#and trim the fucking lemon tree before it gets too dark

[frogus]

I have so much to do. I need to log off my phone. I am stressing. I am being an adult. goodbye.

[mel-hath-no-fury]

BG3 February Writing Challenge: Day 1

Day 1 (SFW, except one or two sentences are NSFW): What was Tav doing when they were abducted?

Link to the original prompt list

[Using this as an opportunity to plot out some backstory for a nonbinary Tav for the Kar'niss fic I'm brainstorming. Enjoy :) ]

Sunshine gleamed blinding over the pristine blocks of limestone lining the Upper City’s manicured streets like so many rows of straight, white teeth. The sun hung white hot from the cloudless blue sky, pouring radiant rays of heat onto the city below. The only shade to be found consisted of bleak shadows clinging to over-trimmed trees, all frighteningly identical to one another. The very air smelled sharply of soap and freshly juiced lemons.

Kai couldn’t stand it. The brightness, the sterile perfection of it all. It was difficult to believe that anyone actually lived here amidst the immaculate aisles of townhouses and fountains spouting pearly blue water. They’d seen at least two picturesque flocks of white doves since they crossed the bridge, yet the whole district was utterly spotless. It seemed even the birds saved their shit for the Lower City.  

Besides, all the sunshine hurt Kai’s eyes. That was one of the shit parts of having a deadbeat drow for a mother. At least dear old dad had the good sense to be humor, or Kai would be burnt to a crisp in this sun. They could practically feel their sclera cooking like eggs inside their skull. How much longer were they going to stand around out here?

“Getting impatient, Rahim,” Kai drawled, fingers tapping their bicep.

Their partner didn’t move an inch, or so much as spare them a glance. He’d been sitting like a statue on that bench for what must have been over an hour now, solid as a gargoyle, and perhaps just as frightening, with that craggy scar of his raking a diagonal across his tanned face, black hair pulled back into a bun and beard trimmed short. Even his dark eyes hadn’t moved from whatever distant spot they’d been studying since they got here. Kai might have thought him under a holding spell, if it weren’t for the glaring sparkle of sunlight catching his earring every time he moved even the slightest bit.

“Rahim?”

“We just got here, Kai,” he said in his usual cool tone. “What’s got you all twitchy?”  

Kai rolled their shoulders—a nervous habit. “Nothing. Just don’t like it here. Too damn clean.”

“There’s a nice thorny rosebush ‘round the corner if you want to squat for a piss. Hells, I’ll take a whole shit in it if you’ll hold still for five damned minutes. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

Kai frowned at a saccharine house across the street, its latticed windows framed by painted window boxes stuffed with yellow tulips. “Your guy should’ve been here by now.”

“We’ve got time. Last thing we want is a rushed job.”

“Maybe, but why I haven’t seen a single Fist since we hit this street.”

“This is Upper City, Kai. Most Fists are posted in our neck of the woods.”

Kai nudged Rahims calf with their boot. Finally, he turned to face them, his brown eyes melted to amber honey in the sunshine. The color was made all the more striking by the kohl lining his lids. It gave Kai pause. No one should look that beautiful, especially smarmy rakes like him.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd?” Kai asked, fingers digging into their arm.

Rahim’s lips quirked up, softening the hard edges of his sea-worn face. Kai steeled themself against the devilish look he only wore when he was busy reading them like a book. “What, you nervous? Looking for some reassurance?”

A breeze drifted by, and Kai caught a hint of the familiar saltwater scent that clung to his skin. Fuck, he even smelled good. Damned pirate bastard.

They looked quickly away. “I don’t trust this new guy, is all. Never worked with him before.”

Rahim turned his attention back to the distance. “Plan’s all his. If we want our cut, we better play along.”

“Yeah? Would love to hear about this plan of his.”

A muscle twitched in Rahim’s jaw, then he smiled. “All in due time. Just trust me on this one, love. Have I done you wrong before?”

Kai tilted their head back. The white hair over their neck was damp with sweat, and the shaved side of their head felt ready to blister under the sun. “No,” they conceded. “Just…got a weird feeling. Can’t quite shake it. Like something isn’t right.”

Rahim rested one rugged hand at the small of Kai’s back, fingers slipping beneath their shirt to brush the sensitive skin there. “Easy there. Should be a quick one, in and out. When it’s done, we can have some time to ourselves, eh?”

Kai shifted, but said nothing.

Rahim breathed a laugh. “See, nothing but cheek, until I talk sex, then you melt like butter.”  

“I might actually melt if we have to stand here any longer. It’s hot as the Hells out here.”

Rahim’s eyes darted to the other side of the street. Something flickered in his eyes that Kai couldn’t recognize, jaw tensing. “Hells indeed, speak of the devil…”

Kai followed his gaze across the street, only for their eyes to be immediately assaulted by yet more gleaming light. It was a dragonborn. A fucking copper one, light dancing off his scales in a a blinding dazzle. A headache started to prick at Kai’s skull.

“You’re kidding me,” they muttered to Rahim. But the damned handsome pirate didn’t say a word. He simply followed the dragonborn’s approach from beneath darkened brows, heel tapping against the foot of the bench.

The dragonborn regarded them both with acid-green eyes and a flick of their scaly tail before approaching the bench, hand outstretched. “Rahim,” he hissed in a voice that was unmistakably lizard-like.

Rahim clasped the proffered hand. “Cadmus. You’re late.”

The lizard—Cadmus, apparently, flashed him a toothy grin. “Apologies. Our decoy required a few finishing touches.”

Kai lifted a brow. “Decoy?”

Cadmus’s passed his gaze over them, eyes narrowing. “A drow?”

“Only half.”

His reptilian mouth approximated a frown. “Male or female?”

“If you’re wondering whether to call me a bitch or a bastard, either is fine with me.”

“I need to know for your uniform,” he intoned.

Kai gave them a bewildered look. “What uniform?”

Cadmus cast a glance at Rahim. “You didn’t brief them?”

Rahim gave a noncommittal tilt of his head. “Thought I’d let you do the honors.”

The dragonborn swiveled his head to check that no one was listening, even though the street was nearly empty, then gestured for them to follow. Rahim rose from his bench without question. Kai frowned, but made no argument as Cadmus led them to a nearby alleyway. At least they were in the shade now.

“The two of you will be retrieving an heirloom from the Jannath manor,” Cadmus explained. “My sources tell me the family just fired and replaced half their staff after the Lady’s lover disappeared. A perfect opportunity to pose as new hires.” He angled his chin at Rahim. “The Hells hath no fury like a lover scorned, no?”

Rahim’s lips thinned. “You think either of us will pass as servants?” His dark eyes slid to Kai’s—pale purple, like most surface drow. The color of lavender, he’d told them one night, sharing a pillow while his cock softened inside them. Like the sea at sunset.  

“So long as you’re dressed the part, no one will notice a thing.” Cadmus insisted. “But the uniforms…” he looked back to Kai. “Males wear pants, and females wear skirts. Which would you prefer.”

Kai rolled their eyes. “Pants, obviously. You think I want to do a heist in a skirt?”

Cadmus inclined his head, then reached clawed hands into the pack slung over his shoulder and produced a set of clothing—nothing exquisite, but far finer than anything Kai had ever worn. They resisted the urge to reach out and touch the supple material.

“Who’s this decoy you were mentioning then?” Kai asked.

“Not who,” Cadmus corrected. “What. See, we’ll be stealing this.” He spared another quick glance around, then opened his bag so Kai could see.

Kai frowned. “A necklace?”

“Not just any necklace. This one is gnome-made.” He pointed a single talon to each detail as he named it. “Rubies set in gold and silver, with a dewdrop diamond at the apex. See the flowering detail? It was popular a few hundred years ago, and just came back into fashion. Should fetch a handsome price.”

Kai leaned in, squinting at the sparkling stones where they lay limp in his pack. “So this is a fake? Could’ve fooled me.”

The dragonborn’s maw split into a toothy smile. “That’s the idea.”

“So, how are we going to do this? Rahim?”

Rahim blinked, as if waking from a dream, then rubbed a hand over his thigh. “Ah, right. It’s just going to be you and me. You’ll watch the door while I run in. Once I grab the necklace, we make a break for it.”

Kai gave him a skeptical look. “What’s the catch?”

Rahim’s mouth pressed into a flat line.

“The catch,” Cadmus cut in, “is that the Jannaths have the jewelry box alarmed. The moment Rahim opens it, they’ll notify the guards. Hence the false necklace. Once Rahim has the real one in hand, he’ll lay low while you draw the guards away with the fake.”

“And what happens when I get caught with the fake?”

“The gems are made of glass,” Cadmus said. “They should break quite easily, and there’s no law preventing you from carrying a false reproduction.”

Kai chewed their lip. They were a good liar, but it would be a hard sell. Still, Cadmus was right—even the fake necklace looked like it would be worth a fortune. If they pulled this off, Kai might never have to sleep on a street again. Hells, they might be able to afford to sleep in a room with a door that locked. They could finally spend the night with Rahim without having to worry about someone walking in on them, or watching through a crack in the wall.

Kai turned to Rahim, who had remained uncharacteristically silent. “Well, what do you think?”

His eyes flickered to theirs before falling to the limestone brick beneath their feet—those damned pretty eyes. “I don’t know, Cadmus,” he said slowly. “Hearing you say it just now, there are a lot of cracks…”

The dragonborn gave him a sharp look. “Fastidious words for a man of so many debts.”

Kai pursed their lips. Rahim had never mentioned debts. They liked to gamble over cards every now and then, but he never had much to put down.

Still, if he owed someone a large sum, it would only spell trouble further down the road. Better to nip it in the bud now, for both their sakes. After all, he’d gotten Kai out of plenty of rough patches. It was their turn to return the favor.

“So,” Cadmus said, “Are you ready to begin?

Kadmus heaved a sigh, then met his acid-green eyes unflinching. “Yep. Let’s make it happen.”

***

The servant’s uniform turned out to be more comfortable than Kai expected. The undershirt was made of linen dyed a dark shade of indigo, the vest and pants fitted but breathable. Cadmus had guessed their measurements rather well. Rahim’s, on the other hand, seemed to fit too tightly. He wouldn’t stop pulling at his sleeves and collar, even well after Cadmus left them to make their way to the manor. When they were about a block out, Kai finally gave in to the urge to slap his hand away.

“Stop that, will you? People will think you have lice or something.”

His expression went taut, eyes fixed straight ahead to the busy street before them, chock full of well-dressed nobles and carefully maintained walkways. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just not used to wearing this sort of thing.”

“Well, get used to it. You’re good at blending in. Just…try to look like you’re really good at pretending you love to wipe someone else’s ass for a living.”

Normally, that would have at least cracked a smile, but Rahim merely clenched his jaw a little tighter.

“What’s up with you?”

Finally, he turned to look at them, and something in his expression caught Kai off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you had gambling debts?”

His expression turned to stone. “What, were you going to offer to pay them off for me? With what coin?”

Kai bristled at that. “Fine then, don’t tell me.”

Rahim regarded them for a moment, then sighed. “Look, just got a bit reckless with my money is all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“So long as we get paid, right?”

