#beau grew up into the MOST HANDSOME YOUNG MAN!!!!!!!!!

[auspexsims]

the rheist-calaise family, circa 1905

[dreaminpeaches]

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Enbies...HER--I mean Him? Or them?-- whatever, anyways here's the first part of my daydream paracosm, Humble Pie. I was really happy I was able to come up with the first part in a somewhat cohort manner. Part 2 is also going to follow this sometime soon, but after that its probably just gonna be short shorts, text exchanges, and or drabbles, but that first part’s finally a thing! And that’s cool”

“Also just reminder that this paracosm is set in a mix timeline, like people have flip phones, cassette tapes, but still also have stuff like gamer chairs, and slang like sus/lit exist, so I hope that doesn’t bother you..oof”

“Also I wrote this from my Remarkable, then convert it to text, and did some proof reading, but my handwriting is still can only be read by chickens and my dyslexia ninja has sneak 100 accuracy so..yeah

Word count: 6,115

TW: mention of Bullying, DeadBeat dad, Smoking, Drinking, Swearing (only for comedy’s sake tho’), Dissociation, Guilt (but don’t worry there’s still A LOT of fluff in this piece, tho)

Link to Alternate version on my off-site daydream blog: Humble pie part 1

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"Okay, here we go" Beau said, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and taking in one last look at the panoramic view of the town below, Newbury, his hometown, he was away for a year because of college which he dropped out of. Well, "dropout" made it seemed like he had a choice, more like he flunked out, there were' 'reasons that 'made college impossible for Beau, reasons that he couldn't get into or more like reasons he didn't want to get into, these were the some reasons that turned what was suppose to be a 5 hour drive into an 8 hour one, making him stop ever so often to the nearest park, overlook, or clearing to get out, smoke and or take a short walk. These stops were so frequent by the time he reached his hometown’s overlook he was on his last stick, hard to believe he started the trip w/ a full box.

He dropped the last of the remains of the cig on the ground and stomped out the glow ember with his dark brown rounded toed boot, watching the embers glow go out made him feel similar in a way.

Beau took one more last look at the small town below blanketed by the dark, light sky. He looked around. the overlook, bring back memories of. late night make outs, sneak outs and general teenaged shenanigans.

Beau remembers once on a night he was really buzzed, a rare event for him, drinking with his buddies, rather it was the buzz from the beer, or he was just 'riding the 'high off scoring the winning goal for the team, or general teen hormones. He felt invincible, so invincible he stood up on the ledge and proclaimed himself as king of the world

A moment Beau looks back at and shakes his head as if to try to erase the memory from his mind like an etch n’ sketch, suddenly he got a bad taste in his mouth or maybe that's just the cigarettes "King of world….yeah, right" Beau said pulling up the collar of his jacket and shrugging his hands into his pockets, and headed back into the car.

It was getting late and there was no use in stalling any longer, might as well continue to the inevitable. Stalling may be that’s the feeling that's been following him the whole time, stalling the fact that he would have to return to his hometown a failure after being touted and praised for being a star athlete , and getting into a ivy league school, a feat his mom was really proud since she herself couldn't go to college because of having Beau at such a young age, and having to deal with a bunch of other “BS” as Beau would put it.

Beau really wanted to make her proud by becoming a famous football player and make tons of money so she wouldn't ever have to worry about bills n 'stuff and live in the malibu dream house she dreamed of living in since she was a kid, a dream she would talk about to her children like it was fairytale during when time got real tough.Even though she sounded upbeat over the phone about the news, Beau knew his mom was an expert when it came to masking her disappointment and skill that was pretty integral with dealing Beau's birth father. He just hopes she's not too disappointed

As the twilight sky grew more dark the street lights flickered on. Familiar and nostalgic landmarks and structures rolled by as Beau drove by with one hand gripping the wheel while the other hand hung casually out of the rolled down window. the nighttime breeze gentle, tossing his cart dirty blond hair mullet. The 'murmur of punk music lighty playing from the car's speaker, that was playing louder earlier but the volume's quickly depleted because blasting punk 'music at night in a small town is pretty serious offensive a risk, a younger Beau would play around with, but now being older he knows better.

Driving into his old neighborhood, seemingly not much has changed, but what do you expect from a small town? The old neighborhood consisted of typical signatures of most middle upper class .. neighborhoods, Christmas ' decorations long over due to be taken down, manicured lawns, next to slightly less manicured lawns. Some lawns adored w/ gnomes and flamingos, a step up from the lawns of homes in his childhood neighborhood whose homes had what one could consider a lawn but just barely, Beau and his brother were lucky enough to have a sizable back yard and a tree house.

His family's lawn had a bunch of outdoor toys laid about on their lawn: a nerf gun, a pink tricycle, a tiled dyed color bouncy ball and an empty container of mega bubble wand. Beau drove up in the driveway being careful to not accidentally run over any of the toys in the yard.

He eject the mixtape from the player and put it into his jacket chest pocket. Beau leaned over and rummaged through the glove compartment fishing out a small travel can of axe's body spray and another small spray can of mouthwash, he used both to cover the scent of cigarette smoke, a smell his mother was highly sensitive to. He popped in a stick of spearmint for extra measure before getting out of the car and going to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase. Beau only had one suitcase since all the stuff really needed and cared about conveniently fitted in one suitcase.

Beau propped up his suitcase as he closed the trunk, the car beeped and blinked as he pressed the lock button. He headed up the pathway to the front door, his heart beating louder and louder with each step leading up to the front door.

Beau took a deep breath, Pulling himself together. "Okay" He said under his breath as his hand slowly reach for the knob but before he could even get a good grip, the door swung open, Beau's eyes raced up to see the thinning hair of a middle aged man, Beau eyes lowered a bit more to see the mustached clad face of the man the hair belonged to. "Hey, Big Boss! '' the mustache man said with a grin. The man was Beau's stepfather, David.

"Hello, David, I-I mean Dad." Beau awkwardly greeted his stepdad, trying his best not to show discomfort at his step dad's “nickname" for him.

"Ha, ha that's okay, son!”David laughed, giving Beau a hefty pat on the back.

"Here, let me get your bags." David said, reaching for Beau's suitcase, looking behind Beau expecting more bags

“You only brought one bag?" he questioned, looking curiously.

'--I like to be efficient" Beau muttered with a shrug and a side glance. "HAHA you and me both, Big B" David chuckled playful elbowing Beau, who gave a half-smile and a small chuckle--well, more like a slight nose huff

"Hey, honey Big B is home!" David shouted as Beau closed the front door.

His mother came rushing from the bedroom in her rose pink robe w/a barbie in insignia on the front with matching fuzzy slippers, her sandy blond hair still damp from the shower.

"My little boy, oh!" she said, warping Beau in a tight motherly embrace. "Welcome home!" Beau's mother pulled back for a second, cupping her son's face in her hands “you’re still so handsome"

"Wait..." Beau gently removed his mom's hands from his face "Are you okay, mom?" He asked his considerate brown eyes searching his mother's teal eyes for any sign of distress.

"Of course, sweetie," his mom beamed. "I have all of my loved ones under one roof. What's more to ask?"

it's just that I didn't- Y-you know." Beau said with downcast eyes

"Oh, that" his mom said wide eyes and then shaking her head in dismissed

"Don't worry about not finishing college, I mean just look at me"

“But You just seemed so proud that I got in, I just didn't want to let you down"

“Sweetie, it's fine," his mom said, gently guiding his head up with her hand to look at him "I was not proud that-You were becoming the smart, sweet kind young man, I always knew you were, but now. I'm just happy that you’re here and I get to see you go. on the journey myself!" Beau chuckled tightly and blushed at his mom's admiration.

"Plus, Your mom's not the only one who is happy to have You home!” David said, gesturing towards the hallway. Beau looked to see a small figure peeking from the corner, the figure quickly disappeared followed by an overflow of giggles.

A smile slowly creeped across Beau's face, he slowly kneeled down. " "Gasp * Is that my little care bear?"

From the shadows totted out, a little girl dressed in a blue care bear patterned nightgown, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, she grasped a love-a-lot bear in one arm while her other arm was open as she raced towards Beau, also with arms wide open for a hug "Bo-Bo"

"Hey, care bear!" Beau cooed as he picked up his little sister "Wow, You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you!

"Carrie's been asking when you were coming since you told us you were coming home "David stated

"Really?"

"Yep!'' Carrie nodded proudly "You still have the love-a lot bear I won at grad night". Beau vividly remembers winning Love A Lot and his friends making fun of him, but Carrie really appreciated it more than he thought.

"Yeah, she takes it with her everywhere!" mom emphasized “Thank god, the kindergarten has a security blanket policy!

"Aww..." Beau said fondly looking at Carrie, who had her head resting on his shoulder, still grasping love a lot.

Beau thought for a moment and looked around "wait, where Dev?"

"Oh" mom said putting her hand on her head with a semi sigh "He's been going through... things"

"Teenager things: David specified "He's the big one three now.. "

“Don't worry, I can talk to him!”Beau said, confidently, slowly nodding his head

. Carrie lets out a small yawn "Aw, you sleepy, care bear?" Beau asked as Carrie rubbed her eyes

"It's past her bedtime, but she really wanted to see you," Mom said, stroking Carrie's hair. "Is someone ready for the sleep shuttle'?" Beau asked Carrie, looking at her in her sleepy hazel eyes, she nodded in response

"Alright, Here we go!" Beau held Carrie in both hands placing his arms out in front of him, he kneeled down and started counting down. "3…..2...1. Blast off!"

Beau shot Carrie in the as he stood back up. As he moved towards Carrie's bedroom, he moved all around side to side, up and down while making spaceship sounds, Carrie was giggling all the way through.

"Incoming! "Beau shouted as he swooshed Carrie round a few more times before landing her swiftly on the bed.

"Huston, the eagle. has landed!." Beau said, holding his ear as if he had an earpiece "Not eagle! Bear!" Carrie stated holding up her care bear "correction, the "BEAR" has landed!" Beau correcting himself, bringing a huge smile to her face as she nuzzled her care bear

"Okay, night, right, care bear" Beau said patting carries head

"Wait!" Carrie said holding on to her brother's arm "Is Bo-Bo still gonna be here in the Morning?""Of course, I'm not going anywhere at least for a while.." "Beau said, kneeling down to Carrie's eye level.

"Okay, I like having Bo-Bo around:'' Carrie said "and I like being around" Beau said, "see you in the morning, care bear" Beau gives Carrie a good night kiss on the forehead.

She settles into bed as Beau closes the door. Beau grinned to himself, feeling lucky to have such a cute sister. He remembers when Devin was that little, speaking of Dev. Beau apphoraced Dev's bedroom door. The door was caution tape, Don't enter signs, with a please knock before entering sign.

At first Beau did think about knocking but then thought "I could be a respectful older brother respect the sign or I could have fun and be a little shit. He pondered about it for a minute then-"yeah, I'm gonna be a little shit.”

Beau took a card out his wallet and wedged it in between the door to jimmied the lock. He peeked through the door to see Dev playing a video game on the tv. "you little..." Beau said under his breath, before bombastically opening the door "Hey there, squirt!" Beau said, shoving the door open

"Didn't you read the sign?!" Dev said as he turned around in his gamer chair in both shock-and annoyance

"Wow, that's a pretty warm welcome to give your older brother you haven't seen in a year!" Beau snarked, pretending to look hurt'' "Nice to see you too!"

"Oh my god!" Dev said, rolling his eyes and turning his chair back to tv, bringing his attention back to the game.

"and here I thought you were working on a project or homework or some school shit!" Beau continued "but no, you're just sitting here playing one of your little nerd games"

"Oh my god, can't you just leave!" Dev groaned as he hunching closer to the tv.

"You couldn't at least say "Hi" " Beau said now standing right behind Dev gamer chair

Dev raised and waved his hand half-heartedly and flatly said "hi"

"Well, damn I feel loved," Beau said sarcastically. "aren't you at least gonna look at me?" shaking the gaming chair a bit to gain an ounce of his little brother’s attention.

“ I saw you "Kool aid man" into my room. Is that enough?" Dev said still focusing on the game Beau sighed, then got an idea "Dev! Dev! I think there's something wrong with my heart I think I gonna-ugh!" He said staggering forward a bit before falling in Dev's lap, knocking out the game controller out of Dev's hands.

"Come on! I was in the middle of battle!" Dev whined looking at his brother playing dead

"Get off of me!" Dev go armed as he tried to push beau off with no luck

"Come on, Beau!" He gored in frustration “I know you're not dead! I can still feel your heartbeat..."

Get up!" Beau remained still, Dev rolled his eyes; he knew the exact words to get his brother off his back or in this case lap.

"Big brother, can you please get off of me n Dev utter begrudgingly "Aw, you haven't call me ‘Big brother’ in years" Beau chimed with a smile, finally getting up "I'm still kind of hurt, that you cared about your gaming progress than the well being for your one and only big brother"

"You were still breathing, I could literally see you inhaling and exhaling." Dev clarified rubbing his forehead

"Touche, I guess" Beau said he then directed Dev's chair in front his bed," now that I have your attention"

"Okay, I guess I should say sorry since you couldn't and say "hi" to me because you were too busy saving some elf princess, or some anime chick with huge melons"

"I-H-Hey I don't even play those types of games!" Dev argued blushing

" .-sure you "don't'." Beau taunted with a wink, Dev goanned "Anyways, Anyways you don't have to say "hi",; but you could at least not talk to me"

Beau suggested, shrugging. "I guess" Dev mumbled kind of sinking into his chair "cool, so how's life?" Beau started, trying to start a diagoul "okay"

"How's school?"

"Okay"

"How’re your friends?"

"Okay"

"Got a girlfriend?"'

"NO”

"Got a boyfriend?"

N-NO"

"Got any crushes"

“….NO…..."

"joined any clubs or any other after school junk?"

" ..... NO..."

"Are you just gonna answer all my questions in one word?"

Dev fell quiet, and shifted his gaze from his brother

“Okay, that's it!" Beau huffed, he picked up Dev and hoasted him over his shoulder "Hey! put me down!" Dev-shouted , beating his fists on Beau's back "Not until you talk to me like an actual person, and one worded answers aren't gonna cut it, squirt!"

"MOM! Dad!"

"Mom and Dav-Dad are fast asleep, and you know they both sleep like rocks!" Beau stated'' the only person you'll wake up is Carrie, and You don't want to wake little care bear, now do YOU?"

Dev fell Quiet again, "You know I can hold you like this for hours, you aren't really that heavy, or you can just end this and talk to me" Beau suggested ending the suggestion with a sigh and started to stomp his foot impatiently..

Dev continued the silent treatment for a bit until letting out a meek "Okay...I'll try" .

Hey, three words, that's a start!" Beau cheekly commented,He sat Dev back down in his green gamer chair.

"Okay, do over!" Beau said casually sitting across from Dev and his bed. "so, how's school going?" "F-fine” Beau gave Dev a intense look, reminding Dev of his word count “N-no, I mean it's just weird" Dev stuttered choosing his words carefully, Dev fiddled with his hoodie sleeves.

"and it's weird because..." Beau initiated, gesturing his hand toward encouraging Dev to continue "It's weird because.... I don't know, Middle school is way different than 'elementary school, I mean I knew that from tv, but middle school isn't like tv."

"It's okay, nothing like tv, that thing lies” Beau softly chuckled to himself and continued “I remember thinking Pogo sticks were the SHIT-cuz 'of people and cartoons on tv made it look so easy"

"I finally got enough money for one-- you were like little you probably don’t remember this-- but I was SO HYPED, I wanted mom to watch me. I took one hop, fell on my ass, and never hopped on that bitch again. I was pissed, I think mom was trying to her best not to laugh but I was so pissed I think I didn’t notice until now. I chucked the pogo stick in the garage, and I never looked at that bitch again”

Dev let out a stiff laugh, the defensive wall Dev put was slowly breaking

"Oh WAIT WAIT!” Beau said taking a moment to correct himself “ That WASN’T the last time the last time I looked that bitch, I fished it out of garage years later, only cuz’ I need some money for Madden. So, I did look at that bitch one more time, but only to sell that bitch.”

Dev let out a more audible laugh, but quickly caught himself and recollected, returned to his disillusioned teenage state.

"Anyway, The teacher's are kind of weird, like a lot of them hate my guts already, except for the coaches who are super nice to me." Dev explained, kind of looking away from his brother

"Weird, why do you think that is?" Beau asked whole hearty

"Because I'm related to you, Numb skull!" Dev blunted , groaning putting his hand on his forehead

"Oh damn, I guess that's my fault." Beau realized, rubbing the back of his neck "My bad. that my awesomeness is just lengardy"

Dev shook his head and rolled his eyes "It's not awesome to live in YOUR shadow!" Dev sulked, sinking back into his chair, his hands covering his face.

"You don't have to follow in my awesomeness, I know I'm a hard act to follow." Beau boasted teastingly so"You just gotta make your own awesomeness."

"What does that even mean?" Dev questioned, moving his hands down, allowing his eyes to peek through his fingers, trying not to given the urge to roll his eyes

"It's like my awesomeness comes from my boyish charm and good looks..." Beau claimed, striking an award winning smile, The urge not to roll his eyes was becoming even hard for Dev, but he still had to try and respect Beau "But your awesomeness could come from being good at games, or computers shit or math or robots or something--I don't know something real nerdy"

"I guess, you're right" Dev mumbled and shrugged,lifting himself up back into a sitting position rather than almost spilling out of his chair.

"Its not a guess, its science!" Beau declared proudly, tapping his temple with his index finger

"No,that's not science!" Dev arguing his brother's stupidity, flatly shaking his head in disagreement

"See, there you go using your nerd awesomeness" Beau pointed out with a wink "Keep that up and you'll go from Beau's lil bro, to just ‘Dev’ in no time." Beau playful tousled Devs mop dirty blonde hair

"I mean.." Dev continued batting his brother's hand away, "I was also thinking of joining the video game club or the robotics club at school."

"There you go another nerdy thing that to add to your own awesomeness" Beau said

"Yeah...." Dev continued ignoring his brother's comment' “Some of my friends are thinking about joining, and it would be a nice place to go away from mom and dad."

"I had sick memories of hanging out with the team, we got into some wild shit." Beau said laughing to himself, fondly reminiscing "But I'm sure you and you geek squad could have "wild" times too, like making an anime robot 'weify." or whatever those called or finding a new math formula or something"

Dev fell quiet for another moment, Beau always seems like he’s in between being supportive and subtly roasting him, Dev then uttered "um... I think I kind of have a crush... on a girl..."

"AYE, let's go! "Beau exclaimed, clapping and shaking Dev's chair for a bit before bouncing back on the bed'' Come on, don't leave me hanging, what's her name? "Have you talked to her vet? Have you asked her out? Have-"

"Calm down!" Dev demanded "I said I had a crush, I didn't say we’re going out.'"

"Oh, so you haven’t talked to her, huh?”

"No, I-I don't even know her name" Dev huffed, he let his arms slip into his oversize sleeves and covered his sleeves with his face in frustration.

"You know you could just ask, not the chick, like just ask around"

"I can't do that because if I do, people will find out I like her and if she finds out, I would just have to stop going to school!”

"Okay, let’s just pretend you DO have the balls to talk to this girl, what's the worst that could happen?" Beau suggested

"She finds out that I like her, thinks I'm weird and never wants to talk to me again or even look at me!” Dev muffled through his sleeved covered face

"You really think she can sus that out all in one go!" Beau said "I mean she is a middle Schooler unless she's like a young nancy drew, she is not going to chew you up and spit out like that." Beau explained "speaking of which''

Beau paused for a moment to spit out his gum into the trash can "Score!"

"Anyways, have you done anything weird to her or around her?"

"No, I mean I look at her in the hallways before and in between class, but I don't like-- stalk her or anything too weird." Dev mumbled, moving his sleeves from his face, but his head was still targeted down at his fingers fiddling with a tag on his black shorts

"So, then what's the fear?" Beau inquired, resting his chin on the heel of his palm

Dev thought for a moment, his eyes shifting looking for an answer." I-I guess I just don't know how to talk to her."

"Well, fuck, that's easy" Beau chuckled “Just talk about school shit, or just say "hi"

"Is it really that easy?"

"Yeah, if you have the balls for it" Beau reiterated "Think about it like this, the dudes you play in your little nerd games have to fight a dragon, a demon or some anime witch with huge melons to talk to the girl they like and they er brave enough to do all of that wacky shit. But you’re lucky, you don't have a dragon for real in your way to keep you talking from your crush. The dragon's just in your head! If those hero dudes can fight dragons they actually can see, doesn't that mean you can fight a dragon you don't even see."

"That was a really lame and kind of confusing metaphor" Dev sassed " But I guess understand what your trying to say"

"Exactly" Beau said nodding confidentiality

"Can we talk about mom and dad?" Dev asked sheepishly, looking up at his brother, (well as much as he could with his shaggy bangs in the way), his fingers now toying with his hoodie strings

"Did something happen?"

"No, I mean yeah, I mean it's just weird" Dev said "Mom and dad are starting to get more annoying but I don't know if they were always like that or they like charged"

"No, parents don't really change-usually” Beau explained “It's just that being a teenager makes you hypersensitive to a bunch of shit and makes you wanna be alone more. Parents, the good ones like spending time with their kids and they actually want quality time n' shit and that's where they start to get annoying".

“"Oh okay,” Dev nodded.'' It's just weird because sometimes I feel like I hate them, but I don't want to. I think I just really want to be alone more like you said but I don't want to shut them out, I just want them to get that." Dev-fiddles with the strings of his green hoodie

"Yeah, I think they do in a weird old people kind of way. Believe it or not they were teenagers to even if that was back in the stone age n' shit" Beau joke"

Dev let out an actual laugh, a sign to Beau that he's little bro was being less of a moody teenager

"Anyway, even with that said mom and david-I mean dad aren't mind readers, it would be cool if you give them a heads up, you don't have to tell them all about what's going on in your little teen nerd brain but at least something simple like something weird or funny that happened at school, or asking for help on homework or a project for class or some shit like that, I'm pretty sure Dav-dad would love that.."

"I guess I could try". Dev said slightly nodding his head "But Carrie is kind of weird too!

"How can Carrie be weird, she's 5.” Beau scoffed "she doesn't do anything weird really"

Dev added" it's just sometimes she's regular cute and other times she's annoyingly cute if that makes sense"

"I mean like kind of get what you're saying but "Beau shrugged gesturing his hand toward prompting Dev to continue

"Like I still look out for her because she little, but because she's little that means I have to do dumb stuff like look for monsters under her bed or do that sleep shuttle thing you do, but I can't really do it because my arms give out halfway through and she's heavier than she looks."

"Well, little brothers and sisters are annoying, it's kind of their job, trust me I know from experience" Beau: put his hand on Dev's knee, Dev tried to Swat at it but Beau quickly put his hand back with a smirk.

"But like with mom and da-David just cuz she's annoying doesn't mean You can’t look out for her n stuff"

"I guess, its because lately, it seems like'' Dev paused 'for a beat, his hands hard gripping the strings of his hoodie, before continuing" I don't know mom and dad have been paying more attention to her than me"

A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "AW does someone miss being the baby?"'

"Oh, fuck! I knew you 'er gonna say that!" Dev blurted out, feeling really exposed, he pulled his hoodie strings allowing his head to be consumed by his hoodie, all but his nose.

"Hey! language,” Beau said, surprised at his little brother's reaction those harsh words coming out of the mouth of small boy sporting a Yoshi hoodie

"You cuss' all the time!" Dev huffed pulling his hoodie back down, then crossing his arm definitely

"Yeah, but I'm older than you, and if mom and David--DAD hear you curse they’er gonna know you got it from me and won't get off my ass about it!"

