#and even that is tenuous at best since we don’t know her sexuality

[denimbex1986]

“Is this real?”

The connections to our past can be tenuous, where we lose grasp of even simple memories or they can tether us to them in a way that those foundational moments keep us from achieving any level of personal growth. How often do we get to revisit or relitigate our past and if given the chance, would we?

In Andrew Haigh’s electrifying new film, All of Us Strangers, we’re introduced to Adam (Andrew Scott), a late 40’s film and television writer living alone in a seemingly deserted high-rise on the outskirts of London. He’s working on a script about his working class parents set in the 1980s but can’t seem to get past INT. SUBURBAN HOME. He obsessively watches Top of the Pops, listens to Frankie Goes to Hollywood and attempts to conjure up inspiration by looking at old family photographs of him and parents, who both died in a car accident when Adam was 12. Loosely adapted from Taichi Yamada’s Japan-set 1987 novel, Haigh switches up gender, location and sexualities for his most ambitious film to date – a love story, a ghost story and a story of letting go.

During a fire alarm in his apartment complex, Adam spots a figure multiple floors up who has yet to come down and join the meager amount of people who populate the massive building. Soon enough the mysterious stranger appears at his door in the form of Harry (Paul Mescal), bottle of Japanese whisky in hand, making a very forward pass at Adam, who politely rebuffs the advances of the younger, attractive but slightly creepy stranger. Imagine saying no to Mescal? Couldn’t be me, but I digress.

The casting of Mescal, who is absolutely incredible here, is quite perfect and almost eerie. There is a sense, if you’re an adventurous viewer, that All of Us Strangers could be a bit of a spiritual sequel to last year’s Aftersun, featuring Mescal’s Oscar-nominated turn. There isn’t a literal connection between the films other than Mescal but it’s enough to imagine a cinematic universe where they are, especially for a metaphysical and metaphorical story like this.

And it is the metaphysical and metaphorical returning to his childhood home that gives Adam’s story its weight. His nostalgic thoughts of his dead parents begin to consume him and something shifts when he takes the train back to his hometown. Between the subtle cues of Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch’s reflective score and the hazy allure of cinematographer Jamie Ramsay’s 35mm lens, we’re ever so subtly taken back 30 years, where Adam’s parents (sublimely played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) haven’t aged since their death, with Adam now older than both of them. Their reunion is almost sheepishly cute at first. “Is that him?, Mum asks. “That’s him,” confirms Dad. But it’s also a reunion painted with challenges as Adam still needs to come out to both of his parents (in separate visits). First is Mum, who is as curious as she is disappointed. “It’s a sad life, isn’t it?” she laments and there will probably be several people who will hear those words and they will sting as hard now as they did before, a common refrain from parents at that time (my husband’s mother said this to him verbatim). Foy is exquisite here though, her teased perm and emerald green tracksuit speaking in a contemporary language for the time as much as her words do. When Adam asks his mother “Is this real?” she responds with “I don’t know. Does it feel real?” It does, it is, as Haigh doesn’t present anything in these interludes as supernatural or what we’ve come to expect from a ‘ghost story.’ It’s as real as anything and it both scares and pushes their honesty to unguarded places.

But it’s Adam’s conversation with his Dad that will open the water works (at least they did for me), as Adam details hiding in his room after being bullied at school all day. Dad never asked why and Adam never told why and for the same reason; “I probably would have been one of the ones who bullied you,” Dad says, confirming Adam’s feelings. But Dad, at least this version of him, is far more open and accepting, bringing Adam to tears and most definitely this viewer. As I watched this through saturated eyes, I wondered what I would say to my father, who died when I was 21. We had a very severed relationship and I never officially came out to him in any way (my mother would tell me much later that when I was 3-years old my father said to her “he walks like a faggot”) and if I could find some type of closure to an open wound that’s been there for as long as Adam’s. Do I even need it? I think one of the great powers of storytelling can be two-fold; it can certainly inspire you to do or say something in your real life but simply seeing it onscreen, feeling heard and understood, a vicarious experience can be a shockingly healing salve. My apologies to anyone who sat near me at the Herzog as I was inconsolable in my own moment of self-reflection and memory. It can’t be overstated that Bell and Scott are transcendent in this moment; we’ve associated Scott with his “hot priest” character from Fleabag and as Moriarty in the Benedict Cumberbatch-led Sherlock series, but his vulnerability in this scene is shattering. For Bell, we’ve literally watched him grow up on film, from Billy Elliot to now, playing a father doing his best to find connection with his son. It’s a quiet performance, not simply of restraint but one that allows Scott’s Adam to breathe.

Back in London, Harry returns and this time Adam is more malleable and invites him in. The two engage not in simple small talk but in the rooted fear of intimacy and love that was the 1980s, the era of AIDS and wondering if your next hook up or your next (or first, in some cases) would be your last. It’s one of Haigh’s keen powers, understanding the intricacies of interpersonal relationships whether it’s the rawness of HBO’s Looking, the guarded secrets in 45 Years or Strangers’ closest relative, Weekend. The two discuss using ‘gay’ or ‘queer’ to identify themselves and how the generations word use differs, with Adam definitely in the ‘gay’ camp and Harry remarking “queer is like all the dick-sucking is taken out.” The ice is broken at this point (thanks in part to The Housemartins’ “Build,”) melted, and their bodies do too. They quickly fall into a comfort of domesticity, the kind Adam never thought he’d have (“I’ve never been in love,” he admits at one point). A club scene later in the film, where Harry and Adam do ketamine, begins to break the fabric of what’s real and what isn’t as Blur’s “Death of the Party” rages on.

I called the film a ghost story earlier but I don’t want to give the wrong impression of what that means. It’s not a haunting, Adam’s parents aren’t locked between two worlds. It’s actually Adam that is; carrying the pain and trauma from childhood to adulthood and longing for a way to connect in the middle, to keep seeing his parents and also move forward. But “that’s not how this works,” says mum, and we know the final moments between them are near. And indeed, when the time does come and Dad and Mum offer Adam the affirmations that any child would want, but didn’t know they needed until much later, it’s a devastating master class of writing and performance from Scott, Bell and Foy. For many people who grow up gay, the lack of parental support can feel finite, the same as a physical death, an irrevocable separation. What Haigh has created is a portal of sorts, to reclaim our history, if not exactly rewrite it.

Earlier this year, Celine Song’s Past Lives introduced many of us to the Korean concept of ‘in-yun,’ that the people in our past, even if they’ve touched us briefly, have a permanent effect on our lives, on our connectivity. For Adam, his in-yun exists with the brief time he had with his parents, with his flourishing relationship with Harry and what his relationship to himself will be. Despite all of this emotion, as draining as it is cathartic, the film’s breathtaking finale is not something I’ll likely ever forget. Like 45 Years, Haigh knows how to close a film and the final shot of All of Us Strangers will be a part of me forever. Haigh has created a timeless masterpiece and the best film of the year.

Grade: A'

[semi-mortal-crayons]

Just a friendly reminder that just because you don’t like a plot point, doesn’t mean it’s problematic.

Especially in a story where nearly every prominent character is part of a marginalized group. At least one of those characters is going to be in trouble/ be injured in some way. That’s how stories with stakes are written. (And by that way, that is what is happening. The character isn’t being demonized, they’re captured)

We can have a civil conversation about plot points and how good/bad they are. But that doesn’t mean we should call random plot points problematic because they deal with a marginalized character. You have to actually look at the context of them first.

Idk I was just reading through some of the discussion and it just kinda rubbed me the wrong way. Like, I’ve got family all over the Mediterranean, including Egypt, so it’s not just some random white girl on Tumblr™️ saying this. Everyone calling this plot point racist/homophobic/sexist feels just… performative. I’m a very liberal person myself but like… I just can’t see it? I’m actually really enjoying the plot point, cause the potential story in the future sounds so juicy. I’m not trying to attack anyone who doesn’t like the plot point, I’m just… confused on the discourse surrounding it.

Btw these are just my unfiltered impulsive thoughts. If I accidentally expressed anything wrong or said anything bad, just lmk. I can have a hard time with my ADHD and shit

[sitp-recs]

Yesterday was @bixgirl1′s birthday and I wanted to do something special to celebrate her works since she’s one of my all-time favorite Drarry authors. I’ve read and loved in equal measure pretty much everything Bix has ever written - her unique ability to deliver complex, full-fleshed characters, intriguing plots, superb sexual tension, dirty hot smut and fantastic worldbuilding and dialogue - full of wit, angst, nuanced dilemmas and exquisite catharsis - never fails to take my breath away. More under the cut:

Every time I think I’ve got her style figured out she comes and murders me again with the raw, urgent apocalyptic atmosphere from In the Dark or those brilliant, creative and sensitive takes on tropes I probably wouldn’t read if not by her hand. Seeing a new fic by Bix is knowing that shit will hit you just right and haunt you for a while after you’re done. Everyone has their own favorite Bixgirl fic and I don’t know about you guys, but she’s probably the writer I revisit the most - even her long fics run by smoothly and are the best kind of comfort rereads.

On top of that she’s just the nicest person, always kind, friendly, welcoming and enthusiastic about the ship, about fic, about community. I love seeing her fun,  generous and uplifting comments on other people’s works. Sometimes I think she doesn’t fully realize how impactful her body of work is to the fandom, of how deeply appreciated she is, or of how lasting the feelings her writing awake in us are. This is a poorly rushed yet genuinely grateful tentative of shining light on some of my own favorites fics by her. It was so hard to select 10 12 works, but I think this list has a good mix of lengths and tropes. I encourage everyone to join this thread and add your personal favorites if they’re not here. Go on and read them, leave comments, spread love for these brilliant pieces and appreciation for this wonderful writer! 

Happy happy birthday Bix!! Thanks for sharing your talent and work with us, we are so lucky to have you <3

Hourglass Heart (2019, E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

The Things They Never Say (2017, E, 9k)

Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

Shining, Like a Present (2017, E, 13k)

The discovery of a small silver box at the site of a case opens up new possibilities.

freely, as men strive for right (2020, E, 17k)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy? If only Draco would let him count the ways.

White as Snow (2018, E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

In the Red (2018, E, 45k)

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there. The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

Life Lessons (2019, E, 68k)

On the cusp of a promotion, Harry needs a little help with his image. Enter Draco Malfoy — who doesn't really do that, Potter — to whip him into shape… and make him feel things he hasn't for a very long time.

That Old Black Magic (2019, E, 77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Balance, Imperfect (2017, E, 91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

In the Dark (2020, E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal.

Bonus: my beloved rare pairs!

The Lies We Live With (2018, E, 5k) - Teddy/James Sirius

It doesn’t really count… is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up.

The Mark of a Good Man (2019, E, 17k) - Draco/Albus Severus

After the life Draco Malfoy has lived, there aren’t many things capable of rendering him completely speechless, and he’s pleased to discover that even Albus Potter — writhing naked under the sheet of Draco’s bed and gasping face-down into Draco’s pillow — isn’t an exception to the rule.

[brawlingdiscontent]

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon. 

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight. 

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal. 

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways.  The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation. 

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool. 

“You must be hungry.” 

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite. 

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up. 

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent. 

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen. 

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous? 

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted. 

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says.  “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”  

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively. 

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.  

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning. 

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman. 

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm,  Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege. 

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment. 

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him. 

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world. 

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes. 

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.” 

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.” 

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?” 

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.” 

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe. 

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate. 

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.” 

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality. 

“You’re wrong about that, actually.” 

He looks back over, surprised. 

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”  

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire. 

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood. 

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid. 

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head. 

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with. 

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide. 

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness. 

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Not One Thing (1/1)

Title: Not One Thing

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy and Steve set things straight after she shoots at him. Set During CA: TFA

A/N: For Steggy Week Day 2: Favorite Moment. Who doesn’t love when she shoots him? I love it. So, here’s the missing scene, because during my re-watch I noticed that the first time we hear him call her Peggy was right after Private Lorraine kisses him. Then we go from her shooting him to the bar after Bucky dies, then right to the super sexually charged “You’re late,” at the Hydra facility. This… fills that in? Maybe? Hopefully.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

Peggy hightailed it to the ladies’ room after she put the gun down, forcing the emotion welling in her throat to stop before it became tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath as the door swung closed behind her, offering her some much-needed solitude.

She’d been fooling herself, obviously, if she’d dreamed that Steve Rogers was different. If his sharp wit and calculating mind appealed to her, that didn’t change the fact that he was a man, and seemed all too happy to get into the same trouble every man she’d ever met got into.

Hadn’t this been what he wanted, to be just like every other man?

She pressed her hand on each of the toilet stall doors, letting them swing open to be sure she was alone before she set her hands on the sink and tried to slow her pounding heart. She looked up at herself in the mirror and felt the pain morph to disgust.

And yet, she still spent two weeks’ pay on that damn dress.

She thought she’d sent a message last night. She didn’t know how much clearer she could have been.

“Get it together, Carter,” she whispered to herself, pushing away from the sink. She should have known better. She should have expected it. Even the way he stuttered at her after he was caught, calling her Peggy instead of Agent Carter, bringing up fondu… he had no idea how to talk to women, but it certainly seemed to knew how to kiss them.

She might not have been so mad about it, except she was the one hoping to be kissed by him. Dreaming of it. Fantasizing about it. She had been since he was thin boned and she was worried she’d break him if she crawled into his lap to kiss him senseless.

Peggy knew better. She’d been burned before. She shouldn’t have put all her hope in one endearing man.

She turned, pushing her way into a stall and began to unbutton her skirt when she heard the door swing open again.

“Wait, so tell me now!” The soft voice was unfamiliar to Peggy, and she couldn’t see through the stall door. She sat quietly, fully dressed, hoping to be ignored.

“Well,” a much more animated voice started, low and deep like honey, “so I start saying that all the women owe him their thanks, right?”

Private Lorraine.

Anger and frustration and betrayal welled up in Peggy’s throat, and she swallowed hard as quietly as she could, afraid of giving herself away.

“Uh huh, go on!”

Peggy can just about see Private Lorraine preening in the mirror through the crack. “And he’s all cute and nervous, hemming and hawing, so I just grabbed his tie, pulled him back into the stacks, and laid one on him.”

“You didn’t!” the other woman exclaimed, excited and scandalized at the same time.

Peggy rolled her eyes. Lorraine had a reputation around the base, as did most women if the men’s talk was to be believed. She wasn’t interested in lambasting the woman any further, deserved or not. She was, however, quite interested in whatever the woman had to say next.

“I did.” There was satisfaction in her words.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And? How was he?”

“Fine.” She could see Lorraine shrug and turn back to the mirror. “I caught him off guard. He wasn’t into it.”

“No! You can’t be serious.”

Lorraine hummed. “I mean, he’s probably a good kisser, but I couldn’t get him warmed up enough to find out. Carter interrupted us.” She sighed.

“Maybe you should try again.”

She laughed heartily. “Oh, if you saw the way those two bickered after she caught him? No. No way am I getting in the middle of that. Would have been a catch, but I’ll let him go. I’ve still got my eyes set on Washington in the 5th Airborne.”

The two chatted on, leaving the bathroom after getting the gossip out. Peggy just sat for a long, long time.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He shook his head, trying to find a way to keep her voice from ringing in his ears.

It didn’t work. He didn’t think he was going to get any sleep tonight.

The connection they’d had was tenuous, at best, and he’d thought it was all in his head until she showed up with that red dress on. When she’d uttered those words, “the right partner,” his heart had skipped a beat, finally feeling on steady ground. Bucky, of course, had a few things to say after she left. What Steve hadn’t anticipated was spilling the whole story to Bucky over another pint, detailing from the first punch he saw her throw at Hodge to the backseat of the car in Brooklyn, from Fondue to the red dress.

“Jesus,” Bucky had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” He laughed. “Still the same idiot I left back in the States.”

Steve had looked at him, confused.

“She likes you, stupid.” Bucky laughed, and tipped his head to the door she’d come through now hours ago. “You don’t put on a dress like that for someone you don’t like.”

“She just stopped in,” Steve stuttered. “I’m sure she was going to see other people.”

Bucky had looked at him, hard, and he knew he was kidding himself. Then and there he decided that the little looks, the light flirting, the line he was afraid to cross, absolutely needed some crossing.

Unfortunately, Private Lorraine had crossed a line first, and he was left as confused as when he’d started.

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He couldn’t get it out of his head, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d well and truly messed up.

Her shooting at him had been a pretty clear sign of that.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” Bucky moaned from his own bunk. “How am I supposed to get any sleep with you thinking that loud?”

“Sorry, Buck- I just—”

“So, Lorraine kissed you. You know how many guys on base she’s kissed?” He laughed, folding his hands behind his head. “Pretty much all of them.”

Steve leaned back and fluffed his pillow. “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

“No, probably not.” Bucky laughed. “Steve. Just put on your big boy pants and tell her how you feel, ok?” Bucky turned at look at him. “I’m telling you, that red dress means she’s all in and you just gotta let her know that you are, too.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

~*~

He caught her in the hallway outside her office, the building mostly empty for the night as she went to lock it up. She caught his eyes and turned, opening the door again and holding it for him to follow in after her. She shut it and crossed her arms, waiting silently.

He spoke after a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Peggy’s tone was flat.

Steve nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Yeah, I—” He looked down and then back up, earnestness written on his face. “I’m bad at this. You were right, when you said I don’t know anything about women.”

Peggy looked away and then back. “I often am.”

He nodded gain, taking a breath. “She kissed me, Peg, and I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

Peggy fought hard to avoid laughing. She might not be so quick to amusement if she hadn’t heard Lorraine’s side of it this morning. “So, you kissed her back?”

He cringed, knowing the words that were going to leave his mouth were the truth, but not what she wanted or needed to hear. “Yeah it—it seemed rude not to.”

Peggy did laugh, then. Big, loud guffaws that she couldn’t hold back. “You kissed her back,” she asked through the laughs, “because you didn’t want to be rude?”

Steve couldn’t help it, his eyebrows wrinkled and he shot right back at her. “Hey! I’ve never had a girl grab me by the shirt and kiss me before! I didn’t know what the protocol was!”

Peggy couldn’t help but keep laughing. “Protocol? Proto—” She chuckled, the laughter finally settling down. “You push her away and say no thank you, Steve.” Peggy took a deep, high breath, still letting out little twitters as she gained control over herself.

Steve, however, was still incensed. “Peggy, it’s not funny.”

She tried very hard to not laugh again, breathing in deep through her nose. “Oh, yes it is.”

He stepped forward, getting closer to her. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

She cleared her throat and stood tall. “Yes, yes. You’re…” She took a deep breath, then had to bite her lip again. “You are. Yes.”

“Peggy,” he reached out, taking her hands, and he caused her breaths to stop and her to bite her lip in a different way. “I don’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. What happened was a mistake and I’m sorry you saw it, but… I don’t want to kiss anyone but you. Just you.”

She started breathing again, her eyes bright and holding his gaze. “Steve…”

“You’re the right partner, Peggy. I just… I didn’t think someone like you could be interested in a guy like me in a million years. But when you showed up last night in that dress…” he drifted off, eyes glazing as he remembered and smile blooming on his face, “Well, Bucky says I’m an idiot, but I’m an idiot who got the hint.”

She smiled brightly. “It was quite a large hint.”

“I’m… bad at this,” he confessed, squeezing her hands gently. “I don’t have a lot of practice and sometimes you’re gonna have to just hit me over the head with things.”