His throat bobbed. “You don’t have to do this on my behalf, you know. Could still bow out if you wanted.”

Kai thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Could. Don’t see why I would. If things go south, just drop the damned jewelry and run. We’ll ditch Camdus and find someone to fence the fake. Or we’ll find work elsewhere. Either way, I’ll make sure your debt is paid.”  

Rahim turned his attention back to the path forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as they walked the final stretch to the Jannath’s manor. He didn’t say another word until they’d rounded their way to the back of the building where the servant’s entrance was located.

“You’ve got the decoy?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

In lieu of an answer, Kai pulled open their pants pocket so he could see the false rubies glint in the sunlight.

He heaved a sigh and nodded. “Alright then. Listen, I don’t care what Cadmus said: They don’t have to catch you for this to work, alright? Just lead them away. I’ll clear out fast as I can, promise.”

Kai’s mouth ticked up in a smile, and they leaned in to press a quick kiss on his lips. “You worry too much.”

Rahim regarded them with a burning stare, then tilted his head down to capture their mouth in another kiss, this one longer and more sensual, his tongue pressed warm against the seam of their lips. When he pulled back, Kai followed, almost tempted by the notion of abandoning this entire scheme and finding a shed to rut in instead. Almost.

“Bye then, love,” he hummed against their ear. “See you on the other side.”

He turned to slip inside the manor, never once looking back.

***

Kai’s boots collided hard with the pavement, like sparks rattling the grill of a stove. Sweat poured down their brow, and they could feel themselves sweating through the thin fabric of their shirt. The uniform’s vest had long been abandoned, dropped in the middle of the street as a bread crumb for the Fists to follow as they pursued them through the city. They’d taken the bait, and managed to track Kai all the way to the harbor before finally meeting them at a dead end.  

Really, Kai had let them catch up. Despite Rahim’s assurance that they didn’t need to get caught for the plan to work, they just couldn’t resist a chance to rub it in the Fists’ face that the goons had no grounds for an arrest. While Kai sprinted through the streets of the Gate, they’d pictured themselves smashing those glass rubies, proving that for once, they were the picture of innocence.  

But of course, something had to go wrong.

See, Kai had the whole thing planned out. They would run to the end of the dead end street, look up with pretend horror at the unsurpassable wall blocking their way, then slowly turn to the guards in pursuit, hands thrust in the air as if they’d just played their last card, only to pull one more from their sleeve when they least expected it.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear!” Kai said, voice trembling with mock fear.

“Tyr’s bleeding arse you did,” one burly guard spat back. “Empty your pockets and we’ll see.”

It was only then that Kai let a sly smile spread across their face as they pulled the necklace from their pocket and dangled it in the air between them, giving it a quick jingle for good measure. “Is this what you were looking for? Well, too bad. It’s just a fake. See?” The necklace fell with a clatter to the stones. Kai lifted their leg, and delivered a decisive strike to one of the overly large rubies with the hard heel of their boot, the force of it enough to shatter glass.

Except it didn’t shatter.

When they lifted their heel, the necklace remained intact.

Confused, Kai lifted their leg again, ready to strike another blow at the trinket, but then they felt the Weave slither like a serpent around them, and their body came to a standstill.

“That’s enough of that,” came a familiar, lizard-like voice.

Kai couldn’t move a single limb. They didn’t even have the wherewithal to grimace past the spell’s hold as Cadmus appeared from amidst the throng of guards. They could only watch as the dragonborn fixed them with a smile that bore disgusting resemblance to the cat who got the canary, toothy and predatory. With a delicate hand, he reached down to retrieve the necklace from beneath their foot, taking a moment to study it in the sunlight before turning back to the guards.

“Well, I must commend the Flaming Fists for a job well done,” he crooned, the words dripping like poison from his scaly lips. “It seems you’ve caught the thief after all. I’m sure Lady Jannath will be pleased to see such a fine heirloom returned to her after being parted for so long.”

Kai felt their heart seize in their chest. What did that mean, “for so long?” They’d only just stolen it today.

Cadmus passed the necklace to one of the guards, who regarded it with a skeptical look.

“Everything should be in order,” Cadmus insisted. “Note the initials near the clasp? They belong to that of Lady Jannath’s great grandmother, the original owner.”

A few of the guards exchanged glances. “It certainly does appear to match her description.”

“I imagine the family will have no trouble confirming the provenance,” he continued. “After all, it is a rather unique item. The thief must have been quite the fool, to think they’d be able to sell such a recognizable piece. Even the most reckless fence wouldn’t dare take it on.”

Kai felt anger boil over in their chest. The pieces were falling into place. Of course something like that wouldn’t be easy to unload. And if the necklace was stolen “so long” ago…This wasn’t a heist—it was a setup.

It all made sense now—why Cadmus had approached a couple of lowlife thieves for an Upper City job, the need for a decoy, why Rahim had been ready to jump out of his own skin all day while claiming it was an “easy” job.

Rahim.

Kai could see him then—that edged look in his eye when he looked at them, the way he’d frozen up at the mention of a debt, how he’d offered them a way out at the last minute, the way he’d kissed them goodbye. He knew. All this time, he’d been planning to sell them out, and Kai was so busy staring at those pretty eyes, they hadn’t even seen it…

 All those nights, they’d spent together, all that sweet talk about lavender eyes, all the times he’d called them “love,” as if that word ever meant a fucking thing to him. It was all a baldfaced lie.

Kai wanted to scream, to tear their way through the circle of guards with their bare hands and come out bloody on the other side, to stalk Rahim to whatever dark hole he’d crawled into and demand an explanation, then rip his tongue out through his ass when it inevitably fell flat.

And to think, Kai had almost convinced themselves that bastard actually cared about them, fuck, loved them even. Shows what they knew.

Kai felt something hot fall over their cheek. At first, they thought it was the start of another spell. Then their vision started to blur, and they realized they were in fact crying. Having no control over their muscles, the tears simply came until they were streaming down their face. Gods, they must have looked pathetic.

Then, as if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse, a scream resounded from the next street over. Kai only just managed to slide their eyes up to witness the strange, hulking almagamation of flesh and sinew screaming through the sky before it brushed one of its slimy tentacles across their tear-streamed face.

They couldn’t even suck in a frightened breath before the ground fell away, and the world went black.  

[floralbuckley]

Orange Trees and Royalty - A Wilmon Drabble

I would recommend listening to my light academia playlist whilst reading this, specifically Sweet Creature, Today Was a Fairytale, Northern Italy, and You Are In Love...

As Simon looks up, his eyes open in absolute wonder and amazement, and he swears he’s never seen anything more spectacular in his life. Gorgeous windows lining the outside up to the third story, the gold trimming painted on them glowing against the sunlight. He could make out the lacey curtains behind them, and the corners of his mouth turn up shyly at the thought of Wilhelm’s bedroom hidden behind one of those curtains. The lush green grass is perfectly trimmed, so bright and inviting against the pale cream walls of the Palace. He wants to take his shoes off and run across the lawn, feel how each blade would feel in between his toes as he skipped along and brushed his fingertips across the foliage of the trees.

But he knew better.

Now was the time for proper manners and tucked-in shirts and warm smiles full of grace and poise. Not childish behaviours that could end up flooding every news website in Sweden. He could just see the headline now: “Boyfriend of His Royal Highness, Prince Wilhelm, runs like a crazed monkey across the front lawn on his first visit to Stockholm Palace.”

Exactly what he doesn’t need right now.

Simon feels a hand on his back, and he turns to see the driver, a polite smile on his face as he begins to make his way toward the Palace. Simon, however, feels frozen in his spot. His grubby vans and green shirt feel so plain and out of place compared to the magnificent building in front of him. And suddenly, he wants to run home and change, or smooth out his wrinkled shirt, or put a buttoned-up blazer on. Or do anything to make him feel like he actually belongs here.

He turns his gaze away from the driver and up to the castle, and there he is. Prince Wilhelm. The lace curtain of the very left window on the third floor is pushed to the side, and all Simon can see is that mop of blonde and that toothy smile, and it’s exactly what he needs. The face of the boy he loves is enough to settle any single shred of doubt in his chest.

As a small smile settles on his face, Simon closes his eyes. Breathes in deeply. Takes in the scent of that perfectly cut grass and the orange trees and the pure dense amount of royalty surrounding him. And with a final breath, his eyes are open and his feet are moving and off he goes. Towards the front doors to fucking Stockholm Palace.

He doesn’t even need to knock. A rustle comes from inside the Palace, and suddenly the doors are shoved open and Wilhelm is rushing forwards, crashing into his boyfriends’ frame and almost knocking him over. Simon quickly wraps his arms around the taller boy whilst attempting to steady his balance, not wanting to look like a complete mess in front of the paparazzi—who are waiting by the car, cameras firmly grasped in hand as they snap shots. But it would seem the other boy has plans of his own.

All too quickly, their lips are pressed together, and giggles are escaping mouths and fingers are running through hair and happiness is spreading through chests.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Wilhelm says excitedly, pressing multiple kisses to Simon’s cheeks before giving them a gentle pinch. Simon lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, his dark curls covering his eyes, and he’s doing everything he can to not make a total ass out of himself in front of all of Sweden. But, God, he hasn’t seen Wilhelm since they graduated. Three whole months of being stuck in Bjärstad. And now that he’s finally here, he wants nothing more than to keep pressing their lips together.

But, again, Wilhelm most definitely has plans of his own. He grabs Simon's hand and pulls the shorter boy up the path and through the giant front doors he had just burst through. Then, without waiting for the driver to enter the Palace, Wilhelm pushes the doors closed and doesn’t waste a second before his lips are on Simon’s again, warm fingers gripping his boyfriends’ shirt and pulling him closer than ever. And Simon simply melts into it, his hands making their way from Wilhelm’s shoulders, sliding up to his neck and eventually resting on his jaw, his fingertips scratching at the base of his hairline.

They stay like that for what feels like forever, basking in the warm embrace of the person they love the most, mouths open and hearts beating so hard against each other’s chests.

And it’s a small cough that interrupts them. Simon lets out a groan of frustration. He turns, and it’s the driver, standing there with his eyes looking up at the roof and his hands locked together in front of him.

“Uh, did you still need me, Your Highness?” The driver questions, his gaze still averted. A small chuckle of embarrassment escapes Simon’s lips, and he rests his forehead on Wille’s shoulder.

“That’ll be all, thank you, Isak.” Wilhelm reaches his arm out, and the two shake hands before Isak nods his head and walks across the foyer of the Palace and through another door.

“Thank you, Isak,” Simon mocks in between giggles.

“Argh, shut up!” Wilhelm laughs, pressing more kisses to the other boys’ cheeks. Finally, he grabs Simon’s hand and starts to pull him further into the foyer towards more doors. “C’mon, I want to show you the grounds. They’re so pretty in summer.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Simon says quietly, lifting their intertwined hands and kissing the back of Wilhelm’s, who stops before they reach a large wooden door. The smile on his face is one full of amusement and raised eyebrows, and a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“That was so gross.”

