#bonne chance my dear

[hobbitsetal]

Ok this is a really embarassing question but. How does one get a boyfriend? I grew up with the idea that I didn't have to date until I was done with my education. Now it's been a while since I graduated, I'm in my 20s, and I have 0 clue how to even find a significant other. I would appreciate your advice, and if any other Christian women who are married or in a committed relationship see this, I would appreciate their advice too. Thank you!

What an excellent question, actually! The dating scene is an ever-shifting one, and a motley and confusing one when you throw Christian values and preferences into the mix!

Let me start with a few practical tips, and then dig a little deeper into this idea of finding an S/O.

The cliche of "put yourself out there" is, regrettably, cliche for a reason. My brother is taking salsa classes with the goal of meeting someone. I spent time hanging out with my siblings and their friends, and even tried attending a different church's young adult group for a while to meet people. So that leads into the question, what are your hobbies and interests?

Church groups are a classic way to meet someone, but I would strongly recommend branching out into other parts of society as well. Renaissance festivals, music events, glass-blowing...Whatever strikes your fancy, go explore it!

One of the most frustrating things about dating (and giving dating advice) is that it really does feel like a matter of luck. I've dated three guys. The first came to visit my brother, and I happened to run into him at something like 1 am when he was looking for a glass of water. We stayed up another hour chatting, and then by the end of his visit to my brother, he left me his number.

The second, I met when I picked my sister up from a Bible study. The third went to college with a different sister of mine. That third one she then brought down for a visit...to wing-man for a different friend. The third man I dated is a terrible wing-man. Great husband, though.

But that's the thing: while I was interested in dating, each of these men came into my life coincidentally. And while going out places and looking for people to connect with increases your chances of meeting someone to date, it doesn't guarantee it.

So then what?

I'm going to encourage you to focus on your own interests. You have to be a whole person, and you have to remain a whole person whether you date or not.

Ask yourself: if I knew right now that I would never get married or date, what would I want my life to look like?

For me, that looked like focusing on writing, on friendships, and on trying out new things, like theater or taking a swing dance class or playing Dungeons and Dragons. That looked like reading widely. After I broke up with my second boyfriend, I visited Ireland with my younger sister, which was an absolutely incredible trip.

Now that I am married, I still prioritize writing, friends, and new experiences. I have someone else to share them with now, but my interests predate and exist outside of him. We have hobbies in common, too, like reading and D&D, and sharing those hobbies is part of what drew us to each other.

What do you want to try? What are you interested in? And along the way, incidentally, where might you perhaps meet someone who shares your interests?

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Deal Makers

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 3629, Cw: violence, blood, death, attempted assault, cursing]

——————

The sounds of Pentagram City, gunshots, screams, and explosions, were a vague drone from within your home. Alastor was perusing the newspaper while you looked over the selection on the bookshelf. You’d read all the books at least once. Many were worn from being read multiple times over the decades. None of them was immediately appealing though.

You heard the crackle of radio static as your husband noticed your hesitation. The lanky demon set aside the paper to focus on you. “Trouble deciding my dear?” he asked, the hint of amusement in his voice telling you he had thought of something interesting.

You looked over at him, relaxing at the breakfast table. “Just a bit bored darling. Anything in the news I should know?” You poured yourself some coffee before sitting across from him.

“Hmm, nothing unusual. The rabble securing space before Extermination Day.” The yearly event was roughly a month away and demons were stepping up their preparations. It was similar to humans boarding up their homes before an incoming hurricane. You couldn’t stop the force of nature (or Heaven), you had to try to weather through it. “I’ll admit I’m feeling some ennui myself.” He sipped his coffee before continuing.

“Although…I did have a thought for some entertainment, cher,” he mused, his smile becoming more of a smirk as he raised an eyebrow temptingly.

“Really? Do share Alastor, don’t leave me in suspense.” You leaned forward, both elbows on the table as you cupped your mug in both hands.

His grin widened. “We know how desperate demons get around now, yes? Souls are easy pickings. So, let’s play a game my dear Y/N.” Your eyes brightened at the prospect and you could feel your wings rustling in anticipation. He continued, “Let’s have a contest between the two of us, cher. Who can acquire the most souls before Extermination Day? The one who loses…” he glanced around your home, trying to think of a consequence.

“The one with fewer new souls does all the dishes for a month. By hand,” you suggested. Neither of you enjoyed washing dishes and being able to use your wind or his shadow tentacles made the chore moderately tolerable.

The two of you had played other games and contests in your afterlife. The stakes for losing were ultimately low between you. You were partners after all. Trapping one’s partner in a deal had no appeal to yourself or Alastor.

Deal making with any other demon? That was entertainment.

“Excellent!” His ears perked up and his antlers stretched slightly as he agreed. This would be a perfect way to alleviate your boredom.

An hour later, the two of you strolled together to a plaza in your shared territory. Alastor took your hand and pressed your talons to his lips. “Bonne chance, cher.”

You used a bit of wind to raise you up so you could easily give him a peck on the cheek. “May the best Overlord win.” You backed up enough not to knock him over with your downdraft and took to the sky. Alastor twirled his cane and strolled off in another direction, humming in amusement.

It was times like this that you missed Husk’s casino. It had been an easy hunting ground. You tend to ensnare souls over time. Offer something small that they desperately wanted. Again and again, building up favors with the other demon. Eventually the favors could only be paid with their soul. Or if they had managed to keep their debt to you to a minimum, they would come to a point where what they wanted wasn’t something small. And if you could provide multiple small deals, surely you could make a substantial deal with them, even if it meant their soul.

The casino had been perfect for that, giving you ample opportunity to tempt Sinners with enough cash for another hand or another roll of the dice. And they always came back for more. A favor to a delicate little thing like you was essentially free.

Until it wasn’t.

But sadly, Alastor owned Husk now and his casino was safely tucked away amid dozens of other strongholds of former Overlords. So you had to find other places to play the game.

Of course there were other places to gamble in Hell. But you didn’t have the same understanding with the proprietors; waltzing in to offer collateral to desperate patrons wasn’t encouraged. Bars and drug dens had just as many degenerate souls craving funds you could offer.

At the moment however, the whole city was clawing to avoid Extermination Day. Being out on the streets was second suicide. If you couldn’t secure a hiding place on your own, working for someone who could provide one was the best option. Protection was worth more than money for the majority.

While Alastor looked like a powerful Overlord, you weren’t immediately intimidating. Sometimes you wished you were of a similar mold to Carmilla or Zeezi. Few doubted them, their presence was so powerful. You were what you were however. You hadn’t let your form stop you yet.

Landing in a distant section of the pentagram, you kept your eyes and ears open for potential opportunities as you walked. Sure enough, you found a perfect chance. And it reminded you of how you met Alastor.

A much more run down neighborhood than you frequented, the Sinners here had no issue with committing atrocities in the streets. Case in point; a trio of demons cornered a much smaller one. “You don’t wanna be all alone on Extermination Day, do you babe?” one of them said. He looked like a skeleton held together by acidic gel. One bony hand was pressed against the wall, cutting off the small cat-like demon’s escape.

The cornered demon shook his head mutely, his eyes pinning in fear. One of the other Sinners, this one a blue and orange cyclops, spotted you. “Whatcha looking at birdie? You can come along too, you’re cute enough.” The third demon moved to grab your arm in a lizard claw. His yellowed scales gleamed as he swung you up to the wall.

You could have broken away, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this was an opportunity to establish yourself in this area.