She took a deep breath and puller her hands away, sliding them up his arms to his shoulders. “Then let me hit you over the head with this. I don’t want to kiss anyone but you, either. And I’ve felt that way for quite a long time. Serum or no serum, soldier or dancing monkey.” She let her hand play over his collar as her demeanor turned hard. “But I’m no fool, Steven, and if you’re serious, as I am, I won’t aim at the shield next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he replied quickly and seriously, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her close.

Peggy smiled just a bit, looking into his eyes, hopeful. “Promise?”

He smiled back as her hands slid around his neck. “Promise.” He lifted one hand, letting it push a strand of hair back behind her ear. Their breaths mingled for a long moment, and Steve spoke quietly, a half-smile on his face that Peggy couldn’t decipher. “So, does this mean that I can kiss you now?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you don’t, I shall have to really hit you over the head.”

He moved almost before she finished speaking, slanting his warm lips over hers. It was mere seconds before she was melting under his kiss. A little unpracticed, a little unsure, but what he didn’t have in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. If she’d had any doubts before, she knew now: he hadn’t been lying, he didn’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. Steve wasn’t just a fine kisser, he was a lovely kisser.

And now, he was all hers.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

[soraegeeks]

Review: Fire in the Blood

Fire in the Blood by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)  AU: Fantasy Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Main relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto; Katsuki and his harem of  spouses Status: Ongoing Rating: Explicit

Official summary:

For the first time in his life, Shouto Todoroki thinks he might be happy. Freed from his father's rule by the hand of his husband and now king, Shouto finds himself swept up in his lovers' embrace, the impending threat of a powerful necromancer and his undead pet with a grudge little more than a distant anxiety easily ignored for the miracle that is being loved by Katsuki and Izuku, and watching them love each other. But, as he feared, such happiness can't last. 

The Todoroki kingdom has fallen, sending its monarchs retreating to the mountains for shelter and aid. With the Todorokis unseated, Katsuki finds the threat of war on his eastern border more dangerous than ever before. A mad man has taken the Todoroki kingdom and he won't rest until the whole world lies broken at his feet. Tomura Shigaraki must be stopped, but the new alliance forged between the barbarian conqueror and the disgraced flatland king is tenuous at best. As tensions mount, Shouto finds himself trapped between two levees-- on one side, his kingdom, his blood, and his legacy, on the other, his lovers, his home, and the family that made him theirs. And he has no idea where he will be standing when the floodwaters break.

Hello kids, today's review is another fanfic by EllaBesmirched. (I need to figure out another name for my readers but that’s a problem for another day LOL) Fire In The Blood, also known as ‘Todoroki Shouto Can't Catch a Damn Break’ or ‘Welcome to the Fucked-up Todoroki Show’, is the sequel to Elle’s other work Fire in the Mountains. Check out my review of that fic if you haven't read it before or need a refresher. 

Let me start by saying that I have no idea what it is about Ella’s writing but EVERY TIME I sit down to review her stuff I end up with pages and pages of notes. I have 8 damn pages of notes in my notebook for this review alone. Insanity. LOL

The story opens on a beautiful Spring day where Katsuki and his extended family are enjoying a picnic. It’s peaceful, it’s fun, and then Shouto gets the surprise of his life when his birth family appears. The Todoroki Kingdom has fallen and the Todoroki family, along with Hawks and the Iida siblings, have fled for their lives. When your birth family unexpectedly shows up on your doorstep you know there’s a shitstorm brewing.

I drew this polycule diagram so I could explain this story to my husband. The look of confusion on his face tickled me so much and I knew I had to keep it and add it to my review.

Intimacy growth

As the story starts it’s been about a month since Katsuki and Shouto’s joining ceremony. About a month since Shouto started being intimate with Katsuki and Izuku. Touching is still a big thing for Shouto and he probably would have burned Hawks when he touched his shoulder in chapter 1 had others not been around. He almost freaked out when Mina, Kiri, and Denki wanted to more intimately touch him in chapter 2 but he seemed to be more open to platonic touching.

Like I mentioned in my review of FitM, between Shouto’s upbringing and his demisexuality, he's still working on wanting to be intimate and accepting that it's okay. And that there are different levels of intimacy that he's learning with Mina in chapter 1, Denki in chapter 9, Kiri in chapter 5. 

Chapter 5 was all-encompassing in my brain. I'm overwhelmed (in a good way) about Todoroki and Kiri connecting. Kiri helped Shouto open himself to other types of love. Like Katsuki said in a previous chapter, Shouto was caged in his upbringing. He wasn't given the room to learn human interaction. So when Shouto finds Kiri in their room, they have a mutual understanding. They both have broken familial relationships and a mutual connection with family members hating Katsuki. Shouto let Kiri in and learned more about himself and Kiri helped him see that it's okay to want sexual pleasure and not just “need” it. And Kiri was able to receive pleasure and not be treated like a sex toy in the way that others have treated him. It was beautiful how they connected and I loved that Kiri called Shouto his "soulmate’s soulmate.” They strengthened and developed another bond and that’s especially needed in a poly family.

Shouto had so much growth in chapter 9. The fact that he finally feels like he belongs and he was able to act on more of his desires. Being able to indulge in a dominant role with Katsuki, sexual activity with Denki, and acknowledge that he sees something in Mina and Ochako. His younger self would never have seen 21-year-old Shouto this way LOL. I read Shouto as having a “power” kink. He was always under Enji’s thumb but taking everything he learned from his experiences with Denki, Kiri, Katsuki, and Izuku, and even listening to Ochako were power-ups for him. Baby Dom in the making! Speaking of experiences, shoutout to Izuku for topping from the bottom. Whoo.

I feel bad for our poor baby Shouto. He’s still burdened with feeling ashamed about his scars. And he realized that he never asked Izuku about his scars because he assumed that Izuku had the same shame. Forgetting that scars are celebrated in the Outlands. Someone help the baby’s self-esteem!

I related to how Shouto reacted the first time he spoke with Hitoshi. After growing up in a cage and never having anything that was just HIS (not his feelings, not his thoughts) I’d feel violated and freak out, too. I don’t like people in my head and I’d never want someone in my head uninvited. Thankfully, Hitoshi's interaction with Denki put Shouto a little more at ease. I like Elle’s interpretation of Hitoshi as a mystic and his quirk as the magical ability to read thoughts/see emotions. 

I found the references to Katsuki periodically taking a submissive role very interesting. While he’s comfortable during the act, Katsuki wasn’t so comfortable letting other people know. In chapter 1 he was uneasy when he, Shouto, and Izuku were talking about it out at the picnic and again in chapter 9 when Denki barged in on him and Shouto. Ochako's "domineering" qualities were referenced a few times and I love it. It's a recurring theme we also see in FitM and in the side story where Katsuki seems afraid of her and yet intrigued and turned on.

Family

Shouto is learning, growing, and trying to balance his newfound family with what he feels he ‘owes’ to his birth family. At first, he didn’t want to ‘traumatize’, his sister and brother about his family situation, but then he said, ‘fuck it’ LOL. He “realized politics and formality could take a flying leap for all he cared.” These are his loves and everyone will have to accept it. (Note that I DO include Izuku as one of Katsuki’s spouses. I know that he technically isn’t but he’s Katsuki’s first love so that counts for me. LOL)  Shouto’s wedded family were very welcoming and looked to include Shouto’s birth family. Katsuki, in a totally Katsuki way, set the tone by telling Shouto’s siblings they shouldn't refer to him by title. “Nah, fuck that shit. Don’t highness me, I don’t play that bullshit with family.” And of course, Denki runs with it to flirt with Natsuo. I cackled when Shouto threatened him to behave, “I will freeze you to your seat, Denki, I swear it.” Katsuki, again, showed how much of a sweetheart he is when he made sure that Rei had her favorite foods during the Equinox celebration.

The burial ritual was beautifully described and I was so tickled by the narrator’s voice, “it was not, in fact, mostly the same” Shouto was exposed once again to a different tradition that he ended up liking better than the one he was raised on. There was such a sense of warmth with the spouses and extended family. And we got some introspection with Katsuki thinking on how he’d like to die.

I love Shouto’s little trio with Izuku and Katsuki. Their interactions tend to be a combo of chaos and insanity LOL. When Katsuki wants Shouto’s attention he has no problem bumping Izuku out of his way.  “Katsuki reached back and shoved Izuku with his palm across Izuku’s face without moving away from Shouto at all” Like, sir, what?! LOL In pairs they like to tease the other and Izuku is a little shit cause he repeatedly teased Katsuki for liking to be dominated. And bless their hearts when they get into an argument. "We shouldn't yell at each other." Katsuki and Izuku’s baggage makes Izuku nervous but they’re going to have arguments. Katsuki has admitted to trying to be a better man so they’ll get through it. They can be serious and protective like when Katsuki and Isuku stood up to Natsuo because he was being very ‘Enji-like” in criticizing Shouto. And when it comes to Enji’s ass Katsuki comes at him with bite and Izuku meets him with his head raised like an equal.

Shouto’s relationship with his birth family is complicated as hell. Shouto swings from confusion about being relieved that his father was alive and Enji apologizing for not believing their warning about Touya to being pissed at his father for being an ass and asking why Shoto didn't fulfill his spy mission.

Shouto’s birth family members’ responses to his family situation were interesting. Fuyumi being “scandalized” but wanting more details, Natsuo being completely shocked and wary, his mother giggling, and even Enji’s utter disgust. Not like Enji has any room for judgment since he’s having an affair with Hawks. Hypocrite.

Shoto is in such a hard place of wanting to save and return the Flatlands to his family but being loyal to and choosing to follow Katsuki’s decisions.

I can’t speak about family relations without touching on the sadness of chapter 5. In which both Kiri and Shouto felt like they were on the outside. Upon the arrival of the other tribes, Kiri’s facing heartbreak that he’s shunned by his birth family, and Shouto is feeling distant from his. And can we take a moment to address the fact that after all of the spouses grow old and die, Kiri will have to return home? 😞

On a lighter note, is Ochako pregnant with the first baby of the extended family?! 🤔

Shouto’s Childhood

This is such an ouch section. From Shouto’s POV, he's always felt that Touya was unfairly treated. From the moment he learned that Dabi was really Touya he just knew that Dabi was a twisted version of his brother.  But maybe as the youngest, his brotherly image was skewed and he didn't see the real things that happened. 

“And he died before you were. Old enough to figure out if he was worth it.”

Shouto learns from multiple people that Touya was cruel and cared little for other people. Natuso told him that Touya had kidnapped him and took him to a dangerous place an hour away. Not the garden where his 5-year-old mind remembered playing and learning fun magic. 

“He took you to the labyrinth,” Natsuo said again. “He didn’t tell anyone. You were gone for almost a day.”

And his mother, OH MY! To learn that his mother’s mental state was so wrecked that she confused him for his dead older brother and burned him. Heartbreaking. Something that I've been wondering, I don't think that Shigaraki just randomly picked Touya. I'm starting to think that when Touya started dabbling in necromancy they knew each other before his execution

“They didn't believe me when I said he had evil in his heart. Not all the time, of course. Loved his mother, loved his brothers, loved his sister. But. Sometimes. Enough. Set a servant girl's skirts on fire once, when she moved... something of his. Poor girl had a burn on her leg the size of my hand and I. Well. A mother does what she must. I didn't want to, but he needed to know. Know it's not nice to burn someone. Know what it felt like. Before he really hurt someone, you see. Your father was so angry he took my tea kettle away.”

Perceptions of Katsuki as King

There are conflicting views of Katsuki as king. Shouto, from an inside perspective, says that Katsuki is a good man and a great king. (I find it interesting that Hawks says that good men can't be kings.) 

Lady Ashido and the Kaminaris raised a fuss about their kids not being at the meetings assuming that Katsuki thinks they are too weak and he's been tricked by Shoto the  "doxy" (a new word for my commonplace book) and Izuku the usurper. In truth, Katsuki just worries about keeping his spouses safe and happy because he loves them. I cheered Shouto on when he snapped at Lady Ashido.

Izuku warns Shouto that the generals don't have undying loyalty to Katsuki because he conquered the other chiefs and collected the chiefdoms. And that there are snide remarks that he didn't take the chiefdom from Izuku. Tarloh acknowledges that he does have talent, “Man’s a tactical fucking genius. Brain of a king. Heart of a warrior.” They just think that he's young and idealistic. For Katsuki, though, he’d rather be that than anything else. 

“We’re all fucking naive idealist bastards and I’d rather be a fool on a throne with my family beside me than wise and alone and powerless.”

HAWKS

What can I say about Hawks really?! There were so many allusions Elle left throughout the whole story that there is more to Hawks than anyone knows. In Chapter 2, Shouto notices that it is very odd that somehow Hawks hid behind Enji’s bulk when there should not have been a way for that to happen.

What is it about Hawks that really sets Shouto off but no one else?? Shouto is so disturbed by him but no one else sees it and they think Shouto just finds him attractive which he does but there's just something about Hawks that unnerves him. Hawks does a lot of things that don’t seem to make sense. He’s more open with Shouto and seems to hide less of himself when they’re one-on-one but he speaks in riddles. Shouto is the only one who ever sees Hawks’ slight facial or body twitches. 

The quote “he’d seen exactly what Hawks had wanted him to see” says a lot about him. Hawks only does things that benefit Hawks and I sort of wonder if he was so purposely so loud while having sex with Enji.  Shouto remembers in the past that Hawks appeared out of nowhere or was more visible in places than you would think a spymaster wouldn’t.

At the same time, the one person who SHOULD get a read on him can’t. His mind is completely blank to Shinsou and he tries multiple times. All of the sneakiness comes to a head in chapter 11. I won't give that away because it deserves to be experienced in writing. 

I will end this by saying that chapter 11 left me screaming. I felt like this is why we can’t have nice things! LOL (If you’ve already read the chapter and want to talk about it PLEASE hit me up. I need to scream with others! LOL) Shouto’s gonna be a badass ruler when this is all over. If they all make it through the coming storm.

[pandemonshq]

Welcome, Nicky, please grab your stake on your way to your tumblr to play Draco Malfoy here at Pandemons. I think it’s no surprise to you that we adore your Draco: the marriage of convenience that still highlights the importance of family that every “good” Malfoy has, the Vampire Hunting, the fact that he’s still himself after all these years. ..

And, of course, your request for Alexander Skarsgård --present Fc and Austin Butler--past FC have been accepted.

Nicky’s application is being posted early due to her work on the game to get it up and running, and the relevance of Draco to the larger game plot. While Nicky is not a mod, her assistance made this game possible.

Out of Character Information

Name: Nicky Preferred Pronouns: she/her Age: over thirty O_o Timezone: EST Activity Level: Medium. I co-admin and participate in another roleplay, so depending on what is going on there in conjunction with the regular inconveniences of real life I may not have time to post responses every day, but I have absolutely no concerns that I will struggle to meet and indeed should regularly exceed the minimum requirement. I usually find Draco quite easy to write!

In Character Information

Character's Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy Bloodstatus: pure-blood Birthday: June 5, 1980

Gender and Sexuality: Transgender male, panromantic sex-positive asexual

Gender: 

Draco was six when he informed his parents that he was going to grow-up to be a wizard like daddy, not a witch like mummy. It took them a little time to be certain that their child really understood and meant what he was saying, but once they were convinced, his parents sprang into action to support their son: Lucius didn’t just contact the Daily Prophet to have an adjustment to Draco’s birth announcement printed, he took out a full-page ad. Narcissa sat her little boy down and poured-over lists of constellations with him to find what his new name would be (not that it took Draco long to select his -- “I can be a dragon? I want that one!”). They threw-away and purchased an entire new wardrobe for him (although it had never been the ribbons to which Draco had objected) and anyone who wasn’t quick enough to adjust to Draco’s new name got a painful hex for their lethargy (including Abraxas, once). It wasn’t so much acceptance that Draco got from his parents as adoration -- in all aspects. He was perfect; he could do no wrong. 

It wasn’t until he arrived at Hogwarts that Draco discovered that not everyone saw him through such idealized spectacles -- nor thought gender was as simple and straightforward a thing as the contents of a cauldron. For Draco, gender might as well have been synonymous with genitals, and swallowing a weekly dose of potion was all it took for him to go from girl to boy. The matter was closed...only it wasn’t. There were some people who thought the subject had far more nuance than that (one of the few subject on which he didn’t need losing a war to improve, at least) and then there were those who thought it had far less; who thought that there was no such thing as change. For the most part, they seemed to have come by those ideas from Muggle sources, which made both them and their words easy to dismiss -- mostly. Even a boy with as much blistering self-confidence (arrogance) as Draco is apt to find adolescence an uncertain, confusing time, and he was no exception; some barbs hurt even when you’re certain you don’t care. Having his dueling prowess questioned, his fashion-choices derided, his Quidditch skills discounted…all the things that, to Draco, meant masculinity. Not that witches couldn’t be great duelists or Quidditch players or fashion-plates, too; but Draco’s ideas of how to be a man were all modeled on his father. So to excel at “being a wizard” meant, for him, excelling at all the things at which Lucius excelled. (He was also always rather touchy about his name. He’d picked it himself, after all. It was the best name. His mother had said so!)

These days, Draco is far too used to simply being taken for a wizard to fret; it’s not as though he regularly goes around socializing with backwards-Muggle-thinkers, is it? (Not that all Mudb--Muggle-borns are backwards-thinkers! Some of them have done quite well at getting over their upbringing, and are quite indistinguishable from other wix now! He’s not bigoted anymore, you know!) He no longer focuses on mimicking his father in order to be a “proper” wizard -- in part because he’s grown more comfortable with himself as he grew-up, in part because exposure to the world beyond the immediate circle of his parents taught him that there’s more than one way to be a wizard, in part because an ex-Death Eater has more difficult things with which to grapple...and in part because the pedestal on which Lucius once stood in his son’s eyes has sagged a bit. Now instead of trying to trace anyone else’s footsteps, Draco is simply himself -- and learning to live with that was hard because of his choices and his mistakes, not his gender. Having anyone question his masculinity now on the basis that he takes a periodic dose of the Attisgalli Corrective Draught to maintain a physical form that suits his inner self would be less outrageous than baffling.

*NOTE: Draco is likely to express things about gender in outdated terminology because of his unfamiliarity with the Muggle world. However if this would make anyone uncomfortable please let me know (on-anon is fine!) because I will happily compromise a fiddly little bit of world building for the sake of my fellow players’ comfort!

Sexuality: 

Perhaps the one area in which Draco actually disappointed his father: he’s just not interested in sex. He doesn’t have anything against it; it’s just not something that motivates him, not something he thinks about unless someone else brings it up first. (Sort of like beets. He has no objection to eating them, and sometimes they can be genuinely delicious, but he’s never gone out of his way for a serving of beets.) That disinterest is what killed his relationship with Pansy (well, that and the fact that Draco had no idea they were dating in Pansy’s mind!) because all her offers and innuendos passed right over his head; he tends to take physical affection on face value and flirtation registers to him as simple banter. Lucius “blames” himself, lamenting that it was his distraction and absence at a crucial stage of his son’s development that left Draco’s “interests stunted.” Draco doesn’t understand the fuss; he’s perfectly happy the way he is and, frankly, given the vast drop in social popularity that the Malfoys faced after the war, it’s probably just as well that his interests are “stunted” because his prospects certainly were.