Dev stared at his brother, simmering in frustration in failing to coming up w/a good come back or a flaw in his brother's logic, He let out a heavy sigh and resumed "Anyways, it's NOT like I miss being the baby, I just miss being able to hold their attention without Carrie coming in and stealing them anyway, I don't know its weird"

"Wait, did you just say that you wanted to be alone and away from mom and David-fuck. I'm not even gonna try more-he's asleep anyways." giving up any attempt to make the word "Dad" same with the name "David"

"Yeah, I know that's what makes it weird!" Dev admitted, he sulked back deeper into his chair and let out a groan.

"You know Carrie's not awake all the time, maybe you can talk to mom and David, when she goes down for her nap, hell, I could just take her to the park for a day." Beau offered

"You'd really do that for me?" Dev peeped, quickly lifting himself up in a sitting position, surprised at his brother kind offer

"Yeah, anything to make you less of a weird angsty shut in, with a bunch of cringy keep out signs and keep out tape!" Beau gestured towards the door

"Actually, I got that caution tape from a real crime scene" Dev clarified, with a smug smile

"Really?" Beau taking a longer closer look at the door

"No, thick head, I found it in a dumpster next to party city!"

"You go dumpster diving?" Beau said, raising an eyebrow

"I have a life outside of YOU!" Dev stated proudly

"Okay, and on that... Weird garbage goblin flex, sibling bonding time is over." Beau said getting up from the bed and heading for the door

"Actually, one more thing..." Beau said quickly, turning around, rushing towards Dev, putting him into a headlock.

"Did ya miss me? Come on, tell me that you missed me!" Beau taunted as he gave his brother a long and through noogie "Ouch, Ow, Ow, Okay, okay, I missed You. Geez:" Dev pleaded trying to struggle out of his brother's grip

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Beau said with a smirk, letting 'Dev go.

"Ugh! my hair" Dev fumed , gawking at his even more messy mop of hair.

"Like you care about appearances" Beau chuckled" mop top nerd!"

"Mullet-hair metal meathead!"

"Ouch, that was pretty good" Beau teased pretending to look hurt "Garbage Goblin"

"You already-"Dev started but was cut off by Beau closing the door

"Too late, the door is closed, I can't hear you, which means I win!" Beau said through the door, laughing at his brother's muffled fury of frustration.

Beau grinned relishing in the absolute confusion of his younger brother, but that good vibe quickly faded once he arrived at the door to his old bedroom. He just stood there and stared at the door for a bit, he could feel the icky stew of the emotions from bubbling back up again.

He flexed his hand a few times as if this was the first time he's ever pored a door, Beau's hand reached for the door handle before retracted as if the knob was red hot.

Beau sheepishly looked around as if somebody was watching him, no one was but it sure did feel like it. He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would be weird, since it seemed like his step dad put his luggage in his room. so, eventually he would have to go into his room anyway.

Beau took a deep breath. "Come on, it's just a door, dude!" He told himself Beau's hand rested on the door knob, he took another deep, his hand gained a stronger grip, and he slowly pushed the door open, Beau carefully entered the room as he closed the door behind him. Looking around the room was plaster with posters of football players and a few pinups of doe-eye, sensual women in swimsuits and other scantily clad outfits.

Athletic medals, trophies and awards displayed proudly on his bookshelf that lacked any actual books, those trophies stood next to pictures of Beau with his teammates, all illuminated by the moon's dull pale blue light. These relics of what felt like a bygone era used to fill Beau with so much pride and joy but looking at them now just leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He could barely even recognize himself in those photos. This whole room felt like a shrine or more like a tomb to someone who no longer exists.

Looking at all this stuff just made the icky feelings from before rise up to the back of his throat making the bad taste linger even longer.

Beau couldn't really pin what-these feelings were, so he shifted his focus on just getting some sleep

As he thought, Beau's step dad put his luggage on his bed. He opened his bag and quickly changed into a white tank top and some grey sweatpants. He fished out the mix tape from his jean jacket and put into the gray clucky music player on his nightstand. Beau turns the music up loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for disturb anyone else. Heavy metal music (ironally) helped him sleep on hard nights.

Beau laid in bed focusing on the one spot in his room that wasn't decorated with high school memorabilia. Focusing on that spot was way better than focusing on the icky feelings from earlier. All he needed to was focus on sleep just sleep, Beau closed his eyes and tried to focus on just sleep.

The next time Beau opened his eyes, he was back in the hallway of his highschool. Beau looked around confused why he was back here but before he could really sus out the situation, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. He followed the sound of the thud that led to a scene of a bespectacled student being shoved up against the lockers. The student's face contorted by fear.

"P-please, d-don't hurt me. "the student uttered, the words quivering as it left his lips.

"Aww, look at him, guys." a familiar voice said, Beau couldn't see whom the voice belonged to. There was a strange mist in the hallway that obscured the person's face.-

"He's scared." the voice said mockly, the person nodded towards a group of people whose faces were also obscured by the mist, they laughed in response

“Don't worry, little buddy, I'm not gonna hurt ya:" the person taunted as he tightened his grip on the student and shoved his body up against the failing student. "As long as you don't squeal" .

"You squeal, and I'll fry you like the pig you are, got it. Swine?"

"I-I p-promise I W-won't. J-just please let me go!" the student begged

Beau was disturbed by scene happening before him, but along with the feel of disgust came a feeling of familiarity, like he's been there before

Just then the fog lift to reveal the face of a younger version of Beau dawned in his red “New Burny High school” letterman jacket. He was smirking relish in the fear he was inflicting on the poor student.

Older Beau slowly back up, almost stumbling as he was coming to the realization of the origin of all those icky feelings from before

"I don't know, do we trust him, guys?" Younger beau asked cocking his head back to his teammates, who shook their head in disagreement "The Boys and I don't seem very sure of that, I think I'm gonna have to test your loyalty !" Younger Beau winded up his arm for a punch, But before his fist could make an impact.

Beau found himself back in his room in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as quickly rose from his bed. His room, still illuminated by the moonlight, with the metal mix tape softly playing in the background. He looked at his hand as if they were lethal weapons. How could I do such a thing?

[arrestjellyfish]

Rainbow Blossoms

Chapter 1: Saturday

[Sanders Sides, romantic prinxiety / Virgil/Roman]

Summary:

Tattoo artist Roman Prince goes to the local florist to visit his elderly friend, Céleste Tempȇte, and pick some flowers to use as inspiration for a new design.

But instead of finding a soft old woman amongst the iridescent display of flora, he meets her anxious emo grandson. Virgil Tempȇte is everything you would not expect to find in a flower shop.

Cue intrigued simp noises.

Other chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter warnings: swearing, suggestive language, mention of mild illness, brief mention of artwork depicting mild blood

Chapter word count: 6,900

Read on AO3 or below!

[Also available as a podfic!]

oOo

It was unusually warm for a midsummer day in England. Crowds of people had flocked to the streets in excitement, hoping to soak up the best of the sunshine before the clouds were bound to return with a vengeance later that week.

Roman waltzed across the cobblestone road, inhaling rich scents of earthy vegetables and fresh, salty fish. Market vendors hailed from every direction, boasting low prices on sugar snap peas (freshly-picked that morning) and 2 kilos for the price of one on the juiciest peaches. Pedestrians of every age bustled around, energised by the atmosphere.

A burly man cut across Roman’s path, lugging a crate of dirt-caked carrots across the road. Roman had to sidestep to avoid crashing into him. He bumped into a metal pole on one of the many market stands in his haste, bruising his arm.

‘Are you quite all right, young man?’ the woman behind the stall asked in a kind voice.

A wide grin broke onto his face as he rubbed his aching arm. ‘I’m wonderful, thank you, madam!’

He adored market day.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he knew it would be Remy demanding he get his arse back to work. Really, Roman knew he should have been hurrying back to the studio, but how could he possibly be expected to forego a gentle stroll through the town centre on such a wondrous day as this? 

Besides, he had a perfectly valid excuse to be out of the stuffy tattoo parlour on this bright afternoon. The client he had had a consultation with earlier had requested quite an intricate design for their future tattoo, consisting of various flowers. Roman felt a duty to purchase a bouquet for reference, wanting even his initial sketches to live up to his reputation as an artist. He hadn’t been nominated tattooist of the month three months in a row for nothing, after all.

To aid in the completion of his quest, he knew the perfect, quaint little flower shop hidden away behind the sandstone buildings of the high street. There was an abundance of flower stalls dotted along the market, of course, though Roman was well-versed in selecting the finest of flora (having had plenty of opportunities to woo handsome young men in his 25 years) and knew a wider selection would be available at Beau Blossoms.

There was also a sense of loyalty that made him skip past the flower stalls and duck into the familiar crooked backstreet. He had become well acquainted with his favourite florist’s elderly owner, Céleste Tempȇte, who Roman had grown to see as one of his dearest friends, even if their 50-year age gap was unconventional.

He quickened his pace as he neared the modest shopfront, it’s pale blue paint chipping from years of wear. The windows were adorned with an iridescent display of the most gorgeous flower arrangements, as usual.

‘Good afternoon, mon fleur d’amour!’ Roman sang heartily as he pushed the glass door open, ducking his head with practised ease to avoid hitting it on the bell that jingled above him.

He breathed deeply at the onslaught of pungent floral scents. The intensity of the pollen had overwhelmed him at first all those months ago, though he had grown accustomed to it and now welcomed the attack on his senses as if greeting an old friend.

Crooked, aged floorboards creaked beneath him as he stepped around the corner of the entranceway. ‘How is the fairest woman in town fairing on this fair day?’

Roman looked up at the wooden desk where Céleste would always be slumped, doing a sudoku puzzle and smiling widely at Roman’s antics.

Then he froze.

Sitting in Céleste’s rickety stool was a complete stranger. They looked around Roman’s age, perhaps a tad younger, and were a decidedly different sight from what Roman had expected.

Céleste was a stout woman with silver hair who would often wear pastel floral dresses, with a mint-green shawl perpetually draped across her rounded shoulders. This new person looked similarly below-average in height, though otherwise was a polar opposite. They appeared scrawny and the pale skin on their hands and neck was practically swallowed by an oversized black and purple tartan jacket. Their ripped black skinny jeans (complete with chains and studded belt) were a far cry from Céleste’s nude pantyhose and where Céleste’s grey eyes would crinkle with delight at Roman’s entrance, this person’s dark eyes were wide with surprise and framed by the blackest eyeliner and smokey purple eyeshadow.

‘You’re not my Céleste,’ Roman said, feeling robbed.

The stranger’s eyes grew wider still and their eyebrows pulled down in anger. ‘Dude, what the fuck? You flirt with my grandma?’

Roman held his hands up in surrender, hoping to placate the sudden hostile atmosphere. ‘Relax, Count Drag-ula. I’m gay.’

‘Oh…’ the stranger breathed, seeming humbled and embarrassed by their outburst.

They slumped in their seat, having been sitting ramrod straight since Roman had entered. Then their arms folded around their torso and their shoulders hunched up as if protecting their neck. Bright purple hair fell over their eyes as they looked to the floor. The intimidating air that had been so pronounced in them seconds previously faded and was replaced by what Roman recognised as debilitating shyness.

It clicked pretty quickly after that.

‘You must be Virgil Tempȇte, right?’

Céleste had mentioned her grandson on many occasions during their friendly chats. Mostly she only mentioned him in passing, offhandedly saying that he had moved back home after a year in London, or boasting about what Virgil had gotten her for her 75th birthday (a vintage encyclopedia of 18th-century fashion trends which Roman had had the good fortune of borrowing). Though a few months previously, in an act of desperation, she had spoken much more candidly about her grandson. She had sought Roman’s advice on how she could help her beloved petite chauve-souris to become more confident in himself and overcome his severe anxiety.

Roman’s heart had warmed in hearing the old woman care so intensely about her grandson’s wellbeing. When Roman himself had been struggling with his confidence back in school, his parents had not exactly been forthcoming with support. It was refreshing to witness such unconditional love between family members.

His advice had mainly been that there was not much that Céleste could do to enforce a stronger sense of self-worth in Virgil, but that she should simply let him know that she loved and supported him and would be there for him as he grew.

Now, Roman presumed Virgil had come out of his shell, at least a little, given his rather eccentric makeup and clothing choices. Though he was still curled into himself protectively as he gave Roman a wary look through a wisp of his fringe.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘Céleste talks about you a lot,’ Roman said easily, offering one of his winning smiles.

It was, unfortunately, not met with the same enamoured responses he was accustomed to receiving. In fact, rather than dazzled by Roman’s charm, Virgil looked mortified.

Hearing that someone had been talking about you behind your back to a complete stranger was likely a little distressing to someone with an anxiety disorder, Roman realised. He moved the conversation on quickly.

‘I’m Roman Prince.’ He stepped forward to hold out his hand, which Virgil took tentatively. His fingertips were smooth. ‘I imagine your grandmother has mentioned me before.’

‘Um,’ Virgil stalled, pulling his hand back to himself and shaking his jacket sleeve so that it fell back over his fingers. ‘I’m not sure.’

Indignance overwhelmed Roman’s being.

‘Oh, come now.’ He leaned sideways against the desk, sticking out his chin just enough to profess confidence, not enough to intimidate. He had refined his poses down to a tee. ‘Your grandmother must have told you tales of the handsome young prince who brightens her days with a soft serenade,’ he finished the sentence in a lilting melody.

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up and his lips parted (they were a beautiful splash of rose against his fair skin, Roman thought). Pride swelled in Roman at the look of recognition on Virgil’s face. Céleste must have regaled her family with plenty of enthralling stories of Roman’s magnetism and penchant for chivalry.

‘Oh my God.’

‘Everything you’ve heard is true,’ Roman drawled with a confident smirk.

‘You’re the guy that grabbed the cactus like a microphone, aren’t you?’

Roman’s smile dropped instantly at the way Virgil’s lips tugged up in amusement.

‘Yes, well.’ He bridled a little, standing upright again. ‘T’was not my finest moment.’

‘Yeah, maybe not,’ Virgil mumbled. He bit his lip in what Roman assumed was an effort to contain laughter.

Heat flooded Roman’s cheeks and he promptly spun away from the table.

‘So she would tell you that story and nothing of my usual elegance,’ Roman grumbled, starting to delicately run his fingers over the blossoms displayed on the shelves. He had not taken Céleste for one to actively humiliate him.

‘No, she - I -’ Virgil stammered. ‘I’m sorry. Grandma - she has said plenty of nice things about you too, I just…’

Roman turned back to him, noting the stiffness in his posture and the pained look that pinched his features.

‘That’s just the one that sticks in the mind, y’know?’ Virgil’s long arm stretched upwards as he scratched at the back of his neck. Roman thought it might have been a way to dispel the awkwardness as Virgil’s elbow bent at such an odd angle that it partially hid his flushed cheek.

Not one to hold a grudge unnecessarily - especially not against such endearing young men - Roman smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

Virgil fidgeted on his stool, seeming hesitant, then slid off of it to stand up. Though he didn’t seem much more at ease on his feet, shuffling nervously and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘You, um, you're the guy that brings her fruit tea in the mornings and texts her cute animal videos, right?’

‘C’est moi!’ Roman said with a bright grin, hoping his cheery disposition would comfort Virgil somewhat. He felt an inexplicable need to ensure the other man felt calm.

‘Well… thanks,’ Virgil mumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets, picking at the frayed sleeves around his fingers, then burying them in his pockets again. ‘Dad and I kinda worry about her being here on her own every day, since we live a bit further out of town. It’s… nice to hear her talk about you.’

Not for the first time, and what he was sure certainly wouldn’t be the last, Roman’s chest filled with joy at hearing about the sheer love shared between the Tempȇtes.

‘But of course,’ he said, happy to see Virgil’s shoulders soften from their previous rigidity. ‘I make sure she does not go a day without seeing a friendly face, though I’m sure as wonderful as she is Céleste must have made plenty of friends in her years here.’

‘Yeah, but none like you,’ Virgil replied without pause. There was a small smile curling his lips and it was the first genuine show of happiness Roman had witnessed in him. It was quite captivating.

Then Virgil’s shoulders were suddenly raised to his neck again and he rocked backwards on his feet, putting some distance between them (at least as much as was possible in a 20-square-metre shop packed full with buckets and bundles of flowers). Roman tried to ignore the swell of disappointment in his chest.

He did not think himself skilled at much beyond his talent for tattooing and the great art of courtship, though he was confident in his ability to read the atmosphere of a room and knew to change the subject before the anxious man became any more uncomfortable.

‘So,’ Roman started, turning back to the various bunches of flowers that sat in the water troughs around the edges of the shop. He cradled the bright bloom of a sunflower in his palms and lifted it slightly from its water to better admire its beauty. ‘Where is the celestial woman? She must be on quite a grand adventure to have left behind her beloved blossoms!’

‘She’s sick.’

Roman’s stomach lurched and he felt the colour drain from his face in an instant. The sunflower dropped back into the bucket with a light splash and clang as the stem hit the metal base.

He snapped his gaze onto Virgil, who had opted to take his hands out of his pockets again and was twiddling a stem of white hyacinths between his fingers. He seemed completely undisturbed by the words that had just left his mouth.

‘My gosh, will she be all right?’ Roman asked, his voice shaking. ‘Is she in the hospital? When did this happen?’

‘Oh, shit.’ Virgil’s eyes blew wide and the white petals stopped their twirling in his hold. ‘I didn’t mean - she’s just got the flu.’

Roman was unconvinced of how reassuring that should have been, given Céleste’s ripe age.

Apparently his uncertainty was palpable as Virgil hurriedly continued, ‘My dad’s looking after her. It’s really mild, don’t worry.’

A massive sigh of relief escaped Roman and he felt the tension that he didn’t realise had seized his body begin to ebb away. Céleste had proudly proclaimed her son to be the most attentive medical nurse in the world, and given her compassionate nature Roman had not doubted for a second that that would be true of her own offspring. She was in safe hands.

‘Dear Zeus, don’t scare me like that!’ Roman cried with a steadying hand on his chest, though it was not a sincere reprimand and was followed by a breathy laugh.

‘Sorry,’ Virgil said, smiling apologetically.

Despite Roman’s brief upset, the misunderstanding seemed to have broken the last of the tension between them and Virgil did not flinch away when Roman took a step closer. He did it under the pretence of wiping his fingers dry on the tatty, damp hand towel that perpetually hung on a hook in the wall. They pulled away wetter than they had been before. ‘It’s no issue, Virgil.’

‘If it helps,’ Virgil offered, ‘I reacted just the same when Dad first told me.’

‘Oh?’ Roman prompted, feeling like he wasn’t ready for Virgil to stop talking yet.

The slighter man tended to squirm a little as he spoke, though not in an uncomfortable way; it seemed to be habitual more than anything. Habit or not, his lithe body twisted in such a subtle way that it was almost reminiscent of a pulse or a rhythmic dance. Roman found himself entranced by Virgil’s mannerisms as well as his character. And, undoubtedly, his beauty. ‘How so?’

Roman leaned his hip against the desk, locking his arms in a way that gently pushed his chest forward and stretched his t-shirt lightly. He knew it would be subtle enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Though, he thoroughly hoped that would be the only form of arousal he was avoiding.

Right on cue, Virgil’s eyes danced down to Roman’s chest, then flitted sideways to the window, back to Roman’s chest (where they lingered for a couple of seconds), and then down to the floor where they stayed. Roman smirked.

‘Yeah, I -’ Virgil cleared his throat ‘- I freaked out a bit. I actually told her I was gay the day before she caught it and I thought I’d, like, shocked her body or something.’

A surprised delight washed over Roman and his teeth bared in a disbelieving smile. Wasn’t this just perfect?

Virgil’s dark eyes - which on closer inspection Roman could now see were mismatched, one being a rich brown and the other green - rose to meet his gaze. Roman watched as he crumbled into himself with the realisation of what he had just said.

‘Oh my God, why did I tell you that?’ Virgil lamented under his breath, squinting his eyes shut and bringing his thumbnail up to his mouth.

‘I wonder,’ Roman murmured through a wide smile. It never failed to invigorate him when his charms effectively ensnared a cute boy. His cheekiness ran high on the excitement. ‘Now as much as I would truly love to stand here with you for as long as the hours in the day would allow, I do have a request of you.’

‘Uh… sure,’ Virgil mumbled around his thumbnail. He had recovered quickly from Roman’s flirting, though the colour was still high on his cheekbones, and Roman knew better than to think it was just from the warm weather. ‘What is it?’

‘I need your assistance in gathering the gayest selection of flowers possible.’

A sharp exhale blew from Virgil’s mouth, slightly muffled around the hand which still sat flush against his chin. It sounded partway between a sigh and a nervous laugh. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘Anything for you, darling,’ Roman said in his smoothest baritone. His heart skipped at how Virgil’s fingers clenched tightly around the hem of his sleeve. ‘I’m a tattoo artist at Rainbow Skins Parlour - have you heard of it?’

Virgil’s eyes lit up beautifully and his hand dropped back to his side giving Roman a perfect view of those rose petal lips that enamoured him so. ‘Oh man, that’s so cool. My friend got her tat done with you. She said you guys were super accommodating of her dysphoria and stuff.’

‘That’s the aim,’ Roman beamed. He was immensely proud of the atmosphere he and his coworkers had created at the studio. Their mission was to create a safe space for those in the LGBT+ community who wanted to get inked and it seemed from all of the positive feedback they received that they had achieved that vision. ‘One of my clients wants a design full of flowers that symbolise gay love, so I came seeking a florist’s expertise.’

‘I dunno if Grandma is too hung up on the symbolism of the flowers, to be honest,’ Virgil said hesitantly, picking at his fingernails then folding his hands behind his back. ‘She’s more about the biology and aesthetics of it all.’

‘Well then lucky for me that Aphrodite blessed me with your glorious presence today.’ Roman settled to sit on the edge of the desk. It being quite low rise, his figure sunk slightly so that he was now directly eye-level with Virgil. The other man’s eyes did not leave Roman’s face. ‘You look like the poetic type.’

Green and brown eyes squinted suspiciously. ‘I bet my Grandma told you I studied creative writing.’

‘Even so,’ Roman shrugged and inched his foot along the wooden floor, letting the toes of his Vans bump against the heel of Virgil’s Doc Marten boot. Virgil did not move. ‘Am I correct in assuming you’ve done your fair bit of research into queer imagery?’

There was a pause wherein Virgil pouted and remained stubbornly silent. Then, after a few seconds: ‘You can’t go wrong with a green carnation.’

The tip of Roman’s tongue stuck out with a smile and he bit it lightly in amusement. Virgil’s cheeks went an endearing shade of dusty pink and he spun around, quite inelegantly bumping into the workbench that stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of faintly rusted shears with trembling fingers.

‘Uh, so we’ve got a few of those back here,’ Virgil blurted, rushing to the opposite corner of the shop floor.

Roman sauntered after him quietly. He peered over the other man’s shoulder as he pulled a large bushel from a bucket. The plant displayed a large, beautifully frilly bloom of lime green blossom.

A sharp, metallic snap from the shears resounded around the small room and the large bunch was lowered back to the water to leave a single flower held gently between Virgil’s slender fingers.

When Virgil turned back around, a quiet gasp escaped him as he bounced back, only just preventing himself from crashing right into Roman.

‘What, you couldn’t wait over there?’ If Virgil was trying to sound anything other than flustered and breathless, he had failed miserably.

Roman held his hand out wordlessly with a gentle smile.

The flower was pressed into his palm, and Roman made sure to capture it quickly enough to delicately brush his fingertips against Virgil’s.

In the dappled beam of sunlight that penetrated the packed floral displays in the window, the carnation was much the same shade as Virgil’s left eye. Roman hummed quietly as he inspected the flower, then looked up, delighted that Virgil was watching him.

‘Beautiful,’ Roman purred, unfaltering as he looked into Virgil’s eyes.

A loud snort of laughter cut the tension between them and Roman felt his brow furrow.

