through without falling apart again. Katya listened patiently as the Aussie vented about everything from the fight itself to how fucking miserable she was already. She and Willam had made plans earlier to hang out tonight but there was absolutely no way she was even going to attempt to keep them. As upset as she was with herself, she still fucking pissed at Willam. Courtney wondered aloud why Katya wasn’t upset over her baseless assumptions as well.

Giving her roommate an understanding smile, the younger woman informed her, “I don’t think she’s really all that pissed off at me, at least not entirely…When Violet hears what happened, she’ll talk to her.”

“There really wasn’t anything more between you two, right? Willam seemed pretty convinced Violet, you know…really liked you.”

Another reassuring smile was sent her way as Katya set the record straight, “There wasn’t. All we were doing was just having a bit of fun. Vi’s got her own interests and I’ve got mine, we just liked exploring them with each other. It was comfortable. We tried dating for like a week but it was just…weird. We’re not really compatible in that way. That’s why we’re better off as friends.”

Courtney nodded her head and remained silent, finding she was just a bit happier knowing that her own understanding of their relationship wasn’t incorrect. Still though, she hurt…deep in her chest there was an ache and she knew exactly why. “I miss her,” she admitted as a few stray tears began to fall.

“I know,” Katya whispered. “Come here.”

And with that, Courtney buried herself in Katya’s arms for the second time that night as silent tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

More than a week passed before Courtney spoke to or even saw Willam again. The circumstances that led to their meeting were entirely orchestrated by Katya and Violet. For the past few nights, if Courtney could bring herself to go to a club, she made sure it was one well outside the city and certainly one she and Willam had never been to before. It was a hassle sometimes and almost not worth the effort because she still had to keep herself sober enough to drive home but as long as it minimized the chances of seeing the dirty blonde, she would gladly continue this behavior. One of those nights, Katya managed to convince Courtney to come to her and Violet’s show. She argued it had been quite awhile since the last one and maybe even a change of scenery would be good for her. Courtney told Katya that morning she’d think about it while at work though she was feeling more inclined to stay in that night.

What sealed the deal for her attendance was actually Violet casually inquiring if she would be making another appearance tonight. Her smile and tone were so disarming that Courtney forgot for a moment who she was talking to. Violet could be so charming when she wanted to, it was probably how she always managed to find the best deals with the shop’s suppliers. Looking back, Violet’s gentle probing probably should have been a tip-off for Courtney that the pair had something planned.

The realization that the two could possibly be working together only hit her as she allowed them to escort her back to the dressing rooms on the basis of wanting to talk. It was hardly a surprise to find Willam already sitting on the couch, shooting up from her seat the second she saw Courtney. The pair glared at each other once more but before either could make a move to leave, Courtney found herself pushed inside the room, courtesy of Katya, and the door was quickly shut.

“Talk!” Violet commanded. “We’re not letting you out until you do!”

And they probably wouldn’t, Courtney thought bitterly. Her eyes glanced to the window in a half-serious contemplation of escaping but she doubted she could slip out gracefully, at least not while she was unsure of what the window opened up to.

Begrudgingly, she sat herself down on a lone folding chair away from Willam and crossed her arms over her chest. Willam herself flopped down on the couch in a huff, refusing to look anywhere near Courtney’s side of the room. Neither woman spoke for the longest time but Courtney was glad in a sick sort of way just to see Willam again. Every so often she stole a glance or two until finally their eyes connected with a look of shared guilt. Each broke the contact after a few seconds but like gluttons for punishment, they found their gaze drifting back towards one another.

To Courtney’s astonishment, Willam seemed just as unhappy as she was. It looked as if a part of her was longing to say something but pride forced her to bite her tongue. Courtney played with the rings on her fingers for a few seconds before deciding to swallow back her fear and speak first. Her voice came out weak and wavering as she whispered, “Bill?”

Willam head instantly shot up and she stared wide-eyed at the blonde, waiting for her to speak. Courtney’s heart felt like it leapt to her throat as she apologized, “I’m sorry.”

Just a second passed before Willam was off the couch making her way to Courtney. Meeting her halfway, the pair stopped within a foot of each other unsure of what to do next. Willam made the first move and pulled Courtney into her arms. Her hands clutched desperately at Courtney’s back, a silent indicator of just how much she missed her friend. Understanding the meaning behind the gesture, Courtney’s hand found its way to Willam’s waist as the other ran its fingers comfortingly through her friend’s dirty blonde curls. Softly, she murmured, “I missed you, too.”

Willam just nodded, her body shaking just slightly, as she confessed quietly, “’m sorry. I didn’t mean it before.”

“Hey, its okay. We both crossed a line.”

“A couple,” the dirty blonde agreed. “Can we just…go get some drinks and forget about this?”

“Sure,” Courtney replied amicably. “There’s a pretty good bar downstairs after all.”

[hypermanga]

The Archer, pt 3

“Rise and shine your highness!” Ana’s cheerful voice made you open your eyes lazily, only to close them after she opened the curtains “Oh lord…Could you give me five minutes?” Turning lazily, you tried to catch up with your sleep schedule “I’m afraid not…Today you have some dancing classes, for the wedding, as well as some history of Damien’s kingdom”

Groaning, you were eased from your sleeping clothes, only to be dressed in a pink dress, adorned with bows “What is this?”

Trying to contain your laughs, Ana chuckled while saying it was a gift from Damien"Well, as everything about him, it is horrible" “I know I should not be saying that…But indeed”

History class was normally interesting: knowing about the past could help you not repeat the same mistakes about your ancestors. The problem was, Damien’s kingdom had a vicious circle of the same wrong decisions.

As per dancing class, you had to practice with your fiancé, who tried to seem charming and graceful, while you openly looked disgusted.

“We match perfectly, my dear” As he spun you around, he tried to capture your lips, finding yourself leaning back to escape from it. Groaning in disdain, he stepped on purpose on your feet, earning a hiss.

~~~~~~

“How was the day?” Your dad asked you, as you sat to have some dinner before going on the daily date, a date which you didn’t want to attend to “The truth or what you want to hear?”

At this point you did not really care if he reprimanded you. The talk you’d had with your mother the night before had shown you who you really were: a strong woman, who will not be a trophy wife.

“I do not like clowns (Y/N), and even more so if the one being pitiful is my blood” “Then you should not have asked, I am in a rather childish mood today”

Pricking on your food with the cutlery, you finished your meal as quickly as you could, and bid goodnight to your parents.

Upon arriving at your room, you quickly changed in some more practical clothes, as well as your cape. Jumping from the window, boulder from boulder, you landed securely.

Running swiftly through the garden, you jumped the palace walls and stormed off to the forest.

Meanwhile, Damien had prepared in his best outfit, as he intended to be as seductive as possible to kiss you. After all this time, he still believed you would fall at his knees.

“Where is she?” Pacing around the garden, he looked at your window, which was wide open “(Y/N)!Dear!” The room was empty, your clothes scarced everywhere, and you were nowhere to be seen “Ring the alarm! The princess is gone!”

~~~

Blending in with the buildings’ shadows created by the moon, you made your way quietly to the forest, a lot of thoughts going around your head.

“Alright, where now?” Upon being at the entrance of the forest, you noticed something: You didn’t know where to go.

Sitting in a rock, you tapped your finger at your chin, a habit you had gotten from your mother “Let’s see if I can find anything that could guide me”

The forest was quite big, with the resemblance of a maze : intricate and easy to get lost in it. Going around and around, you stumbled in the same trunk three times, making you rethink of another strategy instead of wandering off to who knows where.