Former Hogwarts House: Slytherin -- sorted nearly the second the hat touched his head because of course he was, he was Draco Lucius Malfoy, last heir to both the Malfoy and Black families, and the scion of two of the purest lines in all of magical Britain and absolutely guaranteed to do great things!

Infection:

( No. Although I think it would be a fun potential plot to have him be infected either temporarily or permanently later! Actually I feel like “temporary infections” should be a regular effect of his vampire slaying efforts, since he’s likely to be exposed through that! )

Faceclaim: Alexander Skarsgård--present. Austin Butler--past.

Short HeadCanon Topics (please provide at least one paragraph per topic)

Occupation (title and one paragraph explanation): 

None...technically. Malfoys don’t need jobs, after all, so it should surprise no one that Draco hasn’t got one -- and it’s not as though he’s in a position where he can dabble in politics the way his father (and his father, and his father) did, is he? No, Draco has no job, only hobbies...

Or some might say, obsessions. One, actually: vampires. Draco Malfoy is a vampire hunter, possibly the first proper vampire hunter in over a hundred years. There hadn’t been a need for any in ages; vampires and wix had learned to co-exist long ago. Vampires had never really been accepted as ordinary people -- but they’d been fashionably exotic creatures, not scorned like half-giants or distrusted like goblins. The Malfoys in particular had been happy to socialize with (and take the money of) vampires, particularly back in the day; after Voldemort’s firstrise it became less acceptable for pure-blood wix to associate with any groups of non-wix unless they were serving the Dark Lord as well -- and vampires never did. Even as werewolves let themselves be courted and giants agreed to be bought, vampires kept their distance. So the Malfoys drifted away from them...

Until now. Until Astoria’s infection.

At first, Draco’s sole focus was in curing her -- and he hasn’t abandoned that hope. But as time passed and all his best efforts came to naught, those hopes have dwindled to a sort of cold, shriveled desperation. He still brews-up the occasional draught; still pieces-together scraps of old spells in hopes that something, some day, will save her...but that’s not his sole focus any longer. For a long time after the war, none of the Malfoys looked beyond the gates of the manor to the world outside -- but Scorpius is out there, now. He’s attending Hogwarts, moving through the world. Someday he’s going to grow-up and want to find a place for himself beyond the manor’s walls -- and like Lucius before him, Draco is determined to make that world as safe as possible for his child. Unlike Lucius, it’s not the tenuous (and perhaps somewhat exaggerated) threat of Muggles that Draco hopes to stem: it’s vampires, and the ever-increasing rate of infection among the magical world.

For a long time, he’s been fighting this quiet war alone in the dark. Who was he going to turn to for help, after all? Certainly not the Ministry of Magic! If Draco Malfoy walked in their doors talking about the dangers of a group of non-wix, he’d be lucky to just be ushered-away with a lecture on prejudice! No, he’s had to do this by himself -- but maybe not for much longer? Maybe things have finally gotten bad enough for someone else to notice...but will they want Draco’s help, expert though he has become on the subject? Maybe it’s still better for him to go this alone.

Marital Status/Ships: 

(tl;dr - Draco loves Astoria but they aren’t together like that and fidelity isn’t a requirement of their marriage anyway; someone else would have to make the first several dozen moves before he would notice being flirted at, though! READ MORE)

Married to Astoria Greengrass. One might think it would be difficult for a lesbian witch to be married to a panro-ace wizard, but their marriage was never about romance. Yes, Draco very much considers Astoria someone he loves -- but what kind of love? Even he wouldn’t be able to answer that question, especially not these days. Astoria’s current state of vampiric infection makes her...strange. The guilt of not being able to cure her eats away at him too, and affects his every interaction with her. He’s an expert potioneer; why can’t he fix this? She’s his wife, why can’t he save her? His parents managed to keep each other (more or less) safe throughout two wars and a volatile Dark Lord; how could he be so inferior as to be unable to save his spouse from some stupid infection? An infection over which his mother initially wanted Astoria banished from the home, incidentally -- marking one of the few times when Draco has actually vehemently disagreed with Narcissa Malfoy. (One of the others was when he took the Dark Mark; he hopes that this doesn’t turn out like that but sometimes on the worst days, he wonders if his mother was right and keeping Astoria at home is dangerous -- possibly for their son!?) But infected or not, unclean or not, Draco knows he will always love Astoria.

That doesn’t mean he’s sleeping with her, though -- or that he wouldn’t sleep with someone else. Fidelity was never considered an integral part of a successful marriage in his social circles; indeed, a couple that spends so much time in one another’s beds as his parents do is the oddity rather than the norm. (Not that the two of them, especially Lucius, haven’t visited a number of other beds in their time, sometimes apart and sometimes together -- but Draco never found it nearly as entertaining as some of his friends back at Hogwarts did to talk about that.) A dalliance or even a love affair -- or a dozen -- on either his part or Astoria’s wouldn’t impact how Draco thinks about his wife or their marriage at all. Why would it? If he wasn’t something of a social pariah, he probably would have had a dozen little affairs by now -- but it’s not like he cares enough to miss the lack either (only even thinks about it when his father starts lamenting Draco’s lack of interesting experiences). It’s just the sort of thing one expects, that’s all. Of course, these days Draco’s a bit preoccupied, and hunting down vampires doesn’t leave a lot of time for dalliances...but if that leaves his bed a bit cold, it’s not something he’s ever noticed. 

MultiParagraph or Multi Point Topics

Family: 

Nothing matters more to Draco. Growing up, he idolized his parents and thought them perfect; his father was Draco’s model for idealized wizarding masculinity and Draco was determined to follow in his footsteps in every way. Even now, having been brought (quite painfully) face-to-face with their flaws and failings, he still adores and admires them. Not only did they always dote on him (maybe more than they should have) but during the war they proved over and over that they were each of them willing to die for his sake without hesitation -- something that was more than enough to erase any potential resentment he might have felt at having been forced into such misery by their choices. Yes, these days he knows that there are things they were wrong about -- but he still trusts their judgement in most areas, still values their opinion. Still loves them. They made it through a war together on the strength of that love; in these dark days, he still draws comfort from it.

The most important person in Draco’s life today isn’t his parents, though, or even his wife; it’s Scorpius, his precious son and only child. Growing-up in a house with four doting adults and little in the way of child companions meant that Scorpius’s childhood was never lonely but also did little to prepare him for peer socialization. He was always precociously clever; these days he qualifies as an unabashed swot and a distinct introvert. While he has the customary Malfoy sharp silver tongue, he substitutes defensive insecurity for swagger and brittle pride for arrogance. His recent appointment to Chaser on his house team has helped him build a few tentative bridges to his housemates, but his closest friends remain fellow Slytherin Albus Potter and Albus’s cousin, Rose Granger-Weasley. They aren’t the friends that Draco would have chosen for his son, but he has come to appreciate them deeply for the support and affection they offer Scorpius. (Even if Draco still tries to have as little to do with their families as possible.) 

Draco’s affection for his son was always torn in two directions: wanting to give him anything and everything that would make him happy, and wanting to raise Scorpius to be a better person than he ever was himself. The latter did result in more than a few lectures (much more than a few) but that didn’t mean Draco wasn’t still an indulgent parent and Scorpius did indeed receive just about anything he ever asked for, materially. Draco would give his son everything he wanted, if he could -- but even his best efforts can’t cure Scorpius’s mother.

Scorpius was only four when Astoria was infected; when Astoria changed. Sometimes she still seems like herself (less and less each year, though -- or is that just in Draco’s head?) and they can all pretend that everything is fine; others...well. Draco has explained to Scorpius many times that the things his mother thinks she sees aren’t real. (Probably.) That he shouldn’t listen to them, worry about them. And Scorpius says he understands...but Scorpius was four and she’s his mum. While he doesn’t tell his father, he secretly believes every word that comes from his mother’s mouth. He thinks of her less as a Seer and more of a prophet, different from everyone else’s mother yes -- but special-different, not worse. He doesn’t talk about those thoughts to anyone, even Albus and Rose (maybe it would be better if he did; maybe someone could explain things to him better now that he’s older) but instead he nods seriously at all his father’s admonishments and his grandparents’ words of caution...and then goes and listens to his mother anyway.

It probably won’t lead to disaster. His mother would never hurt him, after all -- never tell him anything she’s seen that might lead him to do something dangerous. Not on purpose, anyway.

Childhood/Hogwarts: 

(I’m going to go short on this part because A: I’ve rambled far more than I should have elsewhere and B: we know a lot of this from the books already, so if there’s any part of this I can get away with truncating to compensate for the rest, it’s this!)

Draco was a bully and a bigot and a brat; there’s no denying this. He was spoiled absolutely rotten, and it showed. He also genuinely loved his parents, and they loved him back, although perhaps not always in the most healthy of ways (see: aforementioned spoiling). He had a very good childhood, although school wasn’t as great as he’d expected -- for one thing, stupid Harry Potter didn’t want to be his friend even though he was clearly the coolest person in the whole castle, and for another this horrible Mudblood kept outscoring him in everything. (Potter even managed to out-cheat him at Quidditch every time!) But otherwise, everything was more or less okay -- until the Dark Lord came back, and it all fell apart. Draco went from being a pampered little prince to sobbing in the loo with only a dead girl for company; his two best friends stopped believing in him; Harry Potter nearly killed him; he nearly killed a lot of other people; and then when his favorite teacher finally got appointed headmaster it still didn’t make things better. In the end, despite all of Draco’s efforts he really accomplished nothing. He didn’t decide the outcome of the war; all he did was lose a friend and somehow make it out alive with his parents by the skin of their collective teeth, forgotten and ignored by everyone around them. In the end, he came to nothing and had to count himself lucky for it.

Post Hogwarts: (TW: brief mention of self harm, addiction! Also mentions of other characters that may-or-may-not be considered “game canon” based on discussion with whomever eventually comes to play said characters!) 

Draco knows he’s luckier than he deserves, him and his parents. By rights, all three of them should probably be in Azkaban...but they aren’t. The trials they faced at the end of the war were long, grueling, and humiliating (crying in front of the entire Wizengamot is not an experience that Draco recommends to anyone) and the worst part was that Draco spent the entire process certain that he was going to Azkaban; he only made the effort of testifying with as much honesty and detail as he did because he hoped that his mother, the only one of them not to take the Dark Mark, might be spared incarceration if both he and his father told all they knew. His parents were doing the same thing, largely in hopes of sparing their son from Azkaban -- but fortunately for the Malfoys, what they knew far outweighed what they’d actually done...mostly because they hadn’t actually accomplished much. (If Lucius’s crimes from the first war had been included, things might have gone differently…) Draco failed at just about everything he tried, Lucius had spent most of the war either locked-away or wandless at the Dark Lord’s side, and Narcissa had been “protected” from having to take much action by the combination of her husband’s shame and her sister’s enthusiasm. And then, of course, there was Harry Potter -- surprising witness for the defense. There was no love lost between Draco and his very first enemy, but Harry nonetheless spoke-up for the Malfoys: Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord, Draco had kept quiet when he recognized them, and Harry had seen through Voldemort’s own eyes that they had not been willing servants -- not by the end, anyway. Somehow, all of that had been enough to spare them…

At least from prison. Public opinion was another matter, so the Malfoys murmured their gratitude, paid their fines, and slunk away behind the walls of their mournful manor, all three of them -- and the house -- much reduced in pride and splendor. Draco spent the next few years wallowing in guilt and nightmares, repeatedly failing to carve the Dark Mark out of his arm, and worrying his parents. Highlights include: a short but bitter confrontation with Gregory Goyle at Vincent Crabbe’s tombstone (not that there was a body to bury, but tradition had to be maintained), a bewildering letter from Pansy regretfully breaking-up with him for the sake of her own future chances (had they been dating?), and a lengthy addiction to Dreamless Sleep Potion (he hadn’t even known you could get addicted to Dreamless Sleep, let alone that repeated doses made it toxic! At least he learned something interesting about potions in the process…). The last thing anyone expected was a wedding to brighten things up, but then again people -- Draco included --  had always underestimated Astoria Greengrass.

Draco, in fact, barely knew who she was -- just the little sister of one of Pansy’s friends whom he knew dimly from school. She certainly made an impression, though, going from introduction to proposal in less than five minutes. It wasn’t romance she was pitching, of course, but a more traditional sort of marriage -- an arrangement of convenience. Draco needed an heir to the family line, she wanted the comforts of wealth and the resources to pursue her interests somewhere no one would bother her (and with access to the right kind of supplies and resources, so she could avoid repeating her Aunt Pandora’s unfortunate fate). The Malfoys needed a dose of respectability, and the Greengrasses were solid middle class pure-bloods who had never been accused of more than peripheral brushes with the Dark Arts. They both stood to gain -- and outliers like Draco’s parents notwithstanding, wasn’t that what all successful marriages were really based on? Certainly in the world in which Draco had been socialized, they were; his parents had always been viewed with bemused confusion for how deeply besotted they were with one another. Marrying Astoria wasn’t an act of passion or romance -- but it made sense. What didn’t make sense to Draco was how easy it was to fall into friendship with the stubborn witch -- but he wasn’t going to complain.

He was happy, which wasn’t something he’d ever expected to feel again after the age of sixteen. And they had a son. Scorpius was the best thing that ever happened to Draco, far better than he deserved -- but he wasn’t going to complain about that, either. One of the many painful lessons he’d learned over the course of his lifetime of mistakes was how to be happy with what he had, and he couldn’t imagine anything better than Scorpius anyway. It wasn’t the sort of “perfect life” he’d anticipated when he was young and foolish -- but it was good.

Until it wasn’t. When Astoria’s magical tinkering left her infected with vampirism ten years ago, the happy illusion of a happily-ever-after fell apart. Draco dove into research, trying to brew a cure -- but nothing worked. He dug deeper, delving into all the family’s information on their pre-Voldemort vampiric connections and then branching-out, calling in the few family favors people were still willing to (or too scared not to) repay and exploring every shabby shop that dealt with the Dark Arts that he could find. He didn’t discover a cure; he did discover that Astoria wasn’t the only recent case of vampiric infection.

Current: 

Draco Malfoy never set out to save anyone but his own family. Unfortunately for Draco’s selfish nature, one of the things he’s learned over the last ten years is that the only way to save Astoria may involve sticking his neck out for other people, too. (Or maybe that’s just the excuse he gives himself. Maybe his pursuit of the vampires who are infecting his world, his home, is more about vengeance than salvation at this point.) That dosen’t mean it’s something that comes naturally to him, or something he likes.

Case in point: he hasn’t bothered to try and convince the wider Wizarding World that they ought to be worried, proactive -- because frankly if he did, who would listen? No, better to keep it to himself because that way at least no one is trying to stop him. Not that such a quest can be a solitary pursuit: one needs resources, information, occasionally even “allies” of a sort (mostly the sort that can be bought with money and favors, not loyalty). Fortunately Draco still has money and the one thing the Malfoy name can still buy aside from gold is favors and connections with those who walk the edges of the Dark Arts (and lower). Not that most of those favors or connections are as open-armed as they once were (turning your back on a Dark Lord and helping to testify against all your old friends so they go to prison while you go free doesn’t do much to endear oneself to anyone) but Draco doesn’t really care if people are grudging or reluctant or downright insulting so long as they do or give him what he needs. This mission isn’t about saving his reputation or restoring the family name; those wistful daydreams evaporated ten years ago. Now he doesn’t even waste time on the hope that Scorpius may be able to redeem their name enough to make a future for himself that isn’t overshadowed by the family’s past; these days, just keeping things from falling apart further is all he can ask.

Of course, he’s doing more than just sitting at home trying to hold his family together. Yes, he spends as much as he can with them -- his son, especially, although that happens less these days now that Scorpius is off at school for months at a time -- but he’s got his mission, too, which can keep him out of the house for days at a time (especially now that Scorpius is at Hogwarts, although with his parents living in the other wing of the manor even when Scorpius was young and Astoria was having a particularly bad day he didn’t have to worry about leaving them alone). There’s nowhere Draco won’t go in his pursuit both of the horrible creatures that are spreading this infection and the knowledge he seeks to cure it -- although it’s certainly easier to get around Knockturn Alley than the halls of the Ministry of Magic, for a Malfoy! He hesitates to involve his son, but on rare occasion he may even ask Scorpius to check something for him in the Hogwarts library, but doing so leaves him sickened at the thought that someone might see and wonder why so he ignores that resource perhaps more often than he should. There’s nothing else he won’t do in his quest, however...even knowing that he ought to be more prudent. It would be awful if the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were to turn suspicious eyes on him, after all -- but he can’t just do nothing, can he?

And maybe, deep down, there’s part of him who still thinks he can get away with it. After all, no matter how repentant he is -- how much he’s changed, how much the way the world views him has changed -- he is still, at heart, Draco Malfoy.

Plots:

#1. The Potters and the Weasleys -- and everyone else whom Draco called “enemy” (or “blood-traitor” or “filthy mudblood” etc) for his entire childhood. Where do they stand now? What happens when they have to work together? When they have to take his word for the things he knows, the expertise he’s accumulated? When he’s the one who knows how to save somebody, not them? When he’s the one fighting the “forces of darkness” while they sat back in ignorant safety as the world quietly shattered around them? Will they be practical about it, will they trust him? Will they be gracious or stubborn, convinced that there are some Marks that can’t be washed away? Will he be an ass? (Almost definitely -- but to what level?)  There’s likely been very little interaction between Draco and most of these people over the last twenty years -- but does that mean the mental scars have softened? How much infected blood does it take to clear away all the blood under the bridge that’s flowed between all of them? I’m looking forward to Draco having to face all the people he’s been avoiding -- and for them to have to (or refuse to) face the fact that this time, he might be on the right side...or is he? In a world where vampirism is becoming more and more common, at what point does a vampire hunter stop being a protector and start becoming the monster? Is Draco once again going to find himself -- this time with the best of intentions -- labeled the bad guy?

#2. Luna Lovegood. She’s more than just “another member of the D.A.” to Draco; she’s the girl who was locked-up in the cellar of his home for months, the girl he was forced more than once to torture. He never thought much about Loony Lovegood before then (she was easy to make fun of, sure, and he’d do so if the opportunity walked in front of him, but she wasn’t someone he was interested enough in to go out of his way to bully her -- he had better targets for that!) but she’s featured regularly in his guilty nightmares ever since. The fact that he later married her cousin just made things more convoluted -- although thankfully the Greengrasses and the Lovegoods had never really had anything to do with one another… Basically: I would love to explore some kind of dynamic with Draco and Luna! Has he been successfully avoiding her since 1998? Did Astoria invite her estranged family to the wedding? Do they run into each other in the shops sometimes -- Draco trying to turn invisible, Luna waving politely? Maybe he tried to apologize once and Luna made him squirm by shrugging it off -- oh well it’s not like you wanted to do it, is it? I could tell that quite well, you’re not a very good liar are you? Anyway, why would I blame you for what Voldemort made you do to me? That doesn’t seem sensible at all...why are you making that face? Have you swallowed a wrackspurt? -- and now every time he sees her, he tries to run the other way out of fears that she’ll be nice. Or maybe she’s not nice. Luna doesn’t seem the grudge-holding sort...but if anything were going to teach her how, surely the Cruciatus Curse would do it! Maybe she doesn’t wave; maybe she scowls until he slithers away, cringing in impotent repentance. Maybe he even tried investing in The Quibbler -- paying to restore the damage the Death Eaters and Hermione had done to the printing press and her father’s home -- as recompense, and Luna threw the money back in his face...or maybe he now, quite unintentionally, owns a “share” of The Quibbler. Something that Pansy and Blaise would probably never stop laughing about if they knew… I don’t know, there are so many options for what direction to take things with the two of them! I’d love to explore ANY.