‘Okay, Romeo,’ Virgil huffed, shaking his head with a faint smirk. He avoided Roman’s eyes. ‘This is a fleuriste, not a fromagerie.’

Roman felt a thrill rush through him (which was only in part accredited to Virgil’s sudden fluent French accent). Apparently such simple flirting tactics would not suffice with this suitor. The promise of a slight challenge was electrifying to him. He did love to play this game.

He lifted the carnation and tucked it behind his ear like a pencil, smiling when Virgil giggled under his breath at what must have been a silly image. ‘What else may you suggest we add to our beau, gay bouquet?’

A few minutes passed by with Virgil selecting and snipping flowers, explaining the historical queer culture behind them as he went. Roman nodded along and dutifully made noises of interest, though did not dare to butt into Virgil’simpassioned monologue.

It was enchanting to hear Virgil ramble freely on a subject that so obviously enthralled him. He spoke in such a way that made even the most mundane facts feel visceral with descriptive language and Roman couldn’t bear to interrupt such eloquent poetic prose.

He only realised how little he himself had contributed to the conversation when Virgil trailed off with an apology.

A pile of evenly cut lavender, violets, gladioli, calla lilies and, of course, green carnations lay in front of Virgil on the workbench and his fingers fidgeted with some of the lilac petals gently.

‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Roman insisted. He stood opposite Virgil on the other side of the islanded workbench and leaned his elbows on the shabby surface, carefully staying clear of the gardening tools that were scattered around it. ‘You’re incredibly knowledgeable of this subject.’

‘Yeah, employing really subtle methods of representation kind of became my solace in university, you know?’ Virgil said faintly, his eyes fixed on where he weaved a long, detached flower stem between his fingers. ‘Being a paranoid, closeted creative writing student will do that to you.’

A cloud of dejection smothered the sunny atmosphere in the room.

‘Classic fairy tales were my own escape as a closeted teen,’ Roman offered, suspecting Virgil would not want such a heavy topic resting on his shoulders alone.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Virgil finally looked up with an eager intrigue dancing in his eyes.

Roman stretched his arm across the table so that Virgil could better see the tattoo that decorated his right arm upwards of his elbow. He rolled the short sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder to reveal the whole of it. (If he flexed his arm slightly to better highlight his muscles, Virgil did not say anything about it.) He was immensely proud of the artwork on his arm, displaying a busy conglomeration of various fairy tale motifs all interwoven including a bitten red apple, a shattered glass slipper, and a frog wearing a crown. Though the focus of the design was a bird carrying a golden chain and a pair of red shoes, with a millstone around its neck.

‘Fuck yeah, The Juniper Tree,’ Virgil breathed.

‘You know it?’ Roman asked, surprised that Virgil had recognised the more nuanced imagery.

‘I love the Brothers Grimm.’ With a slight creak of the wood beneath him, Virgil sat sideways on the workbench and leaned to get a closer look at Roman’s arm. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of more macabre stories.’

‘Well, I must admit in terms of imagery I appreciate the darker motifs,’ Roman indicated the depiction of a bloodied dagger hidden amongst a tangle of thorns on his bicep, ‘but when it comes to the stories I do prefer a good old-fashioned happy ending.’

Virgil sucked his teeth and leant his chin on his hand with a sigh, putting on an exaggerated air of disappointment. ‘Of course you do.’

‘Please, how could I not appreciate a handsome prince bursting into song and falling for a mysterious, beautiful stranger then doing everything in his power to woo them?’ Roman angled his body closer to Virgil. The edge of the workbench was pressed quite awkwardly into his thigh, but it was worth the slight numbness in his leg to watch Virgil’s eyelashes flutter and his chest rise and fall more quickly in response to how close they were. Roman purposefully allowed his eyes to linger over Virgil’s lips. ‘Doesn’t that remind you of someone?’

The lips pulled into a smirk and Roman’s gaze climbed up to see mirth sparkling in Virgil’s eyes.

‘What?’ Roman asked, only mildly offended.

It was proving to be something of a quest trying to ascertain which methods of flirting were working on Virgil. One minute the man was a blushing, stuttering mess, then the next he was openly laughing at Roman’s attempts to court him. Still, as the knights in his favourite stories never gave up in the face of extreme danger, he would not be deterred by Virgil’s stubbornness. It was obvious the man was interested in him but was perhaps a bit bratty. If anything that only made Roman all the more eager to win him over.

‘Nothing at all,’ Virgil shrugged. His tone was remarkably insincere. ‘So are you just thirsty for medieval knights or do you have some delusion of grandeur that I should steer clear of?’

It was cocky, and the man’s posture proclaimed it. He held his head high, baring his neck (and what a lovely, slender, pale, begging-to-be-decorated-with-splotches-of-purple neck it was). Though Roman saw through the bravado instantly.

He leaned in further, the edge of the bench completely cutting off the blood flow to his leg now, though he hardly cared. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s gaze and the edges of the room hastily, as if the urge to look away and the urge to hold his ground were battling each other in his mind. His confident stance faltered slightly as Roman drew closer, their faces now mere inches apart.

Roman murmured lowly, ‘Why, Virgil? Are you struggling to find a reason to stay away from me?’

The once-pearly cheeks in front of him were now practically glowing pink.

The adrenaline that so often accompanied a successful courtship was running rampant in Roman’s veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Matched with the fact that he was practically drunk off of the lidded quality to Virgil’s gorgeous eyes, Roman almost missed the melodic jingling of a bell.

It wasn’t until a loud, cheery voice called out that Roman realised they were not alone anymore.

‘Kiddo, you forgot your packed lunch!’

Virgil scrambled off of the workbench, and Roman followed his lead by standing back upright, albeit a lot more calmly.

‘Dad, I’m with a customer,’ Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Roman indulged in watching Virgil’s face go even pinker before turning to the entrance of the shop.

A stout man stepped out from the entranceway with a wide grin and a tupperware box cradled in his hands. His freckles were unmatched by either his mother or his son, though Roman could spy the slight similarities between their features. This was Patton Tempȇte. His face lit up with joy when his gaze fell on Roman.

‘And who’s this?’ Mr Tempȇte asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling at his son as he bounced on his toes.

‘Grandma’s friend, Roman Prince,’ Virgil mumbled. ‘The one who brings her tea and stuff.’

Mr Tempȇte made a delighted noise of surprise.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Tempȇte.’ Roman smiled widely, offering his open hand. He winced slightly as he stepped forward and pins and needles exploded in his thigh. ‘I truly adore your mother, and your son is quickly beginning to grow on me too.’ He shot a quick wink to Virgil.

The look of utter betrayal on Virgil’s face made it difficult to contain a chuckle.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you too, Roman!’ Mr Tempȇte beamed, shuffling the tupperware into the crook of his elbow to shake Roman’s hand energetically. ‘And don’t bother calling me “Mr” or “Sir” or any of that silliness, Patton’s my name so feel free to wear it out! I would give you a big old hug, but I don’t wanna pass on Maman’s flu.’

‘How is she?’ Roman immediately asked, truly concerned for his friend.

‘She’s just fine,’ Patton nodded, seeming to approve of Roman’s concern. ‘She’s pretty much through it all now, I’m just forcing her to stay home for a couple more days as a precaution.’

‘I can’t imagine she’s too thrilled about being housebound,’ Roman sniggered knowingly.

Patton rolled his eyes dramatically with a smile. ‘Not at all. I tell you, she’s untameable, always raring to get out with her friends and go experiencing the world. Honestly, I always say she’s more of a 22-year-old than Virgil is! Isn’t that true, kiddo?’

A faint swell of dread built inside Roman’s stomach at the way Mr Tempȇte had phrased those words. He had probably meant no harm, but it didn’t sound like that kind of critical comparison would do much to heighten Virgil’s confidence.

Sure enough, when Roman’s gaze flickered over to him it was clear those words seemed to have struck the wrong chord. The younger man tugged his sleeves further over his fingers and shrugged, though the movement was so stiff and frantic that it was more resemblant of a reflexive jolt.

‘Whatever, Dad,’ Virgil muttered under his breath, scowling at his feet.

It was disheartening to witness Virgil’s fiery wit be snuffed out so swiftly. Roman felt out of place in the exchange and feigned interest in a sprig of leaves in the flower pile. He subtly massaged his thigh under the table to ease the remnants of tingling from his pins and needles.

‘Oh…’ The energy was drained from Patton’s voice, and Roman looked up to see hurt briefly flash in his eyes before he plastered on a bright smile once more. ‘Well, I’ll be out of you guys’ hair. I just wanted to bring you your food.’

‘I don’t need a packed lunch, I can pick something up on the way back.’

‘Either way, it’s here if you get peckish before closing time.’ Patton placed the tupperware beside the register and apparently couldn’t resist drumming the lid in a gentle rhythm. Virgil groaned and Patton giggled. ‘Listen, be thankful I’m your delivery man. I caught your grandma lacing up her running shoes wanting to bring this to you.’

Roman chuckled lightly to himself. That certainly sounded like Céleste.

For the first time since Patton had entered the shop, Virgil looked up from the floor and his eyes locked onto Roman. It was as if his laughter had reminded Virgil of his presence.

Virgil quickly shot his father a pointed look. ‘Okay thanks, dad. Bye.’ The words merged into each other in his haste.

To his credit, Patton didn’t seem to be upset by his son’s eagerness to get rid of him.

‘It was lovely meeting you, Roman!’ Patton waved with a wide smile, already making his way out of the shop. ‘See you later, ma petite chauve-souris!’

Virgil’s huff of annoyance was drowned out by the bell jingling again.

The awkward tension was thick.

‘So, can you make flower arrangements?’ Roman asked casually, choosing to entirely ignore the stunted exchange with Virgil’s father. It seemed like Virgil would not have wanted to acknowledge it, given his obvious embarrassment.

‘Um, not really,’ Virgil mumbled, still hugging himself tightly. He peered out from his fringe hesitantly and Roman did not miss how his body relaxed when their eyes met. ‘I mean - okay, yeah. Kind of,’ he corrected. ‘Grandma taught me a little bit when I was younger. Mainly I just do it for fun, though. I’ve never made one for a customer.’

It would have been responsible for Roman to simply take his flowers as they were, pay for them, and get back to work, leaving Virgil to do his job. He could even have left his number and hoped Virgil would have the confidence to text him later on. Though, looking at the slump of Virgil’s posture and the way his sleeves were clawed and pulled taut by his painted fingernails, Roman felt a desire, nay, a duty to ensure Virgil was smiling again before he left.

‘Fancy trying your hand at it?’ Roman suggested gently, not wanting to pressure the man who was clearly on edge.

Virgil’s gaze flitted between Roman’s face and the workbench. His fingertips danced on his sleeves as he considered the flowers and Roman realised he was itching to reach out and touch them. ‘I can try, I guess.’

Hesitant hands pulled away from purple sleeves and within seconds Virgil was rustling through the stems with intent. Roman leaned over the surface slightly, though with no sly objective in mind to fluster Virgil this time. He simply wished to watch him craft.

‘I’m not very good,’ Virgil said quite stunted, even as he started rearranging the flowers into colour-coordinated piles with a clear artistic goal in mind. ‘So, you know, don’t expect much.’

Roman knew the self-deprecating tactic well; how one hoped that by lowering everyone’s expectations, they could avoid harsh critique of their work. He had employed it plenty of times himself before he had grown more confident in his artistic abilities.

‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ Roman decided on saying. It would hopefully relieve the pressure Virgil had put on himself.

A small smile tugged at Virgil’s lips and he raised his eyes briefly from the flowers to send what seemed to be a look of thanks to Roman.

‘Besides, I trust that you have an artistic streak in you.’ Roman felt more comfortable in reigniting their previous flirtatiousness after having coaxed a smile out of Virgil. ‘I mean, with such a steady hand and aesthetic eye for that makeup, I’ll be lucky if the bouquet is half as beautiful.’

Virgil swiftly knelt down on the floor to reach under the bench - where Céleste kept the floral foam, Roman remembered - though Roman caught a glimpse of a wide smile and pink-dusted cheekbones before his face was hidden.

‘Basket or pot?’ Virgil called up from the floor.

Roman dropped to his knees and sent Virgil a bright smile underneath the table. ‘Whatever you want. I’m giving you full creative control.’

‘Risky move.’ Virgil raised his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. ‘Our most expensive arrangements can rake up to one-hundred-and-fifty quid.’

‘All right, full creative control as long as it’s under forty pounds.’

Time went by fluidly from then on as they chatted over Virgil’s work. His flower placements were tentative at first, and his eyes kept darting up to check Roman’s face for a reaction, but Roman only ever smiled lightly and continued the conversation. (A couple of times his text tone rang out loudly, though their talking remained unfettered by the mild interruptions.)

Eventually, Virgil became more certain of his decisions and was tapping into skills Roman was wholly unprepared for. His slender hand pulled a leaf stripper swiftly down long stems with practised ease, he shuffled the flowers around between his fingers fluidly and his features smoothed as he lowered the blooms into their rightful places in the arrangement.

Roman had no idea how long he had been in the florist by the time Virgil finally deemed the display finished, but he could hardly bring himself to care. The bunch of flowers which were already such a beautiful collection before were now a piece of art, the lilac and emerald blossoms broken up by leafy ferns and surrounded by spindly branches of waxflower. The bouquet was truly stunning.

And as for the glow of pride on Virgil’s face? Absolutely breathtaking.

‘I think I’m happy with it,’ Virgil said nonchalantly, though the excitement hidden behind his tone rang loudly in Roman’s ears.

‘This is amazing, Virgil,’ he gushed, entirely sincere. ‘You’re a natural!’

Virgil bit his lip, stifling what Roman knew would have been a bright grin. He notably did not refuse the compliment.

‘Um, do you mind if I…’ Virgil brought his phone out from his pocket and opened the camera app, showing the screen to Roman with an eyebrow raised in question. ‘Kinda wanna show Grandma later,’ he admitted with a shy smile.

‘Of course,’ Roman held his hands out to the arrangement in invitation and stepped back so that he would not interrupt the photoshoot.

He watched from the sidelines as Virgil tiptoed around the workbench to find good angles, taking a few pictures of his work. Once the phone was placed back in his pocket, he turned back to Roman with a lopsided smile. ‘Thank you.’

Roman was fully and wholeheartedly smitten.

‘Don’t thank me before I’ve paid.’ Roman took his wallet out and waved it with a mock-frown of disapproval. For all of his years of acting classes, though, he could not wipe the smile off of his face. ‘That’s not a very sound business practice.’

Virgil shook his head lightly but moved back to the front desk carrying the arrangement with him. He rang up the numbers on the mechanical till quickly and Roman paid with a soft smile.

‘So,’ Roman said after Virgil had given him his hand-written receipt. He leaned toward Virgil slightly and delighted in the way Virgil mirrored him, bringing them even closer. ‘I don’t suppose a mysterious, beautiful stranger such as yourself would want to -’

Primadonna by MARINA suddenly blared from Roman’s pocket.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. Though his smile still did not falter.

‘Very fitting ringtone,’ Virgil teased, his voice strained with concealed laughter.

Roman opened his eyes and sent a weak glare to Virgil even as his cheeks ached from smiling so much. He took his phone from his pocket to silence it, seeing that it was Remy’s contact flashing up on the screen - then his expression finally dropped as he saw the time.

‘Oh, fuck!’ His next client was due in five minutes.

‘You okay?’ Virgil asked shakily, clearly anxious by the sudden shift in mood.

‘Everything’s okay,’ Roman quickly assured, ‘but I really have to go, I’m running late.’ He shoved his phone, wallet and receipt into his pockets and pulled the flower arrangement to his chest protectively.

Virgil had stiffened. Evidently his defences were rising again due to the sudden change.

‘I really do have to go, I’m sorry. Seriously,’ Roman paused with a sigh as he gazed over Virgil’s beautiful face once more, ‘you have no idea how sorry.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Virgil nodded in agreement, but his voice was as quiet as it had been when Roman first came in however long ago. His disappointment was painfully obvious.

‘I’ll be back later this week,’ Roman promised as he reluctantly made his way to the door. There was absolutely no reality where Roman would not come looking for this enigmatic emo again. ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, my chemical romance!’ The doorbell jingled overhead as he rushed out of the door and called behind him, ‘Give my best to Céleste!’

Roman darted through the streets with a sharp stab of regret piercing his chest, though he really could not have afforded to indulge his infatuation much longer. He was a professional artist, he had to be back in time for his client.

Being incredibly protective over his cherished flower arrangement, Roman made it back to the studio in record time. It was not the first instance in which his high stamina had saved him face.

Panting for breath, Roman peered into the front window of the parlour and winced at the look of rage on the receptionist’s face as he sent a choice hand gesture to Roman from the other side of the glass.

‘Get your arse in here, Prince!’ Remy’s muffled yell met his ears.

Accepting that he would have to make a Starbucks run later to make up for his tardiness, Roman shuffled over to the glass door. He cradled Virgil’s arrangement in one arm as he reached for the door handle, then paused.

In his reflection, he noticed the green carnation from earlier still sat behind his ear. It looked utterly ridiculous. He had apparently been running around town with a massive green flower protruding from the side of his head.

In any other circumstance, he would have felt embarrassed. But the memory of Virgil’s huffy giggles played in his head, and all Roman could feel was giddy.

He pushed into the parlour with a wide grin that quite probably made him look like even more of a fool.

He didn’t care.

oOo

Inspired by a prompt from @writersmonth

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

[karls-writing-space]

『 Backstory 』

➵ Any TWs? :

➵ Subtle Mentions of Transphobia.

➵ Beau Romano - his deadname being Bianca - was born a year after his older sister, Faye. He lived with his semi-wealthy parents, Camilia and Dylan Romano in Manitoba.

When he was in second grade, Beau began to have a big sprout of creativity. He had drawn pictures of people and anthropomorphic animals, and create small little tales about these people/animals he has drawn. He Drew more and more of these as time slowly passed, and he enjoyed telling stories about these drawings. This had grown into a hobby, and something he enjoyed thoroughly.

His older sister came out when she was nine that she felt like a girl and that she was attracted to girls. Now, their parents are very accepting people and proceeded to assist and support Faye - who was formerly known as Lovino - get what she needed to transition.

Beau happily cheered on his big sister on, supporting her and showering her with love. He celebrated her transitions and her relationships happily, happy that he had such a prideful older sister.

By the time Beau was ten, he had begun to experiment with his sexuality by feeling some weird way towards a guy in music class. He talked with this guy more and more, and these feelings continued to grow.

After a couple of weeks, he felt the same way towards a girl in music class too. The feeling for the boy stayed, but now he had feelings for a boy and a girl.

One day, while walking to school with his mom, he heard two girls behind him talking about the people they liked. One of the girls had said that she was Bisexual, to which little Beau tugged on his mother's sleeve and asked what "Bisexual" meant. The woman explained that it was when someone liked two or more genders.

Beau put that into thought, and not even a minute later, he exclaimed "I'm Bisexual!"

His mom smiles and ruffled her son's - then daughter's - head. While Beau was still a kid, and she thought that Beau didn't know what he was talking about, the boy knew exactly what he was talking about.

Those feelings of the boy and girl faded over time. When Beau was twelve, he had fallen for another person. There had been this really cute girl in class who enjoyed drawing, and boy, what a talented artist she is.

Slowly, but surely, Beau began to fall in love with this girl, and spent time with her. Months went by, and the two had fallen in love.

The girl had confessed to Beau, which he accepted.

These two were a great, healthy Lesbian couple at the time. They were both very happy and loving. Beau had welcomed his girlfriend into the family, to which they welcomed with open arms.

The relationship lasted for two years until they fell out of love. The spark was gone. Their breakup wasn't nasty - they awkwardly stated that they lost that romantic spark on both sides. Beau had turned thirteen at the time. Beau and his ex-lover are on good terms to this day.

Once puberty hit, Beau looked at the body he had at the moment. He didn't quite fit with how it was. It made him feel like he didn't fit in a girl's body. He wanted to cut off his developing melons. So, he decided to talk to Faye later that evening, whom had fully transitioned. She was a beautiful woman. As he talked to her about what had been up, Faye stated that Beau could be Transgender, and even gave him a few articles on Gender Dysphoria.

Weeks of looking into gender identities later, Beau took the label "Trans Male" and used it to describe himself. With encouragement from Faye, he came out to his parents, who accepted him. He didn't want to transition as quickly as Faye, and wanted to take it slow. Testosterone and binding first.

As he grew older, Beau got bullied for being a Transgender Bisexual man. He was experiencing Transphobia from a few of his fellow peers. He knew that not everyone would accept him for being who he was, but this hurt quite a bit. Being bullied for this wasn't fair - he had every right to express himself! - but nooo, people were idiots.

His love for writing had grown more and more over the years. He began to write little stories that he presented in school and posted online. People loved his little stories. Whether they were fanfiction or characters and universes he had created in his head, they received a lot of positive feedback. Sure, there were haters, bullies, trolls, and rude people in general, but Beau didn't pay attention to them too much.

Beau had gotten top surgery when he was fifteen. He had been on testosterone for a year, and he had been binding for that time being. He loved his new, flat chest. Sure, he would have a scar on his chest from the surgery, but it didn't really bother him. He was happy that his tibbies were deleted. Now he could feel like a guy somewhat.

During the time passed from fourteen and fifteen years old, Beau had been watching a show known as "Total Drama" with Faye. The show was appealing to the young teen. The risky challenges were entertaining, most of the cast was likable, and it was really entertaining for the young boy. He'd talk about joining the show every now and then and would think about what his label or cliche would be on the show.

Timeskip to now, Beau and Faye are sixteen and seventeen respectively. After watching an ad to audition for the next season of Total Drama, Faye looked over at her little brother.

"Hey... You should audition to be on there!"

Beau, liking the idea, auditioned for the show. Once his audition was seen, Beau was invited to be on a season of Total Drama.

『 Voice Claim 』

『 Miscellaneous Facts』

➵ Theme Song

➵ Quotes

"O-Oh, hello...!"

"I'm Beau. It's nice to meet you!"

"It's too people-y in there. I-I'd like to stay right here."

"He's... Kinda pretty."

"Are you lonely? I could hang out with you if you'd like."

"I-It's not a diary! It's just a journal that I put my writing and ideas in."

"Sorry, I'd rather be by myself. I-It's nothing personal -- I j-just don't like large groups of people."

"Sorry... I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry about that..."

"He's a... He's a man. And I'm just a boy."

"Ciao, bello..!" (Hello, handsome..!)

"Aren't you guys a little too old for a bedtime story?"

"Fine, fine. Once upon a time, there were a few guys on an island who needed to go the fuck to sleep. G'night, guys."

"What do you mean that 'isn't a good bedtime story? I think it's a brilliant story."

"Fine... There was once this God named Fóllame de lado-"

"Hey - do you wanna fuck around with the others?"

"H-Hey! I apologize for interrupting what you were doing, but... I'd like to confess something if that's o-okay? Look, I'll cut to the chase. I... love you, dude. And not in some bromance way. Like... I have romantic feelings for you. I love you so much I could scream it to the world..! I hope you f-feel the same way. And if you don't? That's p-perfectly fine."

"Good morning, mio amore."

"Sorry, but could you like, shut up for five seconds? Thanks..."

➵ Ship Names (OC X Crush or OC X OC)

Duncan x Beau = BeauDun/ BeauCan

DJ x Beau = BJ / BeauJ

Alejandro x Beau = AleBeau

Mike x Beau = Meau/Bike

Lightning x Beau = Blightning/BeauLight

Topher x Beau = Beaupher / Beaupher

Shawn x Beau = Sheau / Bawn

➵ Random Facts

• If they're comfortable, Beau calls his male friends "Bello" (Handsome), and his female friends "Bella" (Beautiful).

For Nonbinary folk, it depends on what they prefer.

•Beau has learned how to play the ukelele from Faye.

•He would actually like to go windsurfing sometime!