“My, my, if it isn’t my dear (Y/N)” Looking up, Clint was petting a hawk, who was peacefully resting on his shoulder “You got to be joking…How did you find me?” “Well miss, for being a lady, you’ve got quite a foul mouth full of curses”

Blushing a deep crimson, you awaited for him to drop off his branch “I came because I changed my attitude. I am…More receptive now” “And what might have changed your stuck up attitude?” Puffing, you tried not to lose your cool “Ana, my maid. It’s true that we spoke about you”

Clint was amazed by your character, as he would have never thought that a royal could be interested about him, unless it was to hang him “Ah, see? It was not that difficult now was it?” Smiling childishly, he offered a hand. When he saw you were hesitant, he just moved his hand “Trust me, if I wanted to do anything bad to you I would have done it a while ago”

As your hands touched, both of you looked at eachothers eyes for a moment before looking off “I…Eh…It’s this way” “Alright, lead the way”

The howls of the wolves could be heard in the distance, as well as some chatting nearby “Who are these people talking?” He didn’t answer “Hello? Are you listening?” No answer again. Dropping the subject, you tried to gaze at everything but him “Hey, you’re back!Who’s this?”

A boy with blonde hair and curious look approached you faster than lightning “This, my friend Pietro, is the princess. She is interested in our activities” “Nice to meet you, I’m Pietro,your wishes are my commands” Bowing down, he kissed your hand and you chuckled at his goofyness.

There was a lot of people standing at the camp, having fun or talking “Ana? Ana, is that you?” Turning around, Ana gasped in surprise at seeing you here, but quickly put a calmed smile in her features “Good to see you here m'lady. Come take a seat” “Thank you, but I am good…I have to have a word with the Archer”

“So this is what you do” Taking a walk, a little bit far from the others, you conversed with Clint “Stealing from the richest ones to give to the most poor”

“I prefer to call it justice, but it is one way to put it” “Are these people like Damien…I mean false, foul and greedy?” “Well, yeah…” “But why become the Archer…What was the motive?”

“I was the son of a baker, who enjoyed the little things in life and even in the worst of times, he always had a smile in his face” He smiled, as if he remembered.

“The nobles would come trotting with their magnificient horses to the city only to retrieve the payings…And in the end we had to close. My dad was forced to work in one of their homes, as well as me. It was tyranny” Clenching his fist, he looked at the moon “My dad wanted the best for me, as I was young… So he helped me to escape. Since then I’ve lived in the woods, and earned a name”

“I am terribly sorry that neither my father nor grandfather did anything about this issue…” “It’s fine, I am now protecting them” He looked at your servants and other people “I won’t let them suffer the same destiny as my dad”

With the pale moonlight shining in his irises, you could only see pureness in the Archer"s soul.You studied his features closely. He was indeed handsome, and although you hated to admit it, was caring for the village people.

“Do I have any possibilities to meet the man behind the mask?” Clint’s eyes widened, but softened in a blink of an eye “Perhaps one day princess” “(Y/N), please. I’m not in palace, no need for formalities”

Chuckling, he caught your hands in his bigger ones, and looked at you sweetly “In that case, call me Clint. Clint Barton”

Clint…Huh…It matched him perfectly

“I’m grateful that you trust me enough to tell me your name” “ I know that you care for people, and I value that in someone from royalty. Such a shame we can not have this kinds of meetings more frequently”

Clint’s face drawed a light shade of pink, matching yours, as he realised what he had just said “Do…Do you really mean that?” Nodding with his head, he stared deep into your eyes

“(Y/N)!” A booming voice interrupted you.

And Clint was nowhere to be found.

“Oh Lord!” Thank god you are safe my darling" Damien appeared from behind the bushes, looking really worried “Damien…I was just taking a stroll” “At this high hours?” "Can't I do as I please?"

Knowing the guards were accompanying him, you used the chance to taunt him, much to your delight.

"Indeed darling, but it is not safe to be here in this woods, especially in the night. Bandits could be awaiting in the darkness" Taking your hand strongly, he brought you back to palace, a furious expression in his face.

"Oh, my dear daughter! You had us so worried" Your mother approached you, tears in her eyes "Could you see him?" She whispered in your ear, between sobs "Yes...And Ana, and the others"

Breaking the hug, she let your dad come up to you "What were you thinking? Going out by yourself!" Closing your eyes, you awaited for the tempest to cease "You are the heir to the throne!" "But dad..." "No excuses! I can see now that you really need a husband who will bring you down to Earth! The wedding must be advanced. Instead of two months, it will be in a few weeks!"

For going out in the woods, this is the punishment?

"You can't do that!" Raising your voice like never before, you stood up against the injustice "I have a say in this!" "No you don't! End of this conversation, you are just making a fool of yourself!" 

Chuckling darkly, you looked at your father "You wish I would shut my mouth" "Shut up!" "(Y/N), please" Your mother pleaded, hoping you dropped the subject "But I won't! Nobody will make me shut up!"

Smack!

A sting surfaced in your cheek, making you back up a few steps. Biting your tongue, your tears didn't dare to surface. Fury clouded your vision

"I expect you to be tomorrow at the ball we will be hosting" Your father looked at you with a cold gaze "Be presentable" "Yes, father" Bowing sarcastically, you marched to your room.

Closing your door behind you, you collapsed on the floor "(Y/N)?" Damien's voice could be heard at the other side "(Y/N)?I know you are in here love" 

Love? How dared he? 

"Just go away!"

A loud bang was heard, making the whole door tremble. Standing up, you started to cower, backing away from the door until your skin was touching your wall. Another bang. And another. And another.

Running to the door in an instant of courage, you locked it up, and pushed your dresser "You won't enter bastard! I know who you are! You may fool my parents, but not me,I see your true colors!"

Damien let out a groan, and with one final bang, he abandoned the task at hand, cursing to himself

Covering your cheek with your hand, you started to chuckle "I did it...I did it...I did it!"

Looking around you, you saw the mess: your dresser blocked the door, your shoes were scattered around your room, your dress was wrinkled...

But you were now stronger. You stood up to your father, although it was not useful, and protected yourself against Damien. Your past self wouldn't have been able to do any of this.

What had changed your spirit? Perhaps it was not a what, but a who.

Dismissing your thoughts, you dropped to bed, forgetting all your troubles and worries.

Because now you were not going to cower, you were going to stand your ground.

And that's what mattered.

 MASTERLIST

The Archer Masterlist

Requests are open!

@spinsterlocity @caplansteverogers @thefallenbibliophilequote  @steve-rogers-personal-hell @laterthantherabbit @dorkychris @curvybihufflepuff @capt-capsicle @destiel-artemis @witchymarvelspacecase @cevans-sebby@heavenmaycare @laceys-notebook @peters-vlogs​ @patzammit @ssweet-empowerment @buckysforeverprincess @palaiasaurus64 @numsreads@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @lordsexmachine @cuddlefish85 @debzybrazy @dearthofequanimity @james-bionic-barnes @supersoldierslover @bolontiku @breezy1415 @amrita31199 @buckys-other-punk  @lostinspace33 @feelmyroarrrr @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @suz-123 @fanndas-snow-goddess @absentgrey @qnzdiamond104 @here-for-your-bullshit @hollycornish @amour-quinn @stars8melanin @tinaferraldo @lexicon411 @buckyappreciationsociety

​ @silverlullabies @irepeldirt @flirtswithdanger @musedhufflepuff  

[thebachelordiaries]

A Colognoisseur With A Fishy Scent: ‘The Bachelorette’ Ep. 4 Recap

This episode recap is coming at you at the absolute last minute because I have been spending all my free time today listening to Kanye West’s song “All Mine.” As the lyrics go:

Time is extremely valuable. 

And I prefer to waste it.

It truly speaks to me. Also the part about “all that ass hanging out the bottom.” I feel seen. (JK)

Anyway, we started off this episode at an unfinished rose ceremony. Here’s what happened:

David got the biggest pity rose in Bachelorette history. He looked terrible. Someone should have put a bag over his head.