#3: Infection. This one’s more just for “me” but I love the idea of still-rather-bigoted Draco Malfoy having to cope not just with the fact that his wife has been infected with vampirism (something he mostly did with a lot of denial and cognitive dissonance tbh) but himself, too. In his “career” as a vampire hunter, he must have encountered a few instances of contamination -- nothing permanent, nothing where the blood went both ways -- but temporary infections? Oh, certainly! I expect the first time absolutely tore him to shreds, emotionally. He’s Draco Malfoy. He’s the purest of the pure. How could he be infected? Inconceivable, insupportable! He’d never recover, never be the same -- only he did recover. And then what choice did he have but to keep going? Each time, I think he’s more sickened by the facts than he is by the symptoms themselves; by the fact that he’s been tainted by something impure. And each time he picks himself back up after and keeps going -- but eventually the toll is going to tell. (Either that, or he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that all blood-purity is nonsense, not just the idea that Muggle-borns have “lesser” magic.) Whether this breaks him down or builds him up better, I’m interested to explore this painful process of involuntary self-discovery!

Other:

Attisgalli Corrective Draught -- a gender reassignment potion designed for use by the entire Potterverse fandom. Offered here both as extra detail on what potion Draco takes, and for anyone else who might want to make use of it either as-is or as inspiration for their own creations!

+Fashion Headcanon: The featureless black school robes and ubiquitous pointed hats were a blessing to Draco, although he didn’t realize it at first; he’d grown-up used to his father’s flamboyant style of dress, and the dullness of the Hogwarts student body was wearying...until he started to realize that there were some wix who didn’t think it suitable for a wizard to dress like that. His father didn’t, wouldn’t have, cared; Draco found it a more troubling perspective. (Of course broad-shouldered, boisterous, assigned-male-at-birth Lucius’s masculinity had never been doubted by anyone; even those who despised him or dismissed him as a vain and foppish fool never thought he wasn’t a wizard.) The plain black robes were easier...safer. They didn’t require any thought; didn’t have room for any self-expression that might make a statement. On the one hand, Draco wanted to swagger into a room like his father would have, peacock feathers trailing from his shoulders and glittering gemstones in his hair, grinning in arrogant superiority...but on the other, he didn’t want to be teased for being too girly. (Not after discovering that that was a thing some people said about things.) His fourth year at school was the hardest: starting your very first day of classes by being turned into a ferret and humiliated in front of half the student body would have shaken anyone’s confidence. The fact that things were unsettled at home didn’t help; his father was more distracted than Draco had ever seen him before, and mother was little better, both of them fretting over the impending return of the Dark Lord and trying (and succeeding, then) to keep their son from thinking that would be anything but a good thing. Maybe if Draco had been more open with his parents about his emotional struggles...but he was at a stage of trying to seem grown-up. To prove they didn’t need to baby him anymore. (To prove that he was ready to help the Dark Lord, too.) So he kept quiet...and had them send him a different, plainer set of dress robes for the Yule Ball instead of the flamboyant, Lucius-approved concoction of dripping blue silk and pearl beading that he’d meant to wear initially. Draco felt safer in the plain (but impeccable!) black -- a feeling that never went away. Even today he prefers understated elegance, dark colors that don’t draw the eye; prefers clothing that is protective in its coverage -- high collars and tall boots (the sole concession he makes to modern fashions is to allow the skirts of his robes to sometimes lift enough to show calves and even knees, albeit always suitably clad in hose or tights or trousers; he’s not a barbarian) and of course: long sleeves. No one outside the family has seen past Draco’s wrists in over twenty years and, if Draco has his way, no one ever will.

[ehstarwar]

under thy own life’s key (5/7)

They were both mostly silent during the meal, reacting to their friends antics only when prompted. Rey could feel Bens' leg against hers under the table and if she weren’t shoveling food into her mouth, she wouldn’t have been able to resist touching him.

Teasing him, more likely.

-

Ben and Rey engage in a friendly competition to make the day go faster. (And also tease each other until one of them breaks.)

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Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: home stretch you guys... this was the hardest chapter to write but also my favorite so far, i think? lemme know what chu think babes. thanks for reading! enjoy (･∀･)

Chapter 5: makes heaven drowsy with the harmony

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Rey doesn’t feel Ben crawl back into bed that night, but she sure a hell feels him the next morning. He has her in his grasp again, his face buried in her hair and lightly snoring against her neck. His arms hold Rey to his chest, body flush with his and legs shuffled together. 

She also feels him. 

Hot and aching against the cleft of her ass. It takes a minute to realize exactly what she’s feeling, but when the realization crashes over her, her whole body shivers. Rey does her best to turn towards him, eventually having to lift parts of his body to turn fully over. 

“Ben,” She whispers against his neck. Her hands trace the muscles that stretch his shirt in a way that should be illegal. She moves her feet so they rub against his strong calf muscles. 

Ben grumbles something, not opening his eyes, but moving his face down to Rey’s and bumping their noses together. 

“Good morning,” She whispers against his cheek. Ben doesn’t respond, just shifts his face so their lips press together. The kiss is slow and warm, and makes Rey feel better than any kiss ought to. Ben’s hands come around her again, one to hold onto her back and another to kneed the swells of her ass. They make out like that for a good minute, not caring about morning breath or knotty hair, just enjoying the soft intimacy of each other. 

When Reys’ hand trails lower, gently tracing the outline of his morning wood, Bens’ breath hitches. 

“Rey, baby,” His voice is a whine, and that just makes Rey move a little faster. She dips her hand beneath his boxers, finding him so hard that she can only imagine how painful it is. Her hand immodestly goes to work, gliding up and down on his hot skin. Their tongues tangle together, neither of them breaking the kiss for even a moment. She feels Ben clench his muscles wherever she touches him, giving her a rightful sense of power. 

Ben moves his hand to come up from her ass and rub circles on her nipples that are hard and stiff against her sleep shirt. She moans against his mouth, hand moving even faster now. His thumb rubs at one, the calluses evident even over the fabric of her shirt. She wishes he would rip it off like he did to her underwear, toss it far across the room so she could feel his flesh against her.

Ben begins to mumble something against her lips, a warning, she can tell. She just shoves her tongue down his mouth and rubs his head with a little more determination. Ben’s whole body tenses when he comes, cock straining against her hand, overflowing with sticky white come. Ben is breathing so heavy  that Rey works her mouth across his jaw, nipping and licking everywhere let lips land.

His come coats her hand, a little dribbling down onto her thighs and spreading his warmth even further. Rey doesn’t feel the clenching need like she did last night after he came; the need to fall over the edge with him or she was going to die. His orgasm sends a ripple of pleasure though her, but doesn’t claw at her the same way. 

When Ben gets his breath under control, his mouth seeks out Rey’s once more. She still holding him, working out the last possible drop of come into her hands, feeling powerful and satisfied and adored, all in one. 

“REY! BEN! WAKE UP. YOU’LL MISS BREAKFAST!”

Poe’s loud shrill breaks the silence and Rey can’t help but be reminded of last night.

“I’ll kill him,” Ben says. “I will chop his body into tiny pieces and feed him to fish in the lake. I’ll do it.” Ben says with eyes closed. 

“Hux wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Fuck Hux.”

Rey smiles at Ben, watching the way she small stream of sunlight his his hair just right so it looks like a halo. On cue, her stomach rumbles. They both look down at her stomach before looking back up in silent agreement.

“Breakfast, then.” Ben says and Rey nods enthusiastically. “I’ll just… get a towel for you.” Ben gets up and walks into the bathroom quickly.

It dawns on Rey that this is the first time they’ve been sexual in broad daylight, with out the excuse of needing to get off to get to sleep. She doesn’t know why, but it feels like more. Probably because it is more. The made out last night after… everything, and this morning before they even started. Rey tries to think about what this all means, but Ben is back handing her a wet washcloth before her mind can begin to reel. 

She takes it with her clean hand, but when she goes to wipe her other hand, something stops her. She looks down, her palm covered in his now-cool come. She glances down to her thighs, seeing the white blob that landed there earlier still against her tan skin. She feels Ben watching her, so she decided to be bold. 

Rey licks her palm clean; every finger, every crevice, every joint. She sucks off his come before using the rag to clean her of saliva. Ben is still standing at the end of the bed, eyes dark and posture rigid as he watches her.

“I don’t need breakfast.” His words are a growl and Rey is very, very tempted to agree with him.   But another rumble breaks the silence before Rey can say anything, like her body is cockblocking them now.

“I think I do,” She tells him sheepishly. 

-

Breakfast is… an event. To say the least. 

When Ben and Rey finally came up stairs to eat with the rest of their friends, the tension between them had not shifted one bit. It’s like there was a looming force around them, making them move together, reach for the same plate, brush hands whenever possible. They were both mostly silent during the meal, reacting to their friends antics only when prompted. Rey could feel Bens leg against hers under the table and if she weren’t shoveling food into her mouth, she wouldn’t have been able to resist touching him. 

Teasing him, more likely. 

“We have to spend all day outside today, guys. It’s our last day of full sunshine before the storms roll in tonight. If I have to go home without the epic tan I promised my office mates I would have, I’m going to personally send all of you strongly worded messages on insta,” Poe says before popping a blueberry into his mouth. 

“How is that on us?” Kaydel asks, laughing at him. Poe sticks his tongue out at her.

“I don’t have an instagram,” Ben says, slicking up one of the wheat protein pancakes he bought for the trip. The only other person who dared to eat them was Phasma.

“Then I’ll send it to you via raven, Benjamin. Can we all just agree to make the most of today? Pretty please, for the blushing bride?” Poe bats his lashes at everyone and Finn throws a pancake at his face.

While a day lounging in the sun sounds wonderful after the incident yesterday, Rey can’t help but feel a little annoyed. She wants to stay inside. In her room. With her roommate. Preferably making each other come as many times as humanly possible. Maybe they’ll talk about what the hell this is. Maybe they’ll just fuck each other boneless. Rey selflessly prefers the latter.

A shared, exasperated look at Ben tells her that he wants the same thing. 

-

The sun is hot. The drink, once filled with ice, are hot. The damn water is hot. 

But all that heat is nothing compared to what Rey is feeling inside herself. Ben chose the tiniest, most ridiculously short-board shorts, that hug his taut ass just right, show off his perfectly toned long legs, and ride dangerously short on his adonis belt. Rey wants to fucking melt. 

When she’d seen the low blow he pulled when he emerged with that male-equivalent of a thong, she decided pull out the big guns. And by big guns, she means the practically non-existent white bikini that shows off more skin than she’s usually okay with people seeing. 

She thinks the look he gave her when he saw the white fabric bunch up in her ass was enough to get her through the rest of the day relatively smoothly. She was wrong. 

Ben, it seemed, was also up for a challenge. An actual challenge, that is.

“Volleyball?” Rey questions, looking up at him from her sunbathing spot that she’d subtly been flashing her ass towards him. Kaydel, beside her, pipes up.

“Ugh, yes! I haven’t played volleyball since high school!” Jannah, Zorii and Poe seem all equally enthused. Rey wants to slap the smug grin off Bens face. Or kiss it. 

Ben teams up with Zorii, Poe, and Hux (‘the celebrating couple must be on the same team.’) leaving Rey with Jannah, Kaydel, and Phasma. Rose and Finn were ‘taking a bathroom break’ for the last twenty minutes. 

Ben attached the net that he’d pulled out of god knows where at Kaydel gives Rey tips on playing.

“Weren’t you like, a super gym rat in college?” Kaydel asks when Rey eyes the ball with a tenuous expression.

“I run. And swim. On occasion, I enjoy a good barre class. But my hand-eye coordination is virtually nonexistent. I tried playing baseball once and literally gave the umpire a concussion,” She admits.

“Well, there is no bats in volleyball, so just… be careful.” Kaydel gives he a goodnatured pat on the shoulder before walking off to practice serving. Rey turns to glare at Ben, who still has that smug look which Rey can’t decide if it's off-putting or unbelievably sexy.

“You know I don’t have hand-eye coordination to save my life.”

“Yes I do.”

“So you suggested that we play volleyball because you want to see me make an utter fool of myself.”

“No. I suggested we play volleyball because I found a volleyball net in one of the closets. And because I want to see what your ass looks like when you jump in that… bathing suit.” Ben’s eyes rake down her body. Rey suddenly sees the… potential this particular game has.

  Only when the sun skins below the mountain tops that Rey realizes how long they’ve been playing. Well, how long she and Ben have been playing. Everyone slowly bowed out when they realized this competition was between Ben and Rey and that they each had a single minded victory to beat each other. 

“Guys, we need to head in! The bugs will be coming out soon!” Jannah shouts at them. Ben is detracted enough that Reys’ serve to Ben hits him square in the chest before bouncing off into the water. Rey doubles over in laughter, seeing Ben walk towards her with determination. 

“I swear… I didn’t mean…” Rey can barely talk though her laughter as she tries to justify herself. Suddenly, Rey is lifted from the sand, feeling two strong arms hoist her up. Ben carries her back towards the house, steely expression on his face. 

“I think this means I won?” She taunts, poking him in the chest. She’s rewarded with a low mumble that sounds like ‘no’ and ‘you wish’.

He carries her up to the cabin, only setting her down once there outside the door where her friends laughter drifts towards them. 

“Were going to eat dinner,” He says, the same determined expression still on his face. “Then we’re going to bed.”

“Okay,” Rey breaths. He pulls her inside then, practically dragging her to get her food.

“Are, uh, you guys hungry?” Finn asks as Ben load up both of their plates with militant precision. 

“Yes,” Ben replies, stoically. 

“Lots of volleyball. We’re both starved,” She tosses over her shoulder. Ben sits down at the dining room table and begins shoving food into his mouth like it’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

Rey joins her friends on the couch, trying to be a bit more casual than Ben. Who was now staring at her from across the room. She could feel his gaze all over. 

While Ben finished his monstrous plate in record time, Rey was going at a leisurely pace. Taking time to actually chew her food instead of inhale it. Listening to her friends and laughing at the appropriate places. She could physically feel Ben loose his mind. 

A hard screech across the hardwood floors made everyone turn their heads to stare at Ben.

“I’m going to bed,” He announced, eyes fixated on Rey. He stomped around the group and down the stairs, leaving the door open as a clear invitation to her. 

“The fuck in up with Solo?” Zorii asked. 

“Maybe he got sun poisoning. I mean, his thighs were super white. It’s possible he’s never been exposed to this much direct sunlight in his life.”

“He’s not a vampire, Kaydel. Plus, if he is pale enough to get sick by the sun, don’t you think I’d be sicker?” Hux defending Ben was still the cutest thing to Rey, even if she’d never tell him. 

“Well you and Poe spent enough time canoodling in the shade, so I think you’re safe,” Kaydel retorted, causing everyone to laugh. Soon enough, the conversation drifted from Ben’s unusual state and onto other things decidedly less interesting to Rey.

“I’m going to make sure Ben is alright. I’ll… probably be going to bed too.” Rey stands up quickly, suddenly very driven to get down to Ben as fast as humanly possible. 

“Tell Benjamin that I have plenty of Aloe if he needs it. And that ice baths don’t actually help,” Hux calls after her. She just gives him a thumbs up and closes the door to the stair case. 

By the time Rey makes it to their bedroom door, her heart is pounding in her chest. Would this be the night they talked about whatever the hell is going on between them? Would they pretend like they have every other night that this is normal? Or would Ben sweep her off her feet before she had the door opened all the way and make her forget her own name as he fucked her into the next dimension?

There was only one way to find out.

The door squeaks open and Rey finds Ben frowning down at her suitcase and reorganizing her clothes for her. When he hears her open the door, Ben’s head snaps up and his body is coming towards her within an instant. 

His lips find hers in a bruising hold, hands coming up to hold her head as his mouth pushes against hers. 

“You… took… too… long.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, his mouth not straying far from hers even to speak. He’s still shirtless, still in his abysmally tiny board shorts and Rey can feel his warm skin pressed against hers. She grips at his chest, runs her hands down his back and across his arms, anything just to feel him. 

Bens’ legs are shoved between hers, pressing his thigh against her as he continues his assault on her mouth.

“You just… gonna stay here… and kiss me all night?” She teases him, voice airy and light. Ben works his mouth down her jaw to her throat, chest, stomach, until he bends down and picks her up by the legs. 

“You’ve got to stop picking me up, Ben!” He deposits her on the bed, standing back now, bathed only in the light coming from the bathroom. She can see his erection in his board shorts, so she traces her foot along the length of him. She sees his jaw work and his neck tense and she’s tempted to just stick a hand down her bottoms right there. 

“Rey,” He catches her foot, holding it in his warm hand, “I need you to tell me that you want this. Not to sleep. Not because you’re frustrated. But because you want this.” His eyes are filled with an intensity that she’s been exposed to quite a bit in the last few days. Her prior experiences with it do nothing to quell the nervous butterflies she gets.

“I want this, Ben. I want you.” 

Ben crouches onto the floor, kissing down her leg. He spreads her apart, mouthing at the juncture between her thighs. He gently takes her swim bottoms off her legs and tosses them away, before delving into her pussy. She’s wet, embarrassingly so, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth moves against her, pressing kisses against her folds and on her clit. She tangles her hand into his hair, same as last night, as his tongue licks strips up and down.

She’s mewling for him, bucking her hips until his palm comes around to hold her pelvis down. She clutches his hand where it rest on her skin, and his thumb rubs little circles into her. Her orgasm comes much quicker this time, probably a result of being kept on edge for the entire day. She moans his name as her body vibrates with the intensity, legs crushing his head in the process. If Ben minds, he doesn’t mention it.

He soothes her, pressing light kisses up her cunt, nuzzling the brown thatch of hair between her legs, teasing his tongue up her stomach to come circle her nipples. Somehow, Rey had managed to pull off her bikini top (not that there was much to pull), so she was laid gloriously bare before him. 

When her breathing returns to normal, Ben speaks again.

“Every time you’ve come, you fall asleep right after. I don’t intend on letting you do that tonight.” His voice is deep and menacing and Rey thinks she could come just from the vibrations it makes against her skin.

“What do you plan on doing about that, Solo?” She taunts. 

Suddenly, Rey is being hauled further back on the bed, with Ben coming to lay over her. His mouth is sucking at the skin of her neck, no doubt leaving enormous hickey’s that she’ll have to figure out how to cover tomorrow. 

But that’s Tomorrow Reys’ problem. 

Her hand trails down his torso, feeling his shorts are still on, but his cock crying desperately to get out. When Ben feels her hand on him, he quickly sheds the material, coming right back down to kiss Rey again. She tugs him a little, spreading the precome over his cock to lube him up. Not that he needs it, with the way Rey is dripping. 

“I plan on fucking you so well that you forget what sleep is,” He murmurs against her skin. “That you’ll never be able to sleep again without dreaming of my cock. Of me making you come so hard you forget where we are.”

Rey can only mewl at his words, clawing at him and trying to line him up with her. Ben partially obliges, moving his hips between hers, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down her pussy. Rey tries to move her hips to force him  in her, but Ben is in control at the moment. 