• Speaking of his sister, she's a well-known acrobat/performer for her age. He admires her for being so talented in such a thing..

• His sister is an extrovert, and more outgoing than Beau. The two are opposites,,but yknow, opposites attract!

•Beau prefers to write stories that are/include horror, action, and supernatural/fantasy. He can write romantic stories, but he doesn't prefer writing things like that.

•He has written some shitty fanfictions when he was younger. He will share them among his friends and laugh at what he wrote.

•The languages he speaks are:

• English

•Italian

• (Some) Spanish. [Italian and Spanish are similar language-wise in a few ways. That, and Beau just wanted to learn Spanish.]

• Respectful boi when it comes to Pronouns, Names, People's likes and dislikes, etc.

•Beau has some family members that live in Italy. He has gone to Italy to visit them numerous times.

• Beau doesn't believe in soulmates. He thinks that it's just some fairytale thing that people believe in. He wants to love someone on his own accord - not someone who the universe was like "Oh, let's put these people together.".

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[jessica-read]

Jess walked up from the beach after an afternoon of swimming and enjoying the sun on a spectacular and secluded beach in Sa Coma, on the east coast of Majorca. She was proud of her looks and the stunning English woman on holiday had gotten her share of cat-calls in the town and decidedly favorable looks from the men who walked past as she read her book and occasionally checked her email to be sure all was well back home. She also garnered friendly smiles from several women and decidedly frostier looks from women who seemed nonplussed at their men's obvious attraction to her sensual curves.

She arrived at her hotel after a 5 minute walk along the perfectly white sand, made herself a reservation for dinner at a nearby restaurant and then headed up to her room to wash away sunscreen in a luxurious sunken bathtub and make herself up before going out. Jess remembered the days when makeup was really not an option if she cared to be accepted in the world. Jess's flawlessly feminine face had come only after significant effort, for years, full makeup had been mandatory to cover her beard, and then with time, dozens of appointments for laser and electrolysis hair removal.

This evening however, she loved that she could apply those skills she'd learned for hiding an unwelcome part of herself, to rather lightly brighten and accentuate her feminine features. If Jess's work kept her from being as social as she would like, she had learned to be far more confident than in her past that her looks eased the path of the social time she did have.

In just a couple of minutes she had applied a translucent foundation, accentuated her eyes, opening them up, applied minimal blush and a brilliant shade of red for a classic, simple look. Satisfied, she adjusted her lingerie, a brand new white bridal set from Aubade, checked that her stockings were set just right and then donned a designer white dress covered with black polka dots, the skirt met the bodice a bit high, making for an appearance of even longer legs than she'd been blessed with. The tops of her white stockings were never at risk of exposure, her pretty bust was displayed to good effect, the dress's scoop neckline showed no hint of her balconette brassiere, which accentuated her bust beautifully without offering provocation.

Jess's hair had a natural wave, her hair fell about her shoulders, framing her face in shimmering golden brunette lock. Jess put in her brilliant pearl solitare earrings, clipped on a matching neclace and finished her outfit, picking up her small black clutch and stepping from her flats into 4" Louboutin heels. The red of the soles was a nice contrast to the red of her satin lipstick. She applied a touch of Coco Mademoiselle to her pulse points and enjoyed the sharp citrus oriental which blended well with her feminine scent.

Jess walked into the beautiful hotel lobby, built in solid stone with Venetian glass accents and the lingering scent of rich coffee over the waxed hardwood floors. Her heels clicked subtly against the dark wood and as she exited the front doors, she passed by a strikingly handsome man who was entering. Jess smiled shyly and then blushed prettily as the man briefly made eye contact and then took in her whole appearance, head to toe, failing to hide his obvious interest. He wore a dark blue suit over a brilliant white shirt. He was just shy of 6 feet tall, just an inch over Jess's height in her stilettos.

Walking the short distance to her restaurant, Jess wondered about her fellow guest at the luxury hotel. Clearly he was some sort of executive, however he must also be on holiday, as there is no industry on Majorca. She expected he must have noticed her flush, the flustered hitch in her stride as they passed. Jess had little experience of men. As a young girl who didn't understand how she came to be trapped in a boy's body, she had always been repulsed by the boys in her school talking crudely about girls. As she grew older and the boys conjectures and boasts turned to experience, Jess turned to books, school and music. She had begun to understand that she could not continue to live as a man and that it was possible to find another way. Those were some desperate years.

Jess's family wasn't accepting at first. In time, the slightly built girl did get to know a sensitive friend, Sadie, who shared her interest in history and the young woman was open to Jess's gender and she eventually asked Jess if she might think she was a girl? Initially shocked, and yet inwardly she felt an immediate relief that fir the first time she could remember, Jess felt seen, and no less by a woman as pretty as she hoped to be someday. They quickly became and remained fast friends and over the years as Sadie helped Jess gain a little understanding of the romance that happened between men and women. Sadie had a small crush on Jess, and accepted that as Jess came into her own, it was clear that she was attracted to men.

Jess did learn a little about romance from Sadie, the first thing was how it felt to have someone see you and care and she cherished that. As she confessed to Sadie that she was beginning to be attracted to a boy in their Junior year of high school, Jess realized a new thing in her young life. She had a strong desire to be cared for and her first crush was as strong as any young girl's. Jess and Sadie talked about what they might enjoy in a relationship, Sadie taught Jess how to kiss and they fumbled a little through the mechanics of how Jess might submit to her crush's attention if only he would notice her. Jess was flushed after their "lessons" and she realized that Sadie's attentions went a bit beyond teaching and she had to ask Sadie to stop as she knew she could never reciprocate the more experienced girl's affections. Sadie was crushed and yet each knowing the other had an entirely unrequited affection for someone unavailable, their friendship was not lessened.

As they went off to university, Jess had begun to occupy herself with plans to transition. They wound up at different schools, and their friendship remained strong and they would write to each other weekly. Jess did well in school and the summer after her senior year she had been on feminizing hormones for 3 years, she was now finally ready for her gender confirmation surgery. Because she'd been so fully occupied between studies and the demands of transition, she had had no time to explore relationships or casual romance. She had frequent enough suitors, and never the desire for reciprocating a man's interest. Remembering this past, Jess walked slowly and reflected that finally she felt fully ready for love and romance and realized that even more than her busy career, her shyness and inexperience kept her from seeking that.

What she had learned was to be intimate with herself. After so many years of feeling mostly disassociated from her body, a few months after her surgery, Jess had been laying in bed after watching a new romantic comedy, ready for sleep. That night she'd chosen one of her prettier nightgowns, a babydoll in silky taffeta and rolling to her stomach, her breasts feeling heavy under the weight of her body, still fresh from an earlier bath, she felt her nipples harden. The film had been silly, yet a few of it's moments had touched her more deeply and she'd felt both a slight tearing in her eyes and warmth in her vagina.

Now, laying in bed, feeling aroused again, she had rolled a bit to her side, lifted her hand to her breast and immediately felt a flood of warmth and a new tightness centered on her clitoris. She had reached down at first tentatively and touched herself there and in that moment, she'd felt something completely new. Jess proceeded to lay prone, her head tucked like a small bird's into her shoulder stroking herself through her silken underwear, then reaching inside to feel her wetness flowing.

After that night, she continued to explore. She did not find release, when she got to a certain excitement, she always found she began to lose control of her hands. She also didn't mind. What she had discovered was a deeper, more lasting pleasure than anything she'd even imagined and a small voice told her that what she craved most was to experience orgasm at the hands of a lover. She did, in any case, begin to understand her body, treasure her response and another part of her wondered how would she ever come to share this with a lover?

Arriving at her restaurant, Jess, was asked to sit at the bar as her table was ready. She sipped a celebratory glass of sharp, flinty sancerre. Her mood a bit wistful, wishing her first big holiday could be spent with a special beau. Just as that thought crossed her mind, the handsome gentleman from her hotel sat just down the bar from her. Surprised, she smiled and her smile was returned. Jess's heart skipped several beats ash she slightly panicked as the man stood and walked over to introduce himself, "Hello miss, I'm so glad to run across you so soon after seeing you in the hotel foyer!, I'm John Michaels, may I ask your name and maybe join you for a glass of wine?".

Once again surprised, Jess found herself nodding and she simply said "I'm Jess, I'd love to sit with you while they prepare my table". He ordered a chardonnay and asked what brought her to Majorca. Of course they were both taking solo holidays, both were early into challenging careers and celebrating important projects just finished. Jess was in a sense terrified and yet this also felt like the culmination of a long journey. Almost completely inexperienced, nonetheless here she was, enjoying a conversation with John; she felt attracted to him and was amazed that conversation just seemed to flow, and even the silences in their conversation felt comfortable.

The Maitre d’ approached and told Jess her table was ready. She looked to John and asked “would you like to join me for dinner?”. John replied enthusiastically “Yes, please.” and the Maitre d’ nodded and lead them to a table set for two.

Looking over their menus, they talked about the Spanish menu and quickly agreed on what to order and what they wanted to share in. That done and wine ordered, the settled in and John asked her “Would you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Jess sighed, smiled and replied “Sure, there’s not a whole lot to tell”, thinking to herself “and maybe more than he’ll want to hear”. She proceeded to relate her schooling, talked about her bookish tendencies, her hobbies and her new and satisfying career. They traded some thoughts on work life in the new millennium, John being easily 10 years older than Jess, had seen a bit more change in his professional life. They found a lot in common in their tastes for food, art and other leisure time and continued to talk over their first course.

As that was cleared, Jess decided it was time to let her companion know up front that she was not a cisgender woman. She knew too many men and women who’d been rejected for being trans and indirectly of the dangers of a romantic partner finding out someone was trans after the fact. With a gulp and a small frown she said “I should tell you something”. John was a perceptive guy and caught the change in her demeanor, wondering what news this beautiful woman was going to drop.

Jess started “Because I’m attracted to you, and you’ve been fairly clear in your interest in me, I feel I should share this up front. I’m quite flattered you like me and this can be a deal breaker for a lot of men so I want you to know that I’m a transgender woman. I don’t know if that is something I need to explain and I’m glad to if you want”.

John replied “Thank you for telling me and I can easily be clear, I’m completely enraptured already in who you are. I’m glad you told me and I’d like to assure you, you didn’t need to. I am not ambivalent to transition status, in that I’ve already decided I like you and that’s all I need to know. I hope you’ll feel free to share as little or as much additionally about transition as you wish.”

Jess felt an amazing wave of relief, worry over the need to navigate these disclosures wasn’t a small part of why she’d long avoided dating and she was deeply relieved that on her first time, it seemed to have gone so easily. She said “Ok, wow, I’m relieved and thank you for understanding, I have to say at the very least I was expecting to have to do some explaining. Let’s leave it at that for now and when and if we get more intimate, I’ll certainly want to share how my path got me to where we are today.”

The proceeded to eat a marvelous meal and talked about their lives, a little about families, a lot about university and work. They didn’t share a lot of exact interests or activities, and yet there were overlaps and Jess felt that they shared a certain sympatico which had warmed considerably after her disclosure. She was glad that he clearly didn’t warm to her the way she had seen some men had, clearly fantasizing about an exotic body. Perhaps even more, she was glad he hadn’t asked if she had had gender confirmation surgery. Jess was entirely surprised it had gone so smoothly. She’d talked to so many sexually active trans friends who’d had nightmarish experiences, she felt happy and a bit lucky tonight.

Having finished their dinner, John asked if he could walk Jess back to their hotel. Elated, she inclined her head, and smiled, assenting. They walked slowly, listening to the music ringing out from a nearby nightclub, the soft rhythm of small waves finding the white beach and the occasional night bird singing out. Pausing to call Jess's attention to the blanket of stars a-shimmer over their heads, John took her hand in his and said "Jessica, you are an amazing woman and I'm so glad we've met". Jess smiled, nodded her head and replied "Thank You kind sir, I have rarely felt much special except in negative ways, I feel you're too kind?".

At that, John gently pulled her to him, leaned down and slowly wrapping his arm behind her, pulled her close enough that her breasts touched his chest. He moved slowly and with deliberation, allowing her many slow moments to pull away. Jess's heart was racing and much as she could not believe this was happening, it also felt like finally turning the corner on a path encompassing a couple of decades. She met his eyes, nervously parted her lips and then looked down as he leaned over to kiss her.

Jess was shocked at the electricity she felt throughout her body as their lips met. A warmth built in her abdomen. John's tongue sought hers and she responded to her first kiss since experimenting with Sadie and the first time ever that she truly wanted the overture she was receiving. Their kiss lasted and developed more passion and soon Jess began to feel that warmth in her core expand both to a flush across her chest and a distinct throbbing and flow of weness under her lacy underthings.

Her new beaux's hands moved smoothly to her thigh and to cradle the back of her head, pulling her hps to him and gently easing her head back, he began to kiss all over her face and neck, gentle yet also firm and assertive. Just as Jess was certain she was ready to give in to this moment, John felt that in her response and now lifted his hand up her torso, feeling her curves, Jess realized he must be noting the outlines of her fancy knickers, suspender and brassiere. Johns hand stopped at the swell of her breasts and closed, controlling her body through the soft fabric and firm yielding flesh.

Jess gasped and sought his mouth with hers, her reservations swept aside, she craved being taken by this calmly assertive man, now it was her pelvis that sought out his, feeling his hardness, she mewed and turned her lips towards his, mewling a little as she did and reading her desire he returned his mouth to hers and began a kiss more passionate than the last. Now John's hand shifted from her head down her body to lift the hem of her dress where he caressed her over the top of her stocking and slowly moved up toward her center. Now Jess was completely overwhelmed, throwing caution to the wind she welcomed submission to this attractive, sensitive man.

And just as quickly they slowed as they heard a group of voices, both men and women approaching on the other side of a line of trees. Gently, John slowed and afraid for a moment, Jess found herself glad of the interruption. For all the desire she felt to give in to the moment, she didn't want others to see her in dishabille, even on a romantic dark night in the Spanish Med. Their passion momentarily cooled, Jess met John's eyes, pulling away a fraction, she also leaned in to kiss him affirmatively. She knew she was ready to submit to what this man wanted for them this evening. As they kissed, John took her hand again and then said to her "Can I take you back to your room, or mine?".

Jess hesitated a fraction as the butterflies moved up from her belly to her chest, and then hesitantly answered "Yes, let's go to mine, please". Still holding hands they walked back to the road and along it under brass lamps and palm trees and a deep black Mediteranean sky, studded with stars.

Crossing back through the entrance where they'd met, Jess felt yet another small realization, she'd already had so many firsts tonight, a first kiss in passion, a first romantic date, her first experience of someone taking her to a place of pleasure. Now she was walking into a hotel with a man she'd met that very evening, past the desk staff and concierge, almost unbearably conscious that these were witnesses to her crossing a threshold with a significance only she knew -- was likely to be the loss of her virginity.

Jess was conscious of blushing and had a moment of fear that all those people would see her redness. And then, as quickly, she let go. Jess was 24, an adult and had worked diligently for a dozen years to make this reality possible. Still, feeling the butterflies, she was determined to own this moment.

In the elevator, she pressed the button for her floor, the fifth and then moved closer to John and lifted her lips for another kiss. She certainly didn't feel fully confident, however she had learned in university and her career that when she knew she'd put in the work to be ready for a thing, then doubts were best dispelled by taking the single step.

At her floor, they stepped out together and she turned toward her room, slipped the key into the old door and turned the lock. John gently pushed the door open and let her lead the way where she turned on one light dim by the bed, then turned off all the others and stepped to him. John said "are you OK, do you want to make love tonight?". Jess nodded her head emphatically and said quietly yet firmly "Yes, I am, please".

John now sat on the bed and motioned for her to come to him, she slipped off her heels and offered her mouth to his which he took passionately. Once again, his tongue sought out hers, she now turned her hands to his strong shoulders, down over his body, steadying herself as she felt anything but steady inside. It was as if her usually steady center had been replaced by an uncertain landscape and she enjoyed using him as a new center for her gravity.

John now reached to Jess's back and found the zipper to her dress. Gently opening the fastening, he caressed her back and she again felt her core go liquid hot and held him tight to steady herself. As the field of black dots over white slid down her body to crumple about her legs, John gasped as if he had never seen as lovely a sight. Jess was aware also that against her lightly tanned skin, the pearls, the bridal-white lace lingerie was brilliant and framed her curves so well, she had no doubt she was desirable.

Once again he took her firmly in his hands, one on her left breast, another on her waist and felt her quiver at his touch, then gently guided her to sit beside him on the bed. John stoold and began to disrobe himself. His body was barely tanned as he removed his shirt. His physique was beautiful, reasonably chiseled and yet he did not look like a gym addict. Next he removed his shoes and socks, set them carefully away from the bed and then, unfastening his belt, stripped off his trousers and underwear togther.

Jess took in his body and was glad he was so handsome. She didn't require this, and at the same time, didn't mind, she also immediately took in that his penis was not small and was semi-erect, a little intimidated, she was also drawn to it, aching to discover what it would be like as they made love. She pulled back the coverlet and sheets and moved herself to lay on the bed on her side, making it clear she wanted him to now take the lead. He now moved beside her, moved her hand to her hip, kissed her hard and urged her to lay back for him.

Jess melted into the bed as she felt her first man move over her, his manhood hanging down to graze her hip as he placed a leg between hers to nudge her to slightly part them, making way for him. He traced his lips down to her breasts and kissed, taking them in his hands to let her know he considered the sensitive flesh to be his property and then pulled his thumbs up to lightly roll her already hard nipples, electrifying them and sending a jolt down to her pussy. Rubbing his now fully erect shaft aginst the mound between her legs, he returned to her mouth and took his ownership, penetrating her lips with his tongue. Jess's pelvis now rocked to meet his motions and for a while they simply kissed like that as she became more aroused by the moment. John brought her hand to his shaft now and let her feel its silken covered hardness, its weight and told her to stroke him. She complied eagerly and she realized that right then what she wanted most was for him to penetrate her.

John had a different plan. slowly pulling away he now knelt between her legs slipped his fingers under her lace white underwear, and, urging her to lift her hips, pulled the high waisted garment off and down her legs. He then brought his face to her mound and used his tongue and lips to begin teasing her into a place she had wanted and yet not fully imagined. John wandered over her flesh, nibbling here, probing there, seeking for her clitoris and finding it caressing her body with his hands as he drove her towards ecstasy with his mouth. He traced her suspender belt, up and down her stocking clad leg as Jess began to writhe and again, rock her hips to meet him. Now he added first one and then two fingers inside her, lightly exploring her wetness, learning her response before taking her the way they both knew she wanted and now urgently needed.

Jess could feel an orgasm was close. and wanting it, she also now wanted her lover to make her his by taking her as she had always imagined being taken by a lover. As if by command, he now rose and sat up to caress her breasts and look into her eyes. "Are you ready for me Jess?, may I take your virginity?". "Yes, please John" she said, "I can't believe this is happening and yes it's what I want". He took her head in his left hand, holding her by her long hair and then taking his shaft in his other hand, brought it to her entrance, which was slick with her arousal, he rubbed the head slowly into her, lubricating himself and a the same time bringing a gasp from her, followed by a quiet moan "Yes, oh John, please take me now" she said.

leaning forward, he now ran himself up and down over Jess's clitoris, making them both even more ready and then let himself slowly into her. He held himself back a bit, watching her closely as he filled her a little at a time and seeing that she winced a little and then moaned again in deep pleasure, he finished filling her. Now John slowly stroked inside Jess, taking pleasure as she parted her legs farther and made room for him to take her more deeply, her white stockings against his skin and then her breasts being lightly crushed as he lowered himself to embrace her tightly and began to thrust harder. Jess moaned and was vaguely aware of her gladness that the walls were stone and anyone in an adjacent room would be unlikely to hear her ecstacy. As he felt her arousal build, he continued to penetrate her deeply, faster, slower, more or less deeply yet always insistent on seeking pleasure for both of them.

Soon Jess felt an inevitable climax upon her. Lost from any sense of control, completely wrapped up in this beautiful man taking her for both his pleasure and hers, she now began to quiver and then her orgasm exploded from her core and out to her whole body. She was a goddess, clad in virginal lace being driven to a height she could only experience. Oblivious to all around her, she held this man to her as he took her forcefully. She nearly lost consciousness and, feeling her slow and relax, for the moment spent, he now slowed and simply rested inside her as she rode out the after-shocks of her first orgasm.

John now wanted to take his weight off of his beautiful new lover and he easily rolled over, still filling her and handily flipped her astride himself. Already rousing from her bliss Jess knew she wanted one more thing, to see him finish and to take him into herself again as he did. She smiled and said "Oh my, that was amazing and I don't think you have come yet, can we continue?".

Smiling back, John nodded. He held her by her waist and began to thrust again. Jess immediately felt her pleasure rise again and sensed that now John was ready to take his own from her. Indeed, his hands now roamed down over her suspender belt and stockings, yet again tracing the curves of the lingerie, her broad hips and then back to hold her breasts. She was amazed to now find her new lover was fully suspending her weight in his strong arms. While she was astride, there was no doubt that he was in control and he now entered her at the pace he wanted, caressing where he would and taking his pleasure in her body. Jess felt deliciously used, wanted and above all controlled, now she was a plaything for his pleasure. Again, she moaned without control and while she could feel his climax was coming, in her rapture at being so completely controlled, she now orasmed again.

Jess now went virtually limp as John continued to penetrate her and lowered her down to him to kiss her deeply as he finished their coupling. She was little more than a rag doll now, her second orgasm released and now echoing in after-shocks receding as he finally built to his finish. Jess felt him explode inside her and the shred of consciousness she kept hold of now coalesced in a sense of pride that she was strong enough to allow herself to be used for a lover's pleasure.

Now they collapsed together. Jess had 5 days left to her holiday and she knew she would spend much of that with John. She drifted off thinking to herself: "my lover".

Written by @sadies-musings

[youarejesting]

BTS Seoul mates: Monochrome couple.3

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Taehyung x Soulmate!Reader

Summary: It was you, he was sure of it. In a world void of colour. He finds you can paint him a thousand pictures with mere words. But are you the one he is looking for? Video chats filled with hope that every time your eyes connect your world will bloom with the colours of love.

Taehyung wanted you to come to see him, telling you all the things he had planned for the last two days in New Zealand like horse riding and exploring the museums in Queenstown. You knew even if you left now you wouldn’t make it, so coming up with the next best plan. You borrowed Namjoon who contacted BigHit; you paid for tickets and flew to Seoul to wait for him. He was due to arrive the next morning, but you had to visit the company. 

BigHit was very protective of the band members but took both Namjoon and Taehyung’s word that you were, in fact, his Soulmate. You signed a document saying that in the event you weren’t his soulmate you would leave and not talk about anything you had witnessed. It made you nervous you already felt like you had fallen in love with him. 

Standing in the VIP lounge of the airport you waited, wringing your hands together. These boys were international superstars, the thought of being together was a little daunting. You had completed an interview with BigHit, just answering things about yourself and how you and Taehyung believed you were soulmates. 

There was a camera nearby and the boys all walked into the lounge as they were told to by the guards. You had your hair and makeup done for the cameras and you saw his figure getting closer. 

He saw you and warmth seemed to travel down your spine. He ducked his head down shyly and walked over and when he was a few steps away, he said something you didn’t understand. 

“He says he is scared” your interpreter smiled

“I am scared too,” you said taking his hands, and he smiled squeezing them firmly. “If we are not, I will happily be your best friend” 

It was a lie, you wouldn’t happily watch him find another that would hurt so much. You had to coax him to look at you. His ears were going red. 

“Confidence confidence” he breathed, and he took a deep breath and looked up. 

Your eyes previously bi-coloured were now a set of sparkling orbs blooming with colour that seemed to spread your hair, skin and lips which were all such lovely colours. 

He was lost every colour he had heard about was presented in front of him but the problem was he didn’t know what colour was which but he loved them all he saw you smiling. 