Nick, aka bae, aka the guy cosplaying Draco Malfoy, wore a tracksuit to the rose ceremony. He said this is his way of “putting it out on the line” to show Becca who he really is. If wearing a tracksuit is his way of being emotionally vulnerable, then same. It’s like that gif of spiderman unzipping his suit to only reveal another spiderman suit underneath. Is Nick a scorpio? I must know.

Banjo guy Ryan got sent home. I’m not sure why he was so hyped up on ATFR when he got literally zero camera time. It’s like ABC catfished us. 

Man bun Mike was also sent home. It was only a matter of time, but he tweeted some exceptionally good tea after he was eliminated. It may have been the highlight of my week:

The guys, who have been cooped up in the Bachelor Mansion for the past few weeks, learn they are going to Salt Lake City, Utah, to instead be cooped up in a hotel. Same shit, different view.

1-On-1 With Garret

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: repeating movie quotes is not a personality trait.

When you look past Garret’s Chris Farley impression, there’s not much to him. He talks like a 15-year-old and has no inflection in his voice. Where is the substance?

Garret and Becca go bobsledding with two Olympians. I tried my best to capture Garret’s reaction to learning he was going bobsledding with a lesbian couple, especially after his Instagram scandal. He had a pretty normal reaction...for a closeted homophobic person.

We found out on this date that Garret was married for two months before he got a divorce. The way (re: lack of emotion) he described his divorce makes it hard for me to believe he was “verbally and emotionally” abused. I would love to know the other side of the story and then form my own truth.

I think once Becca gets past the fact that Garret is similar to her dad because “they both like the outdoors,” she will realize there’s not much going up there. Hopefully that happens sooner rather than later.

Becca loves sitting like this.

One time I briefly “talked to” a guy who I think liked me more than he should because qualities about me reminded him of his deceased father. It was flattering, but I knew most of his infatuation was “in his head.” Plus, he was a really nice guy and I was too busy being obsessed with an asshole who didn’t care about me. LOL. Oh, to be 22 again....

What I’m trying to say here is, Becca doesn’t like Garret. She likes the idea of him.

Lumberjack Group Date

Ah, there’s nothing I hate more than hyper-masculine activities. 

The guys threw around logs and chopped wood to prove to Becca who has the biggest package. So who won the pissing contest? Apparently John, the app developer guy. Go figure.

In other news, apparently Blake lives in the mountains and eats bugs? Is it weird that I find that hot?

This date proved that bug man Blake and Andrew Keegan impersonator Jason clearly have the strongest connections with Becca. 

Becca said Andrew Keegan impersonator Jason is a really good kisser. 

I refuse to believe that Becca has anything in common with Colton besides the fact that she wants to make out with his face.

Can we talk about Colton real quick? The guy has no idea how to dress himself, has shady motives and said he’s “one of the good guys.” Have you ever met an actual good guy who calls himself a good guy? Me neither. Colton, to top if off, doesn’t think Jordan is here “for the right reasons,” which is hysterical because Colton thought Tia was going to be The Bachelorette and tried to get to know her beforehand, but I digress. This golden boy was bothered by the fact that Jordan was wearing golden underwear that Becca gave him. First of all, it would be rude to not wear a gift from Becca. Secondly, Colton tried to shame Jordan by telling him he’s classless and calling him a “pussy” (or maybe a fa***ot since it was bleeped out) in the same sentence. Jordan quickly picked up on this irony.

“You just called me a ***** and you’re talking about respect?” -Jordan

Ding, ding. We have a winner.

Jordan- 1

Colton- 0

We learned Jean Blanc is a shady individual. Talking as if he’s reciting a script, he gifted Becca a perfume and admitted that he’s falling in love with her. When Becca admits she isn’t feeling the same and thinks he should go home, Jean Blanc tries to take back the perfume and says he isn’t falling in love with her and just said that because he thought that’s what she wanted to hear.

Jean Blanc has officially been canceled.

Fuck that guy.

Understandably upset, Becca cancels the rest of the group date and doesn’t give out a rose.

1-on-1 With WIlls

“Hi my name is Wills and I’m the most adorable human on the planet” -a rough translation of what Wills said in this interview upon learning he has a 1-on-1 date.

Wills is such a genuine person. You can tell he is an ACTUAL good guy and that he really cares about Becca. Plus, he does have a non-traditional style but doesn’t dress like a three-year-old dressing himself for the first time. Take notes, Colton.

While I think Becca appreciates these qualities about Wills, I don’t think he’s the one for her. I do hope, however, that he can somehow make it to the final four. (My final four predictions are: Jason, Blake, Wills and Colton)

After they go four-wheeling up a mountain, Wills has a serious talk with Becca about his last relationship. When Wills told Becca his ex asked for a “hall pass.” I audibly yelled. 

Becca’s reaction: “Why?”

Wills: Exactly

Ugh, these two are just genuine and pure souls and I love them both even though they don’t belong together. Also, I don’t like watching them kiss.

Here’s Becca doing her leg thing again.

Rose Ceremony

I am currently mourning the fact that Nick, aka bae, aka the guy cosplaying Draco Malfoy, was sent home. His beautiful face shall be missed.

Another beauty, Christon, was sent home. The guy literally has a twinkle in his eye at all times. It’s like he’s a Disney prince.

I’m going to end this recap with one Jordanism:

“I”m like a sponge. You can squeeze me and get everything out of me, but you’ll never know unless you try.”

Gosh, I love Jordan. He may be my favorite Bachelorette contestant of all time. I still think Chad will forever be the best villain and most complex character, but his entire presence is too negative for me to enjoy fully. Plus, Jordan responds to my Instagram DMs. He appreciates his fans, and I appreciate that.

[thespiritedandthewise]

The Fox and the Bird

“Again...” Michel muttered to himself, his face even more sunken than usual.

It was the day he received his monthly delivery of supplies, and with it, another letter from his mother. He was presently staring at the letter on his desk, his ruby-red eyes gazing upon it from directly above, his back straight, as if he were trying to keep his distance from the words on the page.

“What was that, my dear?” I asked, sitting leisurely in a rocking chair by the fireplace, although he could not see me.

“It’s exactly the same as last month’s. Right down to the last word. It’s as if she prepared multiple letters in advance or something…” he mulled. 

“Now that’s a sound explanation. Clearly, she’s putting the bare minimum into keeping up appearances with you. Doesn’t it just make you retreat into yourself with loathing? Doesn’t it just make you want to—”

“Let’s not do this today, please,” he interrupted, in an imploring way more than a commanding one. That was odd. He usually ignored me.

“No? But you didn’t even hear what I was going to say,” I said, feigning disappointment. 

“Curse them?”

“…Was that a request?”

“No.”

“What a shame.”

With that, I turned away again. There was a moment of silence that hung in the air, accented only by the crackling of the embers in the fireplace. Suddenly, Michel stood up from the desk, his chair skidding across the floorboards as he did. 

    “I’m going to go put the supplies in the cellar.”

    “...By all means,” I said. 

    That, too, was strange. He didn’t usually announce himself. But this was at a point in time where he was almost treating me like just another person living in his home, and not like someone endlessly beckoning for him to curse everyone he’s ever known and loved. Or perhaps he was remembering a comment I made in jest about being in every room at once—including the bathrooms—and took it to heart. Either way, I couldn’t say I much cared for it. If he would not join me, he could at least keep his distance. And besides, I truly did give him his privacy... well, until he was about to fall asleep, that is.

    A few minutes later, he came back—but he was carrying something, and inspecting it quizzically. I paid no real attention to him as he entered, but he then dropped it on the table with a thud that gave me a bit of a start.

    “What in the world?” I said.

    “Did I startle you?” he asked. Surely he didn’t find that funny.

    “No matter.” 

    “Terribly sorry.” He did find that funny. “There was something I missed at the bottom of the crate. It’s... a game board, I think.”