Before Simon has time to respond, Wilhelm has dragged them through the door to reveal the back gardens, and Simon’s eyes are even wider than when he first pulled up to the estate. Small garden beds full of flowers and orange trees are placed all over the grounds, some with bird baths, others with a lemon or an apple tree next to the oranges, one even with a small river running through it. There is a brick pathway leading to an ample outdoor dining space with a huge wooden table, able to seat at least 50 people. Vines of ivy crawling up the archways with fairy lights hanging from the wooden beams above the table. The lawns are even lusher than the front garden, stretching on for a few hundred metres before it turns into the biggest lake Simon has ever seen, giant fir trees surrounding the body of water. There are two boats on the lake tied to the small pier, rocking back and forth slowly with the gentle breeze. To the left of the lake are tennis courts, and on the other side, Simon can see the pool that’s beyond the dining space—so large he’s sure that all 50 people who join them for dinner outside could also hop into the pool together after they eat.

Simon is in a state of wonder and amazement as he looks over the grounds, and everything is so perfect. And the boy holding his hand next to him makes everything feel even more perfect if that’s at all possible.

“Holy shit,” Simon breathes out. Next to him, Wilhelm chuckles. “I think I chose the right boyfriend.”

Wilhelm gives him a small shove, a huge toothy grin plastered on his face. “Hey, if I had known you were just after me for my money, I would never have kissed you first!”

“Well, good news for you then, because I kissed you first,” Simon says matter-of-factly. He licks his lips and juts them out, knowing just how much it drives his boyfriend crazy and also how badly he wants to win this faux argument.

It takes Wilhelm a few seconds of staring at Simon’s lips before licking his own and letting out a huff. “You so did not. You were walking away, and I pulled you back, and then I kissed you first.” He runs both his hands through his hair, letting the strands fall into his eyes—his own move that he knows Simon loves.

And Simon does. And he’s weak, and he can’t be bothered with this fake argument anymore. And now that there’s no press around, Simon wants to have some fun. So he kicks off his vans and takes off his socks, then, with a turn of his head, he’s off, running across the grounds towards the pool. His laugh rings through the air as he looks behind him to see Wilhelm chasing him.

“Come and get me!” He calls. “C’mon, Prince Wille, keep up!” Cheeky giggles escape his lips, and as he reaches the pool, he slows down and turns around. Wilhelm is catching up, and Simon makes the quick decision to start running again, this time towards the pier. After graduating from Hillerska, Simon had stopped rowing, and therefore his fitness levels had significantly dropped, and right now, he could definitely feel it. The aches in his legs, the heaving of his chest, the warmth in his face. But this is just too fun, and the blades of grass feel even better between his toes than he could have imagined.

Wilhelm’s footsteps are getting closer as Simon is closing in on the pier. He slows to a stop just before the small wooden bridge, his feet still firmly placed in the grass and his breaths coming out heavily. He watches his boyfriend running towards him, and he shouts, “Is that all you’ve got, Your Royal Highness?!” Laughs are escaping both their lips, and Wilhelm is slowing down as he gets closer to Simon.

Both boys stand silently for a moment as they try to catch their breath, huffs of air coming in and out of their mouths quickly. “You’re an asshole,” Wille says, the smile not leaving his face for a second as he runs his hands through Simon’s curls to mess them up.

“Good thing you love my asshole then, hey?” Simon replies, swatting his boyfriends’ hands away, a frustrated grunt escaping his lips.

“God! Shut up!”

Not giving him a second to reply, once again, Wilhelm’s lips are on Simon’s. And once again, they both melt into it instantly. And once again, it’s cut far too short then either of them would like. Simon feels a drop of something wet on his cheek, and as he pulls his mouth away from Wilhelm's, he wipes his cheek and looks up to the sky. Among their little running adventure, huge grey clouds have taken over the sky, angry and threatening to begin pouring at any moment.

And soon, that one drop becomes two, then three, then too many raindrops for Simon to keep count of. And they’re in his hair, and on Wilhelm’s cheeks, and Simon’s on hands, and covering Wilhelm’s shoulders.

And from head to toe, the two boys stand by the pier, sopping wet and completely drenched, Simon’s bare feet beginning to feel numb from the now wet and cold blades of grass. The summer sun is still beating down on them, warming their cheeks as they tip their foreheads so they’re touching, sounds of laughter and happiness tumbling out of their lips.

“I can’t believe I had to go without you for 3 whole months,” Wilhelm says, pressing a quick kiss to Simon’s lips.

“I guess we better go inside and make up for lost time,” Simon giggles in reply, returning Wille’s kiss with one of his own, slightly longer this time, however, and followed up by many more chaste kisses.

It felt like they were in their own world, just the two of them, alone finally, running around the Stockholm Palace gardens hand-in-hand. Not a care in the world. No school. No drama. No press surrounding them. They finally had their own little bubble of happiness to enjoy. And not just for a weekend or a two-week break this time, but for the entire summer. And damnit, were they going to make this the best summer of their lives.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #8: Scintillating

words: ca. 4500 setting: mAU lemon: yes cw: alcohol consumption, nipple play, some swearing, not vegan-friendly decor

Condensation coiled past her lips, fogging her vision and drawing her eyes up to the spattering of stars above them. For a moment, Elsa forgot all about the reason that had brought them here in the first place, stopping in her tracks to gaze up in wonderment. A smile drew itself slowly across her lips as she fell into the beauty of the cold, distant lights cast down on the frozen, snow-shrouded wilderness around them. She tilted her head and the whitish grey faux-fur trim of her midnight blue winter jacket brushed softly against her cheek as she tried recognizing the constellations above her.

“Anna.” 

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it had been so quiet around them but for the shuffling of their boots through snow that Elsa knew her younger sister wouldn’t have had to strain to hear her name. She tore her gaze away from the firmament to find Anna had already cued into the night’s glory overhead, and her heart swelled at the awestruck delight on the freckled face she held so dear. Freckles she couldn’t help but note had the same chaotic harmony as the stars they admired. They were rivalled only by the twinkle of mirth in Anna’s eyes and Elsa’s breath hitched as her eyes ran over the soft, beautiful lines of her cheekbones, her jawline, her throat, her nose, her mouth… Elsa averted her eyes from the delicately pink lips, exhaling shakily. Virtue of habit.

“I hope we get enough clear skies while we’re here, I could be out every night.”

Anna’s eyes went wide with apprehension and it was all Elsa could do to bite back a smirk, thinking of how expressive her sister was. ‘Don’t you dare make me choose between stargazing and standing around in -32°C weather’

“Yeah well, I’m not sure I could be, if it’s as cold as it is now.”

Elsa chuckled, her words having simply confirmed what her eyes had already communicated.

“Aw c’mon,” she teased gently. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“At this rate you’re going to have to light me on fire if you don’t want me to freeze before we make it to the chalet. Besides, you’re going to like the master bedroom.”

She shook her head wordlessly at the hyperbole, considering that while granted, the snow was knee deep, they were only a couple of footfalls away from the front steps. The house loomed darkly, melding into the thicket of pine trees behind it, but for the fairy lights that caused the snow beneath them to scintillate with prismatic pastels, each individual snowflake detaching itself from the rest this way. It was the sort of small wonders that gave Elsa reason to look forward to winter each year. 

Readjusting her backpack, Elsa gave one last effort hoisting herself out of the snow to climb up the front porch and immediately began digging for the key that’d sunk to the bottom of her pocket. After a moment of struggling, feeling for it through her gloves, she pulled it out triumphantly and unlocked the front door. She bared her hands and dropped her backpack, blindly feeling for a light switch. When she finally did, her eyes fluttered in adjusting to the brightness. The interior was shockingly well-curated, the very definition of rustic chic between the wood, the stone, the plaid, the sheepskin, furs etc. A touch of charm and magic came by the way of understated yet elegant seasonal decorations. Mistletoe, cedar wreaths, holly, pine garlands accented by silver, red and blue ornaments. Logs and kindling were set up in the fireplace, ready to be set alight. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that they’d even been able to book this on such short notice. Honestly, she had no idea where and how Anna had managed to find this rental, but it was proving to blow up her expectations at every turn. Granted, when her sister had announced that they would need to drive roughly 7 and a half hours to get here, Elsa’s excitement had been mitigated, at best. Yet she also knew that its remoteness was likely what made the destination so affordable. And more importantly, now that they were here she understood there was a great deal of comfort in putting that much distance between them and their apartment in Ottawa, along with their roommates and friends. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them. 

The thought brought back into focus the main reason they’d even decided to get away for the winter holidays to spend them with each other.

They had a lot to talk about. 

Elsa glanced back, checking up on Anna who was pulling the toboggan they’d cleverly brought along to more easily transport all of their things from the car. She noted the unsteady grip and sought to deliver her from the icy wind.

“Why don’t you go get the fire started? I’ll get the rest of the stuff inside.” 

The younger woman didn’t need to be asked twice, dropping the toboggan’s cord and hurriedly shuffling through the snow, running up towards the warmth of the house. Elsa half expected her to immediately disappear inside, but that was something Anna had no intentions of doing without first stopping to throw her arms around her older sister. Caught off guard, Elsa did not immediately respond, but after a few moments had passed, she hesitantly brought her hands up to embrace her waist. 

“Thank you,” Anna whispered, her lips tickling against her ear.

Elsa shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold. 

✧✧✧

It had taken some time for the chalet to warm up properly after Anna had gotten the fire going, but that had suited them just fine. Elsa had fixed them up some hot chocolate, with a healthy splash of Bailey’s and a hint of peppermint, crowned with marshmallows. She’d glanced down, gaze softened by tender affection as Anna had curled up against her on the couch, strands of red tickling Elsa’s collarbone as their beverages had heated them up from the inside out. The cold outside was soon forgotten as the flames had roared up, hot air cradling their faces in conjunction with the heavy blanket they’d drawn up over themselves. 

Elsa’s mind had soon grown restless however, the initial serenity engineered by the enchantment of their new setting dissipating as her thoughts had raced back to the conversation they’d kept on hold for exactly eighteen days (she’d kept count). Shackled by habit she’d wanted to slide her hand down to rest on Anna’s waist, fingertips seeking the hem of her sweater, but she’d taken forever before actually deciding to make a move. 

At the time she’d found it easier to simply talk about the future than the present, telling Anna that they would need to set a reminder for the following day to try and witness the Great Conjunction between Saturn and Jupiter, which would this year occur on the Winter Solstice. She’d blushed sheepishly when Anna had pointed out that lack of light pollution was yet another reason she’d wanted to venture so far from what most people would commonly regard as civilization, knowing and understanding how beautifully rare it was to be alive for such a celestial event. 

The as of yet unspoken words had continued to tighten her throat, preventing her from bringing up the subject she was so anxious to broach, but was terrifyingly paralyzed by. It hadn’t been until their drinks were close to done (without counting the occasional topping off with more coffee liqueur) that Elsa’s tongue finally decided to cooperate with her brain. Eighteen days had been far too long to chew on their last exchange about the matter at hand, overthinking, overanalyzing, second guessing everything that had been said. 