You watched the colour bleed into the world until you were staring at something so different you thought it might give you a headache. Taehyung was looking around him, the world so colourful, the sky was blue; the sun was yellow, and the grass is green; he knew that much. 

He quickly searched some colours online and smiled happily, finally able to see a rainbow and more. He still loved the colour grey. But if your beautiful eyes and flushed skin was anything to go by, it was likely that it could change rather quickly. 

He was shy; he introduced himself in person. “Hello my name is uh Kim Taehyung I am good boy”

“I am y/n,” your Korean was pretty bad, but he smiled 

“gwiyeom” he pulled you into a hug and you wrapped your arms as best you could around him and he wiggles you side to side happily. His soulmate was in his arms. 

You had to move in but you were so nervous you were the youngest so far. The girls were all super supportive, and they each had to do interviews about what it was like meeting their soulmates and they also had to reenact it with them. 

You were all over the newspapers and TV die-hard sasaeng fans were a little upset but the rest of ‘Army’ were very supportive. Your name is Iris, and you were called the monochrome couple. On some occasions, you were called the Gucci gang, especially with JHope. 

Taehyung thanked you every morning for giving his world colour and whenever you grew homesick, he would serenade wrapping you in his arms on the couch and kiss the top of your head. 

How you had such a kind, caring and handsome soulmate was beyond you. Taehyung believed he must have been very good in his past life to get you but, you believed it must have been the other way around. He was quick to call you equals even if you believed this charming young man was superior in every way. 

Your family flew overseas to see your soulmate, and you were nervous. Hopefully, he didn’t find them weird or rude. Hopefully, they didn’t do or say anything impolite by accident. 

They surprised you, all impeccably dressed, and they even brought a gift for him. Your father had a private word with Taehyung Namjoon tagging along for assistance. By the end of the visit Taehyung was calling your parents mum and dad and they loved it. He was so polite and charming and your mother couldn’t fathom how handsome he was. 

The other girls were a bit of a handful mostly Aster who was up odd hours of the night and morning doing god knows what. It was the middle of the night and when you had gotten up to use the bathroom; you saw Aster sitting at the kitchen counter playing flow, hexagons and bridges on her phone rapidly clearing levels headphones in. 

Aster could find skills in everything she tried but got lost in them for hours and by the end would be an expert. Melody had taught her how to play the drums and she was already on the brink of surpassing her. And from what she heard she picked up Korean really easily but had trouble sticking to one language. 

Gently touching her shoulder she jumped and pulled out her headphones turning, “Hey what’s up?” She asked her eyes a little strained from staying up. 

“It’s past midnight, let me walk you to bed” you took her hand and gently pulled her along she yawned slumping against your back and you forgot you were younger. She was the smallest and -from what you had discussed with Beau- the most baby of the soulmate group. 

Tucking her in and taking her phone you saw messages from Jimin, ‘you better be asleep’ from two hours ago. The poor guy was so worried she was a loose cannon, he loved her dearly. 

“She takes your hand and you're just running you don’t know where, she looks back and smiles and you find it doesn’t matter where you are headed because you are just happy to be there with her,” Jimin had once told her and she had to agree. 

She walked back to her own room and checked her phone; you had received a text five minutes ago. 

[Are you awake?]

[Yes.]

[Do you want to cuddle and watch the city?]

[Forever and always.]

[I love you.]

[Say that to my face punk]

He met you at the door and led you onto the balcony. There were blankets and pillows set up and you laid on the outdoor couch and watched the city until you both fell asleep.

[duker42]

💜The Tea Shop Part 2💜 Levi x Reader

Part 1 Here!

Levi’s POV:

Y/N trailed behind me out of the shop, griping Harry’s small hand in a comforting way. I look back to see Y/N smile. “Okay! Harry, we need to get you some new clothes and get you cleaned up.” The boy looked up at her, confused. “New clothes? I’ve never had them before.” The look that flashes across her face speaks to her compassion. I notice small tears build up in her eyes. She shakes her head, as if to clear memories from it. I watch her, fascinated.

Walking into a nearby shop, Y/N quickly purchased a new set of clothes and shoes to fit the boy. The boy walks out, proudly holding the box as he questions Y/N. “Why couldn’t I wear them now?” Her clear, bright laughter filled the air. “Harry, you need a very good scrubbing before you put on clean clothes. You look worse than I do after an expedition!” His small giggle warmed warmed my heart, but I grimace, she usually is a dirty brat when we come back into the walls.

“Oi, come on. I know a bath house where we can clean the kid.” I hear myself offer as I turn and walk away. Upon reaching the establishment, I walk in and ask for a private bathing room and towels. After being shown to the bathing room, I remove my jacket and roll my sleeves. I start getting the tub ready while Y/N convinced Harry that he needed this bath and no one was going to hurt him. I think back to my own childhood and frown as I prepare to scrub this dirty urchin.

Coaxing the young child into the bath was hard, but once he hit the water, he played and rubbed the bubbles on himself, giggling. Y/N’s soft smile, almost motherly, took me by surprise. She seemed to actually care about the boy’s well being. “What do you plan to do once the boy is clean Y/N? You can’t take him back to HQ.” I murmured while scrubbing Harry’s hair for the forth time. “I have a place he can go, he will be well taken care of, Captain.” She replied, breaking eye contact with me.

Y/N’s POV:

The Captain looks a bit startled at my reply. I brace myself for the barrage of questions, but hearing none, I look up to see the handsome raven haired man just looking at me. Sighing, I give in to the unspoken demand of his eyes. “I grew up quite wealthy. I was raised by my uncle, who had no children, when my parents died. He never seemed to care for me, besides making sure my needs were met. He just needed me to keep the family money, I guess. I was free to go and do as I pleased. I spent a lot of time roaming the streets of Sina. One day I met my best friend, Sven. He was an orphan that was running away from those disgusting places they kept quote ‘unwanted brats’. He saved me from getting the shit beat out of me by a group of older kids. I realize now that I could have very easily have been just like Sven, if I didn’t have my Uncle. I brought Sven home with me and snuck him into the house. It was a month before it was discovered, and in that time, we had bonded like brother and sister. He had planned to join the Scouts when he was of age, wanted to venture beyond the walls. He taught me how to defend myself, how to spot liars, and how to believe in myself. We were going to take on the world together and defeat the titans. God, we were so naive.” I look at Harry, his hair starting shine under the Captain’s scrubbing. Levi pulls the drain plug on the tub to release the dirty water. Refilling it, he begins to scrub the little boys body, washing the grime from him. Piercing me with his stormy grey eyes, he motions for me to continue. “When my uncle found out some quote ‘street rat’ was staying in his home, he went berserk. He sent Sven back to that hellish orphanage, and no amount of begging or crying would change his mind. He locked me in my room for a week as punishment. When I finally got out of there, I found out that he.....had been beaten to death by the caretakers. I was devastated.” Tears began to fall as I looked away from the boy being scrubbed by my fierce Captain.

“I later found out that he had been beaten to death for stopping the caretaker from violating one of the little girls there. She told me how Sven had saved her that night. When my uncle died, I took my family fortune and I bought the orphanage. I had the caretakers thrown in jail, and proceeded to set it up the way I thought it should be. A loving environment, safe, where children can grow up without worrying about being abused or hungry. Harry, here, will have a chance, a chance that Sven never had. And I joined the Scouts, fulfilling his dream, our dream, of traveling outside the walls.” I stop as I feel a hand grasp my chin, turning my head back towards his penetrating gaze. “You are a good person, Y/N. Most people in Sina would turn a blind eye to cruelty of the world. You are striving to make a change within these shitty walls. That is no small task.” I feel myself blush profusely at his praise.

“There, the brat is somewhat clean. Could use another scrubbing...” Levi grumbles as he releases the bathtub drain for the last time. I snort with laughter as he gives me a hard look. “Captain, the poor boy is raw right now. Let his skin recover!” Huffing, he lifts Harry out of the tub, wrapping him in a large clean towel. The moment Harry’s feet hit the ground, he sprints over to the bench where the packages are waiting. “Y/N! Can I wear my new clothes now???” The little scamp grins as he looks up at me with puppy eyes. “Yes, Harry, lets get you dressed and then we will go to see your new home.” His little eyes widen in excitement and fear as he gleefully rips into the package to pull out his stiff new clothes. Helping him get dressed, I listen to him exclaim over every new item as the Captain cleans up and puts his outfit back to rights.

Leaving the bathhouse, I lead the two down familiar streets until we come to a large private estate, a fence surrounding the property. “This is where I am going to stay???” Harry’s eyes widen as he takes in the large stone front of the house and giggling children running around in the sunshine.

Levi’s POV:

I take in the obvious wealth that comes with an estate like this. It’s like a home Isabel would have wanted to burglarize when we came to the surface. I watch as Y/N goes to the side gate, walking through confidently. There are several kids, running and laughing in the sunshine, lighthearted and free. I follow behind as I push Harry through gently. Looking at how Y/N carried herself and how frugal she was with her Scout’s pay, no one would ever believe she had grown up in this house. Walking through the garden, a woman around Y/N’s age met us at a table where she was setting out afternoon snacks for the kids. “Y/N! We weren’t expecting you today! What a lovely surprise!” The gentle woman greets Y/N warmly as she rushes over to pull her in for a quick hug. “Sandra, you look as lovely as ever! How is everyone?” Y/N smiles fondly as the lady is quick to look behind her and see Harry and I. “Everyone is fantastic. I see you have brought us a new addition to our happy home. Have you also brought a beau by?” She coyly asks. My eyes widen slightly at the idea of courting Y/N. “Sandra! No this is my squad leader, Captain Levi. Captain Levi, this is headmistress Sandra. She oversees the orphanage for me. This young man beside him is Harry. We became friends this morning. Harry, please come say hi to a friend of mine.” Harry came forward shyly, but quickly warmed up to the effervescent woman. I nod and say a quick hello as I take in the obvious closeness between the two women.

Staying for tea time, I listen as Sandra and Y/N caught up on the happenings around the orphanage. One of the older children, a girl named Andrea, was adopted last week and seemed to be settling in nicely with her new family. “When will the next home check be, Sandra?” I hear as I stir my fresh cup of tea. I shift in my seat as my interest is piqued. I have never heard of such a thing. Home visits? Checking on the kids after they left the orphanage? This is really showing the true nature of Y/N and the people she put in charge. “We will make a surprise visit in two weeks, Y/N. Don’t worry, the Andersons are a wonderful couple. They were never able to have children of their own, so they sought us out. Andrea is in a good home.” A knowing look flashes across Sandra’s face as she watches the children playing in the garden. Harry has quickly taken to the new kids, running around with them. I clear my throat before asking “Sandra is the girl that Sven saved, isn’t she?” “Yes, I am Captain Levi. You are a very perceptive man.” She smiles. “I see why she likes you.” Sputtering, Y/N chokes on her tea, turning red from embarrassment and the lack of air. I calmly lean over and whack her on the back a few times, my face neutral but my heart racing.

After saying goodbye to Harry, we make our way off the grounds, walking silently on the streets. Glancing over at Y/N, she seems reluctant to start a conversation with me, shy from the previous conversations revelations. “I need to find a new tea shop, Y/N. Would you like to accompany me?” I ask as I cut my eyes over to her, watching. Smiling brightly, she hooks her arm around mine. “Lead the way, sir!”

“Try not to ruin this one Y/N.”

“No promises....”

The End.

Mobile MasterList

[jovialyouthmusic]

Girl’s Night Out

A multiple AU piece of fun featuring my female LIs

Elizabeth finds out more about the three women she has just met, and is scandalised.

Word Count 1519

A/N No Warnings...

1 Discoveries

‘I think Lucy should start’ Sophia said ‘She was Les’s first work – she’s our writer. The three of us are based on characters from one story’ she explained’ Lucy took a deep breath.

‘Well, keeping it simple, my story involves two men. I met them both at the same time, and I had a hard decision to make. I married the King of Cordonia, but I was also in love with his best friend, who was a commoner’ Elizabeth frowned

‘That’s the simple version?’ She queried. Lucy laughed, tossing her hair.

‘It was the premise of the story we’re all based on. You have the chance to choose between four love interests. Les found it hard to choose, so she wrote a story where she could have two of them. She made it so the King changed the laws of Cordonia to support marriages with more than two partners’ The prospective bride’s eyes grew wide.

‘You have two husbands?’ she asked, dumbfounded. Lucy smirked and nodded. Lizzy swallowed, leaving the details of that bombshell for later on ‘So it’s a story within a story’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Yes, that’s right’ said Charlotte. It’s called fan fiction. You could take that novel over there and change it however you wanted – make the villain into the hero, set it in a different country’

‘Oh, how intriguing’ the young woman said ‘Please tell me more’ She looked sideways at Lucy, sitting languidly in contrast to Charlotte’s regal posture.

‘Well that’s about it for me’ said Lucy ‘I married both of them – King Brad and Drake, and we live happily ever after’

‘You go on adventures then? You travel perhaps?’ Elizabeth asked ‘It’s what I’d do’ Charlotte stifled a laugh and Lucy smiled wryly.

‘Not exactly. Most of the story takes place in the bedroom – or the bathroom, or the hot tub…’ she had a dreamy expression on her face, and Elizabeth suddenly realised what she meant.

‘Oh!’ she said ‘I’m not sure that is proper’ Sophia patted her hand.

‘It’s just the way we’re written’ she assured her ‘You said you’re about to marry your Captain – and the story’s set in regency Scotland. Does that mean you’re a v…’ she cleared her throat ‘You’ve not been intimate with your sweetheart?’ Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair.

‘We’ve kissed’ she said softly ‘Every time he touches me it makes me feel warm - and tingly’

‘Oh sweetie’ Sophia said ‘You are going to have such a good time, Les will write a wedding night you’ll never forget’ Lucy laughed.

‘We’re lucky, Les is usually gentle with her characters. Some go through all sorts of stuff, and some are – well, let’s just say some authors write unhappy endings’

‘Oh how dreadful’ said Elizabeth ‘John’s first wife died in childbirth. I wonder if our writer put that to paper’

‘She’s not much for sad stories’ Sophia assured her. ‘Anyway, Charlotte can tell her story next’

‘Please do’ Elizabeth said ‘and call me Lizzy’ Charlotte smiled and absent mindedly smoothed out her skirt.

‘Well, my story is different again. I was sole heir to the Cordonian throne, and the character who was King in Lucy’s story was a bartender in Edinburgh’ Lizzy smiled in recognition ‘and Drake was my childhood friend. I had to choose between many worthy suitors for someone to rule by my side’

‘Oh how exciting! Let me guess – you chose the bartender and made him King?’ said Lizzy brightly. Charlotte smiled

‘No, I chose Drake, Lizzy’ she said ‘But it wasn’t easy. To cut a long story short, yes I married him and there has been a little drama since, but we are very happy together’ Lizzy turned to Sophia.

‘So what tale do you have to tell?’ she asked ‘Are you a princess?’ Sophia laughed and shook her head

‘No, I’m just an ordinary person – no title, just Sophia Turner.’

‘And you married a prince?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Wrong again. I fell in love with the head of security – another Captain - who looks after King Liam of Cordonia’

‘Oh’ frowned Lizzy ‘Is he very handsome?’

‘Oh yes’ Sophia said dreamily ‘He’s perfect…’ she cleared her throat ‘Well actually he has his moments. He’s a neat freak and he likes his routines…’

‘Freak is the word’ muttered Lucy, and Charlotte reached out to tap her knee disapprovingly

‘But you love him all the same?’ Lizzy went on heedless.

‘Very much.’ Sophia smiled ‘Which brings us to you’

‘Oh? What lies in store for me?’

‘Oh, I don’t know that – but my fiancé is a descendent of yours, so I suppose you are his great great – I don’t know how many greats – grandmother.’ Lizzy looked at her, wide eyed.

‘Oh – pray tell me what is his name?’

‘Bastein Lykel’ she smiled fondly

‘Oh how exciting! My beau is John Lykel. Tomorrow I will be Mrs Elizabeth Lykel.’ Her blissful smile changed to a frown ‘Though the word ‘tomorrow’ loses its meaning a little. Is time passing for him right now? Does he understand things as you do? How long until I see him again?’

‘I suppose you could say we are all in limbo’ Sophia said ‘Waiting for Les to write more or for someone to read our story’

‘I miss John’ Lizzy said sadly ‘I hope I can see him soon’

‘Well, I suppose we could call Les and ask her’ Sophia mused ‘She said she’d be busy for a bit. There’s something odd going on in her world – she said people were getting sick and she had some things to do – then she’d be free to write more to help keep folk’s spirits up.’

‘We could have a hen party’ piped up Lucy

‘A what?’ asked Lizzy

‘A hen party’ she repeated ‘A batchelorette party – you know, all girls together to celebrate the bride getting married. We could really let our hair down’

‘Let our…?’ Lizzy was puzzled, but by now the other two were catching on to the idea

‘Oh yes’ said Charlotte ‘We could have a Ball’

‘Now come on Lottie, you know what a hen party is’ said Lucy ‘What’s more, you had yours in Edinburgh. I think I’m the only one here who hasn’t been there’ Sophia waved her hands

‘Pipe down you two. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we share ideas and have an extended party? We could do something each of us would enjoy’

‘I vote for strippers’ Lucy cried out ‘I could get my men to perform for us’ She waggled her eyebrows in a way Lizzy was not sure she liked.

‘Strippers?’ her head was spinning with all the unfamiliar terms.

‘Careful – Lizzy here won’t have seen a man naked’ Sophia warned ‘Ooohh - we could have a pyjama party!’ She spread her palms down in front of her and blew her breath out slowly, closing her eyes. ‘Okay, calm…’ she said, and everyone fell silent. After a while she opened her eyes again.

‘Right’ she said ‘Lizzy, what do you expect from a party? No expense spared, all four of us are the guests, you can invite anyone else you like – but bear in mind it’s strictly girls only.’

‘Could we not invite our beaus for a little dancing?’ she pleaded ‘I would have the front parlour decked out and my friend playing piano for us’

‘Sounds boring’ chipped in Lucy, stifling a yawn ‘This is your last night as a single woman, you should really push the boat out. Think big, darling!’

‘Boat? What boat?’ Lizzy was puzzled yet again. She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed it. Lucy sighed, and Sophia frowned at her. Charlotte cleared her throat

‘Well this isn’t getting us anywhere’ she said, picking at a piece of lint on the couch. She looked up sharply ‘We should go to the bar where it all started – for me’ She closed her eyes, and the room started to look fuzzy.

‘No not yet!’ Sophia said sharply, and Charlotte opened her eyes again. Lizzy blinked and breathed a sigh of relief as a wave of dizziness receded. ‘We need to dress up before we go out on the town, and we need to prepare Lizzy’ Sophia scolded. She turned to Elizabeth.

‘Sweetheart, we are going to show you what us girls in the twenty first century do for fun. I’ve taken a sneaky peek at your story - and you are seriously repressed. In a couple of hundred years, women are going to live much more liberated lives. You won’t be treated like property, you’ll be able to make your own decisions, you can work for a living, even vote.’ Elizabeth gasped.

‘I don’t believe you!’ she cried ‘This is all a dream.’ She started to weep. ‘I want John’ she sobbed ‘I just want to marry my Captain.’ Sophia made soothing noises and put her arm around her shoulders

‘You will darling, you will. I’m sorry I upset you. I really want you to enjoy yourself. Trust me, dry your eyes and I promise we’ll look after you. You’ll have a ball’

[lawandorderforevercsi]

Title: Finding Love-Missing Scenes-Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Miami, Anthony Zuiker and CBS do.

Genre: Romance

Beta’d by: calleighstorres

Rating: T

Chapter 4: Meeting with Pavel and Carmen

Mari and Horatio were outside the family home. She could tell that her man was nervous and rightfully. Mari whispered in his ear, “Maybe I can tell Mami and Papi that we can reschedule and…”

 Horatio placed a finger on her lips and asked, and postpone it? That would make it harder later.”

Marisol smiled. Horatio was really unlike any other guy she had dated. Previous dates would take up the offer and run. Horatio would take everything head-on. What is more, Horatio makes all the other guys seem like immature frat boys she had dated long ago. She leaned in and gave him a kiss, which Horatio inevitably deepened.

 When they came apart, Marisol saw that Horatio wasn’t as nervous. Marisol asked, “Ready?”

 Marisol opened the front door, went and were greeted by Eric, Lucia, Isabel, and eventually Pavel and Carmen. It wasn’t long before the atmosphere was thick with tension was an understatement. The last time Horatio was as at the Delko home was as a guest of Eric. Now it was because he was dating their eldest daughter Marisol. Pavel and Carmen were rightfully apprehensive about their eldest daughter dating a man six years older than her and the fact that he also happened to be Eric’s boss and mentor.

 While Marisol was in the kitchen with her sisters and Eric, Pavel and Carmen didn’t waste another minute and jumped right in.

 Pavel began by asking, “Are you ready to make a lifelong commitment?”

 Horatio though they are earnest. I guess they heard from Eric that he was the one to step up him and Marisol.

 Horatio cleared his voice, “Yes, I am ready for a lifelong commitment. I strongly believe that commitment is a two-way street. I know that Marisol may have told you that I was engaged once before. My then-fiancée had given up on me; I by no means gave up on her. She couldn’t handle the possible pressures of being a cop’s wife. I know that I can count on Marisol to be there when I need her. I will always be there for her.”

 Carmen’s turn, and she asked, “Do you agree on core values and big dreams?”

 Horatio replied in a composed, “We agree on all of the core values, including honesty, loyalty,

financial stability, affection, and family. Of course, we both want a family filled with kids. I have seen how gentle she is with her nieces and nephews. I am sure Eric has told you about how I have a soft spot for children, especially when it comes to the cases they are unwittingly involved in.”

 They asked about experiences they had gone through together, what he liked in Marisol, and what he saw in her that he wanted to date her. They were tough questions, but he knew the drill in the times when he threw tough questions at the possible suspects.

 The most important question was, “Do you and my daughter agree on biblical roles and responsibilities?”

 Horatio answered, “Yes, we agree on the biblical roles, including being submissive, obeying me, and being faithful. While I didn’t learn the deeper meaning of the roles as I grew up in a broken Catholic household, a friend of mine, Cardinal Zello, helped through the learnings and through all the tough times I went through.”

 While the interrogation was going on, Marisol kept peering out, she muttered, “I hope Mami and Papi aren’t tearing Horatio to pieces.”

 Luisa, Isabel, and Eric all exchanged glances. That didn’t go unnoticed by Isabel who said, “Boy Mari, you have it bad for Horatio don’t you?”

 Embarrassed, Marisol nodded and said, “Yes, he understands and completes me. He is the one I want in my life.”

 Lucia, Isabel, and Eric knew what Marisol meant by that. Growing up, their parents didn’t allow any of them to date. It wasn’t until they had started college and away from home when they were allowed to. Isabel and Lucia found their soulmates right away. Eric kept his options open, but Marisol was the unlucky one. During her first year at Dade University, she had met a guy named Wilder Dash. He was a bad boy who suave, handsome, charming, and from a family of money. Marisol was at the time naïve and too trusting, and Wilder took advantage of that. While he didn’t take advantage of her physically, he toyed with her heart and emotions. Then the betrayal happened. Towards the end of the school term, he broke her heart by ending the relationship to get engaged to a young woman from out of state that Wilder’s parents picked for him.

 Ever since then, Marisol vowed to play hard to get with all guys she dated.

 Lucia said, “Well, why don’t we go out to rescue our future brother-in-law?” 

 Marisol looked at her siblings in amazement. She asked, “You mean you approve of him?”

Isabel said, “Yeah, you deserve it, mi querida hermana (my dear sister).”

 Lucia added, “Sofia looks up to him and is in complete awe of Mr. Horatio.”

 Eric said, “Well, then let’s go.”