    That it was. A rather ornate one, by the looks of it. It had been intricately carved out of wood, and the pieces, as well as the grooves in between the lines on the board, appeared to be... inlaid with gold? Clearly, this was not purchased from a gift shop on a city street corner; it was probably commissioned by a noble. 

“Hmm. Did you request it?” I asked.

    “I... don’t believe I did, no. There was no mention of it in the letter, either…”

    “Then clearly your mother is mocking you,” I said. “She knew you had no one to play a game with and sent it along anyway.”

    “I wonder about that, though... it could very well have been Didier. We used to play chess together whenever he had a spare moment. Perhaps it’s another game he picked up...”

    He could hardly be faulted for thinking this way, of course. From my perspective, at least, some part of Michel still believed in earnest that his brothers were secretly rooting for him back at the Bollinger estate. Compared to later, before a certain someone showed up, he almost had some eagerness left in him to get through what he believed to be a temporary living situation. He didn’t have much else to hope for, after all. And so I resigned myself to allow him this one shred of respite from my endless torment.

    “Well, you are free to hold on to that hope, my dear,” I said with a shrug that Michel obviously could not see, “but the fact remains that a board game is not typically played by just one. Well, unless it’s you, that is.” 

    Michel sat and stared at the board for a moment, appearing lost in thought. “Well, there isn’t just one of us here,” he finally said, nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather outside.

    ...What. This was out of character—enough that even I was caught off guard.

    “You’re not… seriously suggesting that I play this with you? Have you taken leave of your senses? Have you truly succumbed to your solitude? What an absolutely preposterous—”

    Paying no attention to me, Michel stood from the table, picked up the board and, walking past me, placed it on a smaller table by the fireplace, the one where he usually played chess by himself. The pieces appeared to be weighted, so they didn’t move around when the board was picked up. He placed it down, sat in one chair, and gestured to the other one—not looking anywhere in particular while he did so, since he did not know where exactly I was. 

    What in the world was going through his head? Did he not hear anything I just said?

    Unfortunately, the board was unlike any I had seen before—not that I had seen many before—so some fleeting curiosity took hold of me. Or perhaps I was taken in by Michel’s obvious desire for something resembling activity with someone else. The details needn’t concern anyone anymore.

    I got closer and took a look at the board. It was square, not unlike a chess board, and there were lines on it in the shape of a cross. There were several pieces in the shape of some type of bird, and a single piece in the shape of... a fox? 

    “There was a sheet of parchment with directions included,” said Michel. “It looks like the objective is for the birds to ‘capture’ the fox... but the fox can capture the birds too, albeit with limited movement.”

    “A game of wits, then,” I said. “It doesn’t seem very fair, does it? There are many of the birds, and only one of the fox. They could easily overwhelm it.”

    “Yes, well... that’s the point of the game, I believe.”

    “But if the fox is cunning enough... it can capture all of the birds and emerge the victor, but only through blood and malice. Curious indeed...”

    Just then, I noticed that the fox was painted red, and the birds were painted white—not unlike our hair colours. “So, then, I suppose in this little metaphor… I am the fox, and you are the birds? Am I to outsmart the birds running every which way before they overwhelm me?”

    Michel seemed to have caught on to the fact that the pieces resembled us as well. “Well, I doubt that was...” But he trailed off as if he were lost in thought. His eyes darted around the floor. I didn’t expect such a strong reaction... but the irony was not lost on him, which I found quite satisfying. After all, he and I aren’t like normal people. It would befit him to pick up on the finer things. And with that, I released my own curiosity.

    “I have no interest in your game. Toss it away.”

    “I suppose that’s for the best, yes...”

    Similarly, it would not befit me to be caught up in some worldly pleasure, as base and simple as a peasant’s game. I had to hold on to that, at least. There was nothing else, at least so long as Michel kept resisting my influence.

    “Morgana?”

    “...Yes?”

    “Let’s try this another time.”

    “Don’t get your hopes up.”

    Addressing me by name? This was truly a day of surprises. Still, this was one of the occasional times I had just become... fickle? Restless? I didn’t know how to describe it... but, begrudgingly, I suppose we did have a brief kinship there, in our own mutually hopeless sort of way.

    I did not hate Michel. Truly, I felt sorry for him, which is why I wanted to help him. I simply could not make sense of the aspects of his... personality that occasionally emerged throughout our time together.

    Regardless, these feelings did not suit me, or Michel. So if I was to be a fox... I could only hope that my dear birds would find a way to take that fellow feeling away from me.

[shardclan]

Scholars in Sornieth had some difficulty deciding whether the world had one moon or two. They couldn't be blamed. It varied depending on the time of year, which element held dominance, and even something as simple location.

In the Hewn City, there was only one moon. There was only ever one moon, huge and looming and shining eternally without reflecting the light of any sun. Tangled Wood and the Shadow element might be the opposites of Light, but the Hewn City was its negative. Day was blocked by thick pines and fog in shadow territory, while in the Hewn City it simply didn't exist. Neither was it properly night despite the ever present moon.

It was dark the way land scorched by nuclear shadows was dark.

Not night. Not day. Not in shadow.

Blackened. 

Eosphoros was alone inside the half-crumbled ruin of something that may have once been a church. If there had been pews of any kind they had long since crumbled. They sat on the stone floor, bathed in the ashen light of the moon. To outsiders, the Hewn City was a haunted, dangerous place full of unknown threats. But as Arcanites knew their Starwoods and hardly ever became trapped in it themselves, so did Eosphoros know their home. Even with the Parhelion's Glow emanating softly from their body, touching the abandoned stone with a light almost like redemption, they were safe. The Hewn City was merely a place of loneliness if you knew how to let what slept there go undisturbed.

So they didn't hold in their own sobs and rapid breaths, nor the uncontrollable way they rocked. The scroll was in their hands, may Telos and the gods forgive them the abuse of their kindness. They only had to get up the courage. What was pain to finally escape this body? What was the shame of their theft or the punishment this would surely earn? And yet they kept hesitating and hesitating until footsteps on the stone made them scream and scrabble to get their back to the ruined altar.

Stellaria. Just a normal imperial, and barely any older than they were, yet even in that pale, polarizing moonlight she was self-possessed in a way that Eosphoros envied.

"I thought you might be here," she said, not unkindly.

"You shouldn't have come," they cried. "You shouldn't be here! You don't belong here!"

"Neither do you."

She approached. Not so slowly to suggest she was afraid of what they might do, but not quickly enough to frighten them. Just enough to give them time to ask her to stop or stay away. They never did. When she tucked her skirt and knelt in front of them, she made no move to try and take the scroll.

"This won't make your life any quieter, Eos."

Tears poured down Eosphoros' face, and they clutched the scroll even tighter. "I know."

"Then why did you do all this?"

"Because I can't take it any more. I can't do this, I can't be this." They reached out, the scroll momentarily forgotten as they gripped her shoulders. "How can you be fine with this?! You could die any day for no reason at all! You could turn into something horrible!"

"Because even if our species is flawed, only we are made of our deity's essence. We are gifted with something unique. Perhaps too great for a dragon to truly contain. So we're volatile." Though her voice was prideful, she looked on her friend with compassion. "But that's me. You're not me, I know you don't think of this as a gift. I'm only asking you to think this through."

"I have." They snatched the scroll back into their hands, clutching it to their chest. "You don't live here. You weren’t born here. You don't know the horrors this place has seen, what still sleeps here... How are we any different from the things out there? Because we have Her essence?" They laughed, bitter and too loudly in their frazzled state. "She has created things that would make the Arcanist turn His eyes away from the stars if He knew. I have no pride in having Her essence if I have the things here as my siblings. Being able to... to turn into something dragons don't even want whispered about..."

"I don't want to be alone when I die. I don't want to worry I'm going to die every day. I don't want to think I'll come back as a monster. I don't want to have Parhelion's Glow. I don't want people to revere me. I don't want to be special."