By now, she felt pretty warm and she allowed the blanket to slide off her a little more, unzipping her hoodie, skin gently glowing with the flickering, crackling of the fire. 

“Anna, I…”

She felt her sister shift slightly, likely looking up at her. Elsa wetted her lips nervously, knowing she had her  full attention.

“We…”

The struggle was real, but she was glad there wasn’t any interjection coming. She made a mental note to thank Anna for her patience later. 

“Firstly I’m sorry I cut you off so abruptly when we talked about… this, a few weeks ago.” 

Perhaps it was a calculated nonchalance on her part but on the other hand she figured it would just sound strange to actually say ‘eighteen days ago’ out loud. 

“And I hope,” she continued. “That you understand what I meant when I said that we needed to talk this out some more, I wouldn’t want you to think I didn’t feel the same way.” 

There was a slight loss of body heat as Anna sat up a little straighter. It was brief, however, as she felt a hand gently grasp the side of her face, tilting her head down towards her sister.

“Elsa. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, you deserve clarity, I-“

“Elsa.” 

Her lips fell heavy and she stopped talking, looking down at the dark intensity in Anna’s gaze. 

“You think too much. And gods, I’m Twenty-five, not Fifteen. I know I’ll always be your ‘baby sis’ - oh yeah, I’ve seen your caller ID listing - but I’m not a naive, innocent little girl anymore. I understand.” 

Elsa dared to lean slightly into the touch on her face, her gaze softening. She felt a thumb brush gently against the edge of her cheekbone and managed a smile.

“What do you understand?” 

“I understand that you’re scared. Hell, I am fucking terrified. I understand that I want you in ways I shouldn’t, love you in ways beyond my mandate as your little sister. I understood with every kiss, every lingering touch we shared that night that you felt the same way. I also understand why you pulled away after I kissed your neck, because I know you, Elsa. I know you don’t trust yourself, I know you have so carefully crafted an armour and delicately cultivated a self-possessed facade to protect yourself from the world. And I also understand what it would mean for us, for our lives if one of our roommates or friends were to discover the truth.  And I know it must have felt like torture for you to be so hyper vigilant about the way you spoke to me, the way you looked at me, the way you touched me and the restraint you exerted. I could feel the fucking fire coming off of you. So I understand why you said what you said - you were buying time, and I understand why you acted the way you did - you were protecting us both.”

Her eyebrows had risen and she stared at Anna, completely bewildered at what she was hearing. Though she was ordinarily loquacious, her sister was seldom ever so brutally to the point. More than that, she realized this meant Anna somehow knew about the feelings Elsa had harboured for her for quite some time. She wondered how long, worried that if Anna had noticed, others might have seen the crack in her tower of ice. 

“You knew?” 

That’s all she could manage and she felt ridiculous, knowing she was normally well-spoken and articulate, though one might have noted it was only when the situation pertained to matters impersonal, relative to herself. Her mouth felt dry and her gaze wandered briefly away from Anna’s eyes, to the crown of dampness forming at her temples from the heat that now enveloped them both, inside out. As much as Elsa appreciated the crisp, unforgiving sharpness of cold winter air, she knew Anna was likely very happy to be sweating indoors instead.

“I didn’t say anything because I knew being the big gay lesbian you are, you needed some time to process and a safe space to say your piece… but do you really think I begged you to drive 8 hours north into the sticks just so we could talk?” 

Elsa’s mind went into overdrive as she tried to comprehend what Anna was saying. It seemed as though her brain was yet again trying to overanalyze, overthink what she was being told. 

“What do you mean?”

She tensed up a little as she heard Anna’s exasperated sigh. Any doubts she had previously held however, were dissipated the moment she felt a thumb trace the curve of her lower lip, followed by a soft, delicate mouth pressing against hers in its wake.

Oh.

Her heart was now beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. The kiss electrified her body, lighting it up with a fire she’d never quite felt before and the sparks lingered on her lips. Even if her head had been clear and focused in the moment, she wouldn’t have been able to recall any previous incidence of the single act of kissing, sending heat and lightning in the pit of her lower belly. She’d had chemistry, good chemistry with other people even but nothing like this. There was no way the Bailey’s alone could be blamed for it and that thought both enthralled and terrified her. The hand she’d kept at Anna’s waist slid up the sweater, under her shirt, finding the velvety dew of her skin pleasant to her fingertips. How long had it been since she’d first realized she craved and longed to touch her sister in this way? How long had it been since fear had guided and controlled her every movement, shackling her most human needs and impulses to touch, to hug, to nuzzle the person she held dearest in this world? How long had it been since the guilt began to gnaw at her? How long had it been now since the constant mental self-flagellation, driven by self-loathing had overtaken her identity and so twisted and tainted her self-perception? How long had it been since she’d completely choked out any trace of spontaneity within her, for fear it might one day betray the repulsive, repugnant truth she’d come to believe represented her? How long had she allowed it to take over her life until it tainted every one of her interactions? Too long. Far too long. She didn’t know that the damage would ever be undone. But, here under the cast of the fire’s warm glow, for the first time in forever, her mind flirted with the idea of self-forgiveness.

For the first time in forever, she could allow herself to be free.

On some level it hadn’t fully sunk in yet, and even as she finally allowed this sort of contact, the habit of caution kept her gestures on a tight, controlled reign, not quite ready yet to forget herself. Fear and guilt were, after all, powerful enemies, bridling her every impulse even now as sharp sparks jolted through her nervous system, crackling from her lips combined to Anna’s.

It was a fortunate thing that Anna knew what she wanted though, and was determined to get it. Unbeknownst to Elsa, she too had been sitting on this obsessive craving for a fruit so forbidden she had to plan an entire holiday to finally get a taste. Elsa’s breath was shallow as she watched her lean back to tug her sweater off, discarding it to the floor hurriedly. Her nipples were visible under the fabric of her tank top and Elsa thought she might choke as she noticed them. Desire gnawed at the chains of self control. Sanity was packing its bags, ready to vacate the premises when she felt fingernails lightly scratching at her jaw line, flirting with the tender skin of her throat. Fear and guilt were beginning to lose their grip, inch by inch and by the time Anna was brushing up her thigh against Elsa’s side, they were out of sight and out of mind.

Finally, Elsa left the safe harbour of her mouth, lips kissing up the line of her jaw to her earlobe where she gently nipped, down the curve of her neck - all to the delight of Anna, who’s gentle mewling sent heated flames of need licking at the core of Elsa’s lower belly. Her timidity almost completely vanished, she pushed Anna back down on the couch, shifting so that she was now laying on top of her, and she lapped her tongue softly at the base of her throat. She felt Anna’s body arch beneath her and where the alcohol might have left them fairly tipsy, she was now tasting what it felt like to be drunk on power. 

Unfortunately, the couch was fairly narrow and their hips bumped uncomfortably. She even tried to set a foot down on the floor to steady herself as she captured Anna’s lips and ran a hand ravenously along her side, but she quickly realized that the position would only lead to cramping and disappointment. 

She looked around, one hand subconsciously pressing down on Anna’s sternum as if to ensure she would not go anywhere (as if Anna had any desire whatsoever to be anywhere else in the world at that precise moment). Her eyes lingered briefly on the fire and the lush reindeer skin rug by it, considering her options briefly. She smirked to herself but decided that they would have more opportunities and occasions for her to claim Anna by the fire.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just- what do you say we take this to the bedroom?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

✧✧✧

They’d had thrown as many more logs as they could possibly fit into the fire place, knowing the chances of either of them getting up in the night to keep it going were slim to inexistent. They’d paused only briefly once more to taste each other, touch each other in ways they’d, prior to that moment, barely dared think of, shamefully hidden in the darkest hours of the night. Hurriedly, they’d ran up the stairs, Anna having playfully lured Elsa into giving chase up to the master room, their clothes discarded erratically along the way, as they paused only to catch one another, fumbling with clasps and zippers, struggling with waistbands, insatiable in their kissing.

Inhibitions had retained a thin veil only long enough for her to notice the glorious, star-gazing window right in perfect view of the bed. Anna had been right about her liking the master bedroom. She did not linger on the thought however, her eyes drawn back to Anna’s features illuminated by the beams of moonlight flooding through the windows, an ethereal halo now wrapping around her features, lending her another worldly beauty. Overwhelmed and overthrown, it was like seeing her for the first time, again and she thought her heart might burst open with Anna pulling her down on top of her, the warmth of her skin immediately radiating towards Elsa. 

She found herself hungrily kissing Anna, gaining in confidence with each passing second as she nipped and suckled softly at her lower lip. She smiled against her as she heard the little squeal of surprise this produced. Nails scratched over the nape of her neck, digging into her shoulders, and her sister’s smooth, bare thigh locked around her hip pressing her down against her pelvic bone, which elicited a gasp from the both of them. Elsa slid her tongue just past Anna’s lips whom promptly suckled it in, causing her to moan, and her body subconsciously rocked against hers. 

Her hand slid down the side of Anna’s body, the tremor in her fingertips belying the nervous eagerness crackling hotly in every single one of her cells. The sensation of Anna’s warm, dewy skin against her own set her nerves alight with fire and she had to pull away from the kiss momentarily to check whether she were actually still breathing.

Another jolt of arousal shot down from her spine to her loins as Anna looked up at her, skin flushed and feverish, eyes come hither as she felt her hand coming up to tease one of her breasts. Elsa’s body tensed and her breath hitched, realizing just how strained her nipples had gotten, and how sensitive they were as a result. Her lips fell open as her younger sister teased it, sending sparks of pleasure radiating throughout her body, especially between her thighs. She shifted again slightly, her hip and upper thigh now pressing firmly against Anna’s radiating core. The heated dampness she felt against her skin was enough to cause a rush of wetness between Elsa’s own legs and she reached down again, her mouth seeking Anna’s neck. She kissed her at first gently, then intermingled with nips until she couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, following the thrumming of her pulse against her lips, and began to suckle at the skin, growling as she left her mark. It was something a little possessive, a little territorial, and on a primal level Elsa liked the thought of having visibly claimed what she deemed to be hers and if the way Anna mewled and gasped were any indication it seem she enjoyed it too. Given the nature of their relationship, they had to take full advantage now then, before any trace of it lingered and remained visible upon returning to their lives back in Ottawa. 

Anna arched her body beneath her, causing friction in between their legs, as she began to subconsciously rock up against her. The hand she had been using to tease her nipple cupped the breast more fully, squeezing and massaging ever so gently. Elsa let out a little growl in response to this, and left a trail of love bites on her way down to a pert, rosy breast. She ghosted feathery kisses around the taut nipple, enjoying the feel of the divinely soft skin against her lips, spurred on by the sweet little mewls her younger sister echoed in answer. 

By now, Elsa was humping softly against Anna’s thigh, feeling a blush creep up her neck at the realization of her own arousal. It was further compounded by the feeling of Anna’s wetness against her own thigh, as well as the nails now scratching up her shoulders, leaving scarlet trails on the nape of her neck. She hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure flexing her thigh and rolling her hips a little more firmly. It was enough to coax her into giving a flick of her tongue over Anna’s nipple who inhaled sharply, and tangled her dainty fingers into the base of Elsa’s messy, platinum braid. Encouraged by this, she glanced up past the trail of darkly, well defined love bites she’d left, to find Anna’s head tossed invitingly to the side, eyes tightly shut in pleasure. It was enough to convince her to capture the aching nipple between her lips giving it an experimental suck. 