 The siblings all went out together with the drinks.

 As for Pavel and Carmen, for now, they were satisfied with Horatio’s answers when the Delko siblings appeared. Marisol set hers and Horatio’s drinks down, went to sit down next to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and Horatio turned and gave her a loving smiled. Marisol asked, “Mami, tú y Papi no trataron de asustar a Horatio, ¿verdad? (mom, you and dad, you didn’t try to scare Horatio away, did you?)”

 Seeing the loving way they two exchanged, Carmen replied, “No, hija mía, solo queríamos asegurarnos de que se adapta bien a ti.” (No, my daughter, we just wanted to make sure he is a good fit for you.)

 Marisol inquired in English, “Well, is he?”

 Pavel replied, “Он есть, и у него есть наше одобрение.” (He is and he has our approval.)

 Marisol let out a squeal of joy and hugged her beau tightly, and Horatio returned in equal force.

 He was glad to have passed the parental test. Lucia, Isabel, and Eric were all ecstatic. Horatio has been the only man who had made it this far. To get their parents’ hard-earned approval was no easy feat. 

 With the approval granted, Eric knew what was going to happen next. 

 A/N: Thanks for reading Chapter 4 of Finding Love-Missing Scenes”. As always reviews are appreciated!

[donatello-writes]

Mutant Puberty

In a humble house within the New York city suburbs, the hulking testudine by the name of Raphael sat in his kitchen. He was soon met by his oldest child, who came rushing into the room. Nerves nagged at Frida as she anxiously awaited the arrival of her boyfriend. She was already sixteen, and the turtle in red couldn't believe how fast the years had flown by. This was the first of her many suitors to agree to meet her...interesting...family. All those who came before broke things off with her upon learning of her parentage. 

"Dad, remember, be nice." Raphael grunted with displeasure at his daughter's request.

"I make no promises." His stern eyes narrowed into a glower.

"Daddyyy, please! I really like this guy a lot...Can you at lease be civil?"

"I suppose that I can try dat." He grumbled in agreement to her terms.

Hearing the commotion coming from downstairs, Lucas wandered out of his room. He stopped mid-way down the stairs, and peeked through the wooden railing. His thin, almost alligator-like tail curled into his lap, and he clutched it out of nervousness. This was the first guest they'd had over since he'd fully grown into his mutant traits. He ran his hand over the mohawk-esque tuft of reddish-orange hair on the top of his head before scratching at his scales. When a few flaked off, he sighed. 

"Shedding...again..." He was already fourteen years of age, and looked exactly like his father, only with a much thinner frame. When he was born he appeared mostly human, with hair and pale cream colored skin. His only distinctly terrapin characteristics being his three fingered hands, two-toed feet, and tail. However, unlike  his sister, he went through some dramatic bodily changes when he hit adolescence. It happened so rapidly that it almost felt unreal...almost.  

His plastron and scales came first, followed by his snout, with his shell having only just recently begun to grow in. The protective shield still wasn't fully developed, and plagued him with growing pains. He reached over his shoulder and rubbed the top of it gently, as if that would ease the discomfort. Mutant puberty was the worst! When the doorbell rang, he scrambled to his feet, and raced back up to his room. Once there, he rummaged through a drawer until he located a baseball cap with the Maryland Terrapins logo on it, and donned it backwards. 

"At least this'll kinda hide my freaky mutant dandruff." He huffed in dismay. Hearing his mother call for his presence, he hesitantly proceeded downstairs to greet the visitor. Thankfully, Frida had well informed her suitor of her "special" family, to avoid shock and panic. That did little to alleviate the teenager's nerves as he trudged down the steps. He was met at the bottom of the stairwell by his mother, sister, and their guest for the evening.

Lucas' eyes widened upon first sight of Trevor, the small hoop ring on his lower lip caught the light as the charming young man grinned a hello. Tall for his age, Lucas was already 6ft even, almost at height with him. The young terrapin's heart thumped in his chest when their eyes met. He was speechless, enamored by the handsome stranger that stood before him.

"Huh-Hello-HI!" in almost robotic movements, the awkward young man closed his eyes and extended his hand, inviting a friendly handshake. He would understand if the human didn't return the gesture, most didn't want to even go near Lucas, let alone touch him. But when he felt a light squeeze in his palm, he reopened his eyes to find Trevor's in his. It wasn't long before the mutant teen quickly withdrew his hand, suddenly self-conscious about his scaliness.

"S-sorry my hands are pretty rough..."

"It's okay, Dude, you're fine."

The fawning lad's hazel eyes sparkled, he was unaccustomed to being treated so kindly by a human he'd only just met. Sure, mutant's had since been assimilated into everyday society, but that did little to change how they were viewed. The road to acceptance would be a long and arduous one. Lucas sighed as he thought about the world's state of affairs only to have his concentration shattered by the boisterous entrance of his father. The behemoth eclipsed the doorway separating living room from kitchen, swiftly lurching forward to come face to face with his daughter's beau.

"Nice ta meet ya, I'm Frida's fatha." He wore a jovial expression before lifting Trevor up off of his feet and into a hug. The protective father then whispered into the young man's ear. "If ya hurt my lil' baby girl, I will pummel you within an inch of yer life," before  setting him back down. The boy shuddered, but kept his composure. Both siblings groaned at their beastly dad's embarrassing actions. Meanwhile, Raphael's wife shot him a glare at which he smirked and grunted. Putting on a happy face, the matron led evenyone into the dining room to take their seats.

It wasn't long before the food was ready, and plates were handed out. The young terrapin fidgeted at the table, occasionally peering up to steal glances at Trevor before darting his eyes back down at his plate. He'd never felt this before, his heart was now in this throat, beating faster with each passing second. 

Why do I feel this way? 

Just as the twitterpated lad asked himself that question, a chirping sound began emanating from his body. He jolted in surprise, and the entire table focused their attention onto him. With a red face, he slowly sank down in his seat. His father immediately knew what it was, and wasted no time in speaking up. As if the evening hadn't been awkward enough already, it quickly went from bad to worse.

"Son, we should go to tha bathroom."

"Wha? B-but dad..."

"NOW." the imposing growl of a command was impossible to disobey. Grabbing his son by the hand, Raphael led him upstairs to the bathroom, chirping continuing all the while. 

"Dad, what's happening to me now?!" His blush worsened, he hated his body for what it was doing. As he became increasingly flustered, the sound only grew louder.

His father stifled a chuckle, "It's a churr."

"A...what?"

"I'm sawry that I didn't tell ya about dis soona, but I honestly didn't think ya would have it. Lessee, how do I tell ya dis...Jeeze, why hasn't Donnie taught ya dis yet???" His Dad racked his brain trying to find the right way to explain. 

"When a male turtle becomes...excited...he makes a churring sound to let the ladies know that he's...ready..."

"Oh my God, Dad, STOP!" Lucas reflexively covered his ear flaps. "I didn't know this was gonna be a birds and the bees thing." 

"So...who's the lucky girl?"

"Huh?" 

"The one that ya were thinkin' about at the table."

"B-but...I wasn't thinking about a girl..." Sure, Lucas had dated a girl and fantasized about the opposite gender countless times before, but that wasn't the thing on his mind as he sat at the dinner table.

"Sure ya weren't." Raphael winked at his son and shrugged. "But if ya don' wanna tell me about it, I undastand. If ya calm yerself down, it’ll stop." His son nodded, and proceeded to take deep breaths, just like his uncle Leo had taught him to do when feeling anxious. 

The two returned to the dinner table and Raphael met his wife, whispering in her ear to fill her in on what was going on. She smiled wide and looked over at her son lovingly. He noticed, scowled, and returned to staring at his plate. All he wanted in this very moment was to disappear completely. 

"So, Lucas, what's it like being half turtle? It seems pretty cool." Trevor smiled at the anxious young mutant. Jerking at the sudden inquiry, the flustered turtle struggled to even form a sentence in response. Floundering, a myriad of expressions ran over his face in mere seconds: surprise, confusion, nervousness, and finally, happiness. He couldn't find words, mind still stuck on the specifics of the question.

He thinks I'm cool???

"It's not so bad, I gUesS." His voice dropped over a year ago, but it still refused to settle on a tone from time to time. So, in the perfect timing, it decided to fail him. Instead, his attempt at a cavalier response came out in the form of a squeak as his voice cracked. Lucas was mortified. At that moment, it dawned on both his mother and father, and the two exchanged knowing glances from across the table. Once Trevor left the house, and Frida went up to her room, Raphael turned to his son.

"It was Trevor, wasn't it?"

"Daaad! Wha---NO!" but the churr that followed gave him away.

"Okay...M-maybe, I dunno...I'm so confused." the bright red color on his cheeks was telling, and his father grabbed him in a bear hug.

"It's okay, son. You like whoevah ya want, yer motha and I will love ya not matta what."

Here’s a link to Frida’s introduction --> (x)

[ofregiums]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth, ISABELA HASLER, has arrived. being twenty-five years old, she is currently on the throne. many around the court call her the siren by virtue of her being ambitious and charismatic, while also being cunning and hot-headed.  —played by chloe bridges

— THE BASICS

full name: isabela anne hasler nee lopez known in history as: the commoner queen date of birth: november 20th age: twenty-five star sign: scorpio profession: stay at home mom ( modern verse ) / queen of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth  ( canon verse ) loyalty: house hasler, house de trastamara alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: intj spoken languages: spanish ( first ), english ( fluent ), german ( beginner ), polish ( beginner ) mother’s name: eleanor fry ( deceased in both verses ) father’s name: andrés lopez ( deceased in both verses ) siblings, if any: maria lopez ( older ) children: augustus hasler, helena hasler height: 5′5″ hair colour: black. eye colour: dark brown

— CANON VERSE

ambition is the word that follows isabela’s entire existence and it started from the very moment she was brought into this world. a product of a desperately conniving farmer of a father and a naive teacher of a mother, she was born in valencia, spain as a product of an affair. you see, her father was already married with a young child. but once eleanor came into his line of sight, he knew he had to haver her.

eleanor did not live long enough to bear the shame of being an unwed mother for she perished during childbirth. andrés took little isabela and brought her to his wife luisa to be raised alongside her older half-sister maria, who was only four at the time.

from a very early age, andrés suffered from a great rage that he took out on his wife and daughters. it was a bit of a vicious circle, really. maria did all that she could to protect isabela but luisa -- still bitter that she was a product of infidelity -- looked the other way if the rage was directed at the young girl. words, hands. . . it did not matter. it was simply the way he got his point across.

as isabela grew into her own, andrés and luisa began to notice her great beauty and began to scheme how best to utilize it to benefit their own wealth and status. it was beaten into isabela’s head that she would need to make something of herself for the sake of the family if she wanted to be considered useful. growing up, her parents only really noticed her for her looks and how that would benefit their wealth and status. it was beaten into her head that she needed to make something of herself.

maria ran away from home when she was seventeen, leaving a thirteen year old isabela heartbroken and completely alone to their parents’ mercy. the fact that her sister did not think to take her with her is something that the young woman carries with her to this very day. it was the beginning of learning not to trust anyone.

at the age of sixteen, isabela and a few friends snuck away to madrid for the weekend. it was there that she met the duke of galisteo -- handsome, nearly twice her age, incredibly rich, and very very married. the man was absolutely no match for isabela’s charms and took to her instantly. it was an utterly volatile relationship: she always feared the worst from him and he could never offer all himself to her. still, no amount of distance kept the duke away from isabela. it wasn’t before long before he was offering her an opportunity to attend the spanish royal court by his side. of course, isabela said yes. as she packed away for her new adventure, her father gripped his wrist and reminded her of her purpose on this earth.

isabela utterly thrived at the spanish court, making friends as high as the duke of huéscar and foreign princess of spain. darkly seductive and yet charming, she dazzled people after a conversation despite the clear insinuations of why she was there at court. behind those doe eyes and an innocent smile is a serpent. she cannot be trusted by most and people are only shown facades of her. 

tirelessly, isabela tried to wear the duke down to divorce his wife and marry her instead. however, the news that his wife was finally pregnant -- a point of contention between the two -- the duke broke off things with isabela and shattered the heart she never knew she even had.

she no longer had any remote standing at court. but as she was packing up to return to her wretched home, the queen of spain ( the former, not the current ) requested her to be a lady-in-waiting for her. it was a proper title to cover up what she really did for the queen, which was seduce rich and powerful people for information and secrets. it was exactly what she needed to ensure that she would not go home.

everything grew quite chaotic in spain afterwards. first, the crown prince died, causing the princess she considered a friend to flee to her home country with the no-more heir. not so soon afterwards, the king of spain joined his son beyond the grave. suddenly, the queen she worked for was simply an old widow and the next in line -- a woman -- took her place as the spanish monarch. isabela was then assigned to do the same for her as her mother before her.

under the command of the new queen, isabela was sent to bern with the instruction of collecting information of enemy countries. upon her arrival, she met the crown prince anton and was intrigued by him immediately. what started as nothing more than physical began to bloom into authentic feelings. isabela tried with all her might to deny that she was in love with him -- she couldn’t trust again, she couldn’t -- but eventually, she relented to them. after anton’s father was killed in the bern explosions, he proposed to isabela and she readily accepted. this made her not only a wife, but a queen.

her father and step-mother tried to return in isabela’s life, wanting to reap the benefits that she had sown. but no longer living in fear of them, she was a willing participant in having them both executed for “crimes against the queen”. the night after they died was the first night isabela had slept peacefully in all of her nights.

isabela’s reign, so far, is not a smooth one. following in the opinion of their former king, she is not particularly liked by the court or the common people at whole. while the nobles within the castle considered her to be nothing more than a witch that put the king under a spell, the common people found her shameless social climbing to be utterly revolting and hard to connect with. for the most part, isabela tries not to let it get to her but even she has feelings ( no matter how difficult it was to admit ). putting herself under much stress has made her more aloof and made things like having a baby difficult, as made clear by a miscarriage.

she now supports her husband in versailles where the peace talks have resumed after months of rebuilding. recently, she has learned that she is with child once again and while she is normally not one to waste silly time on hope, isabela prays with all of her that this will be a new beginning. for real, this time.

— MODERN VERSE

born in santa fe, isabela was marked by misfortunes from the day she was born. her mother died giving her life – a fact that her father has resented her for from day one. he returned the favor by drinking entirely too much and even going as far to harm the young girl out of anger. 

upon noticing a massive bruise on her arm at the age of nine, isabela’s elementary school counselor alerted the local authorities and she was swiftly taken out of the home and into foster care. she never saw her father again.

unfortunately, foster care proved to be just as bad at times. isabela bounced from home to home. some were okay, others were only in it for the money, and the rest were just as terrible as her father. because of this, she grew up incredibly distrustful and angry towards the world. she isolated herself at school and never had any friends. she didn’t mind it that much and perhaps even preferred it that way.

isabela ran away from home at the age of sixteen and never fucking looked back. after hitchhiking throughout the country, she realized she would need to find a way to keep herself afloat. it was when she found herself in los angeles where she met beau. at first thinking he was an unassuming man with a soft spot of saving her, isabela quickly realized that he wanted to recruit her into his business – a club. with no other options, she accepted.

she began working as a stripper as a way to pay her bills. eventually, she garnered enough popularity with the clients for her mysteriously dark and seductive ways. she was an enigma that no man could put their finger on and yet had such delight in trying. because of that, men would pay thousands a night to see her.

once she was nineteen, a more professional and high-in club offered her a spot in their den. isabela was promised more safety, more money, and more freedom. naturally, she accepted.

beau was not happy. he felt that she owed him her entire career. she obviously didn’t agree. an altercation occurred late one night on the sunset strip when beau waited for isabela’s shift to end and attacked her. the altercation landed isabela in the hospital where it would take her weeks to recover and months for her to heal and get back to work. it was only then that beau considered her free. but at what cost ?

she made a promise to herself that day to stop allowing men like her father, beau, her exes, anyone to treat her like an object. if another man laid his hands on isabela, she’d cut them off.

isabela worked at the club for years, a veteran among a sea of girls who come in and out. since she now has risen through the ranks, she entertains the likes of ceos and the rest of the 1% of california. one night, anton entered the club -- and the rest is history. if anyone would have once told isabela that she would not only fall in love with one of her patrons, but eventually marry and have a child with him too ??? well, she certainly would have laughed in their face.

she quit the job once she officially started dating anton and never once looked back. at times, isabela feels a bit unsure of the completely new life that she is living but she also relished in the feeling of being treated well after so long of the opposite. the only thing that matters to her at this point is her new family and that opinion is unlikely to ever change.

[slimyratbastard]

The Patchwork Girl

Fill the glass, and I’ll begin the tale.

A girl there was, and her father was rich, and her mother was rich, and they both loved her with all that they had. And they lived together and were very happy.

Well, one day her mother died, as happens from time to time, and though her father still loved her, he came to wish for a woman who would love him in turn. So he cast his eye about, and at length he fixed upon a woman of the town, who was wealthy and handsome and had a grown daughter of her own.

The man's daughter was plump and pretty, with a smile like sunlight, and besides was quick and sure with a needle, and was reckoned the best stitcher and mender the town had ever seen, and her new step-mother hated her, because her own daughter was sour and sallow and had no talents worthy of mentioning. So, as soon as she was mistress of the house, she sent the girl to live with the servants below stairs, where she cooked and cleaned, and had to darn and mend the clothes of the whole household. So there she sat, in her little room, without food to eat or water to wash, stitching and sewing all day long, and from each garment she sewed she took the tiniest scrap of cloth, and so much work was she given, that in no great time she had gotten a fair collection of pieces, which she kept under her sheets as a mattress.

And so things went on, until one day, when the girl had tiptoed up to the brink of womanhood, her step-mother demanded that the girl sew a grand gown for her step-sister. For their mother had decided it was time for her daughter to find a husband, and wished her to look her best to attract a rich man. Well, the girl just smiled, and asked for the finest blue silk and silver thread to work with, which she was given.

The girl worked all night, stitching and sewing, and in the morning she had made the most beautiful dress you ever saw, and her step-mother was well pleased when she saw it. But the girl said, “Oh, good mother, if you will but give me pearls and golden thread, I will make this dress ten times more beautiful.” Well, the step-mother liked the sound of that, and ordered a thousand tiny pearls and the finest gold thread to be brought.

For a second night the girl worked, affixing the pearls amidst whirling golden patterns that enraptured the eye, and by morning the dress was ten times more beautiful than the day before, and the step-mother and her daughter gazed at it in wonder. But the girl said, “Good mother, grant me diamonds and rubies, and I will make this dress finer yet, and she who wears it will win the hearts of whoever sees her.” Mother and daughter both liked the sound of that, and a bag of jewels was quickly brought, and the girl set to work.

But she did not work on the dress. Oh no, that was finished, sure enough. Instead, she pulled all the spare scraps of cloth from her bed and, stitching furiously, she sewed herself a patchwork coat of a thousand pieces, no two the same. Pulling on the coat, she bundled up the beautiful dress, pocketed the bag of jewels, and long before the cock crowed, she had set out to seek her fortune.

So she walked and walked, and sometimes she grew hungry and thirsty, but a diamond could buy food, sure enough. And sometimes strangers would wonder about the grubby girl in the strange coat, but a ruby could buy silence, well enough. And though the step-mother raged and demanded the return of her property, before long the girl was far away, leaving no clue as to where she had gone.

Well, diamonds and rubies only last so long, and the girl started to think it was time to find work. As she thought this, she saw a castle on a nearby hilltop, and hurried thither. At the castle gates, she met the Queen of those lands, who was riding out to hunt, and called out to her. Any other day, the Queen would have paid her no mind and gone on her way, but her attention was caught by the girl's strange, patchwork coat, and she beckoned her over, wrinkling her nose a little at the girl's dirty face, and asked her name.

“My name is Patches,” said the girl, smartly enough. The Queen reached down and plucked at the sleeve of the girl's coat.

“Is this what you are then?” She asked.

“And why not?” Said the girl. “For I sewed it myself, and proud I am of my work. There are worse things to be known by than my coat, Your Majesty.” The Queen was a grand lady, very tall and very stern, but she smiled a little at that, the slightest twitch of her lips. The girl saw this and smiled in return, and though it was a grey, autumn day, if you'd seen her smile you'd have sworn it was the brightest day of summer.

So the Queen asked Patches what she wanted. To serve you, was the answer. Serve me how, she asked.

“I can cook well enough, and clean well enough, but I can stitch and sew better than anybody.”

The Queen looked Patches over closely, and saw how finely made her coat was, better than the Queen had ever seen before, and straight away gave orders that the girl be hired as a seamstress and dressmaker, and given a room in the castle, and so it was done.

Patches lived happily in the castle. She worked hard, sewing livery for the servants and tabards for the soldiers. She had a good bed to sleep in and good food to eat, and water to wash with, though to everyone's puzzlement she chose not to use it. Instead, she was never seen without her dirty face and her patchwork coat.

The Queen often visited her in her room when she needed a new dress, and would talk to her kindly. The Queen would talk about her lands, and about her son, who was the same age as Patches, or thereabouts, and was a bold, handsome lad, good-hearted enough, though flighty and fickle. Patches would talk happily about everything except for herself, and if the Queen should ask her from where she came, or who her family were, she would laugh and point to one of her coat's patches. “This is wool, brought by ship from England.” She might say, or “This is cotton, carried all the way from India on the back of a donkey.” And she would smile, and the Queen would smile, and they would talk of other things.

Well, after some months of this, the young Prince came of age, and a grand celebration was announced, three days of dancing and feasting, and all of the nobles and gentry of the kingdom were invited, and all of the neighbouring kingdoms too. Patches was busier than she had ever been, for everyone in the castle wanted their clothes to be perfect.

“Will you be attending the celebrations, Patches?” The Queen asked, as she was fitted with her new ballgown. “I would be glad to see you there.” Patches only laughed and plucked at the front of her coat.

“I would not care to waste time making a dress for myself, Your Majesty, and my old coat, though I love it, is not fit for banquets and ballrooms,” she said, and though the Queen tried to persuade her, the girl would have none of it.

The first night of the celebration came, and it seemed like the whole world had gathered in the castle's magnificent ballroom. The finest cooks and musicians in ten kingdoms had been summoned, and the wine flowed like water. The Queen surveyed the room from her throne, regal and austere, as her guests danced and drank and flirted. The Prince wore his best uniform, a brand new sword at his side, which he was very proud of, and his attendants offered frequent reminders not to unsheathe it in the middle of the ballroom.

In her room, Patches pulled off her coat and scrubbed her face and hair clean, then she unpacked the beautiful gown she had made at her step-mother's behest and quickly dressed herself. The gown fit perfectly, as she had known it would, and she made her way downstairs and into the ballroom. As she walked through the room first one, then two, then many more heads turned to look at her, for she was quite the most beautiful girl in attendance, and her dress was more magnificent than any of the guests had ever seen, and the young men flocked around her, clamouring for her to dance with them.

She danced first with a baron's son, then with a young earl who was shy and kept tripping over his own feet, then the Prince himself came and begged the mysterious young lady to favour him with a dance. She smiled then, bright as sunlight, and that was when the Queen happened to glance in their direction, and of course she recognised Patches at once.

Patches danced twice with the Prince, and all the young ladies sighed with jealousy, and the young men laughed ruefully and nudged one another, and everyone agreed that they made a handsome couple. Then the Prince had to dance with the Princess of a neighbouring kingdom, and Patches danced with the heir of a wealthy country squire.

As the dance ended, Patches turned away, and was surprised to find the Queen herself standing behind her.

“What a beautiful dress,” the Queen said, looking the girl over. “I have never seen its equal.” Patches blushed and struggled to find her voice.

“The silk and the pearls both came from China,” she said. “They were specially ordered and brought hither by ship all the way around Africa.”

“Interesting,” was all the Queen said. Then she nodded to the girl and walked back to her throne. Soon after, Patches returned to her room. Hiding her dress, she rubbed dirt onto her face and went to bed.