They sagged, dropping to their knees and then to the floor, curled and sobbing as they scratched at their arms as if they could release themselves from their own body if only they dug deep enough. "I don't want to be an imperial..!"

"But why a pearlcatcher?" Stellaria asked in a strained voice. 

Eosphoros looked up. They had expected anger from their friend, but she looked scared. In a deep, penetrating way they had never seen before. 

They both already knew why it had to be a pearlcatcher.

Even though Eosphoros hated what they were and feared their maker they were still a loyal light dragon.And what neither dared to say, even in this dark place, was that if Eosphoros chose a species not native to the Sunbeam Ruins, Lightweaver would kill them. She would never suffer one blessed with the echoes of Her light to throw away what they were to that degree. That was a story that would tell itself wherever Eosphoros went, without them ever saying a word.

But so would Parhelion's Light being present in a pearlcatcher.

“It’s fine,” they assured. “I know they’ll treat me differently. I’ll still be strange. I’ll still be special. But all I ever wanted was to live in the light of the sun. Aphaster is...kind. I’m sure they’ll leave me alone eventually.”

"But Aphaster isn’t just the clan. It’s so many tourists and royal visitors.... They're going to be awful to you," Stellaria seethed. "My great uncle and grandfather talk all the time about how those snobby pearlcatcher courts treat dragons from Aphaster. Our Tribune of Light isn't even good enough them. Because her parents weren't Light dragons, because her father is a mirror. Other imperials will hate you too. You're going to be reviled by every Light court in the land, the good and the bad."

"Will you hate me?"

She scowled. "Idiot. Of course I wont. And if I catch anyone bullying you I'll break their teeth. Even if it's Turan." Her lip curled. "Especially if it's Turan."

Despite their attempts to assure Stellaria she didn't need to do that, Eosphoros laughed more than they actually got words out. The break in their tension was enough to sap the strength right out of them, and they drooped gratefully against Stellaria's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," they murmured. "I was trying to save up. I knew I wanted to do this. When I saw the request I just... I don't know. I was angry at her. I have all this status attached to being a second generation ‘pure’ imperial from the motherland and even though there’s so much importance and expectation based on it...it wasn't helping me. I was working so hard every day so that maybe sometime in the next dozen eras I could... I could get one legitimately. And this kid snapper orders one she doesn't even need...!"

They shuddered, and their voice cracked with the delicacy of splintering glass. "I'll work every day for the rest of my life if I have to. I'll stay in jail til next Flameforger's. But I can't give it back. I can't. I'm at my limit."

"I know."

Stellaria stroked gently through the cloud of Eosphoros' hair. She was already at ease with what was going to happen, and she set aside all thoughts of talking them out of it. Perhaps she had known something like this would happen since the moment she saw them. The two had little in common but Eosphoros had always reminded her of Verbena. Regardless of the bleak landscape they came from, or their turmoil over what they were, there was a naivete to Eosphoros. An innocence that in Verbena was like dandelions in the sun, and in Eosphoros was more like forget-me-nots in dappled light.

She didn't condone the theft, but before all else, Eosphoros was her friend. If they said they couldn't live as an imperial not one day more, she wasn't about to put the law above their life. She had a feeling that later, when she and Eosphoros were standing before the Lady Judge, this would be judged unlawful but the right thing to do.

"I'm scared," came their tiny whisper. "I think it’s going to hurt."

"It will. Normally you’d be given an anesthesia or a sedative for a becoming.” She wrapped her arms around them protectively. "I'll stay with you."

They held on, and for a moment Stellaria wavered. They were in such a fragile state; they were so young and small and troubled and to Stellaria’s knowledge they had never spoken to anyone else about their feelings. Was it really alright to let them do this without even talking to a proper adult? But the magic was already activating before she could think to call out for Carnelian. 

Against her back, Stellaria felt their grip tighten until it was almost gouging.

Eosphoros began to scream.

Carnelian walked in only a little later, but for the both of them it felt like it had been hours. Stellaria’s blue clothes were marred by purple spots where her own blood had been drawn. The new pearlcatcher lay limp on the ground, with only their shed antlers and a face stained by sweat and tears to say what had happened. 

In spite of her earlier confidence, Stellaria was shivering as she turned her eyes up to Carnelian. “Did I do the right thing?”

He shrugged, and lifted her onto his back. “You feel like you did the right thing?”

Maybe it was just the effect of being carried that way for the first time in an eon, and maybe it was the unexpectedly visceral experience of an unassisted becoming, but all Stellaria was feeling was her age. She was only three eons old, and Eosphoros only two. The part where Eosphoros’ emotional and mental stability was at stake was past, and there were consequences to this that felt far beyond either of them.

“I don’t know. I felt...like I had to do something. Even if it was just stand by them.”

He lifted Eosphoros into his arms with surprising tenderness.  “Sometimes that’s all you can do. Loyalty’s not a bad thing. Just keep doing that.”

She leaned against the back of his neck. He didn’t smell like her great uncle did when he used to carry her that way. He always smelled like incense and leather, with a faint trace of whatever queen Telos used as a perfume. Carnelian smelled of tobacco and cedar oil and black juniper gin from the Tangled Wood. By the time they crossed back into the light, it was high noon and both she and Eosphoros were deep asleep.

Carnelian flew them right over Thunder’s March, so Penitence wouldn’t have even the opportunity to wake them.

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Seven (Part 3)

Paring: All of EXO x OC

Genre: Romance; Angst; Fantasy Post-Apocalyptic AU; Smut; Drama

Description: For a girl who has difficulty distinguishing emotionally charged decisions from logic, being placed in the middle of a growing war is the last thing the world needs. She finds herself stuck in a world full of mutants, magic, and privilege. It’s up to her to decide where she wants to stand. Will she save those who need her most, or will she let her own selfish desires turn her into the thing she once hated most. A human infected with the Seven.

Warnings: Literally…everything. R*pe. Self Harm. Eating Disorders. Slavery. Violence. Abuse. Not for the faint hearted.

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Rest of the Story

*One Day Prior*

The next day, I didn’t go out to look for Tao. As a matter of fact it’s safe to say that I decided to actively avoid him. I left the orphanage at dawn knowing that Tao would try to find me and sway me (while I was disoriented by sleep) first thing in the morning. I was never good at making decisions right after waking up.

I sprinted out of the home in the clothes I had been wearing for 3 days straight now, and headed straight to the nearest train stop. The trains took passengers for free to any destination within the capital as long as you were allowed to be there.  Knowing I wouldn’t be leaving the 3rd ring, I took the train to the district farthest from my own.

The trains are extremely fast and I reached my destination in about 10 minutes. A good 200 mile ride gone by easily. The Capital is an enormous place. I haven’t explored the entirety of the 3rd ring just because it was too big, and I had no need to. I was extremely familiar with district 48 of the third ring since it was where I lived. That one district is all that I needed to know.

What better time was there to look around the city than when I’m avoiding my friend, right?

District 3 wasn’t as worn out as 48. There were more cars, and a lot less trash. It was no 2nd ring, but it was definitely a nice change of pace here in the 3rd.

I walked around and in and out of the numerous and expensive buildings for hours just trying to busy myself with some kind of task so that time would pass by faster. I must have gone in and out of at least 30 buildings before I decided that I needed to return. The sun was setting, and I needed to get back to the 48th district before it was too late at night.

I wasted a good chunk of time bumming around, and was cast only a few wary glances by the wealthier citizens. Their crisp and clean black clothes looked sufficiently less ragged than my own brown dress.

I was again obviously out of place, and they knew it.

Kids flew by on hover boards, adults looked down at their tablets or talked to their bronze metallic bracelets. Presumably engaged in a call through the communicator that came with the shiny accessory.