“Oooo, two for one special. C’mon bitches, we’ll keep you nice and safe from the big bad angels. All you gotta do is work for us.” The skeleton grinned, a green haze leaking between his teeth. “Couple cuties like you, we’ll make you bigger stars than that spider twink.”

The demon next to you shrank into himself, unconsciously hiding behind your wing. You put on a concerned air. “Oh mais la cher, I don’t think you can keep yourselves safe. You all look rather…what’s the word…pathetic, that’s it!” The cat demon looked at you like you were insane.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“I said you all looked pathetic. Weak? Unable to perform? I can go on.” The skeleton pulled back his arm to slap you. Or he tried. The instant he moved, you produced a stiletto that you jammed into his throat. He stumbled back, blade dislodging, with green fluid bubbling out from this mouth and neck wound.

“Bones!” the cyclops yelped as the gel melted away from the demon. That was his name?! You felt more than justified removing such a cliche punk from the afterlife. Before he could do more than yell, you thrust the blade into his giant orange eye. It was a much more convenient target than the man you first killed decades ago. Retinal fluid gushed out as he screamed, flailing at the stiletto.

The lizard demon backed away. “Fuck this shit!” He skittered away on all fours, disappearing into the sparse crowd. You let him go. Dead demons told no tales after all. If you wanted demons looking to you for protection, then you needed tales to spread.

Your talons had fluid splashed all over. “Ew,” you said mildly. The gore didn’t scare you, you’d gotten over that fear in life. But that didn’t mean you enjoyed being covered in it. You flicked your hands back and forth, a bit of wind helping to get the worst off and dry your hands.

The cyclops continued to moan in pain next to the pile of bones that was his buddy. You delicately sidestepped around him, avoiding the splatter of blood and fluid he was making as he thrashed around. “W-w-wait! Wait wait please!” came a shaky call from behind you.

You couldn’t help but grin before twirling around. The cat demon had stumbled forward, reaching for you. “You…you saved me.”

“I suppose I did. You’re welcome, cher,” you said in an airy tone as you started to move away.

“No, please! Help me! I’m not gonna make it through Extermination Day, please I’ll do anything!” he called, fear mixing with hope in his voice. Apparently he was having a very bad time in Hell and saw you as a lifeline.

“Anything? That’s quite a lot to offer to a demon you just met.” You faced him fully. Drawn by the cyclop’s cries and the sense of drama, a small crowd started to gather. “What’s your name?”

“André.”

“Y/N, the Singing Shrike.” There was a murmur in the crowd as some recognized your name. “If you’re willing to offer anything to an Overlord, then I’m willing to make a deal. My protection for your soul.” You held out your hand, still stained with retinal fluid and now emitting a silver light. “Do we have a deal?”

André’s ears flattened as he looked back and forth between your hand and the two demons, one dead and one dying, at your feet. “It’s a deal.” He clasped your hand firmly with his paw. There was a swirl of wind around you both that formed into a collar and chain on your new subordinate’s neck. It was only visible for a second. That’s one, you thought in satisfaction.

“Wonderful!” you chirped, clapping your hands once. “It’s always a delight to form new bonds, is it not? Now then, I’m feeling a bit parched. Let’s find something to drink while we discuss your future André.”

The reality of what he’d just done seemed to be sinking in, but he followed you anyway. It took a couple of blocks of walking before you found a decent looking coffee shop. You ordered two coffees, settled at an outdoor table and gestured at André to sit with you. The coffee was decent and you sipped the hot liquid before focusing on the cat demon.

“Now then. I’m sure you didn’t wake up this morning planning to sell your soul. You’re welcome to live and work wherever you like, so long as you understand that when I call you, you will be there. Follow my orders and we’ll get along fine. Now, what are your skills?”

It turned out he was a stage actor. He’d only been in Hell for a year and a half. The prospect of trying to survive Extermination Days every year made him a literal scaredy cat. Finding out he was an actor was a bonus. “That is perfect. Most of my followers are performers, you’ll fit right in, cher.” You penned an address on a card. “One of the theaters in my district. They’re auditioning after Extermination Day. I can set you up in our territory or you can keep staying where you are. Either way, I’ll call you on the Day to hold up my end of the deal.”

With that you sent him on his way; he said he’d take a look at your territory before deciding. Now you could drink your coffee and wait.

Before long, a female Sinner that had been in the crowd approached you. She looked like a luna moth, soft fluff and light green wings. “Miss Y/N? Are… are you… willing to make other deals?”

“Depending on the terms and the demon. Take a seat, cher, let’s talk.”

By the end of the day, you had five more souls in addition to André. The area you had come to wasn’t currently in dispute, but whoever was in charge was not doing a great job of maintaining any kind of order. So a decent handful were looking for someone, anyone, that could offer more security.

You were back home before Alastor and decided to start preparing dinner. Shrimp and grits sounded perfect after a day of negotiations. Alastor seemed to agree when he arrived. Over dinner the two of you compared your days.

Unsurprisingly, he had a slight number advantage already. But the game had just started and you weren’t about to concede to a mere three soul lead. He’d made a deal with a demon struggling to maintain a few blocks of territory. Once Alastor had the leader on a leash, the few souls he’d owned became Alastor’s as well.

For his part, your husband was thrilled at your disposal of two lowlifes and the lure you’d set in that area. “You’ve come a long way from a singer with a hat pin my dear.”

“So have you darling, from a radio host stalking the night with a knife.”

The month passed. Some days you returned to where you acquired André. Word had spread and other Sinners looking to avoid a second death came to offer their souls for safety. Other days you did offer small deals in other areas, building up to gaining a soul.

Some of your new demons spread word to their friends. And others heard of you from the lizard demon you let escape. Including the wannabe ruler of the neighborhood you were siphoning souls from.

There was a week left before Extermination Day and the end of your contest with Alastor. You had returned to the coffee shop you’d essentially taken over for negotiations. The owner had actually made a deal with you not too long ago, after witnessing you make so many without abusing your new subordinates. So she now had a source of better coffee and new machines due to be installed after Extermination Day. In the meantime she kept you and whoever joined your table supplied with drinks and snacks.

The crowd of Sinners approaching you now didn’t look like they were coming to negotiate however. They looked ready for a fight. One of the baristas whispered, “That’s the leader of the area and his gang, Miss.” You finished your drink and handed the cup to them. “Have everyone stay inside until I come in, cher.” The barista gladly dashed in the shop. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the workers and customers within scuttling about.

You leaned back in the metal chair as they came up to your table. The group of roughly a dozen demons was led by a skeleton with poisonously purple gel attaching all his joints. Fluid bubbled within the rib cage and a dull blue haze surrounded his shoulders. You simply waited, talons interlaced.

Your silence and slight smile irritated the tall creature. He was used to small female demons being intimidated by him and his goons. Evidently your calm was unnerving.

“So you're the bitch stealing all my people huh?” he finally hissed at you.

You tilted your head, “That’s a very interesting definition of ‘stealing.’ It’s rather difficult to steal something that doesn’t belong to anyone. And I can’t really blame any of the residents for coming to me after seeing the state of things here.”

He slammed a fist on the table, denting it. “First you kill my cousin, then you snatch away my people and now you insult me? I’m gonna show you your place girlie.”

His crowd of sycophants started hyping him up: “You tell her boss, fuck that bitch up, show her whatcha got Knuckles, she’s gotta pay for Bones.” This fool’s name was Knuckles? This lot was just sad if they couldn’t think of anything better.

The haze around his shoulders turned into flames as the bones of his hands grew. More flames erupted along his arms and fingers as his hands turned into spiked boxing gloves.