Patches was even busier the next day, as all the ladies of the castle came begging her to improve their gowns so that they could compete with the mysterious beauty who had stolen the attention of all of the beaus at last night's ball. Patches smiled and chatted with them, and did the best she could with the materials she had, and the ladies went away satisfied, and not one of them suspected her. Patches wondered if the Queen would come to see her as well, but she never did.

On the second night of the celebration, again Patches waited until the ball had started, then washed and dressed herself, and went again to the ballroom. Again, the young men rushed to her side, drawn by her beauty, and this time the Prince claimed her hand for the very first dance. From her throne, the Queen watched them thoughtfully. When the first dance ended the Prince went on to dance with a knight's daughter, then with several ladies of the court. Patches was engaged by a moustachioed army officer, followed by a handsome young cleric. At length, she grew tired and slipped out of the ballroom, heading back to her room.

“Patches,” said the Queen, who was sat waiting for her there. Patches gasped in surprise, but collected her wits enough to drop into a curtsey.

“Your Majesty,” she said. The Queen stood and walked over to her, and ran her hand over the beautiful silk of Patches' dress.

“Is this what you are then?” She asked. Patches laughed.

“Of course not,” she said. “This is just a dress. It doesn't mean anything.” Then she unfastened her gown and let it fall to the floor in a heap, not sparing it a glance. “This is what I am, I think. If it pleases you, Your Majesty.” The Queen's mouth moved once or twice, but no words were spoken. Instead she simply nodded once, sharply. Patches smiled, brighter and more beautiful then ever before. She put out her hand to touch the velvet of the Queen's ballgown. “And is this what you are, Your Majesty?”

Well, soon enough the Queen's dress was on the floor beside the girl's, and by morning they knew one another about as well as any two people can.

On the third night of the celebration neither the Queen nor the mysterious stranger with the magnificent dress made an appearance. But, still, there was wine and food and music, and more than enough pretty girls for the Prince and the other young bucks to dance and flirt with, and no one spared them much thought.

Not long after, the Prince decided to go away to the wars. He fought bravely and well, and at length he married a general's daughter, who loved him and forgave him.

Patches and the Queen lived together very happily for many years, until the day that death parted them, as happens from time to time.

Now the glass is empty, and the tale is done.

---

I might’ve been reading fairy tales earlier today. There are several hundred versions of Cinderella knocking around. I doubt one more will make much difference.

[faveficarchive]

All the Colors of the World: Part 1

The Bard Brat

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Mel/Janice, Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: After meeting once again post-Macedonia, Mel and Janice come to terms with their feelings for one another, while also coming to terms with who they are individually.

Personal note: Vivian Darkbloom is probably my favorite author out of all of these that I’ll ever post. From an editorial point of view, I barely have to proofread. From a reader’s point of view, her style is playful without being ham-handed and her voice is clear and strong, and denotes a skill and talent not often seen among fanfiction writers. I fucking love reading her stories, and I hope you enjoy them, too.

It was a hot, late afternoon day in June of 1943. Melinda Pappas sat on the expansive porch of her home in Charlotte, eagerly awaiting the arrival of her guest, due any minute now, from the train station. As she fanned herself in her wicker chair, the Reverend Dupree, his wife, and two of their young daughters emerged onto their porch, to Melinda's left. "Good afternoon, Melinda," called the young Reverend. "Care to join us for lemonade?"

"Why, that's very kind of you, Reverend," drawled Mel, "but I am expecting someone very shortly..." and your two little brats look like they'd sooner drink poison than let me have any of their lemonade, she thought. The wife looked a little relieved as well; Melinda, beautiful, rich, aristocratic, was nonetheless viewed as terribly eccentric by the upper crust of Charlotte, due to her single status, living alone in her late father's home, her seeming lack of interest in men, and her scholarly inclinations.

The Reverend, however, believed that there was no harm in trying. Especially with such an attractive woman...he blushed as Melinda smiled at him. "I understand completely. Well, if your guest does arrive soon...perhaps you can bring her over for a nice cool drink."

Maybe if you offer scotch on the rocks, she'd like that, Mel thought. She was about to respond when she saw a yellow cab swerve violently onto their street and careen down the block, halting dramatically in front of her home. From their respective porches the Duprees and Mel watched the drama unfold. They saw the driver turn in his seat, red-faced, to yell something at his passenger. His door swung open and he stomped out. The rider in the back seat was, the Reverend and his family thought, a young man dressed in a rather rugged fashion: a rumpled fedora and a brown leather jacket. As the cabbie opened his trunk, a back door swung open and a loud female voice could be heard: "It's not my damn fault you got lost!" The figure emerged. The Duprees emitted a collective gasp as the man pulled off the fedora, revealing a mass of red-gold hair and a decidedly feminine face. Mel smiled at the sight, her heart even skipping a beat, as Janice Covington slapped the old fedora against her khaki pants.

The cabbie ungraciously threw her bag on the street. "Son of a BITCH!" roared Janice. Mel cast a sideways glance at her neighbors. She could feel them go pale with shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Be careful with that!" the red-haired archaeologist shouted.

"Too late now," sniped the cabbie. He stood defiantly, arms crossed. Angrily, she put her hat back on.

"Too late for a decent tip as well," retorted the archaeologist. She tossed a dime at him.

It hit his barrel chest and fell to the street. He shook his head. "Thanks," he sneered.

"GO TO HELL!" she yelled as he climbed in the cab and drove off. She grabbed the bag off the street and sauntered up the walk, shaking off her bad mood. Catching sight of Mel, and oblivious to the shocked Duprees, she grinned.

Climbing up on the porch, Janice dropped the bag, tilted up her fedora, and bellowed in her crassest Yankee fashion, "Well sweetheart, glad to see me?"

She was. But then she glanced over at her neighbors, flummoxed. Mrs. Dupree had tried to shelter the children behind her abundant hips. The Reverend's face was the reddest she'd ever seen, even redder than when he first saw her in a bathing suit so many years ago.

Mel remembered very little of her mother, who died when she was very young. However, one thin memory clung to her like gossamer: her mother, smelling of perfume, lowering her lovely face to Mel and saying, "Honey, the best advice I can give you, as a Southern lady, is this: When in doubt, faint."

And, on that hot July day, under the scrutiny of her neighbors and a woman she was, she had to finally admit it to herself, having the most illicit thoughts about, she finally took her mother's advice. The last thing she saw was Janice's face. Thanks, mama, she thought, as the world went dim.

*****

Without opening her eyes Mel could tell that she was lying on the divan in her drawing room; the soft velvet fabric that crunched gently underneath her was soothing. Tentatively, she opened her eyes, and saw Janice peering anxiously down at her. Then a panoply of emotions crossed Janice's face: the anxiety melted into concern, then relief, then a wide, relaxed grin. Oh Lord, I'm going to faint again, Mel thought. That beautiful face, lit even brighter by a smile, was more than she could bear.

It had been almost a year since Mel had met the young archeologist. They kept in touch with letters and the occasional phone call, but had not seen each other since their initial meeting in Macedonia. Nonetheless, to Mel's consternation, Janice Covington remained a dominating presence in her mind. She found herself thinking of Janice whenever her mind was not engaged in other matters; and even as she continued her work on the Xena scrolls, she could barely wait to tell Janice of her new discoveries. Often, sending off a letter to Janice was the first thing she did as her work progressed as she found out more about Xena, Gabrielle, and their adventures.

And it was just a month ago that Janice suggested a visit. She had discovered another scroll, she said, and wanted Mel to work on it. So the archaeologist packed a bag and came down South.

And now, Janice smiled down upon her. "Well, Melinda, that was a hell of a how-do-you-do," she growled pleasantly. Then Mel heard the reverend's voice behind Janice: "Melinda, honey, are you all right? Your...friend...and I managed to carry you in, my goodness, you are a big girl, I always forget..."

"How could you forget? She's almost six goddamn feet tall!" Janice threw the comment over her shoulder, then quickly leaned down and whispered to Mel: "It was mostly me who carried you, believe it or not." Mel grew dizzy again at the closeness of the beautiful young woman, and the thought that she had been cradled in Janice's arms...and, kicking herself mentally, she had not even known it.

The Reverend clucked audibly. "Really, Miss Covington! The language!"

"It's Dr. Covington, Mr. Dupree."

"Reverend Dupree."

"Get the point?" she shot back.

The Reverend frowned. Ignoring her, he reached down and patted Mel's hand. "Melinda, if you need anything, please do call. My wife has sent over some lemonade, that should cool you off a bit, and maybe you should take a cold bath."

Mel's eyes had wandered down Janice's khaki shirt front, and lingered on the unbuttoned expanse that revealed soft skin and tempting cleavage. She cleared her sandpapered throat. "Why...yes, Reverend, I think a cold bath would be in order right about now," she said hoarsely.

"Wonderful! I could draw a bath for you, if you like!" the Reverend offered too enthusiastically.

Janice glowered at him. My, she really doesn't like him, Mel thought. He means well, but he's just a bit silly. But then Janice doesn't suffer fools very well.

"Er, that's quite all right, Reverend, I'm sure Janice can handle it," Mel replied.

Crestfallen, the reverend offered a goodbye, and headed home.

"Jesus, I thought he'd never leave! He's got it bad for you, Mel." Janice reached for a cigar. Popping it in her mouth, she was about to light up when she looked at Mel and noticed that her friend was sweaty, disheveled, and still a bit green around the gills. Reluctantly she tucked away the stogie for a later time. "C'mon, let's get you something to drink, then I'll prepare a bath for you. How's that sound?" Mel nodded, sitting up. "Hey, don't get up," Janice said, rising from her kneeling position on the floor and heading to the kitchen. "I'll bring it to you."

Mel slumped back and sighed. So far concealing her feelings for her friend wasn't progressing very well. She had fainted the moment she laid eyes on Janice again, and her stomach fluttered at the thought of the woman merely preparing a bath for her. Yet Janice's friendship meant too much to her; Janice was strong, independent, and smart. And they had the same interests. Mel had always longed to have a friend like that, let alone a lover, a companion...no. She could not reveal this attraction. The risk was too great. Just because her father had understood didn't mean that Janice would. Her father was an exceptional man, well-traveled and urbane, who truly understood differences among people and cultures. Who never judged.

*****

She remembered that day he brought her into his study. She was 20 and home for Christmas, from Vanderbilt. Joshua Davis, her steady beau from high school, scion of one of Charlotte's oldest and most respected families, had proposed to her the day before. He looked dapper and handsome in his army uniform; he was already a captain. As a rare snow fell, they galloped around the town square in an old-fashioned, horse-drawn carriage and he asked her to marry him. She said no, keeping her eyes fixed on the delicate flakes that swirled around them, and the puffs of icy breath emanating from their mouths. "No, Joshua...I'm not ready yet."

"When, Melinda, when?" he urged her gently.

"I don't know." They rode home in silence. He helped her out of the carriage after it drew in front of her home, kissed her hand, and drove off.

It was a small town. News of her rejection of Joshua spread quickly. And a day later, when her father called her into his study, she was certain he was going to reprimand her, in his usual gentle yet stern fashion. But...it was strange, she recalled. He was awkward, almost shy.

"I take it...you turned down the young man?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

He, too, nodded, as if he had expected it. He stood behind his desk, and as he continued too speak, he paced a little. "Melinda...love is a strange thing." he stated flatly. Idly he plucked a large black volume from one of the shelves that lined one wall from ceiling to floor. His large hands cradled it gently.

She frowned, wondering where he would go with this.

He cleared his throat. "We never know whom we shall love, or what or why someone attracts us. This can be a frightening thing for many people. And when people are frightened, they react blindly with emotion, which prevents them from truly understanding the differences among people..." he sighed.

"Daddy...?" she asked tentatively, unease gripping her.

He smiled, and, as usual, it seemed tinged with a melancholy. "I know I'm rambling my dear. I'm sorry." He placed the large book in front of her and tapped the cover. "Perhaps this might explain things...of course, you may have already read it, you are always reading so much." He chuckled.

She did not have her glasses on, and she just barely made out the name on the spine: Havelock Ellis.

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, a quick kiss from his lips bussed the top of her head. "Know this, Melinda," his voice deep above her, "no matter what, I shall always love you very much." Another squeeze, then, "Goodnight." He left her alone.

She spent the night reading through the book; it sprawled in her lap as she sat by the fire in his study. As dawn stripped away the night, this book stripped away her own blindness, and she burned with recognition.

When the morning came, she was awakened from a light sleep by her father, in his robe, handing her a cup of fresh coffee. Wordlessly she took it from him, and as she drank it greedily, as if she spent a night wandering in a desert, her eyes never left his.

His eyes were as blue as hers. They waited, expectantly.

She put the cup down with a clack. "How did you know?" she blurted.

Again, his sad, wise smile. "You are my daughter. I know you. And I've seen you in the world. You know many men, in fact you have many male friends, but their beauty did not move you. I could see it in your eyes. At a party, when you would walk into a room with Joshua Davis, all the women would be looking at him, the most handsome young man in Charlotte. Except you."

"I was looking at Muffy Crassdale," she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "My dear, you can do better than that. I'm sure that girl hates you, you took Joshua away from her." He sipped his own coffee. "Besides, I am certain that blonde hair of hers is quite artificial."

"Father!" she squeaked, scandalized. It was inconceivable. She was sitting here with her father, talking about women...in that way.

For his part, he laughed. "This is funny, isn't it?" He gave his daughter a wry, loving look. "Think of it as something else we have in common, Melinda: An appreciation of women."

*****

She stood up, wobbly on her long legs like a newborn colt, and head to the kitchen. She wondered what her father would have thought about Janice Covington. Very attractive, my dear, she has potential, but don't you think she should be cleaned up a bit? She mimicked his suave voice in her head.

What to do about Janice...she sighed as she entered the kitchen, and saw Janice peering suspiciously into the pitcher of lemonade that the Reverend had left. "The Bible Brats brought this over...d'ya think it's safe to drink?"

In spite of herself Mel giggled. "Janice, you are such a heathen." Janice grinned, and placed ice from the freezer into two glass tumblers, then poured the lemonade. "How are you feeling?" she asked, peering critically at Mel and shoving a glass toward her.

Mel sat down and drank the cool beverage with a sigh of approval. "Mmmmm...much better. Try some, it's good."

Janice grunted, then took a sip. "Not bad. Of course, we may be dead in minutes..."

Again, Mel laughed, and Janice beamed with delight at making her friend laugh. Then Mel felt the intense scrutiny of the green eyes on her, though, and in a panic she gulped her drink.

"Sure you're all right?" Janice asked again, her face clouding over with concern.

"Yes, yes...I'm fine. Why don't you tell me a little about this scroll."

Janice downed the remainder of the lemonade, wishing that she had some vodka to add to it. "This one was sent to me by a friend in the Greek consulate. He smuggled it out. Didn't want it to fall into the Nazis' hands." Her thumb stroked the cool side of the glass, and once again she allowed her eyes to skitter over Mel's long, languorous form; the Southern beauty, with her tussled hair, flushed face, and rumpled white shirt, looked as if she had been ravished. She must be as beautiful as Xena once was, Janice thought. A sigh escaped her; she might as well deliver the disappointing news...well, the news was disappointing to her; she knew Mel would appreciate any find, any scroll relating to Xena--her scholar's mind was that fine and inquisitive. "Well, this scroll doesn't detail any adventures of Xena, as far as I can tell. In fact, she seems kinda secondary. It involves Gabrielle and the Amazons in some sort of way."

"Ah!" Mel murmured with approval. "Wonderful! I wanted to know more about Gabrielle's link with the Amazons; the scrolls we have only mention them in passing. It's odd. If Gabrielle was an Amazon, why was she born in Potedeia and raised by a non-Amazon family?" Mel rubbed her hands together with relish and anticipation. "We know so little of Gabrielle's background--"

"Well, why should we?" Janice interjected. "She was just a bard. Just a tagalong." This earned a dark glare from Mel. "Come on, I'll admit she was a talented storyteller and writer, but that's about the extent of it. She was basically Xena's Boswell. Nothing more."

"You neglect the fact that Boswell was an intriguing man himself, Janice," retorted Mel.

The archaeologist rolled her eyes.

"You remember what Xena said to you. In the tomb," Mel prompted.

"Of course. But she was just saying that to make me feel better..."

Mel slammed her glass on the table. The gesture startled both of them. "Stop that right now," Mel commanded, her voice dropping an octave. She leaned forward in her chair. Tiny hairs rose on the back of Janice's neck at her this thrilling, low voice, this voice that her friend had never used before. It was almost as if its dark, deep tones drowned Mel's accent. "Gabrielle meant a hell of a lot to Xena. More than you know." Then, the brooding expression lifting from Mel's face, she settled back in chair, blinking.

"Jesus Christ, Mel..."

"I'm sorry about that outburst. I don't know what got into me." Or do I? Mel thought.

"It's okay. But...you swore, Mel. You actually used a curse word."

Mel blinked. "Did I?"

"Lemonade's loosening your tongue, eh?" Janice teased. "Son of a bitch!" she swore gently, with admiration.

*****

After dinner that evening, Mel settled down in the study that was once her father's, and now hers. She sat at the huge mahogany desk, the lamp bathing the scroll and sprawling books with a golden light. Janice glanced at the bookshelves, while rolling around the ice in a glass of scotch. She picked a well-thumbed volume of Ovid's verse and sat in the leather chair near the dormant fireplace. But soon her mind drifted, and she fell into a light, dreamless sleep, that ended abruptly when she heard a soft yet distinct "oh my!"

Janice's lolling head snapped to attention. "What? What is it?" She looked at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter past eleven, and she had been asleep for three hours, much to her chagrin. "Jesus, Mel, why did you let me sleep so long?" She looked at Mel, who was staring intently, with open-mouthed awe, at the document before her. Instinct kicked in, and excitedly Janice joined her friend at the desk.

Mel looked nervously at the expectant young woman. For a frantic, delusional moment she thought she could lie to her friend about what she found; she did not know how Janice would react to it.

"Well?"

"Janice, I don't know how accurate my translation is..."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You're damned good and you know it."

"You're very kind, but really, give me a few more days..."

"You've had over FOUR hours now, you should at least have the gist of it!" Janice growled impatiently. Part of her was queasy with worry...Mel didn't want to tell her something. "Out with it!" she commanded.

Mel took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach. "This scroll begins with a love poem. It's rather...explicit."

Janice cocked an eyebrow. "Gabrielle wrote poetry too, eh? And dirty stuff at that--"

"Erotica," corrected Mel haughtily.

"Oh great," she muttered sarcastically. "So I'm half-impressed. Probably to some stupid teenager she met on the road, right? What's it called, 'Ode to a Pimply-Faced Stableboy'?"

"Er, actually no, Janice. It's addressed to a woman." Mel paused as Janice's face registered surprise. "And I think the woman is Xena."

*****

My desire for you is longer than the night

that stretches before us.

The fire of day has burned and Helios departs

but the flames within me rage

and your visage is burned brightly into my soul.

In the glow of firelight you strip before me

and I permit my eyes to do what my hands cannot:

they caress your body

and your face,

they are ensnared in your hair,

they glide over your muscled shoulders

and your smooth breasts

they ride over your rippling stomach

and cup your buttocks

they enter you

they pleasure you

they are drenched with your richness.

And then I do this again,

this time using eyes for mouth,

in my imaginary possession of you.

In this fashion, warrior, night passes for me.

*****

"I think it's my turn to say 'oh my,' " Janice whispered with astonishment.

"Indeed," Mel agreed, breathy. "It's very...well written, don't you think?"

"What about the rest? How far did you get?" Janice managed to ask, ignoring the warmth crawling up her body.

"Not very. From there Gabrielle writes of a trip to the Amazons. For a royal ceremony." Mel saw that her words fell on deaf ears; Janice was eerily quiet. "Janice? Are you all right?"

With a shudder Janice ended whatever revery she was in. Awkwardly, she rubbed the back of her neck. "Uh, yeah. Guess I'm more tired than I realized. It was a long trip, and now this..."

"Janice!" Mel said urgently She desperately wanted to right things again, to make Janice as ease. It was as if her own secret desire for her friend had seeped into the poem, into the words she had nervously recited to the archaeologist. And Janice must be shocked to know that her ancestor was a deviant...like me, Mel thought miserably.

"Huh?" Janice replied.

"You know," she stammered, "homosexuality was er, much more common and tolerated in ancient societies...they didn't know any better" --I can't believe I'm saying this-- "and after all, Gabrielle was a young woman, living a lonely life on the road, she was very impressionable, or so I've gathered from my readings of her scrolls thus far." An inner voice protested all this.

Janice smiled weakly. "Come on, Mel, I don't need to rehash History 101, or Psych 101 for that matter." She stood up, stretching. "I think I'll go to bed, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. The guest room is the third bedroom on the left, at the end of the hall. Alice"--the housekeeper, who had laid out the simple cold dinner for them--"took your things up earlier. There should be fresh towels on the bed."

"Great." She paused. "Thanks for everything, Mel. Good night."

"Good night," Mel replied. She watched the young woman saunter gracefully out of the study and up the stairs, the fiery red-gold head bowed, almost as if in prayer. "Sweet dreams," she added in a whisper.

Upstairs, Janice closed the door and virtually collapsed against it in exhaustion, "Jesus Christ," she moaned to herself, "these damned feelings are genetic." Again in her mind she pictured Mel, lovely in the lamp light, reciting the poem. She shook off a tingle of desire. "That goddamned bard brat."

*****

Normally, Gabrielle thought, they would keep to the main road. Because it was safer, for them anyway, not necessarily safer for those travelers who bore the steely gaze of the Warrior Princess. But this time they took a different route to Amazonia, a rough path that cut through a rather dense and magnificent forest. She wouldn't say to Gabrielle if it were a shorter route, or why she wanted to go this way in the first place, or how she came to know this road. But by this time Gabrielle could guess: Many winters ago Xena led a band of men (surely not an army, the road was too narrow and rutted for that, even Argo was having a time of it) down this road, on some clandestine raid, to pillage/conquer/destroy any number of villages along the way...blah blah blah. She stole a look at her friend atop Argo. It would only be a matter of filling in the details, wouldn't it, Gabrielle thought, almost cynically.

Suddenly the blue eyes were on her. "Are you tired?" the warrior asked, her voice rumbling from above.

"No, I'm fine," the bard replied. "It's good weather for walking. Cool, but sunny. Although we're not getting much sun through these trees."

A dark eyebrow rose.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," Gabrielle amended hastily. "This is such a beautiful area, so lush and green, and quiet." She surveyed the woods, the peaceful verdant depths mirroring her own eyes. "Xena, what do you know of this rite-of-passage ceremony?"

"Not much more than you," replied the warrior. "It's supposed to occur approximately one summer after a new Queen's ascension to the throne. They're very secretive about it."

"That they are," the bard complained. "I have no idea what to expect."

Xena smirked. "That's the idea."

With a mock scowl, the bard decided to grill her friend. "Why did we come this way? How do you know this route? It's very untraveled."

"No reason..."

"That is such a lie. Warrior princesses never do anything without a reason."

This brought much mirth to Xena, as she repressed a guffaw. "Relax, bard. All shall be revealed to you in due time," she responded cryptically.

As the sky began to fade, they decided to make camp for the night. "We'll make the Amazon village tomorrow by mid-day," Xena estimated, as she settled down for the evening with her sword and whetstone. As she fell into the rhythmic sharpening of the blade, Gabrielle relaxed on her bedroll, a scroll unfurled in front of her. She tapped the quill against the paper. Xena seemed in a good mood, she thought; the warrior hummed as she worked the stone against the blade. Gabrielle allowed herself some surreptitious gazes at Xena, watching her graceful strokes, the tiny flexing of muscles in her arms, the blue eyes that glittered in the fire.