Their sense of urgency was almost contagious and I felt myself feeling as though I had tasks that I should be attending to. I even glanced down to my wrist thinking that I had a notification on my own bronze wrist communicator. The bare skin that greeted me reminded me that I don’t own one of those identical bracelets, and that I was just imagining the feeling of metal vibrating against my wrist. I rubbed my unadorned wrist anxiously and continued back to the station. I needed to catch the bullet train home, I didn’t belong with all of these busy people.

I ambled back home in the twilight and the only thing I could think about was Tao. I missed him and it fucking pissed me off. He could be trying to sell me off to a fucking owner, and I should be wary but I still wanted him to be here with me. I trust him...I trust him more than I trust myself.

He wouldn’t do something like that to me right?  

I scoffed aloud and kicked at the ground in agitation. My head hurt from thinking too hard about all of this. I decided that maybe if I go lie down for the next 3 days my thoughts would be cleared...or at the very least less scrambled.

When I got back to the home, it was empty. I didn’t see any of the boys around and honestly, I should have taken that as a warning sign. There was almost always someone home, and for all of them to just coincidentally be gone so late at night wasn’t a good sign. Even knowing that something was off, I was too preoccupied by my own thoughts to think too much into the case of the missing boys. The door to the kitchen opened ahead of me, right as I closed the front door behind me.

It was Momma.

She was talking in a serious voice to someone behind her. Her furrowed brows and quick words showed that she was deep in conversation with the other person, but she stopped when she finally noticed me standing at the front door. She immediately switched from her concentrated face to that unsettling empty smile and walked towards me, a man following closely behind her.

He was large. Tall and wide. Like a small building…or maybe a big dog… or a small bear. His hair was bleached blond and his eyes were dark brown, almost black. His eyebrows were bushy and unruly. He looked as if he smelt like cabbage and beet stew. Just looking at him I could tell that he was a mutt like Momma. I could almost see the waves of power flowing off him.

Knowing subconsciously that he wasn’t human, a scowl found its way on to my face. He smiled a sickly smile in return. His teeth were eerily straight, and I wanted to punch him in the jaw to make them crooked.

Momma called me over and I snapped out of my stare down with the new man. She tilted her head towards him in an attempt to silently beckon me over. I blinked slowly before taking hesitant steps towards the pair, she reached out and gripped me by the arm.

“This is the one I was telling you about. She’s still young and takes orders very well. Well trained and she isn’t horrible to look at.” She started. The man’s eyes roamed my body and I felt the familiar feeling of embarrassment and shame flowing through me. She turned me to my side so that he could look at me from another angle and she continued on, “As you can see she has reached maturity and is in great shape to be of use to you and your brothers…oh and lest I forget, she’s the only human girl left in the area for miles.” She finished. His eyes brightened at her final statement. It was then that I realized what she was trying to do.

She was selling me. Not renting me out, but permanently giving me away.

She was putting me up for sell like some kind of fucking rare car.

I watched in terror as they negotiated a price.

“600 credits.”

“800.”

“700.”

“775. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. 775 credits.” He said while pulling out his plastic card used to make the transaction. Everyone had one of these T-Cards, they made buying and selling easier than they had ever been before. They hold their cards to one another and the transaction is made once her card glows a bright blue.

775 credits.

The same price as a month’s stay in a really nice hotel. My life…worth a month in a nice hotel. While my panic seeped in, his dry hand wrapped around my other wrist and Momma let me go. He pulled me towards the door. A second of me limply following passed before I remember that I could fight.

I scratched at his arm and threw myself on the ground so that he had to drag me. I pulled so hard that I was sure I was going to dislocate my own hand, and if that would get me away then so be it. I didn’t like that hand that much anyway.

I thrashed around on the ground and he growled and tightened his hold on me. I cried. I screamed. I called out to Momma hoping that she’d take me back. I told her to take me back. I told her I would be good. I promised to do whatever she wanted, just don’t sell me off to this guy.

When she turned around her eyes locked with my own and like many times before I lost control of my body. The man let me go and I sat on my knees immobile, tears still streaming steadily down my face. She walked over to me with her fists clenched, I started to choke. The first clump of blood sputtered out of my mouth and on to the floor in front of me. Thick and dark red liquid splattered against the light wood of the ground like a painting.

My head felt like it was getting lighter, and my lungs heavier. While my upper body wobbled from the dizziness, I continued attempting to cough out the blood filling my lungs. Each time it was lessened, more would pool in to replace that which ended up on the ground.

She forced me on my feet. Everything faded in and out as my brain suffered from blood loss and the lack of oxygen. Her hand gripped my face making our noses line up. Her frown deepened as her nails dug farther into the skin of my cheeks.

“I don’t need you anymore, sweetheart. You’re taking up space here, and this is the highest bid I can get on your worthless ass. I’m not going to let this chunk of money get away just because you still don’t seem to understand how it all works around here.” I could only focus on parts of her statement, but the message was clear. All of my assumptions were confirmed. Right when I felt myself starting to black out, all of the fluids rushed back to their respective locations. I fell to my knees and coughed out the last of the blood and gasped for air.

The man took the opportunity to throw me over his shoulder while I was trying to gather my wits, and walked us out the door. I could only stare at his back exhausted as I was carried away from my home. The funny part is that I wasn’t even all that sad that I was being taken away. I hated it there, and I knew this day would come along sooner or later. It just happened to happen so suddenly.

He walked for about 2 minutes towards a parking lot before I was able to get back enough energy to start fighting again. I reached down the back of my shirt and ripped off the leather pouch that was tied around my torso and held my small blunt dagger. I knew he could feel me shifting around, but he underestimated just how much energy I was able to summon. Unsheathing the blade and letting the pouch fall to the ground behind us, I took in a deep breath before twisting and slamming the knife in to the back of his neck. I missed the nerve that I was trying to hit, but it was enough for him to fall in pain and drop me on the ground as well. Thank god I started keeping that knife there.

I attempted to fall and land on both feet, but I fucked up somewhere along the way and ended up flat on my ass. When I finally scrambled up off the ground I could tell that the impact had sprained my ankle, putting any weight on it hurt like a bitch. I let my adrenaline keep me going as I tried to limp away as fast as I could, but he was more resilient than I’d hoped. The back of my shirt was grabbed and I was yanked back on to the ground. With the impact, all of the breath was knocked out of me, and tears stung my eyes. I tried to catch my breath while staring up at the sky on my back.

He was hovering over me in seconds. He was beyond pissed, and the blood from where I had cut him was running down his neck. Drops fell on my clothes as they continued to stain his own. He pinned my arms above my head to keep me from stabbing him again. Unfortunately, I dropped my blade about a foot away from where I was lying anyway. He cursed at me and I struggled against his hold. His legs were on either side of my own as he leaned his body over my own. Blood was starting to drip on my face.

When he let out a low growl and put his face closer to my own, I head-butted him with as much force as I could muster. My forehead rammed against his face and his hands flew to his now broken nose. With him disoriented I could reach for my little knife that was near my knees. With a final swing I was able to hit him where I originally intended. Right in the neck, cutting off his central nervous system and preventing his brain and body from communicating any longer. He fell limp on top of me. I was able to let out a sigh of relief.

I had killed him. But it was not nearly enough blood on my hands to make me consider it a misdeed. It was my life or his.

I chose my own.

I was able to slide out from under his heavy frame. I even attempted to crawl off to somewhere. Anywhere, as long as I wasn’t here when his body was found. I didn’t give two shits about what happened to him, but he was still a mutant, and when he was found dead someone might come to look for me. If he was from the second ring, then I definitely needed to get out of here.

Now.

The edges of my vision were getting dark and fuzzy from the loss of energy and blood. I tried to get on to my feet, but it was an impossible task. I was left with crawling like an infant to some place where I could find sanctuary. My vision waned in and out and I knew I wasn’t going to get far in the condition that I was in. I wanted to nap. If I took a nap then maybe I would wake up and be well enough to escape. The last thing I can recall is someone shouting my name before I closed my eyes and blacked out.