“Please, Ben, please. I need this… I need you, please…”

He pushes into her slowly, like he’s savoring every moment her tight, wet heat envelopes him. He’s big in her hand but somehow feels even larger inside of her. It’s not painful, he prepped her too well for that, but fulfilling in a way that makes her toes curl. Like she was made for this exact moment for Ben to push into her. When he’s fully seated inside of her, Ben rest his forehead against hers. 

“Rey… fuck. You’re so fuckin… fuck, Rey. You’re prefect. Made for me. Just fucking perfect.” Ben is still inside of her. She’s not sure if its for her to adjust, or for him to control himself. Rey peppers kisses along his jaw, watching his eyes clenched shut and breath through gritted teeth. 

“So good, Ben. You’re so good. You feel perfect too, baby. Just for me.” She hope her words calm him, make it easier for him, but the growl that originates from somewhere deep within his bones makes her think otherwise. 

“I just need… a minute. I wanna make this good for you. Wanna make this last.” His lips are against her neck now, breathing hot breath onto her with every word. “Want to fucking live inside of you, baby.”

It’s another minute before Ben can move. Rey just cards her fingers through his hair, marveling at how his black locks can remain so silky even after a full day of sweat. His hand comes up to her jaw, and cups her face so that he can kiss her deeply, tongue going so far down her throat she thinks she might swallow it. 

His hips begin moving at a snails pace; sharp, shallow thrust that make her breath hitch all the same. He forces her thighs even further apart so that he can get deeper within her, nearly bumping her cervix. 

Ben’s thrust get more sure, move faster and harder. His cock brushes against a bundle of nerves that makes Rey see stars behind her eyes. It doesn’t matter if she’s just come a few minutes ago; she’s going to come again and soon. 

“You gonna come around my cock, baby? You gonna come for me?” Ben asks between kisses.  Rey just seeks out his mouth more, wanting every part of her to be connect with him as much as possible. 

Ben sticks a hand by where their bodies meet, rubbing at her over-sensitive, over-stimulated clit, until Rey is a babbling mess. She feels hot tears of desire prick at her eyes as her hand clutches Ben’s head down to hers.

“‘m gonna come, Ben. Please, I need to come,” She whimpers against him. Ben grunts something unintelligible against her lips, but feels his whole body begin to tense up. 

“Gonna come to, Rey. Gonna come in your perfect little cunt. You want that, you want me to fill you up?” Yes, yes, yes. Rey is beyond words at this point so she hopes the sloppy nodding of her head will give him the answer she’s so desperate to convey. 

When Ben’s thumb catches her clit and his cock brushes against that bundle of nerves inside of her, Rey looses her mind. She sees stars and feels warmth like she’s never known and hears the most beautiful sound in the world. Ben, mumbling her name as he comes and comes. His come feels so good inside of her, a warmth that she never knew she needed until right now. His body is tense as he releases, pressing their hips flush together so hard that she thinks they may never part. She’s okay with that.

Ben sags against her, nearly crushing her with his impressive weight, but Rey loves it. She’ll hold him against her forever if he’ll let her. 

Ben moves his head to kiss her again, softer this time. None of the hurried rush they’d experienced before. He’s still firmly inside of her, keeping his come warm and thick in her. She’s boneless and breathless and has never felt this high on ecstasy in her life. 

Ben’s lips break away from hers and he rest his forehead on hers, looking down at her with so much emotion Rey is not mentally prepared to decipher.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“I meant it. Everything I said.”

“Me too.”

They’re silent for a minute, content with just staring at each other. Ben seems to realize that Rey is essentially trapped under him, so he pushes himself up, slowly pulling out of her. The rush of fluids that Rey feels escape her makes the flush in her cheeks deepen. Ben is staring between them now, watching their combined come trickle out of her.

“I probably should’ve asked this before but…” His eyes slowly ascend to hers, “do you take birth control?”

“No,” She shakes her head. Something flashes across Ben’s face that is not the fear she anticipated. “I’m on the shot.”

“Oh.” He looks… disappointed? Maybe not quite sad, but there’s a longing in his gaze that Rey isn’t used to, but thrills her all the same. 

“That was a very good way to keep me from falling asleep,” She says, not nearly prepared to talk about that subject. She doesn’t even know where they stand. 

“Is that your way of telling me you’re ready to actually go to bed now?” Ben’s sheepish demeanor returns and Rey is thankful that he’s on the same page as her. 

“Not if you can think of something even better to keep me awake.”

Bens’ gaze darkens once more, and Rey knows that they’re in for a long night. 

[migleefulmoments]

Yes Abby I’m terrified of the truth but I never lie and your cool as a cucumber, laid back and lying through your teeth.

Competing with Trump, Abby is on track for telling 12,000 lies in the last 4 years. Ok, I didn’t actually count, but these two posts are so full of lies. I couldn’t let them go without comment. Even the Nonnies’ lies are all bullshit Abby has fabricated and spread to young kids like Nonnie #1 who told her mom a bunch of nonsense-her mom played along perfectly, adding that confirmation bias just like she was supposed to. The second ask was answered by Cassie but she’s just repeating Abby’s lies so it counts.  

Anonymous asked: I was talking with my mother about D and I told her just about (1) the day they met (that D doesn’t know), the (2) egagement ring (that she had a lot), the (3) algoritmo for the wedding and the (4) honneymoon and she already said that the marriage is fake. I understand people that Don’t believe in CC but believe that this marriage is real is beyond me

ajw720 answered:Who goes on a (5) group honeymoon with their work colleagues? Who has (6) multiple engagement rings in one year? (7) What newlywed cannot muster one kind thing to say about his bride? (8) Or marriage? Or talks about pooping exes when asked what’s changed since marriage?(9) Or turns his back to her in public? (10) Jerks his new wife off of him? (11) Gives her bitch glares when she touches him? (12) Doesn’t touch her hardly even engaging in PDA?  (13) Sells his wedding and releases it in its near entirety though he claims to be private?

The sham marriage is impossible to believe in.

Anonymous asked:Just thinking about how this mess all started. At the time I can see why they thought M would b a good fit. (14 she isnt’ a beard)  She HAD a career in NY. Music connections. $$ & she knew Chuck. How could that be bad??! Fast forward to now? (15) Yeah no one could have predicted her doing a complete 180. (16) This mess is all her and not playing the game the was it was intended. (17) She got greedy and (18) D is paying for it —big time. Sad cuz she has had a taste now so I don’t see her letting go. Thoughts?

cassie1022 answered: Nonnie, (19 she isn’t a beard) I honestly believe the ONLY reason she was chosen was because they could establish a connection pre-G/lee. It was a tenuous connection, at best, as she was (20) clearly his brother’s “friend.” Oh, and (21) she was willing to sell what little bit of a soul she had. (22) They’ve tried desperately to rewrite history, but the fact remains that (23) D hasn’t always played along as well as they would like. (24) We have the video where it appears he is being reintroduced to her and shakes her hand, (25) the interview where he stated he hadn’t been involved with anything or anyone as long as he had been committed to G/lee, and countless other moments.

(26) You’re not wrong in saying she hasn’t played the game the way they expected. It doesn’t help that (27) his idiot manager has allowed her to gain as much control as she has, but (28)  I’m sure they are in this together and (29) their goal is to make him look as bad as they can if he’s (30) going to have the opportunity to boot them out of his life. They’ve done a decent job setting it up that way, surprisingly.

The fact that she actually had a career at one point and (31) now essentially does nothing is just pathetic. She must not have any pride at all, (32) as she is willing to laze around drinking her days and nights away while publicly linked to a man that never stops working, in one way or another. I sometimes believe her only goal in life is humiliating him and making him look foolish. But hey, it must be true love. Why else would she call him D-bag on the night she went with his brother and his former sister in law to see him perform in his self-confessed Broadway dream role? Why his brother would sit with her in that theater after that is beyond me.

It’s just a (33) situation that went from bad to worse to total nightmare and for sure, D didn’t deserve this, he’s far too compassionate, kind, loving, and loyal.

33 lies in two small asks.  That’s pretty bad. If you were confident in your tropes you wouldn’t have to lie and exaggerate and create alternate endings for photos.  I’ve already debunked several of these tropes 

Is Darren Private? (X) 

Does he hate her? (X)

Rings (X) (X)

Darren’s contracts (X)

Is Michael introducing Darren to Mia on red carpet? (X)

CC misogyny (X)

group honeymoon (X)

Darren’s own words on his sexuality (X) 

Ricky (X)

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, Mak! We have accepted your application for your OC Eden Talbott (FC Summer Bishil). Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Mak

Age: 26

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CST

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): I will be available in the evenings on weekdays and whenever I can on weekends, also factoring in plans I’ve made with friends

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Eden Talbott

Desired FC: Summer Bishil

Character’s Age: 33

Character’s Species: Werewolf

Character’s Sexuality: Lesbian

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Eden has been a member of the Devereaux Pack since birth, raised to be a strong and dependable soldier alongside the likes of the Falcos and the Irvings. The Talbotts were unlike the other two families, however, in that they were painfully aware of the fact that their existence was truly a curse. Eden knew from a young age that witches were the cause of their furry existence, that it was a punishment and not a gift, and that being kept under the whip of the Devereauxs was something to resent, not be grateful for. Jakob Talbott, Eden’s father, had no qualms about making his opinion known in the pack, but at a time when the Falcos and Irvings were firmly under the heel of the witches’ boot he dare not do so as openly as he once may have. Talbotts, he always said, were quiet survivors. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open, only whisper truths at night around crackling fires, and the Talbotts would survive their slavers. It was with this knowledge that Eden trained, working harder to maintain strength and close bonds to give herself more ammunition if the moment ever came to strike back. When Keely Irving was gunned down protecting an Original witch and that witch dared run from the scene, Eden was livid. Wolf lives were meaningless to those they protected, simply cattle for the slaughter. It was not long after that when Jakob took it upon himself to tell Elias Irving the truth, that his sister had died for nothing, that there would always be meaningless death if these witch tyrants were to be obeyed. A rage sparked in Elias then, a rage that gave Eden a unique opportunity: everyone in the pack loved Elias Irving. If Elias wanted to change how things were, were to become Alpha and demand respect from the witches, Eden could prop him up and fuel his fire. Her hopes were dashed when Derrick Falco, good little witch puppy that he was, became the Alpha in Elias’ place. In response to this change, Eden did what Talbotts have always done best – kept her mouth shut and her eyes and ears open. There would be another opportunity, especially with all of the witches brought together at the Manor. Everything was slowly falling into one place, literally, and Eden only had to begin pulling at the tenuous threads that held the pack together. After all, why wouldn’t the new, young, impressionable wolves trust her? And the more of them she could bring to the cause, the easier it would be to topple Derrick’s throne.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Eden is first and foremost a strategist. She is simmering with anger and resentment towards the witches, but she is not quick to let that come to the surface. As much of a firebrand as Elias can be, Eden has to be the soothing balm to come after if they are going to succeed. On the surface Eden is calm and collected, a tenured wolf with more control than most, but at the end of the day, Eden is looking out for her own best interest. Perhaps that means manipulating younger wolves, pressing on the raw nerves of their emotions laid bare for her to pluck. Perhaps that means putting on a smile and opening her arms to any wolf that feels wronged or slighted, giving them a sense of purpose. Through it all, Eden is calculating with a resolve like iron and whatever closeness you think you may have with her… well, good luck finding out if it’s genuine.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Eden loathes the Devereauxs, particularly Brigid, and wants nothing more than to see them feel the kind of pain the wolves are put through on a daily basis. They don’t know, they could never understand, and their entitlement makes Eden want to scratch off her fur.

Eden is loyal to Elias and his gang simply because it’s the best means to an end. She will be a strong shoulder for Elias, a confidante, someone pulling the strings behind the scenes to help ensure his victory, but at the first sign that something may be going wrong or she has put herself in danger, Eden would just as soon leave him for dead – or anyone else.

Eden believes that Derrick is terribly naive and too soft to be a true Alpha. She will give him just enough respect to not be out of line, but she does not see how he can possibly believe what he says and also have the best interest of the pack in mind. Her mind could be changed on this, but it would take a hell of a lot of convincing.

At the end of the day, Eden wants respect and freedom. She does not necessarily think that all witches are unforgivable because she knows how a bond would benefit herself greatly, but she does not want to be a lowly guard dog for the rest of her life. She wants to be treated like an equal, respected for the power she possesses and what she can offer, and therefore would be open to differing alliances based on what would benefit her the most.

[bemused-writer]

The Cain Saga Vol. 1 - Forgotten Juliet

I’ve been wanting to revisit some series I’d read in the past and I’m starting with The Cain Saga! This review isn’t spoiler free at all, so keep that in mind when reading. For anyone new to the series, I’m just going to put a content warning for the series; the themes are rated “Explicit” although this review itself is not.

This volume starts out with a one shot mystery following a character named Ariel. He works at a flower shop and promised Suzette, an aristocratic woman, he'd bring her some primroses. Unfortunately, it's not to be: she passes soon after. Regardless, Ariel's not our protagonist. Cain Hargreaves is and we meet him this chapter through Ariel's eyes. Honestly, at first it's a little puzzling why we're seeing all of this from Ariel's perspective instead of Cain's but I believe this is so we get an idea of how the outside world views him before we see his own opinion on himself. 

He's mysterious and rather edgy and he seems to glorify in that because it becomes swiftly apparent that society’s opinion of Earl Hargreaves isn't very high--he's gone and missed Suzette's funeral, which appears to be a typical thing for him. She's also his cousin, so there's a family connection. In other words, his own family isn't terribly fond of him and expects this kind of behavior.

While this is enough to make it seem like he’s a bit questionable we also quickly learn grave digging isn't all that unusual for him either, which should give you some idea of how things are going to go in this series. 

He then proceeds to mock his aunt later, saying she was always horrible to Suzette. We're not given nearly enough time with Suzette or her family to verify these claims but considering Suzette has come back from the dead to kill her I guess it's safe to assume things weren't great between them.

The whole thing is swiftly revealed to be a torrid love affair between Suzette, Ariel's uncle, Miles, and a Miss Claremont. In other words, Miles was a cheater. But Suzette didn’t just wake up wanting revenge; her plan to fake her death made her mad as she was forced to contend with being buried in a coffin for hours.

Furthermore, Cain was in on the whole thing and was hoping to help her do it right, hence the grave digging. Also, he was the one who gave her the poison to help her fake her death, which is now being used to kill a bunch of people.

Insanity is a common theme in this series, especially when mixed with love, so it makes sense that we start with it right away. Pulling a Romeo and Juliet proved to be a terrible idea though.

After going insane, she starts killing people including Miles, her would-be Romeo.

But the really pertinent part of all of this (at least for Cain) is the revelation that Cain himself loved Suzette.

Love becomes a very prominent them in this series and the fact that the very first person we see Cain admit to loving is his insane cousin who stages her death for the sake of romance only to come back and kill everyone who did her wrong is, uh, telling.

So, the first chapter is honestly pretty straightforward but it gives us some information that is going to be crucial later on: Cain doesn't have a good relationship with his extended family, he's not a stranger to "forbidden love" (loving your cousin in a romantic sense was hardly uncommon in the 19th century but I still count it as "forbidden" here because she had no idea how he felt), he's associated enough with poisons that his extended family comes to him for help faking their deaths, and, while it's brief, we see he has a servant that seems to stick close to his side.

Honestly, I wish we’d learned a little more about Suzette. As it is we only know she was super determined and, according to Cain, always had to have her way. I suppose that gives us a basis for the kind of person he likes but not a great deal more.

And with that out of the way we’re moving on to chapter 2! This one starts out from Cain's perspective, so it already feels like a more "proper" beginning to the series. And one page in we see that Cain has some serious Sherlock Holmes tendencies:

Riff isn’t paid enough for this.

Anyway, Cain definitely isn't overly concerned with treating animals well (although he claims the hen will be fine) and his servant, Riff, whom we saw in the last chapter, is apparently already used to this kind of behavior and has all but given up on expecting things to be any different. He's definitely the Watson of the piece (except that he’s also a butler).

This mystery is another family based one--Cain seems to have a constantly revolving door of relatives. In this instance it’s his uncle Leland who asks him to look into a letter he received from his deceased daughter, Maddy, whom Cain admits to not ever noticing much.

The shadow in question was Bibi, his uncle Leland’s illegitimate daughter that he had with a prostitute and it’ ultimately Bibi that we see Cain really grow attached to. 

Maddy didn’t seem to think too highly of Cain after all:

And the feeling was apparently mutual.

This is an important scene for Cain down the road though because we eventually learn just how much he’s suffered in his own life. For him to say he can’t stand other people who wallow in self-pity it means he doesn’t allow it for himself either. It means he doesn’t allow himself to consider his own sorrow and that’s a difficult thing to maintain.

At any rate, while Cain has done a lot of questionable things in this volume so far, the one area he's shown to be chivalrous in is he doesn't take advantage of Bibi even though she’s a prostitute herself just like her mother. Even though he paid for her time he doesn't demand sexual compensation and instead admits their similarities: neither of them had parents who loved them. Bibi was never loved by her father, Leland, and her mother is cold to her as well.

This statement could have easily come from Cain himself. While the ultimate resolution of this particular story is one I'm unsure how to feel about, it parallels Cain's own life quite well, though we aren't supposed to know that just yet.

The twist of the story boils down to "Bibi" was actually "Maddy" all along and Bibi was the one who died and while Leland was contacted by his daughter it was a daughter who had been hypnotized by his ex-mistress to kill him for mistreating the real Bibi. And before you think Leland’s had it rough, he wanted to marry his daughter, Maddy, and that is why he stopped being a playboy.

...There’s a lot to take in there but we don’t have time to unpack all that but there are some tidbits of information that will be relevant later.

Maddy was an aristocrat who was forced to demean herself through prostitution just to survive and she had a father who desired her sexually. In other words, it was an abusive relationship between parent and child even though this element of the story doesn't really get touched on much. Maddy was also taken advantage of by Bibi's mother. The similarity is that Cain was also demeaned and abused by his parents and this is already being alluded to pretty early in the series. It’s also becoming apparent that it’s not just Cain’s immediate relatives who are problematic (something this volume has yet to even touch on really) but his extended family seems cursed as well. Is it a message about the aristocracy or just this bloodline? We’ll have to wait and see.

Another important element to this story is we also see that Riff is one of Cain's only constants in his life and that he supports him quietly but firmly. He doesn’t say anything accusative after Cain reveals he ultimately killed Maddy. He did it because it was the only kind thing left to do and it was at her own behest. It’s a cruel revelation: the only way he can be kind is by being cruel.

The third story is ... interesting for sure but unless I'm seriously missing something here, it doesn't seem to feature Cain at all...? I suppose one interpretation could be he was undercover years ago at a boarding school but that seems like it would be stretching it. Still, the themes very much fit in with The Cain Saga: failed attempts at immortality, the abuse of the weak by the strong, and things of that nature.

The fourth story also doesn't feature Cain at all but the themes of one person replacing another and fame corrupting fits in with the series. I would say more but, to be honest, neither of these stories give us a lot to interpret regarding Cain or the other primary characters in the series. In this particular story there’s a running thread of homophobia, which I suppose could be argued as fitting in with the forbidden love theme but I feel that’s a little tenuous at best. This is kind of an unusual thing to do in a series. I wonder if, originally, this wasn’t going to be about Cain but more of an exploration of themes? Hmm... With the fifth chapter we're back to Cain (and the 19th century...) and we're thrown in the thick of it right away with Cain accusing a man of killing his brother, and Cain's friend, Cleo. This is a very short story but it emphasizes that Cain is ... not always that kind, although ultimately he was trying to avenge Cleo. He tricks Orlando into thinking he has poisoned him (a legitimate threat considering we have already gotten it confirmed he's well known for poisons in general) and Orlando ultimately kills himself.