In response, you summoned dozens of stilettos into the air. They glimmered briefly before launching at the group. Squishy thuds were followed by cries of pain as the blades found their targets; eyes, throats, guts. Knuckles whipped his head around at his crew suddenly dropping in a dozen bloody messes.

You stood up, made sure of your footing, and leapt at the surprised bag of bones. You were too close to manage a flip, but a stab to the torso worked just fine. Or so you thought. As the leader stumbled down, carried by your momentum along with the sudden pain, the gel holding him together spewed fluid from the wound.

All that vibrant color was for a reason you realized as your hand burned with whatever the bastard was filled with splashed on your hand. “Fuck!” You kneed the skeleton in the jaw, sending him flat on his back, before quickly making a little whirlwind around your hand to get the fluid off.

Hissing through the pain, you planted a heeled foot on his skull. “Do you own any souls?” you asked roughly. Amazing how well the skeleton could show fear and confusion. You repeated the question, enunciating each word. He shook head. “Mais la, too bad.” You pulled your foot back slightly, turning his head. Then you kicked sharply with a gust for added power, twisting his head away and snapping his neck.

Stepping into the coffee shop, you called out, “All clear ladies and gentlemen. Zoe,” you gestured to the owner, “I need your last aid kit and the sink. And someone to clean up the mess.” You ran your burned hand under the water for a good twenty minutes, making sure you got all the acid(?) off. It was definitely a chemical burn but it was superficial. It would just hurt like a bitch.

Zoe helped you pay the area dry and wrap it in a clean bandage. “Are you going home Miss?” she asked nervously. You could guess any of the skeleton’s cronies that you hadn’t killed would be out for revenge once they realized he was dead. It was barely after lunch so there was ample time in the day for word to spread.

“And miss out on the next act?” You laughed as you settled back into your seat outside. “What kind of Overlord would I be if I left the job half done?” Only four demons came looking for trouble, but without you there that would have been even one too many.

Three joined their former boss in a heap of bodies. One, yet another gel connected skeleton with a blue color scheme, took a look at the pile of corpses, and decided selling his soul to you was the better option. Once you had the former grunt under your talon, you felt you could leave safely. You summoned a demon that had been with you for years. The hawk demon was used to being your occasional muscle. So you left the two of them to guard the shop. Meanwhile the body clean up decided burning the pile was their best option, especially with the acid skeleton mixed in. As you took off, they were lighting the gasoline drenched corpses on fire.

Alastor was home before you. Once he saw your bandaged hand he insisted on inspecting the wound. “Cher, how did this happen?” He asked, brows knitted as he unwrapped the bandage.

“Folly on my part. I didn’t realize the acidic looking demon was in fact, acidic.” Alastor examined the area and determined it was superficial as you thought. He applied ointment and rebandaged your hand. “At least now that I’ve killed that excuse for a gang leader it will be easier to acquire souls. I’ve got to close your lead cher.”

Your husband returned to the jambalaya he was preparing. “Are you still up to the contest my dear? I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to call it off now.”

“Of course I am!” You smacked the table with your good hand. “I’m not about to let a little injury stop me! I’m having too much fun.”

Your prediction was accurate. Without the neighborhood’s erstwhile leader and Extermination Day less than a week away, already desperate demons were losing their shit. You kept your new muscle, Calve, with you. He proved to be a decent informant. He resented you of course; you’d taken out his whole gang including his cousins. Your charm wore him down and by the end of the week he had a grudging respect for you.

Extermination Day arrived. The night before you had ensconced all your new souls into your territory. Doors and windows were fortified; the angels liked easy pickings and extra barriers meant they often went looking for other targets. It was only when they couldn’t find demons in the open that they started breaking down entrances.

In relative safety, you and Alastor finished your final tallies. 122 new souls for you and 124 for him. The last six days had helped you catch up but he still managed to squeak by a win.

“Ah, I do feel bad, making you wash all the dishes when your hand is still injured,” he mused as screams filled the air outside.

You examined your freshly bandaged hand. “Well, if you are that concerned, you can continue with the chore until I’m healed up. Should only be a few more days. I’ll even add a few days onto my end as an apology.”

“Hmm,” Alastor hummed, thinking it over. He grinned as another shriek pierced the air. “It’s a deal.”

———————

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[freddielurkury]

https://www.gofundme.com/f/ne9gzx-help-them-to-survive?utm_campaign=p_lico+share-sheet-first-launch&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=customer

Dear Friends,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to share an urgent plea for help. Due to the ongoing conflict in Gaza, my family and I have been forced to flee our home and seek refuge in Khan Younis. My mother, who is pregnant, is in critical need of assistance to ensure her safety and the safety of her unborn child.

We are facing severe hardships and are struggling to provide her with the necessary medical care and basic necessities. I have launched a campaign to raise funds for my mother's survival during this perilous time.

Your support in sharing our campaign on social media could make a life-saving difference. Please help us spread the word and gather the support we desperately need.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Sincerely,

Please help us by sharing the post on your page so that we can collect donations and get out of the war. You are our hope. I will be very grateful to you . ❤️🙏🏼

"this fundraiser is vetted by nabulsi, fallahifag, el-shab-hussein, ibtisams, sayruq"

Dear Laila I wish I could contribute monetarily, it isn't possible right now though since rent is due very soon :( Hopefully some of my small amount of followers can contribute [vetted and verified after personally looking into it as well], and the link will be shared to other social media platforms/Signal contacts for more visibility. Followers, please try to share as well & donate if you can!!!!!

Bonne chance à Ahmed et à toute la famille en France, shukran for sending this & I deeply hope you all get out safely (and if you want to one peaceful day, return)

[fillxsargeloverfan]

Pokemon Masters EX fanfic: Prologue

“Hello! Nice to meet you! I’m Trista, the receptionist here at the Pokémon Masters League. Would you and Pikachu like to register to compete, Annabeth? If so, you’ll be needing one of these!” Trista then handed her a Poryphone.”This is a Poryphone! It’s a multi-purpose information device that is an absolute must-have here on Pasio! Since team battles are the norm here at the PML, you’ll need your Poryphone to communicate with the other sync pairs on your team. Oops! I got ahead of myself. ‘Sync pair’ is a special term we use here on Pasio to describe a single Trainer-Pokemon pair. Hm? Are you perhaps looking for a team?”

“Actually yes I am!”

“In that case, you’re in luck! I just met a couple other sync pairs who are searching for new teammates as well. I’ll introduce you!” Trista then turns her head to two other people in the corner.”Hey Brock! Misty! I have a trainer here looking for a team!” Brock and Misty went to the center of the Pokémon Center.

“So, we heard you were looking for a team, too? You look like you’re raring to go! Let’s take on the PML together, Annabeth! Sound good to you, Misty?” said Brock.

“Why not? It looks like she’s got some fire in her eyes. Oh, I’m Misty, by the way. Let’s give this tournament our best shot!”

“And I’m Brock! Glad to be on your team! Well, now that we’re all together, why don’t we head out to the city? Lots of Trainers like to gather around just outside the Pokémon Center. It shouldn’t be too hard to find more teammates there! Here. Take this, Annabeth. Let’s head out whenever you’re ready!” Annabeth got a map of Pasio and after she was approached by another person.

“Konnichiwa! Bonjour! Pleasure to meet you. I’m Professor Bellis. I’m doing research on sync pairs here on Pasio. You must be Annabeth, right?”

“Yep! I’m on a team with Brock and Misty!”