*Now*

So here I am. Fully awake. Injured, emotionally scarred, and fairly pissed. I know that it was Tao who called out to me. He’s the only person who knows my name, er- well the name he gave me. I can’t remember how I ended up here, and I don’t know what “here” is. I blink at the ceiling a few times before deciding to run through what I do know.

My name is June.

I am 19 years old.

I am a human.

I’m not in the orphanage any longer, but I may still be in danger.

I’m hurt.

I have no idea where Tao is, but once I get my hands on him I’m going to kill him myself.

[flauntpage]

50 Hot Takes for the Philadelphia Sports Fan

It’s come to my attention that I’ve been incredibly neutral lately, just trying to do quality analysis and post-game breakdowns without the knee-jerk overreaction or outrageous hot takes.

In other words, I’m trying to be fair.

But fair doesn’t necessarily move the needle in 2018, when the most well-known media personalities are people who just say ridiculous and off-base shit, contradict themselves, and continue to make things up until someone finally pulls the plug or they retire.

I can hold my own alongside Jason Whitlock and Colin Cowherd, and to prove that I’m not Mr. Milquetoast, I pulled 50 hot takes out of my rear end, which you can dive into after the jump:

Philadelphia sports writers are some of the worst-dressed people on the planet.

Both radio stations should cut down on listener phone calls by 50-60% and book more guests.

I love hockey, but it will soon be the 5th major sport in the U.S. I’m not just saying this because I’m a soccer guy, but just take a drive around the city and see for yourself the changing demographics in this country.

Baseball didn’t necessarily slow down [editor’s note: it did, as game have risen to an average of over three hours] society just sped up. We have smartphones and Grubhub and instant access to everything, which killed attention spans and our general ability to sit still and relax. The game isn’t broken, but MLB is doing a poor job of adapting to this societal change.

Television personalities who only show up to 8-10 games per year generally ask the most useless questions in press conferences. We use the derogatory term “playoff people” to describe them.

When people tell you to “stick to sports,” they aren’t trying to silence you or suppress your First Amendment rights. They’re simply saying that they would prefer to get their politics from political experts and their sports from sports experts.

Rocky is played out and cliche.

Gritty is becoming dangerously close to played out, like Philadelphia’s love for Bruce Springsteen and Pearl Jam.

More young and able-bodied writers should be actively participating in the sports they cover because it adds credibility to their stories and opinions.

We don’t care who wins the game. It’s a job. We’re going to write about it whether they win or lose. When sports becomes business, the emotion and fandom is fully drained from you (which is kind of a shame, but necessary).

Very few Philadelphia media bosses have any clue what they’re doing.

Talen Energy Stadium features the best atmosphere of any regional sporting venue.

Building Talen in Chester was a huge mistake.

The Sixers should build their own arena.

College football is better than the NFL.

I hate the fact that Philadelphia does not care about college football.

Penn State and Pitt and West Virginia and Syracuse and Rutgers should be playing each other every year. I know PSU fans don’t want this, but I’m a believer in eastern football and conference realignment really killed a lot of great rivalries and traditions.

Lincoln Financial Field is the third-best football atmosphere in Pennsylvania.

The vibe and excitement at any SEC or Big 10 football stadium is better than anything at the Wells Fargo Center, Linc, or Citizens Bank Park.

Philadelphia DOES have a large section of sports fans who are total assholes. However, bad fan behavior takes place all around the world, which is why we share those stories whenever they happen.

The best local beat writer is Sheil Kapadia. He asks smart questions, doesn’t do hot takes, puts together detailed video breakdowns, and consistently produces interesting content.

A lot of people got totally screwed during the Josh Innes RADIO WARS shuffle. Rob Ellis and Jon Marks are two of them. Jon got shoved on the morning show where he was barely allowed to talk and Rob was pulled off nights, moved to PM drive, then again moved off that shift to accommodate Josh.

I appreciated the fact that Josh challenged the typical corny radio routine that we’ve been subjected to for years. He was an outsider, which was a breath of fresh air. However, he really rubbed A LOT of people the wrong way behind the scenes and wore out his welcome rather quickly.

Butt-hurt Flyers fans need to relax. We don’t hate your sport, it’s just down in the pecking order right now because the Eagles and Sixers are good. I covered soccer for eight years, so I understand the struggle for media coverage and respect in a football town.

I hate music in the middle of a sporting event, especially during Sixers games. It feels corny and inauthentic. The fan atmosphere was great at The Wells Fargo Center last season and you don’t need shitty mumble rap to be played in the middle of a possession to generate an interesting ambience.

The best sports video game was Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.

Robert Covington is overrated by Process supporters and underrated by Process opponents.

Saying that John DeFilippo and Frank Reich were a “big loss” is a bad take because no fan or media member can realistically quantify or qualify their behind-the-scenes contributions to the 2017 Eagles’ offense.

I’m intrigued by the Philadelphia Fusion, but the fact of the matter is that the squad features zero Americans and they do not live in Philadelphia.

The Fusion choked in the Overwatch League final.

Fortnite sucks.

The mental health of athletes is important and I appreciate the NBA’s forward-thinking here. We also have to draw lines between those who have legitimate and diagnosed issues and those who do not. It’s unfair for an athlete who is taking medication for a diagnosed bi-polar disorder to be lumped in with someone who got booed after a bad shooting night. One is a true mental health problem and the other is not.

Dreams and Nightmares is overrated, as is Meek Mill’s music.

Joe Buck and Troy Aikman do not hate the Eagles.

Say what you will about Angelo Cataldi, but the guy is a master of his craft, expertly plays to his listener base, and knows exactly what he’s doing from a business standpoint. Wing Bowl is a cash cow for WIP and the morning show has enjoyed more stability and continuity than any other program in Philly sports radio.

Villanova is a Philadelphia school. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we worship at the altar of Mike Trout, who grew up 46 miles away in Millville. Nova’s campus is 17 miles from Center City.

Every Eagles fan should be pulling for Andy Reid to do well in Kansas City.

There’s too much media availability in the NBA. There’s no reason a coach should have to speak before or during a game. Ben Simmons does not need to speak five times a week.

I don’t like being in the locker room and I don’t think reporters should be allowed in the locker room. I’ve always felt like it’s a “sacred” kind of place reserved for players and their game preparation.

I also HATE advertisements on the Sixers and Union jerseys. Jerseys should have a name, number, logo, and nothing else [editor’s note: rich take coming from a soccer Emirates fan]. I wouldn’t want to be a walking advertisement, no matter how much Bimbo or Stubhub is willing to pay.

Not every show on sports radio needs to feature a former football player.

If you’re a reporter on the team payroll (like Dave Spadaro), please let independent media ask their questions first before tossing up a couple of softballs. This goes for TV and radio broadcasters as well, or anyone affiliated with the team (they generally do a good job of this).

There are too many credentialed reporters at various sporting events who are not working or doing much of anything at all.

When a coach or athlete goes out of their way to tell you that they don’t read your stories or pay attention to Twitter, it means that they definitely read your stories and pay attention to Twitter.

All Philadelphia teams should be owned by Philadelphia-based groups. No more New York City carpetbaggers down here, please.

Big 5 basketball features a lot of interesting matchups and storylines that unfortunately become buried in a pro sports town.

The Flyers’ black uniforms are the best uniforms in town.

I wish people would appreciate mixed martial arts for the interesting clash of styles and incredible physical gifts each fighter possesses. Combat sports are much more than Conor McGregor shit-talking and a violent punch-fest.

“No one likes us, we don’t care,” is a very entry-level way of motivating yourself, though it is effective to a certain point. The best athletes in the world don’t play the rudimentary disrespect card, but have essentially risen above that to a sort of self-motivating nirvana where they know they’re the best and don’t give a shit what anyone has to say (Tom Brady, prime Tiger Woods, Serena Williams).