Once again, I would really have liked to know more about Cleo. How close were they? Later in the series it feels like Cain doesn’t have any friends at all but this points out that isn’t the case.

Riff hasn’t gotten a lot of focus this volume either but his quiet presence is notable in how it’s one of the few consistent things throughout for Cain.

Anyway, this is a bit of a rough start to the series but I actually enjoyed it quite a bit! The gothic vibe is excellent, of course, and the conundrums presented are interesting to sort through. Since it’s been so long since I read I’ll admit I’d forgotten a lot of details but I’m looking forward to relearning them. ^^ I hope to get a review up of volume 2 soon.

[absentauthor]

Too Attached: Part 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Chubby!Reader

Summary: You make a decision about Bucky and the presence he should have in your life due to your shared extenuating circumstances. An unexpected morning leads to changes at the farmhouse.

Warnings: None that I can think of. Cursing.

Words: 3600+

You had been staring at the ceiling so long you could've sworn you'd begun to see constellations on the white canvas above your head. 

You were restless, mind drifting. You wanted to fall asleep, you did, it wasn't healthy to mess with your sleep cycle while pregnant. You were growing a person; you needed your rest for it to have a good chance of coming out a healthy one. You tried not to consider how you'd gotten here, in bed, mulling over heartbreak. Odd as it was, you used to wish for it; heartbreak. 

At least it was a feeling. 

Something you could only experience at the hands of someone else. It was a connection, however tenuous, and it meant something to you, back when you were just a lonely girl who'd only ever been kissed. It had been a time when the nights grew long and lonely and your mind began to drift to a solemn, consuming place, that you'd always come to a certain conclusion. You'd never find someone who noticed you. You'd end up alone forever, adopting kids if you were able to and dogs if not. You'd never know love or romantic connection. Back then, you were certain you would never know passion, lust, heartbreak. . .love. Those were nights when you wished for it, any of it. But now it was all you had. Love and heartbreak. You loved the man who stepped onto that porch two days earlier, the one who's child was growing inside you. It was damning, it was wrong. You shouldn't love him. How could you when he'd treated your heart so recklessly? So recklessly, in fact, that he hadn't even realized it was his to hold. You wished that knowledge didn't stick with you; didn't pull you from bed in the middle of the night. Clint had prefaced his news the day before with a simple: I don't think you'll like what I'm about to tell you. You'd braced, winced at the sight of his blue-black eye. Nothing he said could have really surprised you, simply pushed you into something else you weren't prepared for. No level of research could prepare you for your none-the-wiser baby daddy punching the guy he thought was your baby daddy. "Got a call from my guy over at the Sheriff's station. Apparently some dude has been living in his pickup at the end of our road for the past couple of days and he's about to get towed." That had been a day earlier and you'd snuck to the window countless times since, peeking out the window every so often to see of you could spot the offensive truck. You could. A spot on the horizon that came and went every so often (you assumed for food) and parked most often beside the mailbox. Needless to say, you weren't the one to go to get the mail. It kept you awake at night. To the point where you'd paced the rug in Clint's hallway threadbare, and ate almost all the food in the fridge. The aforementioned man not too happy about his wandering house guest was easily calmed by a FaceTime call earlier that night with Natasha, your generous benefactor and his girlfriend. It was a call that ended up being enlightening for you. You'd been intently listening to Nat, who cohesively defended her choice in giving Bucky the address to her farmhouse. "Half-yours, according to my boy Clint here," You pointed out, gesturing to Clint with a flourish. His gasp had been soap-opera worthy, complete with a hand thrown across his forehead, "Baby, I would never! You own this house and my ass!" Nat rolled her eyes, a reluctant smirk evident in her pretty features, "I don't know why I ever thought putting you two in a house together could ever result in a serious conversation." "We can be very serious now that we're facing a very serious issue!" Clint pointed out, leaning back against the couch you found yourself frequenting when the last thing you seemed to be able to do was sleep. "Bucky's arrival and subsequent sucker punch?" You shut your eyes at Nat's words, bracing under the shameful weight of. 

Why he'd come here and what he had unfairly found out. "No," Clint deadpanned. "House-wide starvation at the hands of Pint-sized Preggo over here." "Rude." Your pout deepened. "Barton, Precious Preggo!" Nat had playfully snapped. "Focus!" Your collective focus came reluctantly, but when it did, you couldn't have known what she was going to tell you. "I can't say much. It's not something I can be the one to tell you, Y/N." "Why?" You asked, even though the answer was clear. "He was distraught when he found out you left. He knew he hurt you, he just didn't know he'd successfully pushed you out of his life." You shrugged, "It wasn't about him." "Come on,” Clint scoffed. "What?" "You have taken every child psychology class there is. I've seen you on all those clinic websites. I have seen you hide the books. Jeez, the way you listen to Dr. Montgomery. . .you're reading up on everything that can possibly happen to this kid. You already know what is good for them and bad for them to some degree. It is about him because shutting him out completely goes against everything you believe in when it comes to parenting." You wished that he hadn't seen all your research; the Romanoff-Barton coupling was far too observant once they knew a secret like that. You had spent years in school, years that involved a number of classes that you loved to take. Psychology being high up on that list. These classes had taught you many things, including what it meant to be a parent. Because a romantic relationship could crumble easily, but a parenting bond lasted forever. Not for you, not for him. . .but for your child. "You want to get this right, I know you do," Clint said. "So?" "You know it's not just about you and Bucky anymore. You have for awhile and that's good." "What's your point, Clint?" "Set rules. Do your obsessive planning thing. But give Bucky a chance to be a part of those plans. Because it's not just the two of you anymore and he deserves his part of the equation." "You don't have to be all lovey dovey with the guy. Just. . . co-parent." Natasha chimed in, "He took leave to go find you. Permanent leave, which is as good as quitting here. Fury is well, furious." You stared at him, then the computer screen. Why did you have to end up tag-teamed by the most cohesive couple in history? You wished it didn't matter to you. That you could see that truck and feel nothing, that you could know how much he was giving up and have it not matter, but it was impossible. The truck's apparent occupant held a piece of your heart and was half responsible for the pre-human taking up residence in your body. You loved your baby. You already loved your baby. So much so that you knew no piece of history could hold a candle to it's existence. No fling, no love affair, no heartbreak. Motherhood had always been a word in your vocabulary, an inevitability. You loved kids and always wanted them, making plans when you were young to adopt when were certain no one would ever love you enough to want them with you. You always thought romantic love would matter in motherhood and it was your mistake. Well, maybe an oversight. You were a young and unmarried woman, pregnant with a baby from the man who was your best friend. Despite that latter fact, you had no true commitment to him, apart from the baby. Your non-committal sexual relationship, your fractured friendship, the heart that seemed to ache every time you considered what would have happened if you'd never told him the truth? None of it mattered anymore. None of it was what truly stuck in your mind when you saw that truck. Because your heart may still beat for Bucky, despite every fact, but did not beat for him alone. It beat for your baby too, and if your baby's father was willing, you were going to give him a chance to be a part of this experience. . .no matter how wary you were of this conclusion. ____ Later that night, clad in a too-big sweatshirt and pajama pants, feet pushed into your bunny slippers, you made the walk down the long drive to the edge of the property. Towards that damn truck. Fueled by your restlessness and on-the-mend heart, you slowly approached the truck belong to the man who broke it. He was asleep in the cab of the truck, leaned across the front seat, head resting on a sweater. He looked uncomfortable. The fact that he was enduring it only made one thing clear. You sigh, resting a hand on your belly before whispering to your stomach, "Your Daddy is a stubborn mule." Said stubborn mule was in a deep sleep, but you couldn't allow yourself to let that fact deter you. You knocked on the passenger side window twice. Bucky shot up inside the cab, messy-haired and dreary-eyed. He blinked, rubbed his eyes. . .pretty much made certain that what he was seeing was actually real. You open the door and step into the truck, sitting down on the passenger side. "Did you walk all the way out here?" He asked, sleep still in his voice. "We do what we want, okay? Besides, this little cutie in my tummy is apparently very, very stubborn." "I can only imagine," he chuckled sleepily. "Probably just like their Mama." "Funny, I said the same thing about you." Silence falls between you. "You didn't tell me." "I tried," you replied softly. "When?" "Three times altogether," you admitted honestly. "Before you left on your last mission, for one." He was visibly crushed. He was exhausted. You could see it in his face, in the way he held himself. You wanted to comfort him, to chide him for not leaving. You had told him that, hadn't you? Maybe if he had you wouldn't feel the need to be in the truck at all. Maybe you'd be back in the farmhouse, reading over more articles online and trying to forget the man who knocked you up. It's not just you anymore. "I was wrong. I should have tried harder to tell you. I should have let you know what was going on despite what happened between us." He was silent at the admission. "This is not an apology. I don't have to apologize, but I thought you should know." He opened his mouth to say something, but for fear of it, you continued. "Bucky, we need to make this work. And to do so, we need ground rules."

He looked hurt. You wished it didn’t matter to you. That his blue eyes didn’t pierce your heart, weigh heavy on your soul.

"This isn't about us. It can't be," You stated when it felt like you'd crack. "We can't screw up this kid by making this about us." He surged closer to you, eager and hopeful, "No, I know. Doll, I would never--" You cut him off with a raised hand pressing against his chest. 

"No, understand this. No nicknames. No kisses, no sex. No relationship between us other than co-parents." Your heart was in crisis, screaming at your head, this is crazy. You loved him, god, you loved him. It hadn't gone away, not truly. You'd pushed it down and tried to deny it, but it was still beneath the surface and no set of rules could ever dampen the flame. But you had to do it. You had to. "We are going to do this for the baby. It's not about us anymore and looking back on what happened between us isn't going to benefit our child." You steadied yourself with a shaking breath in, "Understand?" "Yes, Doll I--" He shut his eyes, a silent correction. "Y/N. Yes, Y/N. I understand." The silence isn't awkward a second time. It falls seamlessly as you take a deep breath, hand subconsciously brushing your stomach. "Come on." You reached over and turned the keys in the ignition. The truck roaring to life. "Where are we going?" Bucky straightened in the driver's seat, eyes intent on you. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. "You're driving me back to the house. You're going to come inside, sleep on the couch, and apologize to Clint in the morning and thank him for not letting the county sheriff tow your ass after you gave him a black eye. But first, you are going to shower." You finish confidently, crossing your arms over your recently enlarged chest. "Because you smell." Bucky nodded. If he was trying to hide his amusement, he wasn't doing it very well. "You're also coming to my doctor's appointment on Tuesday." His smile was soft. Enduring. It spread across his face gently and you had to force yourself to look away before you gave in altogether. "Yes, ma'am." This wasn't going to be easy.   ___ Bucky woke up the next morning on something softer than his pickup's front seat. He recalled the events of the night before, how he’d never been happier to be ordered around by you. He'd have to thank Barton for picking this particular couch too, because he was sure he'd never slept on anything softer. Except, well, maybe you. He tried not to think about the mornings when he would wake up beside you, often finding himself half sprawled over you and waking to the sound of your sleepy giggle and followed with a 'get offa' me, ya big lug.' His already heavy heart was betraying him. He sat up and tried to push it away. He had a to-do list, after all. He'd showered the night before, putting on a change of clothes he'd kept in his go-bag which he'd been extremely thankful he'd thrown in the truck when he left the Compound. That item had been an easy one to check off. Sleeping on the couch? An item he gladly checked off. The only thing left on the list was to apologize to Barton. Bucky walked into the kitchen at the sound of a gurgling coffee maker, half sure it couldn't have been you. You'd always been one to sleep in, it was why you often scheduled your grad school classes later or took them online. You loved your sleep, it was true. Barton was pouring coffee into a mug, back turned to where Bucky entered the room. Bucky knew Clint was partially deaf, so he assumed he would be surprised to his quiet entering of the room. You know what they say about assuming. "Knew we had a new houseguest." Barton turned, holding up his own coffee mug, "Want coffee?" Bucky chuckled as he read said mug. Will I ever stop being a sarcastic asshole? Find out on next week's episode of 'I Think The Fuck Not.' "Sure, thanks." Bucky watched as Barton grabbed another mug, poured him some of the coffee left in the pot. He didn't know the best way to say what he had to. 

He had been sorry. 

Two days stuck in a truck unsure of what he was waiting for if you didn't want him around because of his tendency to go off half-cocked gave him plenty of time to consider it. Barton had done a good thing and he knew it. You were hurt, heartbroken and that had been Bucky's fault, no one else's. You didn't feel like you could stay in the same place you'd had been and Barton had taken in 'the crazy hormonal pregnant lady.' 

Bucky would always be grateful for it. . .when he wasn’t regretting making you feel the need to flee altogether. "I know she probably told you to apologize to me. You don't have to." Okay, Clint's a mind reader now. "I-I want to. I'm sorry for punching you." Barton sat across from Bucky at the kitchen counter, shrugging as h sipped his coffee. "I get it. If I thought I lost Nat to some other guy the way you thought you did. . . rational thought would've been out the window." Bucky was grateful for Clint Barton for way, way too many things. "Doesn't mean I'm okay with what you did to her." And he respected Barton for the little shit he was. Bucky heard you before he saw you. Disheveled and messy haired, you padded into the kitchen in your too-big sweatshirt and PJ pants, fuzzy socks muting your footsteps. You tried to be stealthy, sneaking a mug and a short walk to the coffee maker, but Clint stopped you in your tracks. "You know you can't have that." "Buzzkill." "Your hot OB will thank me." Clint said through a mouthful of muffin. He raised an eager eyebrow. "When's your next appointment?" "You know damn well it's Tuesday." You huff. "What would Nat have to say about that, anyway?" "Oh, I sent her a picture after your last appointment. She agrees." Bucky watched the reaction in silence, chewing on a piece of his muffin. He was always fond of you. Your humor, smart mouth. 

From the moment you became friends, he'd always loved just listening to you talk. The warmth in your voice, the soft smile that often remained after a particularly good joke.

He like looking at you, too. You always had this peculiar beauty about you, this inherent adorable air to everything you did. The sight of you brought a smile to his face that he had to stamp down because friends don't look at friends like they turn their world. 

Hell, you weren't even friends anymore. If his fondness had flagged some deeper feeling within him, the giddiness that came with a simple glance your way earlier, none of this would have happened. Suffice it say, it had ruined almost everything. Except for you. . .and his baby. Because you were strong. Still were and always would be. With or without him. Well, not without him entirely. Co-parents. A role that left Bucky in his future child's life, but on the outskirts of yours. He was already wary of this arrangement. He couldn't say that, however. So he went with: "Morning, Y/N." You looked up at him and smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes. 

Would he ever get to see your sweet smile again? He didn't have time to mull it over as you sat down, visibly wincing. Clint noticed it too. "Y/N? You okay?" Bucky didn't realize he had stood from his seat until he was beside you, kneeling to meet your keeled over form. "Yes," you said softly, eyes closed. Your hands found your belly as you wiggled a little in your chair. "N-no. I, uh, I don't know." You were shaking. Bucky didn't like it, not at all. "Doll, you gotta calm down. What do you feel?" "Like my stomach is. . .I don't know! Light? Sinking? Fluttering! I don't know, it's just--" Your eyes met his, breath coming quickly. "What if it's a late miscarriage or a disease?" Bucky couldn't answer that question. He looked to Clint, who looked as lost as he did, kneeling on your other side. He sighed, taking charge. "Okay, where's your research?" He asked you, taking your hand in his. "What?" You asked, breath evening slightly. Bucky couldn't tell if you were calming or just shocked. Had he said something shocking? "Your books, articles, list of web links in alphabetical order?" He asked, tilting his head a little to the side in his confusion. "There's no way you can know about those too!" You groaned, leaning back in your chair. Bucky's confusion only deepened, "What?" "How did you know about those?" Clint asked, half-chuckling. "Did Nat tell you?" "Nat only gave me an address." Bucky answered before turning back to you. "I-I guess I just assumed. You always did research on just about everything. Figured you'd have some about this." Your eyes never left his, something resembling fondness behind them. You let out a long exhale; relief evident in it, "I know what this is." "What?" Bucky and Clint asked at the same time. "Grab my computer, Bucky." You smiled softly, tears welling up in your eyes.  "Search 'quickening'." Bucky rushed to the counter and your laptop, opening it and typing the word into Google. Clint came up beside him and both of their eyes wandered from link to link. First fetal movement. It can often feel like a flutter or a lightness in the stomach. The moment a mother can begin to feel her baby move. Bucky was sure his heart would burst. He grinned, looking up at you. He could only chuckle fondly when he saw your watery grin, a hand pressed against your stomach. You walked over to him, reached out for his hand, but he retracted when it happened to be his left. He offered up his right in turn. You smiled softly, placing it on your now rounder stomach. "You probably won't be able to feel it yet, but it's happening. . .there." He grinned, content to hold his hand to your soft skin, basking in the knowledge that his kid was moving. That you were the one he was getting to share this with, no matter what got you two to this point. Your voice was a whisper then, and not one directed to him. "I knew you could hear me already." ____ Clint Barton was always an observant man. 

A true champion of the human condition. 

Okay, okay. . .he was a total softie. And the sight of his friend and her baby daddy bonding after being estranged for almost five months? That shit made his heart melt. Nat was the hard ass; he was the romantic. Cynical romantic, yes, but a romantic nonetheless. Which is why he stepped from the kitchen in silence, leaving you and Bucky and Baby Barnes to your little moment. He pulled out his phone, dialing his better half. "Nat? I have an idea, but I'm gonna need your help." ___

A/N: I’m sorry this part took so long. School has been a little crazy for me. I changed my major, cried a bunch, had a couple of panic attacks. . .needless to it has been a week and a half™. But I finally got this together and have the last parts partially prepped. I hope you like it! 

Links are messing with posts, but I tagged all of the parts for Too Attached as #Too Attached. If you haven’t read the others and would like to, you can search that tag or Masterlist (all parts are linked there).

Feedback is always appreciated and PART 4 IS COMING!

Also, here’s some background for this part: 

I’ve been really doing research on pregnancy to make sure I get the reader’s symptoms and description right. The reader is twelve weeks along in this part. She’s experiencing 12 week symptoms (quickening, mood swings, cravings), but is described as looking further along (which can happen if the baby is going to be big or is actually twins). It’s why Bucky could see her bump when he first arrives and why she says she looks like she’s five months instead of three in the previous part.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel or MCU characters. 

Too Attached Taglist (sorry if I missed anyone!): @lovely-geek @imaginecrushes @prettybubblesintheair @wassupbitchesssss @gravedollie666 @bumblebeedaddy @jessieray98 @lilulo-12 @athroatfullofglass @chipster-21 @hiddlestonstansworld @francezka10 @janineabad @gracelynn318 @pineapple-hemmings @chipilerendi @klmpun @queenophelia @calicokitkat @yallgotkik @lillovin84 @nishanki1 @lookwhatyoumademequeue @thetimidsarcasticcat

[thesffcorner]

Book Couples of 2019: Ranked

I stole this idea from Sam at ThoughtsOnTomes, and I’ve done it two years in a row. So why not keep the tradition going in the next decade too and rank all the couples from books I read in 2019. 