Suddenly the hissing of the whetstone stopped. "Xena?" Gabrielle asked quietly. Did the warrior hear something? Was someone approaching their campsite?

"By the gods, it's warm tonight," Xena muttered. She stood up and quickly shed her leather battledress and breeches, the armor having been discarded earlier. She used the leather as a seat and eased her nude form upon it.

Much to Gabrielle's simultaneous agony and delight, Xena had always been very comfortable and un-self-conscious about her body, and thought nothing of being naked in front of the bard. "Yes...it is very hot," Gabrielle gulped, even though goosebumps ran down her body. She flattened her hands against the parchment for a moment in the hopes they would cease shaking. She took a deep breath as the sword sharpening resumed, and picked up her quill, giving herself over to the words that would take her where she wanted to be.

*****

Before she opened her eyes, Janice smelled coffee. Real coffee, the good stuff she could find in Greece, or at least in a good coffee shop in New York before the war. Maybe I'm dreaming, she thought. Only one way to find out. She rose, washed up, dressed, and descended the staircase.

The rich smell grew stronger as she approached the kitchen. Mel, to her astonishment, was frying eggs. The coffee awaited her on the table. She sighed with pleasure.

This caught her hostess's attention, and Mel turned to her, startled. "Goodness Janice, I thought you'd never get up," she said by way of greeting.

"Good morning to you too," Janice replied sarcastically. Then she softened. "Mel, that smells like real coffee."

"It is."

"Where the hell did you get it?"

The raven-haired beauty shot her a mischievous grin. "I have my sources."

Janice smiled in turn. "I can accept that." She looked around the clean, orderly kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, y'all just sit down. I'm about ready here."

They settled down to a meal of eggs, buttermilk biscuits, coffee, and juice. Mel smiled at the small woman's appetite. "Would you like a tour of Charlotte today?" Mel asked.

"No," Janice replied through a mouthful of egg. "I want you to work on that damn scroll."

"Ah, I don't know why I even bothered to ask." Mel grinned again. There was a companionable silence as Janice made short work of the biscuits on her plate. Mel decided to risk the mood as she tentatively asked, "So I trust this means you're feeling...better about the content of the scroll thus far?"

Janice's busily chewing jaw stopped abruptly as she tried to formulate an answer. She decided to take the diplomatic approach and avoid either outright condemnation of the bard's lustful thoughts for her best friend, or praise of her admirable writing skills and no doubt good taste, for Xena of Amphipolis was frequently described by her contemporaries as a great beauty. "I'm not a prude, Mel. I can handle it. I'd like to see where the kid goes with it."

"Goes with what?"

"You know, see how she deals with these feelings. Does she tell the Warrior Princess? Does Xena find out somehow? Is it...even remotely possible that Xena may have felt the same way?"

Mel could have sworn she detected a tinge of hope in the archaeologist's voice. "I think it's...possible," she ventured nervously. "Even though Xena had a child, and many of her affairs with men were legendary, that does not preclude bisexuality on her part."

Janice snorted. "No, probably not. She was on the road a long time, it must have been difficult for her to find someone for...pleasure at times. So having the bard as a bedwarmer may have been a last resort."

Mel scowled. "’Last resort'?" she asked. "Why do you always think so little of Gabrielle?"

Having finished her breakfast, Janice pushed herself back from the table. "Force of habit," she replied, plucking a cigar from her breast pocket and clenching it between her teeth. "Since I think of myself in the same way." As she searched her pockets for a light, Mel snatched the stogie from under her nose.

"Janice Covington, you are a big pain in the ass." Janice stared at her, Mel instinctively clamped her hand over her mouth, then removed it. "See, you made me swear again! Janice, I'm going to prove you wrong about Gabrielle. And about yourself too." She stood up, determined, and started to clear the breakfast dishes. With a glance that was admiring, fearful, and sweet, Janice stood up and helped her.

*****

Water was dripping on her face.

Gabrielle moaned, semi-conscious. Another summer storm, her mind supplied. Well, I can sleep through it, can't I?

Not unless you want to get totally drenched, another thought supplied.

I could care less, her stubbornness threw in.

Wait a minute, desire spoke seductively. Xena will get wet too. Her hair will be damp and slicked back from her face...you love that look on her, don't you?

"I'm there," the bard mumbled aloud.

Hey, practicality piped up, if it's really raining, then why is your face the only part of your body that feels wet?

Her eyes snapped open. She was looking directly at a very familiar pair of boots that were not her own. "Good morning, Gabrielle," the warrior's voice said from on high. Slowly Gabrielle's vision trailed up the long legs, past the skirt (don't look up the skirt, propriety screamed inside her) to the armor-clad torso and arms, which held two large trout fresh from the stream directly over the bard's head.

"Ugh, fish water!" she spat, sitting up.

"If it's good enough for the fish, it's good enough for you," Xena said, heading toward the fire.

The bard stood up with a stretch. "Hang on, I can clean them."

"No, that's okay. I can do it. Go wash up."

Pleasantly surprised, Gabrielle removed a linen towel and soap from her satchel, and went to the stream. The forest opened onto a clearing where the stream gurgled beneficently. As she placed the towel and soap on a rock, she prepared to strip...and heard a rustling behind her. But before she could even think of what to do next, a bag was thrown over her head; it was moist with some chemical which made her sleepy, and as she slipped from consciousness she felt arms gently cradling her body in the air.

*****

Solari sauntered through the woods toward the campsite, where Xena sat on a stone, placing trout in a skillet about to go on the fire. Before she could even announce her approach to the warrior's back, Xena's voice rumbled at her: "Hades' balls, Solari, couldn't you wait until I fed her breakfast at least?"

The Amazon stopped dead in her tracks. "How did you know it was me and not Gabrielle?" she demanded.

"Look, you know the line..."

"I know, I know, many skills and all that..."

"So why did you even bother to ask?" Disgusted, Xena struck a flint against some wood. The fire didn't take. Growling, she stood up and spun around to face Solari in one fluid motion. "You didn't hurt her, did you?" It was more a threat than a question.

Solari released a breath of exasperation. "No, Xena. I used the plant you gave me. Lydia knew how to prepare the drug. Gabrielle never knew what hit her."

"All right then," Xena said tersely. "I'll be in the Amazon village by midday. By tomorrow morning I will expect to hear from you. Your runner better be fast...and Solari," she paused for menacing effect, "if I don't get a message I'll be coming along to break up this little ceremony, sacred or not. Got me?"

The Amazon rolled her eyes. "Xena, please, this will be over quicker than you imagine. I guarantee you Gabrielle will be in the village tomorrow, if not sooner."

This response seemed to satisfy the warrior. She nodded reluctantly.

"Hey, Xena?"

"What?"

"You gonna eat all that fish?"

*****

"Your father was certainly a well-read man," Janice commented as she completed yet another scan of the books in the study.

"Mmmm," Mel murmured. Her dark head was bent intently over the ancient parchment.

Janice shook her head. The woman was so thoroughly engrossed in the scroll, she could not even muster the barest of her Southern civilities. "Yep...let's see here...everything from Kant and Kirkegaard to Gone with the Wind and the Kama Sutra," Janice stole a quick look at her friend to see if Mel noticed the spurious volumes--the latter two--that her imagination had inserted into the collection. No response. She let her fingers trail over the smooth leather volumes, riding the rough ridges and indentations, until her fingers stopped suddenly: Havelock Ellis. Kraft-Ebing. Oh my. Dr. Pappas knew his stuff. Wonder if would've been able to diagnose me on the spot?

Janice cast yet another glance at Mel. Jesus Christ, has Mel read this stuff? She wondered. And if so, has she figured me all out? I am sort of a walking bulldagger at times...the clothes, the cigar...God, I have to get out of here for a while. Unwilling to break Mel's concentration, Janice opted to exit quietly, without a word, and go for a walk.

She got no further than the door's threshold when she heard Mel call her name softly.

"Yes, Mel?"

"Where are you going?" The scholar removed her glasses, her blue eyes touching Janice like a flame.

"Just out for a walk, to get some air. Do you mind?"

"No, of course not." She put on the glasses once again. Janice turned to leave.

"Janice?" The voice sounded darker, silkier.

"Yes?" The young archaeologist froze, her hand lingering on the doorknob.

"My daddy hated Gone With the Wind and he kept his copy of the Kama Sutra so well hidden I didn't find it until last year."

Without a word, Janice and her blush walked out.

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Beau, my latest fallout oc, and keeper of radbees. I was trying to figure him out in my head and accidentally made him too handsome. More about him under the cut!

Name: Beauregard MacEwan Age: 47 Gender: Male (trans) Sexuality: Gay Height: 5′7 Weight: 225 lbs Background: Beauregard MacEwan, most commonly known as Beau or The Bee Man, grew up on a small farm south of the Commonwealth that owed its success to one mutated insect no longer commonly found across the wastes as they once were during the prewar age; bees. Radbees, also known as honey-drinkers, sugarbugs, buzzbugs, and drunkflies (for their tendency to gorge themselves on their own fermented honey during winter months), kept their crops pollinated and pest free during the growing season, which led to more bountiful harvests for the MacEwan family.

At a young age Beau took it upon himself to protect the bees from those who saw them as pests no better than bloatflies and radroaches, not only for the sake of his family’s farm, but also because he had a soft spot for the fuzzy tato-sized critters. He set up camp near the ancient, rotting barn they’d converted into a hive and and more than once fended off attacks from raiders and wasteland creatures singlehandedly to defend them. Eventually the bees realized he wasn’t a threat to them and he became the first person in a decade to enter a radbeehive unharmed.

After that, he built himself a full time home near the barn, as well as a second structure for the radbees to convert, found some books on prewar beekeeping and brewing, and started a small but lucrative business using what he’d made from helping the bees clean and maintain their hives; beeswax soaps and sealants, discarded chitin jewelry, purified honey, and his later famous honey liqueur known as “Beau’s Bees’ Booze”.

[yggdrasilbohdi]

Stunning Old-Fashioned Names for Boys and Girls

There is a certain charm to vintage or old-fashioned names. They breathe a sense of ancestral strength and tradition into today’s modern world. This is especially true if the old name comes from a specific ancestor or from a family line’s homeland.  

A meaningful name can remind children of their deeper identity. It can remind them of their place in their family (such as patronymics) and of honorable values. To help you in your search, we have gathered thirty old-fashioned names from a variety of different cultures. Each has a unique meaning that can serve as a guide to your children and can also provide insight into the names of family members that came before you.  

15 Old-Fashioned Boy Names 

Historically, old-fashioned boy names were symbols of strength. After all, in most cases it was the young men who would become leaders, provide for the family, or march off to battle. Young men today face a myriad of challenges. They need just as much strength now as preceding generations. Here are some emboldening old boy names from all over the world. 

Arthur 

This Celtic name means both “bear” and “king.” Many associate the name with the Arthurian legends surrounding a king from the sixth century. The jury is still out on whether a figure like King Arthur actually existed, but the strong meaning of this old name still rings true.  

Ambrose 

The Greek derivation of this name means “immortal” and is a name still used today. This powerful name belonged to Saint Ambrose, a charitable government and church leader in fourth-century Italy who courageously spoke up in defense of his beliefs.  

Beau 

This short and sweet French name means “handsome,” or a masculine version of “beautiful” in the French language. It’s the perfect old-fashioned boy name if you are looking for something simple and unique.  

Byron 

Byron is an English name. Originally, the name indicated that the person was from a farm or the “cow sheds.” However, more recently it has become more associated with the celebrated poet Lord Byron who, despite childhood hardships, later became a multi-talented and expressive writer. 

Charles 

Charles comes from Germanic etymology and means “free man” or “warrior.” It is also a popular name among powerful leaders, writers, and thinkers such as Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens, Charles de Guelle, and even Peanuts creator, Charles Schulz. 

Clyde 

The origins of this Scottish name are not as well-known as other vintage names included in this list, but it is believed to mean “keeper of the keys.” The name became popular in America during the nineteenth century and has belonged to many successful entertainers and athletes. 

Dimitri 

Dimitri is a Russian name that comes from the name “Demetrius.” This old name is easily recognizable for any scholar or scientist. Historically, it belonged to Dmitri Mendeleev, the inventor and chemist who created the periodic table of elements that we still use today.  

Ezra 

Ezra is a Hebrew name from the Old Testament. The name means “help,” which is fitting since the author of the Book of Ezra sought to help God’s people to overcome obstacles and past mistakes in order to create a better future.  

Felix 

Not all old-fashioned boy names need to sound classic or dusty. Felix is a Roman and Italian name meaning “happy,” “successful,” or “lucky.” This name is mentioned in the New Testament and became a popular name for parents to name their boys during the medieval era.  

Garrett 

Garrett is an English name that also derived from the medieval era. The name means “hard” or “brave,” which suits many of its popular bearers. Several professional athletes are named Garrett, and it was the last name of Pat Garrett, the sheriff who took down Billy the Kid. 

Josiah 

Josiah is an old name that dates all the way back to an ancient Hebrew dialect and means “God supports.” This name has a gentle sound to it, but it also carries the strength and gravity of generations. 

Louis 

Louis is a French name that comes from the name Ludwig, meaning “warrior.” Over 15 kings of France bore the name Louis. It is also the middle name of Robert Louis Stevenson, who wrote the loved classics Treasure Island and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Micah  

Micah is a Hebrew name that is listed several times throughout the Old Testament, including the Book of Micah in which a prophet recorded many of his prophecies. It’s an ancient name that has only recently become popular and means “Who is like God?” 

Miguel 

The English version of this name would be “Michael.” In Spanish and Portuguese, Miguel actually has the same meaning as Micah: “Who is like God?” One of the most prominent bearers of this name, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, became the author of the famed Don Quixote novel.  

Nicholi 

Nicholi is a Russian name that means “victorious” or “victory of the people.” It is the Russian or Bulgarian form of “Nicholas,” which has a similar meaning in English. This is a strong, masculine name that is both formal and unique.  

Owais 

The name Owais comes from Arabia. In Urdu, it means “companion of the prophet” or “little wolf.” It comes from the name Uwais, which belonged to a sixth century scholar named Uwais al-Qarani.  

15 Old-Fashioned Girl Names 

Old-fashioned girl names also carry a sense of strength. They spell out themes such as light, influence, and wisdom. Each of these themes are a great testament to women throughout the ages for their ability to maintain hope and to make the world a better place, even during the darkest chapters of history. They were—and still are—a vital force in our families and communities. 

Ada 

The name Ada is chiefly from Germany. It comes from other names you might recognize such as Adelaide or Adelina. One of the first inventors of the mechanical computer was named Ada, Ada Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron, to be exact. The name itself means “noble.” 

Annette 

Annette is an old French name. It comes from the name “Anne” and means “mercy” or “grace.” This beautiful vintage girl’s name became popular after 1950s actress Annette Funicello began stealing the spotlight in film. Most of her audience knew her simply by her first name.  

Bonnie 

This Scottish name carries a simple and peppy tone. It calls to mind the wildflowers and fields of Scotland itself, which is fitting since the name means “pretty.” This old-fashioned girl name grew in popularity when it was used as the nickname for Scarlett’s daughter in the film Gone with the Wind. 

Cassandra 

Cassandra is an ancient Greek name that means “to shine” or “to excel” and was the name of a mythical Trojan princess. This powerful name carries a sense of grace and independence. Cute nicknames for Cassandra might include “Cass” or “Cassie.”  

Clarabelle 

Clarabelle has Latin origins and means “clear” or “bright.” The name has a pleasant and vintage ring to it, which could be perfect for your little one. It was especially a popular name in America during the 1920s and was even the name of one of Walt Disney’s earliest animated characters. 

Emilia 

The name Emilia spells success for any little girl. It has Latin roots and literally means “to excel” or “to strive.” It’s no wonder this old name has belonged to so many successful athletes and artists. Even Shakespeare chose this name for one of his characters in his play Othello. 

Florence 

Florence is a Latin name meaning “flowering” and “prosperous” and has a long history dating back to medieval times. However, most will recognize this name from Florence Nightingale, a diligent nurse who helped save British lives during the Crimean War. Much medical progress that we have made today started with her efforts. 

Gemma  

The meaning of the Italian name Gemma is in the name itself. As you might have guessed, it means “precious stone.” Gemma also dates back to the medieval period and was the name of famed poet Dante Alighieri’s wife. This is a perfect old-fashioned girl name for reminding your little one that she carries great worth. 

Hannah  

Hannah is a Hebrew name that means “grace” or “favor.” This beautiful and historic name belonged to the mother of the prophet Samuel, as recorded in the Old Testament. She was a powerful woman who understood what it meant to trust God, even at great cost. 

Irina 

The name Irina has Greek origins. It has a gentle sound to it and means “peace.” This name has grown in popularity, especially during the 2000s. It comes from the name “Irene” and is the perfect name to give your precious little one that will not become outdated. 

Leylah 

The name Leylah is actually a Modern English variant of the Arabic name “Leila,” which means “night” or “dark.” While this name may not historically be as vintage as some of the others on the list, it carries the same melodic tone. 

Marjorie 

This cheerful and classic Greek name is a variant of the name “Margaret,” which means “pearl.” Marjorie has both a timeless and a unique tone, certain to help your daughter stand out—just like a shiny, beautiful pearl. 

Penelope 

While the name Penelope might be considered an English name, the name means “weaver” in Greek and comes from Greek mythology. Penelope is the name of the great hero Odysseus’s wife, a strong woman who worked to protect herself during her husband’s absence. It’s a great vintage name with some pep. 

Rosa 

Rosa is a name of Spanish origin. As you may have already guessed, it means “rose.” Rosa is an old name that has helped shape history, from Rosa Parks standing up for civil rights to Rosa Bonheur, a French painter who achieved a worldwide reputation, one of the earliest women to do so.  

Winnie (Winifred) 

Winnie, or Winifred, comes from the Welsh language as well as Old English. It means “holy,” “blessed,” “joy,” and “peace.” One particularly influential woman with this name was Saint Winifred, a Welsh princess who was martyred.  

Old-Fashioned Names in Your Family

Still struggling to find the perfect old name? Sometimes the best place to look is in your own family. Peruse generations of your family tree, and discover the names of individuals and stories nested there. You might be surprised by how much personal meaning—and unique, old names—you find.  

[thetristoneera]

All hailing from Story #06: Deadly Arts, these are some of my eldest characters.  Dating back from when my imagination land started to manifest on my membranes. These are nine of the solo acting characters of the story; out of twenty five.  Read carefully, you might find out how crazy I am…

Intensity is the Queen of Galita, which is the region of Ongree that overlaps South America of the Earth Realm.  She looks like a plain ole jane, because she needs to be incognito to fulfill the Giveaway Foundation.  She’s a benevolent queen but for some odd reason she won’t accept within herself, she has to don a different personality to give things to people around all three realms because she cares for humanity so.  She may be a little young, but her code name of Intensity deliver’s her ability to reign.  Her nation may be among the most peaceful of all of them within Ongree & Ziestl; but her heart of a warrior stays at unrest.  Finding the Deadly Arts Tournament fulfilled so many of her hungers to the point that she eventually won a tournament.  What she got in return will keep her coming again & again even though she literally has everything at her fingertips.

Karvington is a character who was made because of the bounty hunter guy in all black with three red slashes across a mask from the Gargoyles cartoon.  Think about it.  Anyway, in this story; I have him in the same gear, but as a bounty hunter who is mostly a hero.  He is an expert in tracking & wrecking people because he was kidnapped & was being trained to be a slave for a gang of bad boys.  He had a wrecked childhood; now he’s wrecking manhoods.

Corza McDoe is a femcee who hasn’t been around fighting for a while but as the Deadly Arts Tournament is being unearthed & gaining more popularity; she will bring more attention to it because she’s famous for rocking the mic.  She’s going to bring some more partiers around the Deadly Arts Tournament to the point that all bouts will have spectators, this will edge up the tournament in a great sense as well as making her more famous upon more deadly. Because alcohol is the lube she uses to slide through life.

Beau Warrez is an escort on the side of being an expert world class pilot, for his age; you’d think other wise.  He’s actually been piloting around the time he hit puberty. Yet, his personality has him leaning towards greed; he only do things that are lucrative.  He may be delicious ridiculously, handsomely wild & unforgettable because of his eyes among other body parts; but he won’t use anything unless a check or a stack is involved.  Riches upon riches are upon his mind when he joins the Deadly Art Tournament roster for the first time, but he’ll fool around & see the man of his dreams.  You’ll be able to watch his life change as well as finding out why his eyes have changed.

Serenitus is the Fairy of Martial Arts; like any fairy, angel or devil; she was born with automatic immortality.  But instead of sticking to the preordained schedule of her life; she moves around quite a bit.  Surviving on her own is easy because her disciples have no choice but to do what she says.  She buys herself into a different school every year, moving from public to private to public to whatever.  Her last move landed her into a high school located in Australia.  Where she meets three girls who calls themselves the Serve Club. Don’t think about it too hard, her meeting them will change around all four of their lives & the Deadly Arts Tournament.

Want a magical skull, ask for Devil Thrust. Want a talisman, ask for Devil Thrust. Want to become a part of the super natural, ask for Devil Thrust. Or shall I say, summon Devil Thrust? He is beyond an urban legend at this point but he hasn’t been caught for unearthing secrets of the super natural to regular folk. It’s hard enough to keep the secret of the alternate realms from Earthlings; but Devil Thrust has always had an infliction to fuck with social constructs. Even though the mass population of both Ongree & Ziestl believe that when Earthlings all believe that the supernatural is real; the cancer that is the humanity of that realm will further spread into their realms. No one has been able to stop him from sharing secrets, no one. He occasionally shows up at Deadly Arts tournaments to just talk to people, he rarely enters the tournament; but some of his latest summonings have put out artifacts that should never touch the hands of kids. Because of that, his fandom & believers grew by a marginal a lot; the bounty for his head has increased eleven fold since; attracting someone he surely isn’t ready for.

Ex Mi Elko is special firstly because her parents double power genes gave her a super power relative to the pirate fleet they are connected to. Her birth birthed a ghost ship, one specific to her & her only. She had to be raised in a special manner so that her ego doesn’t fluctuates to a point of no return, because of that; she is a well respected pirate major captain of the Reiko Pirates. Her ship only exists because she’s alive but from birth, she was considered a level five super being with out training. The spirit connected with the ghost ship had a mind of it’s own but always took in consideration of what Ex Mi Elko said or thought. Until Ex Mi Elko actually became an exemplary warrior with out the backing of her ridiculously dangerous & everlasting super power. For a girl with literally a gift from the universe, she doesn’t need to use any form of super power projectile to protect herself. Her fists ball up easily, her knees feel like cannon balls, her feet will untangle a skull & her elbows speak for the people. Tread lightly around her…

Zeirej is a teacher of music, he plays the guitar like he’s trying to help everyone take off their clothes.  It gets quite hot just watching him string an instrument, blow through an instrument or bang an instrument.  Passion runs so deep in his body that it matches his super powers of Electric Rose; the romance he provokes will shock you & have you dying to live.  The worst thing about him, he teaches high school students; it’s a good thing he keeps condoms in a huge bowl in his class room, otherwise…  Just do the math…  Unlike majority of the other characters, Zeirej has known of the Deadly Arts Tournament his entire life because he grew up watching his father win it once & battle through it many times.  He hasn’t won it yet, but he hasn’t entered yet.

Devilthesis grew up believing that all evil doers need their ass whoopt at any cost.  Unlike many other heroes, she believes that devils are the root of all evil & there has to be at least one connected in all of the hardships of life.  She has destroyed many devils in her time but has left the innocent ones alone, righteous as she can be sometimes; if anyone is in her way of taking out a wrong, they are being taken out too.  Children alike.  She’ll sacrifice a couple of lives for hundreds if need be, the red scar on her face among her red features should be a clear warning that she is one of the biggest red flags known to villainous forces.