If you’re young or have the ability to move, go live somewhere else before resettling in Philadelphia. You’ll have a better of understanding of sport and how people around the country (and around the world) support their teams and consume content.

That’s 50. I’m not sure all of them were hot takes. Maybe a couple of aphorisms made it in there, like a Friedrich Nietzsche publication. Twilight of the Idols was my favorite.

Anyway, hope that was hot enough for you. I’ll be back tomorrow with fair and balanced lukewarm takes.

The post 50 Hot Takes for the Philadelphia Sports Fan appeared first on Crossing Broad.

50 Hot Takes for the Philadelphia Sports Fan published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings November 18, 2018 at 11:00PM

Psalm 89

Psalm 89

God’s Covenant with David

A Maskil of Ethan the Ezrahite.

1 I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord,[a] forever; with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations. 2 I declare that your steadfast love is established forever; your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.

3 You said, “I have made a covenant with my chosen one, I have sworn to my servant David: 4 ‘I will establish your descendants forever, and build your throne for all generations.’”Selah

5 Let the heavens praise your wonders, O Lord, your faithfulness in the assembly of the holy ones. 6 For who in the skies can be compared to the Lord? Who among the heavenly beings is like the Lord, 7 a God feared in the council of the holy ones, great and awesome[b] above all that are around him? 8 O Lord God of hosts, who is as mighty as you, O Lord? Your faithfulness surrounds you. 9 You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them. 10 You crushed Rahab like a carcass; you scattered your enemies with your mighty arm. 11 The heavens are yours, the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it—you have founded them. 12 The north and the south[c]—you created them; Tabor and Hermon joyously praise your name. 13 You have a mighty arm; strong is your hand, high your right hand. 14 Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; steadfast love and faithfulness go before you. 15 Happy are the people who know the festal shout, who walk, O Lord, in the light of your countenance; 16 they exult in your name all day long, and extol[d] your righteousness. 17 For you are the glory of their strength; by your favor our horn is exalted. 18 For our shield belongs to the Lord, our king to the Holy One of Israel.

19 Then you spoke in a vision to your faithful one, and said: “I have set the crown[e] on one who is mighty, I have exalted one chosen from the people. 20 I have found my servant David; with my holy oil I have anointed him; 21 my hand shall always remain with him; my arm also shall strengthen him. 22 The enemy shall not outwit him, the wicked shall not humble him. 23 I will crush his foes before him and strike down those who hate him. 24 My faithfulness and steadfast love shall be with him; and in my name his horn shall be exalted. 25 I will set his hand on the sea and his right hand on the rivers. 26 He shall cry to me, ‘You are my Father, my God, and the Rock of my salvation!’ 27 I will make him the firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth. 28 Forever I will keep my steadfast love for him, and my covenant with him will stand firm. 29 I will establish his line forever, and his throne as long as the heavens endure. 30 If his children forsake my law and do not walk according to my ordinances, 31 if they violate my statutes and do not keep my commandments, 32 then I will punish their transgression with the rod and their iniquity with scourges; 33 but I will not remove from him my steadfast love, or be false to my faithfulness. 34 I will not violate my covenant, or alter the word that went forth from my lips. 35 Once and for all I have sworn by my holiness; I will not lie to David. 36 His line shall continue forever, and his throne endure before me like the sun. 37 It shall be established forever like the moon, an enduring witness in the skies.”Selah

38 But now you have spurned and rejected him; you are full of wrath against your anointed. 39 You have renounced the covenant with your servant; you have defiled his crown in the dust. 40 You have broken through all his walls; you have laid his strongholds in ruins. 41 All who pass by plunder him; he has become the scorn of his neighbors. 42 You have exalted the right hand of his foes; you have made all his enemies rejoice. 43 Moreover, you have turned back the edge of his sword, and you have not supported him in battle. 44 You have removed the scepter from his hand,[f] and hurled his throne to the ground. 45 You have cut short the days of his youth; you have covered him with shame.Selah

46 How long, O Lord? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire? 47 Remember how short my time is—[g] for what vanity you have created all mortals! 48 Who can live and never see death? Who can escape the power of Sheol?Selah

49 Lord, where is your steadfast love of old, which by your faithfulness you swore to David? 50 Remember, O Lord, how your servant is taunted; how I bear in my bosom the insults of the peoples,[h] 51 with which your enemies taunt, O Lord, with which they taunted the footsteps of your anointed.

52 Blessed be the Lord forever. Amen and Amen.

Footnotes:

Psalm 89:1 Gk: Heb the steadfast love of the Lord

Psalm 89:7 Gk Syr: Heb greatly awesome

Psalm 89:12 Or Zaphon and Yamin

Psalm 89:16 Cn: Heb are exalted in

Psalm 89:19 Cn: Heb help

Psalm 89:44 Cn: Heb removed his cleanness

Psalm 89:47 Meaning of Heb uncertain

Psalm 89:50 Cn: Heb bosom all of many peoples

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Habakkuk 2:1-4

God’s Reply to the Prophet’s Complaint

2 I will stand at my watchpost, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what he will say to me, and what he[a] will answer concerning my complaint. 2 Then the Lord answered me and said: Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it. 3 For there is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay. 4 Look at the proud! Their spirit is not right in them, but the righteous live by their faith.[b]

Footnotes:

Habakkuk 2:1 Syr: Heb I

Habakkuk 2:4 Or faithfulness

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Habakkuk 2:9-20

9 “Alas for you who get evil gain for your house, setting your nest on high to be safe from the reach of harm!” 10 You have devised shame for your house by cutting off many peoples; you have forfeited your life. 11 The very stones will cry out from the wall, and the plaster[a] will respond from the woodwork.

12 “Alas for you who build a town by bloodshed, and found a city on iniquity!” 13 Is it not from the Lord of hosts that peoples labor only to feed the flames, and nations weary themselves for nothing? 14 But the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.

15 “Alas for you who make your neighbors drink, pouring out your wrath[b] until they are drunk, in order to gaze on their nakedness!” 16 You will be sated with contempt instead of glory. Drink, you yourself, and stagger![c] The cup in the Lord’s right hand will come around to you, and shame will come upon your glory! 17 For the violence done to Lebanon will overwhelm you; the destruction of the animals will terrify you—[d] because of human bloodshed and violence to the earth, to cities and all who live in them.

18 What use is an idol once its maker has shaped it— a cast image, a teacher of lies? For its maker trusts in what has been made, though the product is only an idol that cannot speak! 19 Alas for you who say to the wood, “Wake up!” to silent stone, “Rouse yourself!” Can it teach? See, it is gold and silver plated, and there is no breath in it at all.

20 But the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!

Footnotes:

Habakkuk 2:11 Or beam

Habakkuk 2:15 Or poison

Habakkuk 2:16 Q Ms Gk: MT be uncircumcised

Habakkuk 2:17 Gk Syr: Meaning of Heb uncertain

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

James 2:14-26

Faith without Works Is Dead

14 What good is it, my brothers and sisters,[a] if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? 15 If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16 and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? 17 So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.

18 But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. 19 You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder. 20 Do you want to be shown, you senseless person, that faith apart from works is barren? 21 Was not our ancestor Abraham justified by works when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? 22 You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was brought to completion by the works. 23 Thus the scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness,” and he was called the friend of God. 24 You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. 25 Likewise, was not Rahab the prostitute also justified by works when she welcomed the messengers and sent them out by another road? 26 For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.

Footnotes:

James 2:14 Gk brothers

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Luke 16:19-31

The Rich Man and Lazarus

19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20 And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.[a] The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.[b] 24 He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ 25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ 27 He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— 28 for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 29 Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ 30 He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ 31 He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Footnotes:

Luke 16:22 Gk to Abraham’s bosom

Luke 16:23 Gk in his bosom

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.