Before we start, some ground rules: 

SPOILERS AHEAD;

All of the couples are from books I read in 2019;

All the couples must be canon; they are only on the list if they are written as explicitly romantic; 

Worst to Best, i.e. couples I liked the least to couples I liked the best. 

Let’s go!

TERRIBLE TIER: 

50. Erika and Michael from Corrupt by Penelope Douglass

Is anyone surprised that these two are the worst couple of the year? If you are, you must be new here. 

This pairing has all the tropes I hate in literature: an abusive, possessive alpha male hero who treats the girl like shit, but it’s ok because he loves her. He’s also willing to destroy her life over his friends, who as far as he knows raped her, so that’s fun too. Oh, and also it takes for her to almost die for him to tell her he loves her. We stan an emotionally stunted idiot. 

As for Erika, she’s entitled, dumb, naive and completely virginal, in spite of being in a committed long term relationship. She has no personality other than her unrequited 14 year old crush, but somehow she’s supposed to be smart and independent? Sure, Jan.  

49. Joe and Beck from You, by Caroline Kepness:

I don’t think I need to explain to anyone why I hated these two. They are both pretentious, horrible people and I’d say they deserve each other, except no one deserves Joe, not even Beck.

48. Marcus, Maria and Saya from Deadly Class by Rick Remendeer:

2019 was a bad year for love triangles, which is a trope I’m not a huge fan of anyway, but man did this year make me hate it even more. As the first example we have Marcus, Maria and Saya, who are by far 3 of the most obnoxious characters I have ever had the displeasure of reading from. 

First we have Maria, who is just ‘crazy’, because women be crazy y’all! She’s promiscuous, even though she has a boyfriend, who she then cheats on with Marcus, back-stabs her best friend over him, and then gets dropped like a potato when Marcus realizes he can sleep with Saya too. 

There are some attempts in the latter volumes to give her some depth and explain why she was dating Dio to start with, but you know, I’d rather you had opened with that. 

Marcus, outside of being the absolute worst person in existence, treats Maria poorly, talks shit about her behind her back, cheats on her, let’s her take the fall for stuff he and Saya did and in general doesn’t want to be with her, but stays because sex. 

His relationship with Saya is even worse; they like the same shitty music, and are both horny. Also Saya is a horrible tsundere cliche, which is already annoying in anime and manga, even well written ones, let alone when an American writer tries to emulate it. Badly. 

BAD TIER: 

47. Mariko, Akira and Taro from Empress of All Seasons by Emiko Jean

The second love triangle on the list, and this one wins by being the dumbest, most underdeveloped one of the year. 

Mariko was the character I liked the most, but her connection to both Akira and Taro was tenuous at best, and more than a little frustrating. 

Akira gets put in the friend-zone, except not really because he actually is proactive and tries to show Mariko that he values her, but then the book forgets about him so we can develop Taro, who is somehow even worse. At least Akira had a connection to Mariko before he fell for her; Taro sees her and decides she’s the one because she talks back at him thinking he’s just an ordinary samurai, not the prince, a trope that needs to fuckin DIE. Not to mention his faster than Kylo Ren turn to the darkside.

46. Odessa, Evander and Mereday from Reign of the Fallen by Sarah Glenn Marsh:

The next triangle on this list, and this one hurts more because it actually had potential. 

There is something really compelling about two women coming together to grieve the loss of a loved one, with the idea that Mereday has nursed a crush on Odessa since childhood, but because of social norms and her brother, she’s stayed away. 

What we get instead is an uneven mess, where neither character feels like they are progressing at all, and a ton of contrivances as to why they won’t talk to each other, instead of  building on the existing conflict of ‘Odessa’s boyfriend and Mereday’s brother is the same person, and he is dead’. 

45. Poe, Auden and St Sebastian from A Lesson in Thorns, by Sierra Simone:

Speaking of potential, these 3. 

This is one of those triangles where all 3 legs should be, and are written to be equal, but unfortunately, the author clearly liked the one I liked the least, the most. 

I liked Auden and St Sebastian, wanted to find out what happened to make Auden treat St Sebastian the way he did, and why St Sebastian let him do it.  I even liked the pull they felt for each other and the jealousy Poe brought up in them. 

I also really liked Poe and St. Sebastian, their angst over being separated, their bonding over feeling like outsiders in Auden’s world, and the loss of their respective mothers. 

The couple I liked least were Auden and Poe, which is the one Simone spent the most time on. I hated Auden’s entitlement, the blindness to his privilege, the unnecessary engagement to Delphine, and I likewise hated how horny Poe was 24/7 even when she’s supposed to be finding out what happened to her missing mother, which uh… is not good. 

44. Arthur and Ben from What If It’s Us by Adam Silvera and Becky Albertali:

I wasn’t a fan of this relationship from the start, because I just couldn’t stand Arthur as a character. Even though he improved, the relationship didn’t. 

The two didn’t have any chemistry, they weren’t compatible, and Ben had rather serious issues he should have been solving, instead of jumping straight into a new relationship. Arthur also fixated on stupid shit like a box of stuff, which is appropriately immature, but didn’t make me root for them to succeed as a couple. 

Also I hated the ending. 

43. Penelope and Sam from Emergency Contact, by Mary H K Choi

In theory, these two would be in the meh tier, but what pissed me off about this relationship is how underdeveloped it was. Sam was a character who needed serious counselling and therapy, not a girlfriend, and Penelope was just an immature teenager. I didn’t root for them to get together, I rooted for them to get help.

42. Malachiasz and Nadezda from Wicked Saints, by Emily Duncan:

These two absolutely have to go to the bad tier, even though they had potential and worked with tropes I like. 

I love the idea of a villain-hero romance; it can be done right, and the push and pull between power and control, light and dark, etc can be invigorating. This, was not that. 

Firstly we don’t know that Malachiasz is a villain for most of this; at most we think he’s some kind of assassin, but considering the whole mission the characters are on is to destroy Kalyzin and kill the King, that’s not exactly damning. Second, what should be these characters’ conflict, their religious views isn’t at all explored and Nadezda falls for Malachiasz way too quickly for someone who has been indoctrinated from birth to kill people who do blood magic. 

Also there’s a set up for a love triangle in book 2, and when will my suffering end. 

 41. Celine, Bastien and Grimaldi from The Beautiful, by Renee Ahdieh: 

Speaking of love triangles, we have possibly the worst one I read this year, in that it wasn’t even properly established! 

I had the same issues with Bastien as I did with Auden; he had no personality, other than being rich and handsome. He also does the whole ‘this woman talks back to me, so she must be the one’, which is strike 1 against him. 

Celine was fine as a character, but her connection and love for Bastien felt unwarranted, considering both his behavior and everything she knows about him, not to mention it somehow felt rushed in a 500 page book. 

Grimaldi I just plain hated. Him stepping in to pretend that he was Celine’s lover when she’s lost her memories and clearly doesn’t love him, but ESPECIALLY him deciding out of the blue that he loves her after he detains and humiliates her for his own amusement made me rage quit this series. 

40. Daisy, Camila and Billy from Daisy Jones and the Six, by Taylor Jenkins Reid:

Yeah, I know it’s weird to put the couple(s) from a favorite book of the year in the bad tier, but I really, really didn’t like these pairings. 

Billy and Camila were infuriating. I get that people like that exist but Camila was far too forgiving considering everything Billy put her through. Billy was trash. 

I also hated the way Billy treated Daisy, and I was furious that she had to live with knowing what was happening between them for decades while he got to go home to his wife and pretend nothing happened. Yeah, this book hit a personal spot, read the review if you want more coherent thoughts. 

39. Noam and Dara from the Fever King, by Victoria Lee:

I am genuinely shocked they are this close to the meh tier, because boy was I not a fan of them. 

I wrote a really detailed review of this book, and all my issues with Noam and Dara, from their age gap, to the weird sexual politics, to substance abuse, and especially to Dara reading Noam’s mind for months without telling him anything. Their relationship made me uncomfortable, and that was without adding the third leg of this Godforsaken triangle which is Lehrer, a man who is like 100 years old. 

But hey, I still want to know what goes down in book 2, so they get to close out the bad tier. 

MEH TIER: 

38. Runa and Indigo from The Boneless Mercies, by April Genevive Tucholke:

Runa was a great character, but this romance is barely worth mentioning. It’s introduced at the very end, and it’s underdeveloped. 

37. Jack and the Village Girl from Down Among the Sticks and Bones, by Seanan McGuire:

I tried to look up the girl’s name, I really did, but I couldn’t find it and I don’t remember it. I also don’t have the book so I can’t check. 

I don’t know what I expected from a book about Jack and Jill, but Jill killing Jack’s girlfriend because she was jealous of Jack is… well not it. 

36. Lowen and Jeremy from Verity, by Colleen Hover: 

I struggled with whether to put these two in the bad or the meh tier. On the one hand, I cared not one bit about their relationship, even after we discover that it’s founded on lies and an attempted murder. On the other, there was nothing inherently wrong with their interactions and they did care for one another, even if was painfully boring. 

In the end, I decided that boredom is a meh trait so, meh tier it is.

35. Annaleigh and Cassius from House of Salt and Sorrows, by Erin A Craig:

Instalove, the couple. 

There was some potential, with the whole not knowing when it’s the real Cassius and when it’s Kosamaris or the Trickster pretending to be him, but it’s barely taken advantage of. In the end it’s just another ‘we’ve known each other for a week, but let’s die for each other’ plot. 

34. Mei and Kai from The Bride Test, by Hellen Hoang:

I really struggled where to put these two, because as individual characters, they were fine, great even. As a couple? Yikes. 

I loved Mei and wanted her to be happy, but the secret she kept from Kai was genuinely horrible, and I still can’t believe that the book resolved it by just not addressing it until the very end. 

Kai was fine, not nearly as developed or likable as Mei, but the way he treated Mei in parts of this book were horrific, even if he struggles with expressing feelings and boundaries. 

I ended up placing them in the meh tier, because at least they were never malicious to each other, which is more than can be said for the couples in the bad and terrible tier. 

33. Rachel and Delphine from A Lesson in Thorns, by Sierra Simone:

These two get to be in the meh, not the bad purely because I actually understood their dynamic. I really liked the idea of Delphine discovering her sexuality, both in women and in BDSM, and overcoming trauma by taking charge of her own body and desires. 

I also liked seeing Rachel realize that she had actual feelings for Delphine and having to deal with them. Too bad I’ll never get to find out how their relationship will pan out, cause fuck this series. 

32. Stevie and David from Truly Devious, by Maureen Johnson:

These two were perfectly fine, even interesting at points, until the ending, which made me so angry that they get to squat in the meh tier. 

Also Stevie going through David’s stuff? Not cool.

31. Yen and Vu Con from In the Vanisher’s Palace, by Aliette DeBodard:

The dynamic between these two was more than a little uneven, with the constant threat of murder and the knowledge that Yu would never be able to go home and see her mother, which is enough for me to resent any character no matter how cool of a dragon she is. 

But… that human-dragon sex scene. Wildest thing I’ve read all year. 

30. Henry and Diego from We Are the Ants, by Shaun David Hutchinson:

While I liked the book a lot, Henry and Diego were… not great. Diego was a character that at points came off more unreal than the aliens, from his wildly dramatic life story, to him not going to jail at the end, and his limitless patience when it came to Henry. Truly a manic pixie dream boy.  

29. Olive and Ethan from the Un-honeymooners, by Christina Lauren:

This couple would have been in the great tier, had it not been for the last third of the book. Ethan not believing Olive, telling her that she’s jealous and dramatic for wanting to warn her sister that his brother is a cheater, and then making up for it with a stupid, grandiose gesture instead of, actually talking to her and learning his lesson? Nah, we don’t stan that kind of manipulative behavior in this house. The only reason they are in the meh tier is because they really were cute the rest of the book. 

28. Isobel and Julio from An Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors, by Curtis Craddock:

Not much to say about them, mostly because they met in the last third of the book. I would take a bullet for Isobel, and judging by the blurb for book 2, Julio might have beat me to it, so he gets to be in the meh. 

27. Emily and Haskel from Passing Strange, by Ellen Klages:

Like Mei and Kai, I liked these two as separate characters more than as a couple. It’s not that there weren't any chemistry between them, it’s that they weren’t developed enough for me to care. If this were a longer work instead of a novella, they’d probably be higher. 

26. Jonas and Florian from The Monster of Elendhaven, by Jennifer Giesbrecht:

I liked the idea of this relationship more than the execution. Jonas being horny 24/7 for Florian’s dainty wrists was understandable, but Florian being sad that Jonas isn’t his dead twin sister… less so. 

However this does get points for having the strangest sex scene in any book I’ve read this year; yeah even stranger than the one in Gideon the Ninth. 

OK TIER:

25. Ruby and Dov from The Wise and the Wicked, by Rebecca Podos:

While I didn’t love the book, Ruby and Dov were fine. I appreciated the trans rep, I liked the way their relationship developed and the oddball humor the characters shared, and I thought they were cute together. 

24. Lila and Cassel from the Curse Workers Series, by Holly Black:

Lila and Cassel grew on me substantially between White Cat and the rest of the series. I liked the angst in Red Glove because of Lila being worked and I liked the rod trip they get to go on at the end of Black Heart. 

23. Aurora and Kal from Aurora Rising, by Jay Kristoff and Amie Kaufman:

There is nothing wrong with Aurora or Kal, even their bonding/imprinting thing reminded me too much of Twilight/Avatar. 

They do have cute scenes together, but I’m just not a fan of the alpha male, macho boy ‘protecting’ the girl and deciding for her what he will do with their relationship. There’s room for improvement, is what I’m trying to say. 

22. All the couples from the Witchlands Series, by Susan Dennard:

I was originally going to split these up in different tiers, but seeing as it’s been exactly a year since I read these books, and I don’t remember much about these couples, they all get to go in the OK tier. 

First we have Ryber and Kullen from Sightwitch. I liked Kullen’s humor, which contrasted well with Ryber’s seriousness and diligence, but there’s very little of them as an actual couple. I hope we get to see them again in Bloodwitch. 

Aeduin and Iseult were also fine. I know they feature more prominently in Bloodwitch, but what little we get from them in Truthwitch and Windwitch was some solid set up for a good Ben/Rey, Zuko/Katara type relationship. 

Safi and Merik are my favorite, but that’s only because I love Safi. Merik is the weaker part of this duo, though I do enjoy their banter, and the scene in Truthwitch where they dance and start levitating was amazing. 

21. Sam Cade and Gina from Stillhouse Lake, by Rachel Caine:

I was really surprised by how much I still like these two as a couple. The only reason they aren’t higher, is because they don’t stay a couple by the end of the book. 

I genuinely loved how tender and slow their relationship developed, and how much character development Cade got to get to it. Him bonding with Gina’s kids, was super sweet and the scene where he asks Gina if he can kiss her warmed my shriveled heart.

GOOD TIER:

20. Frey and King Roth from The Boneless Mercies, by April Genevive Tucholke:

I think the theme for the good category is my surprise at how much certain couple stuck with me. When I read the book, I wasn’t thrilled with Frey and Roth, because a different romance for Frey had been built up. 

But now, a year later, I still remember their scenes, especially the one where Roth tells Frey he is writing an epic about her, and asks her to come back to him. Good sh*t. 

19. Kate and Shepherd from This Is Our Story, by Ashley Elston:

I was surprised at how much I liked these two as a couple. They were supportive and cute, while also dealing with some serious issues and angst. The ending was a bit dramatic, but the scene where Kate likes a 4 year old picture of Shep on instagram by accident SPOKE TO MY SOUL. 

18. Grier and Shafeen from STAGS by M A Bennett:

This is another pairing that surprised me with how much I liked them. The book claimed that Henry was charming, but Shafeen was the real charmer, and I could actually believe that he is a gentleman who went to private school. 

Grier was a bit dim, and more than a little naive, but I liked how she got through the huntin’ shootin’ an’ fishin.

17. Levi and Enne from Ace of Shades, by Amanda Foody:

I loved these two and they had great chemistry and banter, but they aren’t yet an official couple so I can’t really justify putting them any higher than good. 

The scene where Enne plays for Levi’s life? Amazing. 

16. Harrow and Gideon from Gideon the Ninth, by Tamsyn Mur:

I wanted them to be in the great tier, but they just weren’t. 

I loved Gideon; she was funny, a true himbo. But Harrow? I hated her for about the first 300 pages of the book. And when I finally stopped hating her, they had that weird bath sex scene and then Gideon DIED. 

So I can’t put them any higher knowing that I liked only 20% of their actual relationship.

15. Cat and Tyler from  Aurora Rising, by Jay Kristoff and Amie Kaufman:

Cat and Tyler? Now that’s some good sh*t. 

I am a sucker for the captain and his/her pilot pairing, especially if one of them is a smooth talking pretty boy and the other a daredevil always ready to fight. These two were excellent, not just in their chemistry and banter, but also in the angst because what kept them apart actually made sense. 

I love that Cat broke a chair off of Tyler’s head when they met, Anne of Green Gables style, but I also love the scene where they first got together at the bar. Chef’s kiss. 

14. Sebastian and Emir  from Running with Lions, by Julian Winters:

Seb and Emir were really close to making the great tier, but there were just too many contrived reasons to keep them apart. 

I liked the slow build from enemies to friends to lovers, but I just wish we had gotten more time on the lovers section without unnecessary drama keeping them apart. 

13. Poppy and Cerenic from Sleepless, by Sarah Vaughn:

I freaking love Poppy and Cerenic, and they would have been in the great tier, had it not been for the rushed ending. 

They were still excellent together; supportive, trusting and caring, and that scene where Cerenic kisses Poppy so she can’t put him to sleep? God tier. 

GREAT TIER: 

12. Mia and Grace from On a Sunbeam, by Tillie Walden:

I loved how cute and realistic, Mia and Grace’s relationship was, which a wild thing to say for a series set in space. I loved their friendship, how it slowly became a romance, the heartbreaking way they split apart and then found each other again. 

The only reason they aren’t higher on the list is because they don’t end the comic as a couple, which works perfect for the story, but less so for my, uh, list of couples. 

11. Millie and Flora from Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins:

I am a sucker for the stuck up snob falls for the earthy dumbass, and Flora and Millie were exactly that. They were a really cute couple; I liked the discussion of homophobia in the royal family, letting someone else define your life and the overall way the two of them got together. I also appreciated Millie being the one to fuck up and doing everything she could to fix her mistakes. 

10. Daisy and Miles from Prince Charming by Rachel Hartman:

Daisy and Miles beat Millie and Flora just because reading their banter put tears in my eyes. I don’t think I’ve laughed out loud at any other book like I did this one. 

There were so many great moments in this book, starting from Big Bird Hat to Sebastian getting punched by Alex, but the scene I love the most was the scene between Miles and Daisy in the cabin. 

9. Severin and Laila from The Gilded Wolves, by Roshani Chokshi:

The amount of angst and sexual tension Laila and Severin have makes me wonder if this book perhaps should have been an adult. 

I like both characters on their own, though I’m always a sucker for the trope of two competent and smart people making the other an absolute fool just by being in the same room as them. 

I would have put them higher, but I just hate the way this book ended. Though since I’m mentioning scenes that were great… the dance. If you know you know. 