“And you’ve already teamed up with Brock and Misty, have you? What a treat it will be to see what you three get up to! Pardon the change of subject, but are you familiar with Pokémon Eggs? I happen to be studying the bonds that form between members of a sync pair…when the Trainer has raised their partner from an Egg! Would you be a dear and lend me a hand with my research, Annabeth? I have a feeling that a promising Trainer like you would form a maravilloso sync pair with a lucky Pokémon hatched from an Egg! Here, I have three Pokémon Eggs for you to choose from! Pick one, and then you can take care of it until it’s ready to hatch!”

“I take the Bulbasaur Egg!”

“That Egg will take a little while to hatch. Why not go do some exploring in the meantime? When the Pokémon inside seems ready to hatch, please bring the Egg back to me! Well then, bonne chance! Best of luck!” Professor Bellis goes out the door and Annabeth starts to talk to other trainers.

“I just love Pokémon. That has always been the case. Before I knew it, people were calling me an Ace Trainer. Someday, people will call me a veteran. But for me, I’ve always liked Pokémon and that will never change.” said a female Ace Trainer.

“The faster your Pokémon is, the faster your move gauge charges! So then you’re able to use more moves. That’s why speed is so important! I’ve been going running with my Pokémon to raise my own speed. I don’t really feel any different, but, uh…I guess I’m a lot healthier!” said a male Ace Trainer.

“I’m so excited for the Pokémon Masters League! Only the toughest Trainers get to compete. If I get the chance to battle it out, I’d love to go up against a certain Ice-type Trainer…Lorelei, from the Indigo League Elite Four in Kanto! I’ll show her what an all-out offensive looks like!” said Misty.

“My mom and my dad are both Ace Trainers! So imagine me becoming a punk girl! They were like, ‘Whoa. Hold up. Say what?’ They got so jealous!” said another Female Ace Trainer.

“I wonder what kind of Trainer you will become, Annabeth. As a Gym Leader, I’ve seen a lot of different Trainers. But all of the Trainers that were able to beat me had a glint in their eye. No matter how strong you become, I want you to remember what it was like when you began and enjoy Pokemon battles in the same way.” said Brock.

“A true Ace Trainer cares about sleep. It’s important to restore the energy that you burned up throughout the day. What’s perfect for getting good sleep is using a pillow of a cute Pokémon and Musharna as a protection against nightmares!” said another female Ace Trainer. After Annabeth was done, she went to her friends to start her journey.

[porcom]

Breaking Bad (all seasons, 4th time)

"Walter White, 50 ans, est professeur de chimie dans un lycée du Nouveau-Mexique. Pour réunir de l'argent afin de subvenir aux besoins de sa famille, Walter met ses connaissances en chimie à profit pour fabriquer et vendre du crystal meth."

Une série exceptionnelle, toujours aussi bonne 10 ans plus tard (ça fait 3 fois que je la regarde et je sais déjà que je la regarderai une 4e fois), où chaque saison est encore meilleure.

I'M NOT IN DANGER, I AM THE DANGER!

Mais au final, je ne saurais mieux dire que Anthony Hopkins qui a écrit personnellement à Bryan Cranston

Dear Mister Cranston.

I wanted to write you this email - so I am contacting you through Jeremy Barber - I take it we are both represented by UTA . Great agency.

I've just finished a marathon of watching "BREAKING BAD" - from episode one of the First Season — to the last eight episodes of the Sixth Season. [Ed note: There are in fact five seasons of Breaking Bad; this might have been wishful thinking.] (I downloaded the last season on AMAZON) A total of two weeks (addictive) viewing.

I have never watched anything like it. Brilliant!

Your performance as Walter White was the best acting I have seen - ever.

I know there is so much smoke blowing and sickening bullshit in this business, and I've sort of lost belief in anything really.

But this work of yours is spectacular — absolutely stunning. What is extraordinary, is the sheer power of everyone in the entire production. What was it? Five or six years in the making? How the producers (yourself being one of them), the writers, directors, cinematographers.... every department — casting etc. managed to keep the discipline and control from beginning to the end is (that over used word) awesome.

From what started as a black comedy, descended into a labyrinth of blood, destruction and hell. It was like a great Jacobean, Shakespearian or Greek Tragedy.

If you ever get a chance to - would you pass on my admiration to everyone — Anna Gunn, Dean Norris, Aaron Paul, Betsy Brandt, R.J. Mitte, Bob Odenkirk, Jonathan Banks, Steven Michael Quezada — everyone — everyone gave master classes of performance ... The list is endless.

Thank you. That kind of work/artistry is rare, and when, once in a while, it occurs, as in this epic work, it restores confidence.

🔥 Dévoré, BITCH, yo !

[toomanyrobins2]

Dear Toomanyrobins2,

So that diner job? Ended up being a bust. Soo many red flags it could have been a St Marie parade!

Long story short (I might be inclined to share the gritty details if you so wish)

I am back to job hunting! So wish me luck, as always I await graciously for your response!

With love,

Anon-Abbot

My Dearest Anon-Abbot,

My sincerest apologies for the delay in a response! I have had to instigate a search for a new flatmate which has taken up much of my time.

I would love to hear the details of a red-flagged diner and I wish you bonne chance on your future employment endeavors!

Happy Holidays,

C

[summion7]

Professor port: all right dear students today we have something special for you! Each member of every team will be assigned to different regions of the world to assist with local authorities and Huntsman to get more experience!

yang:for how long?!

Professor port: two weeks. Now check your scrolls for your locations as you will be leaving in the morning!

Jaune: man this is going to be bad I can just tell.

Nora: you’ll be fine just that noggin and you be peachy!

Ruby:who says peachy these days?

Weiss/ Pyrrha: I do.

Blake: my mom does.

Ren: well I believe we should eat and pack before it gets to late.

Jnry:yes mom.

Timeskip 4 days later with Jaune .

Jaune:man this kattelox island is a trip! Few grim but they have these rever thing and apparently there is crazy ruins here and there what’s next?

As if invited by the statement a large explosion was heard going off. With that Jaune saw little Lego robots apparently robbing a ice cream shop! Wait scratch that one handed Money to a scared clerk.

Jaune: what’s going on here?!

Clerk: your just in time these little cuties blew up my freezer door because they didn’t want to wait for a lock smith!

Jaune raising a brow: really? Can you tell me why??

Servant bot:miss Tron is not feeling good and has been crying for a long time. We just wanted to see her smile again.

Both the clerk and Jaune were surprised by the reason and the clerk relaxed a bit.

Clerk:why did you feel the need to help this “miss Tron” dearie?

Servant bot#2: she is the closest person we can call mama!

Clerk turns to Jaune:I have insurance and they paid for the food can you not arrest them please?

Jaune smiling: if you like yes.

Turns to servant bots.

Jaune: would it be ok if I accompanied you back to miss Tron? Just to see if I can help in anyway?

Bots:YES PLEASE!

With that the group set off after Jaune reported the incident on his radio. 

Timeskip to Jaune arriving to bonne manor.

Jaune:wow this place is huge!

Servant bot: this way please.

The group moves through the home with their tubs of ice cream making it to a door.

Servant bot #3:excuse us miss Tron we have a surprise for you!

???:Go away! I’m just ugly and useless!

This surprises the group especially Jaune. This woman sounded around his age and to be honest kinda made him think about how he felt first leading his team.

Servant bot #2: please don’t say that miss Tron! We love you and think your the best!

Servant bots 1/3: yeah!

Tron:* sniff* your just saying that.

Jaune:I think they mean it. On the way here they wouldn’t stop talking about all your gadgets and robots and stuff!

Tron:really? Aww babies than-… wait who is that talking.

Servant bot:that’s mister Jaune he helped us carry the ice cream here!