Again, she shuddered and rolled her hips as she felt Anna arch her back up against her, and grip in her hair tightening further, which in turn provided a swell of confidence for her. Her lower belly clenched and she suckled a little harder, moaning as she felt the hard peak against the flat of her tongue. Hunger raged and she pressed more fully into any in every way she possibly could. Fire coursed through her when Anna briefly glanced back at her, eyes feverish and glassy, dark with desire, panting with her lips parted as she whispered her name. 

“Elsa…” 

Fuck - how was she so gloriously, ravishingly beautiful? How was this woman here with her, like this, offering the toned, perfect lines and curves of her body and the exquisitely harmonious features of her face? Elsa feasted her eyes, her senses, her fingertips, her skin, her touch. Her ears, her taste and even right down to her scent, as if she were afraid any moment now, this might all slip away. As if, she were afraid Anna would realize her mistake, realize that Elsa weren’t deserving of her. And in turn, it pushed her to be a more attentive, devoted partner in the discovery and exploration of her body, with the sole, fixed goal of bringing Anna to heights yet undiscovered. 

Her hand reached down to caress the curve of Anna’s ass, squeezing and massaging it for a moment before lightly scratching up her hip, her waist, the side of her rib cage, then trailing along her arm, seeking out her hand. She laced her fingers into her sister’s gently, yet firmly pinning back down against the mattress, as her mouth switched from suckling, to worrying the nipple between her teeth. Anna’s breathing turned ragged as the hand still entangled in Elsa’s hair gripped tighter, nails digging into her scalp, and her heated, dripping pussy now humped up desperately against Elsa’s tensed, flexed thigh. 

“More,” Anna whimpered desperately, which promptly caused Elsa’s free hand to find her other breast, fingers rolling the nipple between them. She felt her buck, which gave a pleasantly firm rub against her own, swollen, eager sex and her thigh twitched involuntarily, and squeezed Anna’s hand even as she kept it pinned against the bed.

They were close, she could feel it as much in Anna’s body as in her own. The buildup was coming to a head, and she gave one last heated lick before kissing and nipping her way back up the trail of love bites, up her throat, to the curve of her neck, to her earlobe which she kissed almost reverently, before nipping as she whispered in a husky, breathless voice. “I love you Anna.” 

This seemed to do it for Anna, whom she could feel now desperately humping her leg, likely guided by reflex and instinct more than intent. She moaned loudly and turned her head seeking Elsa’s mouth blindly, wanting to feel all of her, give herself to her entirely, as her orgasm set her whole body alight, like fire raging through her blood, heat blooming from her belly and pooling wetly against her older sister’s skin. 

With their breasts now pressed together, nipples brushing against nipples, digging into skin, and the intoxicating sensation of the power she’d just had over Anna, Elsa finally lost the battle with her self-restraint, her inhibitions discarded with no regard for dignity. She squeezed Anna’s thigh between her own, her belly painfully taut as she built up to her own perfect storm. It was her turn to moan in pleasure as Anna whimpered and mewled through her after shocks, looking up at her in earnest adoration.

“I love you too, Elsa so much.”

Light and heat blinded her for a moment as her body went still, her climax thrashing through her with an intensity she never guessed possible. Her heart raced and her pulse deafened her before she finally dropped her face into the nook of Anna’s neck, kissing it tenderly through ragged breaths. 

The hand previously at Anna’s breast reached up to stroke her ember-coloured hair tenderly, smiling as she heard her giggle. As she recovered slowly, body still lightly trembling, she finally lifted her head up to share tender, lingering kisses, basking in their afterglow. She could’ve sworn she heard her younger sister purring but perhaps the stars in her head hadn’t cleared yet. Anna’s lips briefly left hers to kiss the corner of her mouth, up to her ear, whispering:

“I can’t wait for you to taste me.”

A surge of heat, and suddenly Elsa knew there was beauty in warmth too.

[andersoncharm]

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas/Blaine Self Para.

Blaine let himself and Ras back into Sebastian’s empty apartment, one hand containing a giant duffel bag full of Christmas decor and baking ingredients while the other juggling a rambunctious pup that wanted nothing more that to see if his dad were home so he could show off his new Santa dotted handkerchief. Said pup was all but shining after Blaine had taken him to be groomed today. Enjolras didn’t particularly need to be groomed as his dad kept him in tip top shape but, Blaine needed him to look extra special for one of the gifts Seb was to receive for their first Christmas together. He smiled to himself thinking about the wonderful, silly dog running around the park, clad in a big red and green santa clause scarf, from the photographer and all the kisses he’d received. He hoped the photographer got a few good ones of the both of them too, even if the gift was just supposed to be of just be of Ras. He had actually rented a car for the day, loaded it up with a tree and decor both homemade and store bought and then drove himself to meet his boyfriend in the city to get a key to the apartment. Of course Blaine didn’t actually need a key to get in, he could have bypassed his own protection spell and just popped himself in. But, it wouldn’t make any sense to Seb as to how he managed to get inside and it would probably startle Ras.

Once he managed to get the pup and the rest of the decorations into the apartment Blaine sat himself down on the couch and looked around at his surroundings trying to figure out just where to put the 6’5 tree. The apartment was spacious, and over the last six months Blaine had helped fill it up a little more. Made it a bit more homey. Blaine had the suspicion that Seb would have been fine without the little bistro table and rug Blaine had urged him to get but, his boyfriend seemed to actually enjoy eating dinner at their little table sometimes. Their little table? Blaine was probably getting ahead of himself with that, this whole place was Sebastian’s but, it felt nice being a big part of Seb’s home.

After spending a few minutes visualizing what he wanted to do and scratching Ras’ head the whole time Blaine stood up and busied himself with decorating Sebastian’s home. Blaine may not celebrate Christmas in the same way most people did but, he loved decorating. The tree was a decent size, not too big and it was a dark pine. Store bought because he didn’t want to be too over the top. The tree went up followed by warm blue and green lights that twinkled sweetly when you looked at them for more than a few seconds. That part was a big of magic that Blaine figured Seb would think was from a controller. He wanted to charm the whole apartment to extravagance but, again, he needed to keep it simple and cozy. Instead of garland Blaine had chosen a pretty green ribbon with navy blue trim that he had looped around and around the tree like ripples in the ocean.

The ornaments were mostly various shapes of bulbs also in blue and green. There were three special ornaments; one was a photo encased in an ornamental frame shaped like a dog bone that Blaine had taken of Sebastian and Ras one morning from the balcony as they returned from their morning run. Seb had knelt down to give the panting pup a belly rub before coming up the stairs and Blaine had captured the moment perfectly with his phone. The second was a Hallmark Wonder Woman that depicted Gal Gadot as Diana Prince facing a spray of bullets as he entered No Mans Land with just her shield and bravery as protection. And the third Blaine had hesitated to do because it was cliche and sort of silly. But, in the end he had decided to make it anyway. It was a small heart shaped ornament with a photo that Blaine had taken of the two of them from the Island trip where Seb had asked Blaine to be official with him. It simply said 2018 at the top and on the bottom Seb and B’s First Year. Seb would probably think it was terribly cheesy but, Blaine could see his eye rolling smile anyway.

The tree skirt was a simple dark blue velvet and Ras instantly laid his large body under the tree to get the feel of it on his paws. Blaine then took the intricate holly and ivy wreath he’d handmade to honor Yule complete with red berries and an ornate red and white ribbon at the top and hung it up on the out in the hall on the front door. He set out a small circle of more holly and ivy and placed in the center of their little bistro table and placed a solid green candle in the middle of it and modest center piece. Then he placed the blue and green cloth place mats that had little imprints of snowflakes on them at each seat. The last thing he did inside the house was place three hooks on the wall next to the tree and hung a green, blue and silver plaid personalized stocking up for Ras, Seb and then himself. He debated giving one to Freya but, Seb and Freya had yet to meet and it wasn’t like she’d be here on Christmas with them. Perhaps next year.

After the inside was finished, pretty and soft in blues and greens he moved to the outside and put up more warm blue and green lights that looped in a spiral around the railing of the balcony and glittering lighted snowflakes on the sliding glass doors. He didn’t want to overwhelm Seb so he kept the outside simple as well. Ras watched Blaine closely and his eyes were wide like he’d never seen anything like it before.

As a final touch Blaine went into the kitchen and set out the ingredients to make Lemon Shortbread Meltaway cookies. Just to start the season off and to leave something sweet for his hard working boyfriend to come home to. Within two hours the house smelled of lemons and powdered sugar and there were three dozen little powered, icing swirled cookies on a red holiday plate that said It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas in green lettering. Blaine had even let Ras eat two of them without the lemon juice and powered sugar icing. The dog licked his lips in approval and happily went on to chew on one of his toys by the Christmas tree looking so fucking cute in his Santa scarf. Blaine cleaned his mess up and wrapped the cookies in green plastic wrap and set them on the little table. He carried the excess mess down to his rental car, making sure the house was spotless. As he was walking back into the apartment he felt the familiar tingle that always accompanied the closeness of his person. He wanted Seb to walk into a little bit of hand made magic when he came home and he figured if he weren’t there when he came home it would be all the more whimsical. He assumed his boyfriend would call him and tell him to get back over there anyway so he leaned down to Ras and kissed the top of his head.

“Thanks for helping me out today, buddy. Your dads gonna be up here in about two minutes. Give him a kiss for me. Though I’m sure I’ll be back before you know it.” He gave the pup one more pat and then made sure all the house lights were out. All that could be seen was the twinkling glow of blue and green. The smell of baked goods was still lingering softly in the air. Blaine smiled at his work once more and as he heard Seb’s key turn in the door he gently popped himself out of the apartment and into his rental car. And pleased smile on his face. He hoped Seb wasn’t upset by the changes and hoped even harder that he would actually love it. He couldn’t wait to hear from him.

[existentialburden]

World Wide Web Yellow, Shadow Blue, Electric LIme, Night Owl, Cornflower, Grasshopper Green, Tiny Toad Brown, Sunny Side Up, Kitten Gray, Rose Dust, Timberwolf, Freshly Squeezed, Tiny Teapot Tan, Pussywillow, Mystic Maroon, Petal Pink

World Wide Web Yellow: what was the last thing you looked up?

...”if your parents are nearsighted can you be farsighted”

sometimes when you’re writing. you forget how things work.

Shadow Blue: do you have a darker side to you that most people are unaware of?

not to sound edgy but I do get those occasional flashes of anger over the littlest things that I just don’t mention to people because what’s the point of bringing it up? it’s a me issue. maybe some of my older writing would qualify but besides that not really.

Electric Lime: what genre of music do you listen to?

think I answered this before- all sorts! mostly pop punk and classic rock. and whatever the hell Lemon Demon has going on.