8. Jack Zimmerman and Bitty from Check, Please! By Ngozi Ukazu:

Jack and Bitty are too cute for words. I love the way their relationship developed, I love their dynamic, how positive their relationship is while also dealing with real world issues, like families and gossip magazines. 

Also this comic is amazing and free, go read it. 

7. Hypnos, Zofia and Enrique from The Gilded Wolves, by Roshani Chokshi:

I didn’t know that my perfect pairing is where every character is Jonathan from the Mummy, but I guess that’s my jam. 

Enrique and Zophia using their skills in math, languages and history to solve riddles together was great and hilarious, especially Enrique antagonizing Zofia just to see her reaction. 

Hypnos is my favorite character and the banter between him and Enrique was excellent; I’m always a sucker for smooth-talking rich, misunderstood anti-heroes with tragic backstories (ahem, Lando, ahem). If this is to be a love triangle with one pairing at the end, I really don’t know who I’m rooting for.

6. Zara, Beatriz and Nadim from the Honors Series, by Rachel Caine and Ann Aguire:

Finally, some good fuckin food. 

This love triangle fed me. It was the only one that was properly developed and established, I loved all 3 characters in it, and they all complimented each other amazingly. 

Zara is a great lead, I really loved her journey; I would die for Nadim, though I’d probably have to fight Zara for that because her commitment to him was so wonderful. I also really love how slowly and carefully Beatriz was introduced as a love interest, and how well balanced the three of them are. Can’t wait to see what happens in Honor Lost. 

5. Bri and Curtis from On the Come Up, by Angie Thomas:

Listen, their banter alone was enough to make me root for them. Also Curtis saved Bri from a freaking SWAT team so like… what more do I need to say. 

They were just super cute and entertaining ok? 

GOD TIER: 

4. Nax and Ryan from The Disasters, by M K Englnd:

The only couple that came close to making me laugh as much as Miles and Daisy, except I related to Nax way more as the bisexual disaster he is.

I loved the way Nax’s always on the edge of a panic attack, and yet somehow still so charming personality was complemented by Ryan’s cool calm and collected demeanor, and their banter was hilarious. 

I especially enjoyed Nax’ inner monologues, and the scene where they have to hide in a herd of goats had me in stitches. 

3. Neil and Andrew from All for the Game Trilogy, by Nora Sakavic:

People should learn how to write an angsty slowburn from this series. 

Andrew is an absolute piece of shit and Neal definitely deserved better, but I am not about to sit here and tell you that the scene where Andrew let Neal put his hand on his chest and Neal didn’t move it, didn’t send me into a weeklong crisis. 

2. Rachel and Sana from Tell Me How You Really Feel, by Aminah Mae Safi:

Sana and Rachel were like two halves of my own personality and yet somehow infinitely cooler than I’ll ever be. Their romance was an excellent homage to every great teen rom-com, and I loved every page of it. 

Sana was amazing; I loved her personality, the way she stood up for herself and dealt with problems. I also loved that for once the more feminine of the duo was the one who took charge of the relationship. 

The only gripe I have with Rachel was that she finished the film before the screening, like hello, ex-film student here: I call bs. 

1. Alex and Henry from Red White & Royal Blue, by Casey McQuiston:

Was there any doubt here? Henry and Alex were hands down the best written couple of 2019. Not only were both individual characters fleshed out and so well developed, their relationship, going from enemies, to beruging friends, crushes, and finally lovers willing to upheave international politics was amazing to read about. 

Alex Claremont Diaz is my favorite character of the year and maybe even top 5 of all time, and if you haven’t read this book, read it. It will make you a happier person. 

And there you have it, 50 couples ranked. Happy reading in 2020!

[sovietarchive-blog]

so i need to know what are certian things you see in illya others dont? does he fear anything? does he wish to redo anything? what is his relationship with solo & teller now? does he still see himself as a monster? how do you canon his sexuality and kgb training? is more attuned to uncle or the kgb? has he seen his parents ever again? does he lile to travel, if so best place he traveled? what was the one thing he got in trouble for the most as a child? who does he look up to?

          thank you so much for sending this in!  I love questions like this and don’t get the opportunity to answer them very often.  while I can’t say that I definitively see things in illya that other people definitely don’t  –  I do flatter myself that I’ve put an enormous amount of thought into his character and understand him pretty well, so I’m really excited to delve into all of these things!

does he fear anything?

          illya is very, very human, despite what some might think.  (see: solo’s initial comments to his superior officer after that first chase with him.)  he certainly has fears, although death isn’t among them ;  he’d much rather die with honor than live with shame.  for the most part, he’s been desensitized to fears the way most people see them, as part of his kgb training, because ultimately the goal is for these agents to have very little for their enemies to hold over their heads / threaten them with.  that said, his superiors, as exhibited in the film, actively fed illya’s single deepest fear:  ending up like his father.  in a way, I think that fear was partially artificially created by the institution which got its claws into him at an incredibly young age ;  even before his official kgb training, he attended ‘exclusive’ schools closely monitored by the government and was fed propaganda which eventually morphed his opinion of both himself and his country, which we see later.

          illya has very little concern for his own self-preservation and clearly quite a low self-image, in that he sees himself as little more than a cog in the soviet machine.  shame on himself is shame on his country  –  and perhaps more importantly than that, shame on his family.  his mother remains a deeply important part of his life and I think that he fears for her reputation as well.  solo brings up his mother’s reputation in the movie  –  and I think illya’s rage has less to do with how his father’s friends saw her and more with the fact that these were things she had to do in order to keep herself and her young son afloat.  he never wants to put her in the same position his father did, and the idea of shaming himself and compromising her in the process is also a great fear of his.  all other fears, in comparison, are inconsequential.

does he wish to redo anything?

          I’m not sure illya has ever felt like he has the sort of autonomy to be able to wish this.  even later on in life, when he’s been given the opportunity to step back from the soviets, join u.n.c.l.e., and eventually retire, even after he comes to terms with the fact that he didn’t deserve what they did to him, he realizes that things could not have ended up any other way.  he was too young to have had the opportunity to make a choice when they got their hands on him, and by the time he’s deep into the kgb, it was simply too dangerous to try to leave  –  and he has his mother to think about.  fortunately, u.n.c.l.e. provided him some relief and eventually he gets to leave spying entirely, but when it comes to wishing he could redo things?

          honestly there’s the occasional moment he wishes he could relive.  he wishes he could say something else to someone he likes, instead of being his awkward self.  he wishes he would have used a different move in a fight or a different interrogation tactic in a particular moment.  but when it comes to overarching themes of his life?  there’s not much he feels he could have done differently even if he wanted to.

what is his relationship with solo & teller now?

          I can honestly say that every dynamic I’ve ever imagined or rped with others has me convinced that, despite occasional roadblocks, illya grows to deeply care for both solo and teller more than anyone he’s ever cared for in his life, except perhaps his mother.  you see those relationships growing in the duration of the film, but illya  …  well, frankly, he’s never had anything like a functional family, nor people he feels actually care about him.  his relationship with gaby obviously progresses more quickly in the film  –  in that he’s willing to even voice his concern about her to solo later on and he’s very soft with her particularly in their last one on one scene  –  but I think that solo returning his watch is a real turning point in their relationship.  obviously, they’ve grown to care in some capacity about each other and they’re in a place where they won’t leave each other behind.  illya definitely feels some level of camaraderie with solo even before this moment.  but until then, he’s absolutely planning on killing solo for the disc.  sure, illya is aware that solo was, more or less, saving his own skin in that moment  –  but the fact that solo a) remembered the significance of the watch, b) considered that even as they were storming that island and c) thought enough of it to both recognize and take back the watch to begin with, is more thoughtfulness by far than illya is used to, despite the motivations of the exact moment in which he returns it.

          the following scene, in which they burn the disc, is by far the most egregious breach of orders illya has ever committed, but not only is he unwilling to destroy this relationship he’s built up, no matter how tenuous it remains, he’s also fully aware of the implications of either the u.s.a. or soviet union getting their hands on that disk.

          I can only imagine those strange yet strong bonds deepen with each mission.  regardless of any romantic connections, which largely rely on my rp partners, he would die for either of them, whether or not they feel the same.  he’s never had a dynamic support system like the one they offer, and frankly, I think waverly, to some extent, is included in this as well.  as far as illya is concerned, even if only on a subconscious level, this is the closest thing he’s had since childhood to a real family and he’ll do anything to protect that.

does he still see himself as a monster?

          yes and no.  having functional and meaningful relationships with other people, as we see him developing at the end of tmfu, certainly helps him understand his humanity outside of what the kgb expects of him.  I think he will always be somewhat ashamed of some of the things he’s done  –  and alarmingly blasé about others  –  and he’s certainly, to some extent, broken for the rest of his life, but having gaby and solo in his life absolutely helps him rebuild at least some of his opinion of himself, allowing him to see more than just a monster or a machine, because they help him see more than that, too.

          I haven’t written much about his relationship with waverly either  …  but I’m fairly convinced that the human way in which waverly treats them  ( shitty sarcastic jokes and all )  helps a great deal with this recovery process as well.  the way his soviet handler speaks to him is alarmingly awful, and even though waverly pokes dry fun at both the boys at almost all times, I have a hard time believing he wouldn’t be a far more empathetic boss than illya is used to  –  likely checking in on their well being, as he did for gaby, and just generally being  …  a pleasant superior in the harsh world of intelligence.  specifically I headcanon that waverly learns everything he can about illya’s skills and encourages him to use all of them, particularly those that aren’t connected to his physical prowess and rather to his intellectual side, which I think is often underutilized and underestimated by others.

how do you headcanon his sexuality and kgb training?

          since I don’t have time to go into his whole kgb training, I’m just going to kind of  …  do this as a ‘how did his training affect his sexuality’ even though I don’t know if that’s how it’s meant.  it’s really quite simple:  russia has never felt great about homosexuality, so although he’s always been attracted to men, it’s always something he’s vehemently ignored and tried to move past.  it’s been drilled into him over and over that same sex attraction is a bad thing  –  and furthermore that the government won’t hesitate to hurt him over it.  it’s something that makes him feel dirty and wrong for a very long time, at least until he’s a little more freed from their expectations.

          illya has been aware of his attraction to both men and women since he was in his mid-teens.  do I think he was ever punished for it?  no, because he’s always been quiet, cautious, and watchful.  I don’t think he’s ever told anybody up until  ( and frankly past )  tmfu canon, because before he ever had the chance to trust anyone enough to reveal it, he saw what happened to those who did and were found out.  within the ranks, it could be brutal and it put him off ever vocalizing his feelings, encouraging him instead to hold those urges back for years.

          in this way, u.n.c.l.e. serves yet another healthy purpose for him.  it gives him just a little more freedom to explore himself  –  and furthermore, an environment in which to do it.  I’m a big subscriber to the napoleon / illya ship and I actually don’t think that illya had much, if any, experience with men before he and solo started their thing  –  which again varies depending on who I’m rping with / what situation I’m thinking of.  this is something he’s repressed for a very long time, and no matter what, it takes time for him to be comfortable with his sexuality.  I also can’t get on board with the initial solo / illya hate-fucking that I see a lot, even though I really wish I could, mostly because I think that illya would absolutely have to learn to trust solo long before he’d be willing to engage with him sexually  --  because he’s terrified of the repercussions and what the russians would do to him, his mother, and his reputation as a result if they found out.

is he more attuned to u.n.c.l.e. or the kgb?

          I think that, at first, he’d like to think it’s the kgb, but he’s always been more attuned to u.n.c.l.e.  I’ve explained many of the reasons why further up in this post, but it basically comes down to the fact that u.n.c.l.e. offers him a camaraderie that the kgb never has and the people he works with in the organization actually care about him as a human being rather than just a weapon.

has he seen his parents ever again?

          he never saw his father after he was shipped off to siberia when illya was a child.  however, as for his mother, he did actually grow up with her still around and he maintains a pretty good relationship with her, although he doesn’t care for the man she eventually chose to remarry, who was a friend of his father’s.  he talks to her somewhat regularly and spends holidays with her when he can, although often he ends up being away and simply sends her a present.  he loves his mother very much and will always be available for her, no matter what.

does he like to travel?  if so, what’s the best place he’s ever traveled?

          this is another ‘yes and no’ question.  he’s spent the majority of his career traveling and I think that he has questionable memories in the majority of the world.  he equates a lot of his traveling experience with his profession and that’s not necessarily a good thing for his opinion of it.  however, he’s also an academic and he does love to visit certain locations around the world when he can.  he loves germany.  he loves vienna.  he loves egypt and scotland and croatia.  he didn’t initially like paris at all but he’s grown to truly appreciate it over the years.

          after his retirement, I think he finds much more peace in traveling for himself and thus will enjoy it more.  however, as for his favorite place, I headcanon that he purchases land sometime during his career in the black forest of western germany, a few miles outside a small town, in a very picturesque location where he can essentially just  ...  disappear.  the mystery and lore and beauty of that area just  ...  fits him wonderfully.  I think he’d want a place outside of russia in addition to his moscow flat, which he visits less and less as he gets older, and the entire area is just so lovely and fairly isolated and would give him an opportunity to really live his best life.  it’s not so much traveling, as he would live there, but it would certainly be his favorite place.  it’s peaceful and beautiful and honestly waht he deserves.

what was the one thing he in trouble for the most as a child?

          he was largely a very well behaved child, especially after his father was taken away, and I don’t think he got into pretty much any trouble after his father was taken to the gulag, because it scared him too much.  he was also always a very quiet boy without too many friends and certainly not prone to being disruptive or careless or really even particularly reckless.  ( even the recklessness we see in the film is typically very calculated. )  as a schoolchild, I think he used to get in trouble for a) not engaging well with other children and b) probably trying to read while the teacher taught, on occasion.

          when the ‘ psychotic episodes ’ began  ...  that was a different story.  I think that he unwittingly hurt several fellow students and was subsequently sent to reform / military schools.  nobody really did much to help what was happening to him and instead the government eventually took advantage of this part of him.  he has them largely under control now, but it’s still something that continues to haunt him  --  and that he continues to struggle with regularly, as we see.

who does he look up to?

          illya’s past is  ...  almost devoid of any role models, when you really think about it.  his superiors were almost always fairly cruel, and while he respected them and strove to please, I don’t really think he looked up to them.  he once looked up to his father, but that faded once he was sent off ;  frankly, his father broke his heart and betrayed him, and while he still holds love for him in his heart, I wouldn’t say he looks up to him.

          in his youth, I think that illya was guided largely by the heroes of russian literature, in the absence of anyone of flesh and blood.  grigoriy pechorin of lermontov’s a hero of our time.  pierre bezukhov of tolstoy’s war and peace.  ( oddly )  rodion raskolnikov of dostoyevsky’s crime and punishment.  university had an excellent influence on him, however, as the professors he encountered there gave him an opportunity to look up to real people, and he remains in contact particularly with his mentors from his graduate and doctorate programs, as often as he can.  university was the first time when he connected with people he felt were interested in mentoring him, rather than simply controlling him, and it was a very positive experience for him.

          I also believe that he eventually develops a real respect and admiration for waverly as a superior officer.  waverly, who is intelligent, often kind, but also firm.  waverly, who grows to understand illya’s humor more quickly than others do.  waverly, the first superior in his life who genuinely ends up being kind to him.  in his life as a spy, this relationship ends up providing him the most guidance and confidence, eventually.

[dchan87]

Do sh/eithers honestly believe that Keith is romantically in love with Shiro now? I hate to break it to you, but... that two-year stint with his mom killed romantic sh/eith dead... er.

We know that Keith is much more mature and in touch with his emotions after that “time skip”. He’s not a kid anymore. We see that he’s more confident, more commanding and more emotionally stable. This is thanks to only having his mom to talk to. He was more comfortable talking about his issues and his feelings. And he knows love; love for his friends and family. That’s what enabled him to bond with the Black Lion and save his friends. So it’s fair to say that he’s no longer the confused teenager we first met.

So going by this logic, would Keith know he’s in love with Shiro?

Well, he loves him, but not romantically. He went from “You’re like a brother to me” to “You’re my brother”. Knowing that he’s much more sure of himself, it’s obvious that he’ll never see Shiro as anything but his brother. And since he’s known Shiro for years, likely as a adopted brother, or just as a mentor/student relationship, that feeling’s most likely solidified. The time he spent with his mom would’ve been that solidification factor. By talking to his mom, he would’ve figured out if he’s in love with Shiro or not.

Well, he’s obviously not. And given how he reacted to Lance, the same logic can be applied to sh/eith. To hammer it home, Krolia just thanked Shiro for raising Keith. Either she talked Keith out of his romantic feelings for Shiro, or more likely, she just knows that her son doesn’t see Shiro as more than a brother. It’s part of the theme of the importance of found family/nakama. Making it romantic undermines the theme.

Keith loves Shiro as a brother. And it’s going to stay that way in canon. Which is perfectly fine. Their bond is already very strong and I love that.

“Um, excuse me, but you ship Kallura? Wouldn’t that like, make you a hypocrite? Because same thing?” No fucking shit I ship Kallura. I don’t try to hide it. But Keith and Allura barely even talked in S6. But Keith and Shiro had an entire episode. I have no idea what might happen with Keith and Allura, but going by established Voltron canon, it’s fair to say that Keith and Allura’s feelings for each other could change in the next 26 episodes. On top of that, we don’t know how Keith feels about Allura right now.

“I’m gay and I called my SO my brother/sister!” Good for you! I’m glad you discovered your sexuality, and I hope you and your SO are happy. But using personal experience as evidence for your ship happening is shaky at best. Your experiences are not universal. You’re not Keith, and Keith isn’t you. Accept that fact. It’s not a bad thing. Unless Shiro and Keith do become a couple and the creators explicitly say that’s what they were going for, of course.

“It’s just like Korrasami!” No. Comparing any ship in VLD to Korrasami is already a bad call. The similarities between them are shallow at best. Even going by Korrasami “absence makes the heart grow fonder” logic it still doesn’t work. I watched LOK, ship Korrasami and have written Korrasami fanfic. I know what I’m talking about.

“The creators draw sh/eith!” Oh my god, the creators draw art of their own creations, just like they’re allowed to! *GASP* Seriously, this is another tenuous connection. A creator shipping two of their own characters doesn’t always mean they’ll be endgame.

“The way Keith said ‘I love you’ in two dubs proves it was meant to be romantic!” I’m a Pokeshipper. A lot of Pokeshipping moments are English-dub only. Using dubs as evidence is also shaky at best. On top of that, those phrases you’re talking about can still be used in non-romantic settings.

“It doesn’t have to be canon for me to ship it!” Good for you. I’m not stopping you, just asking you to temper your expectations. And don’t put words in my mouth.

(ADDED 7/22/2018) “Shiro and Adam broke up, so Shiro can go to Keith!” Honestly, this is the attitude that told me the sh/eith fandom is no better than the k/lance fandom in regards to how they treat their characters. You honestly don’t think that Shiro still has feelings for Adam and won’t try to reconcile? And he obviously isn’t attracted to some much younger? And if you treat Keith as some jealous harpy, you don’t get Keith, either. As for your treatment of Adam... you’re hopeless.

Basically, don’t get your hopes up for romantic sh/eith. Go ahead and keep shipping it, I’m not stopping you. But authorial intent is obvious, and they’re obviously never going to progress past platonic. Be fine with that. Learn to take valid criticism. And don’t get upset at people who think otherwise. You just look like a jerk if you do.