The door was cracked open to show Tron bonne in her messy and sleep deprived state.

Tron: Dummies why did you bring a stranger here !

Servant bots: Because he asked us nicely to see if he could help us make you smile again!

Tron turns to the blonde.

Jaune: it’s true miss. If you like we can share stories and I could make some sweets or something if you like?

Tron:… ok I will give a a chance… for my servant bots.

Bots:Miss Tron! *Proceeds to hug the bonne.*

Tron:cool it ! We have a guest.

Jaune:heh it’s alright I grew up with seven sisters pda is no big deal.

Tron: S-SEVEN?!

Jaune: that reaction never gets old hehe.

The end of the two weeks later

Nora: alright i can wait to share stories with you all once my fearless leader gets back!

Weiss:Where is he away? He should have landed by now.

???:A-Hoy guys whats up? Besides me!

Looking up the beacon students she a large airship moving to dock at the atlas airship port since the other places wouldn’t fit the ship.

Ruby:holy tennis balls!

yang:really rubes?

The group sees the entry hatch open up to show the servant bots rolling out a red carpet. One of them trip near the end Making a noise between *squeak and clank*.

Jaune: you ok #16?

#16: I’m ok.

Walking on the carpet Jaune picked up the bot and placed it on his shoulders.

#16: yay!

Jaune:*chuckles* hey guys I’m back! And I brought back some friends!

Blake: and I thought mime flash mob would be the unexpected thing I saw this week.

Ruby:wait what?

Pyrrha: so who are these cuties Jaune?

Jaune:these are the servant bots. They are so innocent and I’m pretty sure they are almost indestructible. They work for tron.

Ren:tron?

???: THAT WOULD BE ME!

Walking the carpet was Tron Bonne the air pirate turned store manger/clerk before turning back to pirate. No longer was she the little teen who would be stoped by a dense boy in blue armor. Now in her place stood a beautiful woman of 5’6 with g cubs That surpassed both yang and miss Goodwitch and pleasantly plump legs. She also had hair the same haircut that extended to the middle of her back. In the words of slick goku “DAMN SHES THICC!”

Tron:I’m Tron bonne pleased to meet the friends of dweeb.

After introductions.

yang:so kinda wondering why did you all follow Jaune out here.

Servant bot#1: because mama didn’t want to be so far from dad!

….

Rwbynpr:DAD?!

Tron with a massive blush: s-sh-SHUT UP DUMMIES!

Jaune:wait you came to be close and bout open a second store?

Tron:Yes! Wait I mean No! I mean!

Jaune: your so cute! Never change Tron bon!

Rwbynpr: TRON BON.

Tron:Dweeb why! This is so embarrassing.

Jaune: hey I’m really happy that you came to be with me. How about I make up a picnic basket and we go on a wonderful date on a cliff that overlooks the forever fall forest?

Tron:… I’d like that very much.

Jaune kisses her forehead: sounds like a plan.

Turning to his friends.

Jaune: I promise to tell you all about my adventure but I got to drop this off and make a basket up!

Jaune proceeds to grab another servant bot and sprints off to the dorm,

Pyrrha falling to her knees with tears flowing freely: I I was to slow to confess! *sob,sob*.

Nora: I’m sorry Pyrrha I should have been a better wing girl for you.

Tron: so you like Jaune too?

Pyrrha:y-yes I won’t get in the way of your and his happiness. Just promise you won’t break his heart.

Tron:how about I promise to share?

Rwbynpr:share?!

Tron:listen I know exactly how you feel and I wouldn’t want to make any of his friends to feel the same way I did after megadweeb chose his blonde friend. Besides I’m a pirate I do what I want and I want what will make me and him happy. Can you make him happy?

Pyrrha: yes!

Tron:good. Hurt him and I’ll kick your but! Now come on we have a date to get to!

Pyrrha: r-Right!

yang:huh who could have seen the day that Jaune would have two girlfriends?

Nora: I did! I mean have you seen the arc booty! Of course a amazoness and a pirate would want it.

Ren:… true.

[newmih]

Honey and bee

Words: 775

Characters: Dick grayson x reader(couple), Tim Drake, Rachel?

Summary: Something is not as usual, Tim is sure of it. He decides to take a day off to figure it out.

A/N: It's just something that came into my head when I didn't have a connection. You can imagine any version of Dick, I just imagined the Titans version when I was writing it, same with any character. /English is not my first language, sorry for any mistake I made./

Masterlist

Bonne lecture

Tim had spent his day watching what everyone else was doing. It was rare for him to do so, and although he was calculating and observant, he much preferred to focus on his screen to work. Yet he didn't know what had happened with him that day but he had a furious urge to look around. His instincts were always right and he thought his subconscious had noticed something he hadn't.

Yet he still couldn't put his finger on it and it was seriously starting to get on his nerves. Deciding that he hadn't had a cup of coffee in too long, he headed to the kitchen to make one for himself. Y/N was there, the latest addition to the Titans. She got along well with everyone but seemed to be closer to Dick in particular. Tim caught himself thinking that without him knowing what had caused his thought. He greeted her and she responded by handing him a steaming cup of coffee. Her telepathic powers allowed her to know everything. But she didn't need to use them to know what Tim was doing in the kitchen. Besides that, she promised herself she would never use them on her friends unless there was a life-threatening emergency.

He thanked her and sat down on one of the stools to savor his cup. The drink seeped down his throat and he closed his eyes to savor it better. The woman in the kitchen took the opportunity to wink at Dick who had just entered the living room to sit on the couch and probably watch TV with Rachel. When he saw her he gave her a charming smile and blew her a kiss. She couldn't help but blush and went back to her work to avoid anyone seeing her.

She was mixing the pancake batter when her secret boyfriend came into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Dick's little brother had not moved from his seat and was reading the day's newspaper, well he was reading the article about the superhero team that had saved the city again. He was so focused on his reading that the first Robin didn't think he would notice what he was about to do. He stealthily approached Y/N, flipped her over, grabbing her hips so she was facing him, and kissed her full on the lips as he wiped the flour that had gotten on the H/C's cheek. He finally pulled away with a smirk on his face and took a tap on his chest for what he had just done. A sound of paper startled them and they returned to their seats as if nothing had happened.

Tim, who had seen nothing of the scene, finally stopped what he was doing when he realized that there was not a drop left in his cup. He put it down in the sink and looked around a bit. Suddenly something clicked in his brain and he found what he had been missing all along. It was as if a bright sign had just flashed before his eyes with fluorescent arrows pointing at him. He couldn't believe how ignorant he had been and especially couldn't understand how this could have been kept from him.

A big smile stuck on his face, he leaned next to the sink where Y/N was cleaning the dishes. She turned her head towards him when she felt his insistent look on her. She did not like that, really not.

-Tell me Y/N, are you by any chance dating my dear, beloved older brother Dick?

The woman choked on her own saliva, her face turning as red as the suit Jason was wearing. She shook her head sharply from side to side.

-What? No! What's gotten into your head again?

He nodded slowly and sighed softly. A silence of a few minutes followed this discussion before he asked her something again.

-But you know what bees do, right?

His question caught her off guard and she frowned as she answered.

-Honey?

She did not understand why he had asked her this strange question. What the hell was going on! Suddenly a voice from another room was heard.

-Yes?!

She finally understood what had just happened and she was shocked, in general she was the one who played with people's heads, not the other way around. The little monster who was still smiling on her right patted her shoulder, a little laugh came out of his mouth. Then becoming serious again he said a last sentence before leaving while jumping happily, happy to have finally found what it was happening.