Night Owl: describe a very interesting dream that you had.

one time I had a dream where me and a few other people were trying to save the world from some worm-like demonic being but the Grim Reaper was after our asses for some reason. we explained the situation and struck a deal with him (I may have flirted with him. it’s been a while but that sounds like something I would do) and then he joined the crew. I woke up before I got to see the result of it but the point is this is why I’m Taakokin.

Cornflower: what do you think about the most?

....my OCs, probably.

Grasshopper Green: describe the area where you live.

it’s not a bad place. there’s a park nearby so that’s really nice. there’s a river, too. it’s not too far a drive anywhere more interesting and you don’t have to take any more caution than usual when walking anywhere (but let’s be real I am Constantly Alert Just In Case). loooots of trees everywhere.

Tiny Toad Brown: do you find beauty in something that people consider to be ugly or undesirable?

I love toads, frogs, snails, slugs, worms bugs of plenty types, spiders, snakes, scorpions, rats.... I love me some “creepy” animals. also love my own scars and stretch marks and think it’s cool that people have them in general. also weeds like dandelions! I used to sit alone outside and talk to bugs when I was little so I vibe with lots of things. not just the pill bugs either, but the flies and bees and all that. I’m also going to stand by brown being a perfectly nice color and the name of this crayon made me very happy to read.

Sunny Side Up: do you like waking up in the mornings or would you rather sleep in?

think I’ve answered this before but sleeeeep.

Kitten Gray: do you have any pets? if so, describe them.

there’s my snake Calliope, who’s a normal ball python (black and brown, blank belly) and absolutely a sweetheart. she has a tendency to try and slither across people’s arms without wrapping. then there’s my cat Darkstripe, a brown tabby domestic shorthair. she’s an asshole and I love her. she likes to try and steal my soup and if I have two water glasses out she just KNOWS which one I care about more and goes right for it. she’s very cuddly though. and then there’s my guinea pig George (Theo) who’s an american guinea pig and an absolute BABY. he’s orange and white with a black patch on his butt and he whines whenever anyone so much as LOOKS at a plastic bag. he also loves cuddles.

Rose Dust: describe your aesthetic in five words or less.

chaotic brights and darks.

Timberwolf: do you give second chances when somebody has wronged you?

depends on what they did. sometimes yes, sometimes no, sometimes they use up the second chance in the same general “incident”. I try to, but more often than not that just makes me resent them and everyone around me who says I should give them another chance even though I’ve already given them more than one.

Freshly Squeezed: what excites you?

sunny days, cool rocks, cool pinecones, really dumb-looking stuff (I have this chair that I adore because it looks so stupid), seeing my friends online, seeing asks in my inbox, people paying attention to my writing, new writing ideas, roleplay ideas, D&D night coming up... all sortsa stuff!

Tiny Teapot Tan: do you consider yourself to be attractive/cute?

oh I’m cute as hell yeah.

Pussywillow: do you like being around others, or do you like being alone?

depends on the day and the people. I love being around people in... small doses. one or two people at a time, really. my friends yes. strangers no. adults no.

Mystic Maroon: what confuses you, and why?

people in general. like... why is eye contact such a big deal. why does everyone in my house think people can’t hear them through the phone unless they yell. people are fucking weird.

Petal Pink: describe your fashion sense as well as what you’re wearing right now.

fashion sense tends to be skirts and short-sleeve shirts. comfy pants. bright and dark colors, eye-searing designs... right now I’m wearing a plain pink-tinted white shirt with grey trim and a long bright blue- and teal-striped skirt with a cyan jungle leaf design all over it. same rainbow-striped glasses as ever. it’s the quarantine mood and this shirt is my “everything else is dirty” shirt.

[anomalagous]

lc’s ongoing long-ass list of what the fuck, teen wolf, and other sundry E606:Ghosted edition.

scott getting a little tiny bit snarly at the sheriff for not believing~~ in stiles gives me life

this old-ass map not only puts beacon hills on top of a real life place called scotty place which still makes me laugh, but also substantially more north and eastward than i originally estimated.

why the fuck didnt naziwolf just get the fuck outta bh?

why did he choose to stay and teach high school of all things?

california requires an 18 month accreditation course and a certain GPA of teachers who do not have an education degree, i know this from direct experience. its been three months since naziwolf busted out of his bacta tank, so what the fuck

if he forged his credentials, how

when

when did he actually learn all of the post WW2 physics and electromagnetics things he clearly genuinely knows and has a genuine interest in?

did the dread doctors read him bedtime stories from their science journals?

if so, what the fuck

i guess if youre an alpha werewolf you can sleep in the backseat with no seatbelt and its not a big deal if you crash

good job on malia being the driver and not crashing them im proud of her

reading the date of the canaan abduction in the standard american way it was april 8th, 1987, which cant be a coincidence given that’s stiles birthday (albeit pre-stiles)

if canaan has been abandoned for 30 years, who has been cutting these obviously not overgrown lawns and trimming these obviously not overgrown accent shubberies

why isnt that flag beat up or torn in any way?

kudos on giving that convertible the old 80s style california plates but why arent any of the windows on any of the cars busted out? no flat tires? no rust or missing doors?

also that shot of the ‘town’ where there was more substantial damage looked fake as hell and the crosswalk was proceeding at the wrong angle and i cant unsee it.

why is there still power running to these street lamps?

for that matter who has their street lamps scheduled to turn on in the middle of the day?

was that block party banner over the street lettered on both sides? it reads properly no matter what side youre looking at, which seems weird.

why is there blood on the carousel? was that explained? we’ve never seen the ghost riders’ gun draw blood that i can recall

im not even sure we’ve really seen their whips draw blood per se and certainly it wouldn’t have caused that kind of blood stain

also why is the blood still wet and red 30 years later? why wasn’t that newspaper rotted out? either time impacted this town to make it shitty as hell or it didn’t, pick one, you cannot have both. it still rains enough in california to totally disintegrate a newspaper in thirty years.

how the fuck did that carousel function even that tiny bit after 30 years in the elements?

why did melissa have to sneak chris argent around, couldnt he have just declined the operation against medical advice?

also good to see scott got his utter inability to lie from his mom

even if malia isnt wearing 100% stiles’ void-hoodie how could the costume department have thought for a minute we wouldnt have thought that was the void hoodie?

malia having a hallucination of theo in the same episode he comes back in for real seemed both rushed and entirely unnecessary.

in fact these hallucinations seemed wholesale unnecessary and neither scott nor malia deserved that nonsense

were all of these dead leaves already on location or did some poor asshole have to ship them in and then ship them out again

come to think of it, at first i was really excited to see coral/eucalyptus trees as they are actually trees that are in california (as opposed to the type of oak the nemeton is, which is distinctly Not a type of tree in california) but then i realized those are Southern California Trees and if beacon hills (and canaan) are that far north and close to the oregon border, the trees should be way more pines and evergreens and not coral or eucalyptus or ... any deserty tree, really.

seriously were these hallucinations just to show malia can feel sad too?

malia was wearing really subtle gold eyeshadow earlier. now it’s dark shadowing up to her browbone. does being a werecoyote also mean being able to shift your makeup at will? cause thats cool

do little girls seriously still play with baby dolls while hitting their first strides of puberty? im beginning to think i was never actually a little girl.

how much younger than malia was kylie supposed to be? bc she looks like 12 here but malia was like... 10 when the desert wolf murdered her family, right? was SHE the younger sister??

teen wolf shamelessly reusing shots with new filters on them like never before. this ain’t even the fifth time i’ve caught them doing this, this season, and i’ve literally never seen them do it in any of the other seasons.

im not sure anybody told kylie’s actress she wasnt gonna get to make out with shelley

how do werecreatures get piercings? or were her ears pierced first before the change?

why does anyone let liam make any decisions, ever?

i do not get why everyone finds naziwolf so hot

seriously i have a little tree-bush exactly like this right outside my door/garage and that shit is wild and untamed in just a month of no trimming in 30 years it would not have that nice slender shape anymore

also trees being choked to death by kudzu or whatever all these vines are dont look that healthy

is there even kudzu in california??? ive never seen so many vines in all my 10 years of living here.

the first house scott goes in theres like no tv in the living room but there is one chair (with no dining table) all alone in the dining room area, which just looks sad.

oh sorry two chairs set up in what was clearly the worlds most melancholy staring contest.

my dentist used to have that exact sailboat wallpaper trim around the top of his exam rooms.

scotts bullying a door.

have melissa and chris argent actually told the pack about the head-biting yet bc i feel like they should know

i think more people have asked scott if he’s okay in this episode than in the last three seasons, which is sad bc it’s basically just lydia and malia that do it.

that one house has some brutal earthquake damage in its exterior wall.

poseys microexpressions are so woefully underrated, he really is brilliant.

i have more grey hair than jr bourne and that makes me really angry

i like that they’re doing alchemy with druidic compounds/hedgemagic/whatever you want to call it more than i could possibly express.

why is there a porch loveseat on the step up to this one house but that FLAG IS ENTIRELY INTACT?

how convenient that all three of them were looking at that window when lenore decided to fuck with the drapery.

that said scott’s resultant HOLY SHIT?!?? face is amazing

how has lenore been surviving in this town, does she not need water, electric, heat, groceries? where did the lemons for the lemonade come from?

all this wood paneling is the most 70s thing i have ever seen in my life

i appreciate the little cast iron redwood decoration with the ‘m’ on the bottom of it.

everything!! in!! this!! house!! is!! brown!!

that piano as a busted af bass key there.

i feel like i’ve seen that other metal flower/leaf decor before. the new version of the stilinski house, maybe?

lenore has an intimidatingly large smile and i feel like that as an intentional casting choice

how come malia and scott couldnt hear her heartbeat after scott explicitly called out that there were no heartbeats? or for that matter not hear that caleb also didn’t have one? (presumably.)

im not 100% sure but i think malia is holding scott’s hand when they enter the dining room area of lenore’s house, which is adorable so i accept no other reality now.

i honestly feel really bad for lenore.

i would say the fisheye lens is s6′s slo mo but the slo mo didnt go anywhere

i dont know if its supposed to be fancy or artisinal or whatever you called that in the 80s but dont put green shit in your lemonade, green shit does not belong in your lemonade. lemons. sugar. water. it isn’t hard.

malia like chugs a good half of her glass at once, but when she sets it back down it is more full than any of the other glasses. i prefer to think she just faked drinking it to try and gain lenore’s trust than it’s a continuity error from the props department.

when lenore starts using her banshee powers to shake the house, it also magically converts the lemonade into water.

lenore has a pair of decorative ducks on her wall but they appear to be two male mallard ducks, so. gay duck decor.

so when does lydia get to have telekinesis?

i dont think im a very big fan of how angela harvey handles scott.

malia did NOT make a fist like she was really committing to trying to punch out that window.

seriously scotts the alpha he doesnt need lydia to give him permission to do things scott thinks need to be done

that being said scott going into the basement with a creepy kid when youre obviously in some kind of horror movie trope was stupid

the cameras they used for the senior pack team were super blurry anytime anyone moved even the littlest bit, its so annoying.

scott barely being tall enough to reach this tiny-ass basement window is endearing to me

there is no way a vhs tape that wet would run. i remember vhs tapes. they were not sturdy.

i feel like we used to have the same VCR in my parents’ room tho

also what the hell camcorder did they record this on that put it straight on VCR, camcorders in the 80s had weird little small VCR tapes you had to put in a converter. that was just a standard VCR tape.

also why are there jumpcuts in the home video? did somebody cut the original footage and THEN put it on a standard VCR tape?  how much fucking work was THAT??

caleb goes from 0 to 100 on the creepy poltergeist scale real quick

well okay maybe from like 40 to 100

banshee duel yessssss

literally why would noshiko do this after she saw what happened with the nogitsune

not that i necessarily think theo is as dangerous as the nogitsune but he is well bad enough

look at this worthless white boy doing this shit against all the advice of the woc around him

why does the sword do this, i thought the power was in kira and not the sword

if the power is in the sword why couldnt noshiko fix her own damn blade

look at this other worthless white boy even more worthless than the first

that looks like melissa is putting like grout on chris’ injury that does not look comfortable

oh look hes screaming imma guess it was not in fact comfortable

gratuitous jr bourne fanservice

awwww theyre holding haaaaands again

how did this kid get on the stairs the last time we saw him he was by the tv, why did scott and malia let him herd him like this

i appreciate malia’s willingness to beat up a kid poltergeist immensely

of the pictures on caleb’s walls, many are pictures of insects. one is a blue crab. one says ‘guten’ on it, which somehow entertains me a lot.

this is the second time this episode has tried to make me scared of carousel horses

the vhs footage loops while no one is attending to it which is not how vhs tapes work

malia is such a treasure

that being said having nearly drowned twice in my childhood this whole drowning-on-dry-land conceit is not super great for me

screencapping this is so gross

i love lydia’s fierce banshee scream face

so the blood was on the carousel before the wild hunt attack, as we see in lydia’s vision. SO WHY IS IT THERE??

THERE ARE KIDS RIDING ON THIS CAROUSEL WHILE SOME OF THE HORSES ARE BLOODY

poor skateboard bro couldnt even take his skateboard like rude wild hunt

i feel like there’s a lot more ghost riders here than there are in beacon hills. maybe the ghost riders just come for particular towns and the ones in bh are actually like... cora isaac and danny.

its amazing how much younger a good foundation can maybe somebody look

did liam SERIOUSLY just tell theo he can kill whoever he wants? did i hear that right? bc that is a TERRIBLE thing to tell theo, who has ALREADY KILLED A LOT OF PEOPLE, even if what you meant was ‘dont kill us you need us’.

i cant believe we got this cheap knockoff as an excuse to not have kira and then they didnt even let him have the powers he needed to do the job

otoh watching his ass get blasted back into the tunnels was satisfying

literally nobody cares if youre okay theo you murderous fuck

i wonder how many times scott had someone steadying him telling HIM he has to breathe like hes doing for malia right here

i should really keep a tally of how many times scott does stiles’ lizard tongue thing while stiles is gone

this is gross of me to think while the character is basically drowning but hey now i know what scott looks like with his bottom lip all wet and covered in somewhat translucent stretchy goo--jizz. okay. it looks like jizz.

scott mccall nearly drowns on dry land after a lifetime of severe asthma and the first thing he does after is ask if malia is ok

luckily THIS time she asks if HES okay to but jeez

he looks so shocked and confused to be asked extra jeez

more scolia handholding, this time while fleeing danger

i was literally three in 1987 and i still have more grey hair than lenore who was demonstrably an adult in 1987 I AM VERY ANGRY

that being said i realized why caleb here’s clothing was bothering me so much. nobody had shorts that long in the 80s. everybody wore short as hell shorts in the 80s. it was thighs everywhere.

these stupid motherfuckers taking theo to scott’s HOME and putting him in scott’s SAFE SPACE without even WARNING HIM oh my GOD

those better not also be scott’s CLOTHES

ok but WHY are the wild hunt trapped? did they BRING the northern lights or is the northern lights related to what’s trapping them?

excuse me but WHEN did lydia see anything related to what happens to people after the wild hunt takes them and why didnt we get to see it too?

seriously its like if scott is thinking of stiles then lizard blep

im so mad at liam for bringing theo back and putting him in scotts house i cant even see straight

and i just know that this anger that scott is being allowed will be it

and in a week or two itll be working with theo like nothing ever happened

im honestly shocked he even got this much

he even got undercut there by malias (also justified) rage

cool that the morrigan got a namedrop but i dont trust them with that story eitherrrrr

man let me tell you if this was martin and not scott and somehow he had been murdered and resurrected and was then confronted with his murderer in his pack house that murderer would not fucking leave alive

im still kind of mad that this season brought claudia back to life just to make her so sketch and make me kind of hate her, i didnt want to hate her

oh okay its a different weird leaf decor piece than the other one

oh yeah noah OKAY NOW youre starting to believe BUDDY you have faith issues

[qdesjardin]

4

The horror still shakes Curtis. He's sitting by an ambulance, a medical team checking him and Josh, and breathing in from the oxygen tanks gives a lucidity to his thinking, to the reality that he'd barely made it out from a horde of Muslims.

He doesn't want to think about the cafe owner's screaming, or how a living human being could burn away until all life is gone..

This is the cruelty of human beings. The rashness we can treat one another, as enemies, and proof that barbarianism still resides in our blood. In fact, might I say that we've suppressed our animalistic instincts behind civility and political correctness, and the Muslims show a rawer side that we disassociate from, like an unacknowledged shadow.

The Muslims have kidnapped the cafe waitress – Josh tells the police interpreter this, and the officers murmur to one another in French before thanking him for his account of the events.

It's overcast and dark; the cafe fires have been put out. Some officers come with CJ and Josh to the checkpoint where they left their baggage. The van has been towed to the side, the back opened, and some luggage left unzipped. Police are investigating the area for the sudden murder of their officers and two young men.. the whole checkpoint is cordoned off.

Ivan and Martinez lie in closed body bags. Curtis scrambles over to unzip one of them – but gets told "Trust me, you don't want to, the face is so horrible.."

Then Curtis, wanting only to get the image of Ivan getting splashed out of his head, breaks down in tears. He cries out, pathetically unable to do anything, only bashing his fists against their vehicles, and when officers try to placate him, he fights and shoves one of them away – they know better, and so let him play out his inner struggle.

Curtis slunks to the ground, panting. "Why did this happen.. is this a dream?"

Investigator Bezu Fache comes to the fore. "Non, Curtis, it's not – you got caught in the eye of the storm."

A spotlight has their figures casting shadows against the fog. Fache decides the best course of action to calm Curtis down, it is by calmly explaining what they've made of the situation so far (appeal to the mind instead of placating the emotions). The Uzbek man who drove that truck and murdered the people was on a mission of delivering armaments to cells across the city. He's high on Captagon (amphetamine + theophylline, chemical courage), and in conjunction with his short fuse, he blew up the checkpoint upon seeing the newly implemented 'search and frisk' policy in action.

Heavy skid marks to the side of the road. He drove that truck around the van and burst through the gate, while running over the bodies.

They won't be able to easily identify the van because usually, the delivery boys find sanctuary in the Muslim zones – think of Raiders of the Lost Ark, where Indiana Jones has just stolen that truck with the ark, and the Egyptians hide his truck afterward from the Nazis.

Then to make it more difficult, they modify the truck's license plate, body paint and even the body frame if necessary to have it continue the mission disguised. The police don't have much jurisdiction in these zones, thanks to the Muslim council – formed a few years ago, who would protest against any Muslim mistreatment.

"You were extremely lucky to be alive," Fache remarks, "and in one piece. I wish I could say more, but I hold no promises. Those two.." he gestures at the bodybags, "were your cherished friends, no? And you held such a strong friendship with them."

Curtis nods.

"Love and trust – a scarce luxury amongst our times. Remember them and honour them in your heart, Curtis." He pats Curtis by the shoulder.

They're too exhausted from today's ordeal to bother continuing on with their road trip. Luckily their luggage is intact.. and as for Ivan and Martinez's stuff? Just make a discreet call to their family and mail their luggage back to their homes. Oops, I got sidetracked; anyways, the only other option is stay at a hostel, and when they've processed that brain fart out of their heads, find an option to leave France for good.

Just to show them a fledgling of that genuine French spirit, Fache offers them both a dinner at his personal favourite restaurant – Chez Ernie, where the food is served by the chef himself to his best clients.

Ernie himself is so kind; he makes his own wisecracks and jokes out loud to himself, serving the dishes, and it just takes Josh and Curtis's minds to a much better, relaxing place.. the food is just so good, the oysters, the curry-fried pork with dashes of onion, the lemon-lime cake for dessert..

They leave the restaurant fulfilled as fuck, and thank the good detective so much. Josh is picking out a hostel to stay at (those are cheap btw) on his phone, when Curtis sees with his eyes.. a park. No.. an indoors garden. A pathway leading down to someplace that's glowing bright colours, with an illuminated billboard beside – "The Garden of Hopes."

Curtis, feeling intrigued, asks Josh to visit there. And Josh: "No, we can't afford to be sidetracked."

But Curtis doesn't seem to hear, as he finds himself stepping down the passage – he feels the atmophere enveloping him deeply. He finds again the scent of nectar.. of Lillian, and then some more, as strange new scents come to his nose. Naturally sweet and dainty. And when he turns around a corner, he is greeted by the sight of phosphorescent flora, growing from obsidian pedestals, the tree leaves emitting blue and violet, with all the flowers ranging from a pristine red to yellow – like aquatic life brought to you in garden form.

It is a plaza filled with everlasting peace.

Curtis sits by a bench and relaxes himself – his mind drifting away to serenity. Dreamy feelings fill his attention, and a small part of him wonders how he hasn't stumbled across or heard of this place earlier. He would've believed in the romance of Paris, blossoming fruitfully in his heart.

Josh has followed Curtis downstairs- he too is in awe.

It seems so comfortable that Curtis considers just sleeping here instead of a proper hostel for the night, rules be damned. "Let's hope the security guards don't spot us.." Josh goes.

So they sleep under the phosphorent leaves.

They wake up, totally refreshed, and to the tune of a gardener named Quon who's trimming some leaves from a ladder. She's humming, and as the leaves fall they don't lose their lustre – it looks like a rain of colours, and for one brief moment, it feels like that ball dance all again where Curtis is holding Lillian, feeling her energies as she twirls under the vibrant lights.

If only his phone hadn't run out of power, he would've made a quick reference to the place's address.

They still have money – a few hundred Euros on their bank accounts. Oh, they have another option; it's taking the TGV. Ivan's option of the road trip to the north and the ferries is quite roundabout. If say, they can arrive in a different city with an international airport, they can just bypass the Paris congestion that has everyone's feathers ruffled.

So after finding a bite to eat from a nearby bakery, it's off to the TGV. It takes a while to fumble for a taxi (Uber drivers? No way, you can't trust that), and on the ride, Curtis asks Josh to hold his hand tightly – not in a gay way, but more like something of assurance to hold onto, to trust.