-Don't ever lie to my face again Y/N.

[strawbunniiee]

A Girl and a Ghost Ch 5. Precious Rose

SOOOO this one is a bit lengthy!! there’s a bit of blood, a lil language, so fair warning! oh yeah and HEHEHE SPOILER ALERT THERE’S SOME TASTY PHANTOMEACH MWAHAHAHHAA

i had a LOT of fun writing the phantom and peach fluff hehehe ;)

dont worry!! this definitely won’t be the last chapter either, there’s still gonna be more of my cheesy fic sjfndkfd

hope you enjoy!! @salamifuposey @monsterbride99 just letting these lovely hooman beans know that this chapter exists!!

Jawaii had her arms raised, ready to slice King Boo to ribbons, but the king blasted her back into a wall.

Jawaii had the wind knocked out of her lungs as she slid to the floor.

Phantom rushed to Jawaii's side, picking up her petite body. His eyes became a deep, dark blood red as he shot a murderous glare at King Boo.

"She didn't even stand a chance." he smirked.

Phantom charged a blast of blue fire in his palm. "DIE!" he screamed, hurling it at the king with all of his might.

He had attempted to avoid it, but he wasn't fast enough. The ball engulfed him in flames as he screamed.

The king flung a fireball from his cracked crown, but due to his crown being damaged, it spiraled out of control, which hit Phantom in the process but also set the attic ablaze. He gasped and grabbed Peach's body.

Jawaii regained her breath and jumped off of Phantom.

"JAWAII, NO!"

She didn't listen, instead she ran to King Boo and aimed to tackle him. She phased right through him and onto the floor. This just made him guffaw.

"YOU IDIOT! OH, YOU MORONS JUST MAKE ME LAUGH!"

Phantom began to inhale, gathering air in his body to let out the loudest, most powerful opera scream he had ever sung.

King Boo saw this as an opportunity to take Peach back from Phantom. The ghost Rabbid glanced over at Jawaii in panic, as if begging her to do something.

Jawaii leaped up while the king was distracted and stabbed him, taking great effort to make it as painful as possible for him. It cut open his skin, creating a massive gash on the side of his face, bleeding out a strange blood-like substance, perhaps ectoplasm.

The king let out a monstrous howl as he fell over onto the floor screaming, his hands over the gash.

Then, Phantom finally let out his scream, after inhaling so much air he felt like he was about to explode. It was a force so strong, so powerful that it blew a massive hole in the attic, blowing the bleeding king far away, all the way to the swamps in Spooky Trails.

Both of their ears rung from the noise.

Peach began to slowly wake up. Phantom picked up Jawaii and burst out of the hole in the manor, taking the three of them away.

———

Peach screamed when she fully woke up.

"Wh-where am I? Who are you? ...Oh. Mr. Tom?... what happened?" the princess sputtered out, deeply confused by what was happening. "All I remember is... King Boo taking me away, and then... nothing. And... who's the little girl?"

Phantom's face turned red and his eyes widened as he shyly looked away, blushing. "Ah, w-well... Princess, it's a rather complicated st-story, you see,—"

"Phantom, why don't you and I tell her what happened together? Maybe it'll be a lot easier that way!" Jawaii chimed in cheerfully.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii. "I suppose you're quite right!"

The two happily retold Peach everything that had happened, complete with how the two became friends, their adventure in Spooky Trails, leading all the way up to them rescuing her from King Boo.

"Oh my goodness, what a story! It sounds very scary but exciting at the same time! I'm glad that you're safe and sound, though!" beamed Peach.

Phantom blushed yet again. "Oh, why thank you dear Princess! I'm quite happy you went on unscathed as well."

"Hang on a sec, you know this lady Phantom? She seems very nice!" asked Jawaii.

"O-oh, yes yes! I do know her. We're, erm, friends." Phantom said quickly.

Jawaii squinted suspiciously at him. "You seem super awkward in front of her. Do you have a crush on her or somethin'?"

Phantom's face was a bright red tomato at this point. "N-no, that's preposterous, o-of course not! Why, no male and female can be t-together without people believing that they are lovers!"

Peach giggled a bit. Jawaii grinned mischievously.

"You know, Jawaii has a point. Do you have a crush on me..?" asked Peach.

"...N-no, it's just hot out here. I act a b-bit strangely when it's scorching hot like this!" It was actually quite cold that morning, contrary to Phantom's statement. "Oh, and would you look at th-that, we're here already!"

They had made it to the silent castle in the early hours of the morning. The sun had not even come up yet, still pitch black and silent. Phantom set Peach and Jawaii down gently.

"...Thank you so much for saving me from King Boo, Tom." Peach gave Phantom a gentle kiss on the cheek. His face violently blushed as he had a look of sheer surprise on his face, his jaw hanging open. Jawaii couldn't help but snicker at the look on Phantom's face.

"I... oh my! I wasn't e-expecting that, my princess." Phantom stammered.

Peach simply just smiled. "Would you like me to get you a room to stay in for the rest of the night? You two must be very exhausted after your dangerous adventure together!"

"That would be very much appreciated!"

"Oh... Jawaii? Should I tell your parents where you are...?" asked Peach, concerned.

Oh crud, I totally FORGOT about that. thought Jawaii.

"Uhhhhh... I'm sure they're fine! I'll just come back when the sun's up!"

"All right, then. I'll be right back in just a moment!" Peach walked off.

Phantom went silent.

"Hey uh... now that she isn't here... do you actually have a crush on her?" asked Jawaii.

Phantom looked around and whispered in Jawaii's ear. "To be completely honest, yes. I do. She's the most beautiful, kind woman I have ever met... and thanks to King Boo bringing back the memories of my past life, I know that I had spent my past life attempting to get her to notice me. But it had resulted in my demise."

"First of all, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, no shit Sherlock, for a theater nerd you're a TERRIBLE liar y'know." she teased lightheartedly. "Second of all, ouch... that really sucks. But hey! In this life you befriended her!"

Phantom sighed. "I wish so dearly that we could be together. I tried so hard in my past life, I sacrificed so much to get her to notice me... but that red capped demon had gotten in the way countless times. And worst of all... he and Peach are together."

Phantom began to softly sob, his hands over his face in despair. Jawaii slowly walked over and gave him a hug.

"Aw... I'm so sorry about that... But my mom says it's not good to bottle up emotions. Maybe you should tell her how you feel..?" she suggested.

Phantom just stared in silence for a few moments before he finally responded. "...Perhaps."

"Maybe I could help you with it!"

"...No, i-it's best for me to simply just... tell her. I've known her for quite a while now, but I've mostly been too nervous to do as much as speak to her."

Jawaii hugged him again, even tighter than the last time. "I'm here for you, best friend." she smiled.

Phantom hugged back. "...Thank you, Jawaii."

After a few minutes, Peach came back in to tell them that their room was ready.

"Sorry about the wait! We had a few issues... come on in, it's much comfier in here than it is out there. It's so cold out." she said.

"Oh! You're all right, Princess."

Peach escorted the two into the castle and into their room. Just like outside, the castle was very dark. It had little to no light other than the light of the stars and moon softly shining through the windows.

When they arrived, Peach opened the door. The room was very tidy and had very expensive looking furnishings, and two extremely fluffy beds with plentiful amounts of pillows and blankets. Jawaii gasped and immediately began to jump on the bed. Phantom and Peach laughed a bit at Jawaii's antics.

"Well, sweet dreams you two. You both deserve it after the adventure you've had tonight! And thank you both again for saving me... that was such a terrifying experience. No matter how many times I get kidnapped, it's always so scary."

She smiled and blew them both kisses. Phantom blushed.

"Ah... you're welcome, Peach. Bonne nuit."

Peach smiled and closed the door. She went back off to bed happily.

"What the shit did you say to her? Bun... bon-nue. What?" Jawaii asked, deeply confused.

Phantom quietly chuckled. "Bonne nuit. It's French for good night."

"The heck's a French?"

"Heh heh. Perhaps I shouldn't be laughing, for you're an alien child. You don't know everything about Earth and that's understandable!"

"No, it's okay. I like to make people laugh. 'Cuz it means I made them happy!" replied Jawaii.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii once more. "We should get some rest, my child. We've had a very long day. Bonne nuit, Jawaii." He laughed a bit at his own joke.

Jawaii smiled. "Nighty night, Phantom." She yawned and stretched and sprawled out on her bed, quickly falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

Phantom, however, lay awake in his bed, thinking about what Jawaii had told him to do. He tossed and turned, pondering his decision. His heart throbbed, wondering what would happen.

Then, he decided.

He was going to tell her tonight. He had figured that he may as well get it over with now.

He nervously got out of bed and quietly phased through the walls to get to Peach's bedroom, where she had still laid awake. She was slightly startled by Phantom seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Oh! Tom? Is there... something you need?" she asked

"Well... there is something I must tell you. I've hidden it from you for so long... because I was afraid of being rejected, I suppose." he admitted.

"Oh... Well, what is it?"

"I know that you are already taken... b-but..." Phantom covered his blushing face with his hands, and forced himself to finally choke out the words.

"I l-love you."

He knew that this was the end. She was going to kick him out of her castle... or far worse.

But her response shocked him down to his very gramophone.

"Well... if I'm completely honest, I have feelings for you too. That peck on the cheek earlier... was something I've wanted to do for a long time." she smiled and looked away a bit.

Phantom stared dumbfounded at her. He couldn't believe it. "B-b-but, you— and M-Mario—" he stammered.

"Oh, that's just a rumor that goes around... everybody seems to think that! He's still a very close friend of mine, and I'm so glad he's saved me so many times."

"Erm... speaking of that... King Boo told me something about myself that not even I had known. I... I was a human once. I wanted so badly for you to notice me... each time you were kidnapped, I always attempted to save you... but my attempts were futile, for Mario always saved you before I ever could. But one day, King Boo trapped you in a painting... and for the first time, I had arrived in time to save you. Unfortunately, he had killed me and sealed my soul inside a gramophone. I had forgotten about this previous life... until he had told me. Then all of the memories rushed inside me. Saving you had felt... like I had finally fulfilled my goal." he explained.

"...Actually... now that I think of it, I do remember a handsome young man who had clothes not different than yours who had come to save me from him. I remember his beautiful deep voice... with that accent... it was your voice! Your voice was always so familiar to me...but I could never figure out where I heard it."

Phantom's face turned red from the complements. "P-princess, please stop flattering me..."

She giggled. "You haven't become any less handsome than you were as a human, you know."

Before Phantom could respond, she kissed him again. This time, on the lips.

The two kissed under the pale morning moonlight shimmering down into the room.

[ladyeliot]

Welcome Seaville. Chapter One. [T.S. / J.H.]

Series:  “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”

Prologue

Pairing: Tony Stark/Justin Hammer x Fem!Reader / Best Friend Steve Rogers

Summary:  1987. The exchange term is over, so you return to your hometown, Seaville, just before Christmas. The reunions with friends, the first day of school, everything goes back to the way it used to be.

Warnings: Insults, piques.

Word Count: 3465

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

December 1987

It would have been enough to say that this was just another ordinary Christmas in the small Maine town of Seaville, but it was not. The Christmas lights were brighter, the streets were more beautiful under the clear splendour of the moon, and the wind brought a sweet smell of sea salts that gave you a pleasant sensation. You peered through the passenger window and let the east wind envelop you and welcome you home again. Seaville was welcoming you in its entirety and you were leaving it.

It had been just four months since you had left the coast of Maine to head off to fulfil one of your many dreams, to spend a term in the French city of Paris. Nothing in your life could have compared to that singular experience, and you even hoped to return next year having been accepted to the University of Paris, but, equally, nothing could compare to the love you felt for home.

"Please roll up the window," your father insisted. "I don't want you to spend the whole Christmas holidays with the flu."

And of course nothing could compare to your dear father.

As you rounded the corner into your little residential area you could almost smell the sweet scent of hot chocolate and puffy clouds that your father had promised you when he picked you up from the airport. You got out of the car so quickly that you barely paid any attention to the bundle of suitcases your father was trying to pull out of the boot without any help.

As you had predicted, as soon as you turned the lock and opened the door, the smell of cocoa filled the whole house. You allowed yourself a few seconds to take in the view, the fireplace lit and adorned with the three corresponding boots, the Christmas tree in place, without the star on the top, as that was your job, and the coats sorted on the hanger by colour. All the same as always.

"Don't worry, I can manage," your father said almost breathlessly as he climbed the porch steps.

You laughed and grabbed one of the three suitcases that were blocking your father's path. You both closed the door behind you and followed each other into the kitchen as if it were tradition. The chocolate was still warm and the clouds had dissolved, just the way you used to like them. The conversation with your father went on for so long, explaining to him everything you hadn't wanted to tell him over the phone, or through letters, a method your father had forced you to maintain, for we should note that his job was as a literary writer, although he sometimes resorted to writing a few newspaper columns to make a little extra money.

The point is that the little family had been talking for hours on end, not realising that midnight had already passed, and that tomorrow you had to go to the institute to settle bureaucratic matters due to your return.

"Bonne nuit, chérie," your father said in a chaste French accent, kissing your forehead.

"Bonne nuit, papa," you smiled back, preparing to be reunited with your room.

Your room, which you had not yet had the pleasure of entering, was as usual, oblivious to the fact that your father had changed the quilt on your bed so you could sleep warmer. You flopped on your back on the bed, but just as a memory came to you, you quickly got up and went to the window. What your eyes beheld brought a laugh and a sense of relief and happiness, how could you not have noticed it before?

By chance of life, you were lucky enough to have discovered true friendship in the person who lived right across the street from you. When you and your father moved to Seaville, due to your mother's death 10 years ago, you chose that quiet residential neighbourhood to settle down and raise a small family. You met Steve Rogers on your first day of second grade, and from the moment you discovered you lived across the street from each other, a beautiful friendship was forged.

For ten minutes you couldn't take your eyes off the window of the house across the street, right next to yours. A large light blue cardboard covered the whole space and a few letters in capital letters decorated it with "Bon retour". Obviously you had kept Steve constantly in mind during your term away, long phone conversations and a few postcards proved it, but during the flight back you were afraid that he had forgotten about the day you were coming back, a rather stupid fear. So, with the comfort that gesture had brought you, you decided it was time to go to bed and get some rest, as the next morning was a long day ahead.

The sunbeam fell incessantly on your face, the curtains could barely block its power, you had assumed that you were not a good early riser, but that morning you woke up in a good mood, not even the strong smell of charred toast was going to take it away from you.

"Wow, nice smile," your father notified, offering you a plate with two pieces of toast blackened under raspberry jam.

"Thanks!" you took the plate and took his usual seat. "I'm looking forward to seeing Steve, and catching up with Natasha. Although I hope they've got things to tell me too. What are you doing today?"

"I have to finish the chapter of the book to hand in to the publisher," he sat down next to you. "And I also have to go to the mall to pick up a gift."