A news alert blares on the taxi's dashboard. The route they were on has a bunch of rabble-rousers, so the driver tells them to hang on, as the onboard GPS calculates a different route through the city, across the Pont Alexandre III bridge.

The bridge.

It's devoid of anyone, but there's ferries crossing underneath it. The taxi driver grinds the car to a crawl, and Josh + Curtis are totally confused as to why. Deep down, they know something's not right, and upon asking the driver, he tells them normally people would be all over this bridge – it's a tourist attraction. In riots or dangerous situations however, the bridge becomes a deathtrap; it's a long way to commit crossing.

The driver consults the onboard computer, swiping away the official taxi alerts and consulting the social media instead. In light of the cafe incident yesterday, French rioters take their stand against the current government, and are willing to shoot/beat any Muslims they encounter on sight. The voice is spreading – "Our France, forever!"

There's smoke, and just behind them, the rioters are progressing – you hear their unified chants, along with some light explosives popping.

The driver, wearing a turban (he's Sikh), knows that if he gets caught out by the mob, they'll decimate him for sure. He's on the young side of taxi drivers, panicking like he's too young to die, so he just floors the cab forward across the bridge – Curtis and Josh internally clenching from the sudden acceleration, and on the other side are the police..

The police are armed with riot gear, they have a converted fire engine with them. Spotting the taxi advancing on them with the rioters in background, it's only natural to assume that the taxi could've been commandeered with explosives..

"TAXI!" their commander goes. "STOP YOUR ENGINE!"

The taxi veers forth.

"Hey, you should stop!" Curtis goes, tapping on the dividing glass. "Pull over!"

But the driver doesn't seem to hear. He's mumbling something to himself, a sort of prayer.

"Stop the fucking car, now!" Curtis screams, with Josh ramming the glass, expecting to get shot at any second now by the police. This doesn't happen; the taxi's engine is shutdown – remotely by the police, and the car skids with the wheels failing to maintain their prior momentum.

It skids off the road, collides with the bridge bannisters, enough that the taxi's front has gone over the edge..

The driver is quivering in his seat, pissing himself.

After a bit, Curtis and Josh clamber out of the car, smoke pouring from its front and drifting south along the river. They're dazed from the collision, unsure whether it's safer with the police or the incoming rioters, who are just crossing the bridge.

A few policemen nab them, with one trying to pull the taxi driver out of his seat.

They're handcuffed, dragged back to the vicinity of the fire engines, and are interrogated in rapid French that none of them comprehend. Meanwhile, the commander orders the gathering crowd: "This is National Security! Disperse at once! Your protests are but a waste of energy and time!"

The crowd doesn't care. In their midst they've brought some old trucks – improvised explosives attached to their trunk, like fireworks, and it's their trump card when the people clear the way for the truck drivers to rev down the road.

"Stop them! Shut their engines down!"

The police, in their cruisers, try to lock on the incoming trucks whose engines are like a shrill, mechanical yelling – no on-board computers.

Josh sees this coming. There's no way the police can hold them off – he instantly kicks the holding officers. "CJ, we gotta dive! We have to get off the bridge!"

A panic sets in. Could CJ really float with his hands cuffed behind his back?

"Open fire!"

The police try to shoot down the truck drivers. Roars of deafening gunfire, with the firetruck hoses turned on, full blast – hoping to stop or swivel the trucks off path.

It's two trucks, one on each lane. The left truck's windshield is geysered with bullets, its driver erupting into pieces and the engine getting totalled – a spark erupts, and in a cascading explosion its engine goes, followed by the gas tank and the explosive payload it's been carrying.

The shockwave flashes through everything in a 0.3km radius, and it rips through Curtis and Josh as they're just tumbling off the bridge into the waters below – shredding their clothes, bursting their eardrums, and sending them tumbling off from the force; the taxi dislodged and falling to the waters.

The other truck has its contents sent flying outward, like volatile shrapnel, which detonates mid-air as the truck just crashes through the officers into one of their firetrucks.

A second explosion – erupting much larger from the first; the vehicles up into the air. Fireworks puff and pop, and a huge torrent of steam comes from the ruptured firetruck (carrying water tanks). Anyone in the vicinity, if not blown away or on fire, has to deal with the scalding humidity.

You can't see what's in the smoke, but the rioters cheer at their major victory, and advance onward. Their voices will not go ignored.

By then, Curtis hits the river and it hits his body much harder than he expected. His mind rattles from the sudden burst of water, the explosions, the total chaos of everything. Then he realises he needs to take a breath.

He sees he's almost hit the bedrock, as pieces of the bridge, and a few body parts land slowly in the waters. Nevermind that, he kicks his legs the hardest he's ever done; his pants have snagged on a piece of metal, and he wags his foot, ridding himself of it.

His lungs are on the verge of bursting; he's going to drown – he sees the rippling surface, and after a while of endless kicking he breaks for air.

The noise and chaos sounds too much, and his head bobs back underwater, only for him to go back up and breathe the arid smoke. The river naturally carries him away from the bridge, and he finds a glimpse of the ensuing rage up there – the people chanting for a better France.. where is Josh? He's nowhere to be found.

Curtis finds himself passing under other bridges, the Seine river flowing westward. He looks to getting himself back on dry land, and back-kicks himself to shore.

The police boats pass him by, but they're too occupied with the ensuring rioting, the flaming bridge to notice – a thought crosses through Curtis's mind, over his handcuffs; it's going to be a bitch to remove these metal fuckers, not to mention people'll just ask.

He'll say he got caught up in the riots and someone handcuffed him in a rage.

When he ends up by a pack of parked boats, a fisherman sees him. Helps him up with a pole on his shirt onto the boat.

"What happened to you?" the fisherman says, drying off the dripping wet Curtis with a towel.

"It's a long story," Curtis says, shivering. "They're rioting, and I got caught up in it."

"I've heard – it's so horrible! But.. why are you in handcuffs?"

"Ermm, I bumped into the police.." Curtis looks at the river for Josh, to no avail, the ripples of the wave fading away the colours of the sky and reflected buildings - the feeling of being truly alone dawning on him. No friends left to turn to. No family.

No Lillian.

Just that memory of a name once half-remembered – of that woman by the beach.

Clare.

The fisherman is pressing him now over the handcuffs. Curtis knows that he's not talking himself out of this situation, so he fools him into thinking he's going to cave in – then jukes around the guy, knocking him over, and scrambles to the boat's bridge so he could get off and find a way to the TGV station.

He hears the fisherman yell for him. He's like a headless chicken when running, and almost falls over as he gets onto stable ground of the walkway.

Other people nearby see the event. Curtis runs, panicking; those movies where you see teens make a break for it from their abductors come to mind. "He's an abductor!" Curtis yells. "He handcuffed me."

Tourist abductions do happen, and even though people don't quite make out what he's saying, they know his American accent, and with the fisherman yelling for Curtis to be stopped – the onlookers dogpile the burly fisherman.

One of them helps Curtis out of his handcuffs – a pocket knife through the lock does wonders – and after hearing advice to catch a cab to the American embassy and being given thirty euros, Curtis thanks the guy, and takes off for the streets.

It takes a long while for the taxi to reach the station, being that there's so much traffic being segued from parts of the city that are under rioting. The constant news being blared about it over radio, the kids in the nearby car too busy in their VR goggles to care, Curtis starting to feel hungry, tired out.

The East Railway station. Its architecture echoes the aristocracy of olden times blended with modernity.

Curtis gets off from the taxi. There's swarms of people – not really lining up for the till so much as being bunched together as much as space affords them to. People have been thinking of leaving Paris and France for years, like a brooding thought, and the explosion of violence today is a catalyst that triggers their decision.

It's funny how Curtis only has his wallet and spare change, while everyone else has their life tucked away in luggage.

The line proceeds slow. Before he knows it, there's more people lined up behind him, stretching out the entrance of the building. He's hungry as a motherfucker, aching for some food. Anything for a nice Subway half-footer sandwich in his mouth.

So Curtis leaves the line, knowing it means having to be at the far, far back again. As he walks, he sees the walking food vendors popping out of their corners (lunch break) to offer food, snacks and a free complementary baguette to the people in the lines, and Curtis is just a hair's width away from shouting out "Goddamnit!"

He winds up at a Subway in a food court, and with the last of his pocket change, gets that half-footer he's been saliviating for. Om nom nom.

A sleazy fellow at a table. His name is Vincent (and looks like Vincent Cassel). He reveals himself to Curtis as a transporter – meaning he literally transports lucky people onto the TGV train directly, no frills, just pay the price of two tickets and skip the hassle of the lines, baggage/security checks!

Does he accept VISA? He has a phone and a card reader jack accepting VISA, MasterCard, coin, Swiss Miles.. and only one spot left!

"Wait, do you charge extra if it's a different destination?" Curtis says.

Nope. Only thing that matters is that he gets Curtis (and some other people waiting) on the trains they want.

And without skipping a beat, Curtis swipes his card on the reader, and they shake on a deal.

Vincent leads Curtis over by a janitorial entrance, and in a utility room, there's a bunch of anxious Muslims with their luggage, with a few tourists. "Let's go, let's go-" he checks his watch- "Not much time before they start to check train tickets!"

It's a hurried pace to get to the train. They have to wait for Vincent to pause the security cameras, pause for any guards or busybodies, before they're on the move to the lower train platforms.

The TGV trains are triple-deckers. Luggage is stored on the bottom deck, and the train staff never check there. Vincent, working as a janitor with maintenance privileges, opens the emergency doors for each of the trains for the stowaways to close behind them.

"Thank you so much," the Czech tourist goes, on the same train to Strasbourg as Curtis is.

"God bless you all," Vincent says, before Curtis pulls the hatch door closed, and they're in an array of compartmentalized luggage.

An electronic horn sounds; the train departs.

While the small Muslim family huddle together, the mother feeding her little son some Turkish delight – the tourist jests small talk, as if to lighten the entire mood. "We going off on a wild adventure, eh?"

Then the sudden rush of acceleration has everyone feeling like it's a horizonatal roller-coaster, stomachs churning. The father whispers to his two daughters how it's only acceleration, and that the feeling will soon pass.

The Czech guy, his name Milos, is just a travelling salesman in a white hat and a suitcase, and talks about how awesome Paris is, how nice the people he dealt with are, the food – it is just such a shame that it's grown far too dangerous for him to ever consider coming back.

"You should visit Prague! It's so wonderful there!" he tells Curtis.

A while later, Curtis has to pee. The Muslim father tells him to watch himself above decks, as a few ticketing officers are known to have photographic memories – they can catch a new face even after going though hundreds of passengers.

Curtis clambers around the floor of luggage, before finding the stairs and awkwardly looking for the washroom in what looks like the second-class passenger area.

He finds a cubicle door. It's in use. Damn, and he's on the verge of exploding in his pants..

The door slides unlocked. When it opens, he sees her blonde hair, her eyes and her lips.

It's Clare.

For an instant, he forgets all about his bladder problems, while she returns his gaze curiously.