The smile on your face that morning widened, there were only two days left until Christmas, so it was obvious that the gift I was supposed to pick up would be for you. Even though you had everything planned, and had brought some presents from Paris, you still had to buy the last detail for your father.

Just then the front doorbell rang, and you realised that time had run out on you when you noticed that you were still in your pyjamas.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, taking the last bite of toast and heading upstairs. "I'll be down in five minutes!"

Just as you disappeared your father headed off to greet his visitor. You could hear Steve's voice as you hurriedly went about getting dressed, combing your hair and getting your backpack ready for class, not forgetting to grab two rolls of film to develop, but when you heard his laughter you couldn't help but laugh too, even though you had barely heard the reason for his action. You rushed downstairs and from the third step practically threw yourself onto Steve's back in a laughing embrace.

"Have you grown up? No way, let me see you," Steve scoffed receiving your customary punch on his shoulder.

"Hey, nice cartel," you arched an eyebrow pointing to his house.

"You think so?" your friend asked. "I'm glad you liked it. I spent three poster boards until I was proud of my work. "

Steve's sincerity did nothing but thank you for the small detail he'd had for you. But time was passing and you still hadn't left the house.

"Come on, guys! You're going to be late for class," your father informed you, offering you your lunch bag. You took it with a kiss on the cheek and ran after Steve, who was waiting for you by your bike in the garden. That morning you couldn't keep a smile off your face and Steve couldn't take his eyes off you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you said getting on your bike.

"You're so happy. It's not normal to see that smile at eight o'clock in the morning," Steve's comment made you laugh a little.

You both set off in the direction of the school, it usually took you ten minutes to get there by bike if you cycled at a leisurely pace, but you were still able to catch up. On the way Steve was interested in the photographs you had taken during your stay in the European city, as you had sent him some of the ones you had had time to develop. Photography was a way for you to escape, your mother had dedicated all the years of her life to the art, and perhaps it was an incentive for you to admire her.

"It's different, Paris inspires me, it's so romantic and bohemian that it's very easy to get carried away," you explained. "That doesn't mean Seaville isn't, it's... different."

Steve listened attentively to your every word, possibly one thing you both had in common was a sensitivity that you only showed when you were both alone.

It didn't take you long to realise that the school was nearby, as the amount of cars queuing at the entrance informed you of your arrival.

"Welcome back," said Steve as he entered with you through the main door leading to a long corridor lined with lockers.

You both headed towards your locker area, you didn't know why you expected anything to have changed, but everything, literally everything, was still the same.

"There you go again! Have you been deported?" that voice, which you hadn't missed, made you roll your eyes. "I had hoped that you would have climbed the Eiffel Tower and let yourself plummet. But here you are, again."

"I had hoped that one of your absurd inventions would have exploded and you would have been shot to pieces with them," you shot back with a sarcastic grin. "But not all dreams come true."

"And I had hoped that being a senior in high school you two could get along," Steve interrupted. "But I see that's impossible."

A wide wry grin on Tony's face competed with yours, but you added a snip and he countered by trying to bite your finger.

"Lovely welcome Tony," Natasha joined the group hugging you from behind, depositing a kiss on his cheek. "Wait, do I smell Parisian perfume? You haven't turned into one of those French repipes have you?"

You were grateful for Nat's presence, who was your ally against the daily struggle against Tony, for after all Steve was a neutral lynchpin in the battle. Nat shook Steve's hand and when he went to greet Tony he tried to give him a kiss on the lips, which resulted in him getting punched in the arm. The bell rang, breaking up the group, depending on which subjects you were in.

"Meet me later in the cafeteria and continue to catch up?" you commented to Steve who was going the other way with Tony.

"As always."

You gave him a parting smile, but your gaze met Tony's who blew you a kiss in the air, causing you to squint and grimace.

"And we're still catching up?" repeated Nat with a quizzical arch of his eyebrow.

"I've got a lot to tell you, and I hope you've got a lot to tell me..." you arched an eyebrow.

"It all depends on the present you brought me from Paris," replied your friend, winking at you.

You laughed, but the two of you parted ways just inside the administration offices, where a long morning of tidying up awaited you.

After two hours of filling out forms and making photocopies of the documents you had brought from the institute in Paris, you had become quite an expert. You had hoped to have an hour to spare before lunchtime to escape to the developing room to develop the film, but that seemed impossible. When the bell rang, you had barely had time to approach the room and put the film in your locker, which you had been assigned to since sixth grade when photography had become your obsession, so you made your way to the cafeteria and found your friend sitting at your table, right next to the big window overlooking the football field.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you to start eating together, but this pizza... it was tempting me," Nat took a bite of pizza like there was no tomorrow.

"If I tell you I've been reading absurd, meaningless documents all morning..." you snorted sitting down across from her and pulling out your sandwich. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be going to Paris."

"You know that's not true," Nat arched an eyebrow drawing a smile from her. "You would have gone to Paris even if you had to repeat one more grade in high school."

"Anyway, I need an update," you began, turning serious. "Has anything interesting happened while I've been away? Anyone new? Anyone who's been stirring things up?"

"New? No, anything interesting? Neither. This Seaville Murph, there's nothing going on here," Nat shrugged finishing his slice of pizza.

"I'll look for the bright side. At least I haven't missed anything," you shrugged.

"I guess you could go away for ten years and when you came back everything would still be the same," Nat looked around. "Where are the boys?"

"I'll bet you five bucks they're on the football field," you commented. "By the way, have you written the application for Brenau yet?"

"It's practically finished," your friend reported. "I'll go over it during the holidays and send it off in January. Are you ready to move to Paris next year and drive the Parisians crazy?" Natasha winked. "You haven't been hiding some movie adventure from me all this time?"

"Oh! Of course," you said wryly just as Steve and Tony made their big appearance. "Now that you mention it, as I was strolling the first evening in the Luxembourg Gardens I heard a sweet melody in the background and headed for it. There was a man playing the saxophone and I stopped to listen to him for a couple of minutes. I was so absorbed that I hardly noticed that a boy had stopped right next to me until he said 'Ne pensez-vous pas que Paris a un charme particulier?' Then I looked at him, he had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen," you paused your story to make a false sigh. "Then we strolled until late at night, and we met every evening so that he could show me the most beautiful corners of the city. I think those were the most romantic months of my life."

Three pairs of eyes stared at you showing completely different feelings. Natasha, who was sitting opposite you, was holding back her laughter, Steve, who was standing holding his tray next to Tony, looked completely confused by what had just happened and Tony was arching an eyebrow somewhat curiously at the story. At this point neither of you two could hold it in and started laughing, snapping the boys out of their trance.

"What was that?" asked Steve sitting down next to you. "Is that true? Because it would annoy me if you hadn't told me."

"Come on! He's pulling your leg," informed Tony jokingly and taking his place next to Nat.

"Wait how are you so sure my story isn't true? Couldn't I have my romantic history with a Parisian?" you rebutted somewhat indignantly at his certainty.

"Was he blind?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

For your part you squinted, just as Tony got a jolt of shock after getting stomped under the table by Nat because of his comment. Steve's change of conversation made it easier to keep the argument from escalating, but something always happened to spoil civilised conversations. A few minutes later, Tony was struggling with the Ketchup sachet which he couldn't open to spread on his burger, such was his desperation that when he took a bite of the sachet, it burst causing the sauce to hit your dress. Nat's eyes along with Steve's widened in anticipation of the contest between the two of you.

"You're an idiot Stark!" you quickly grabbed a couple of napkins Nat offered you so you could remove the sauce before it left a mark.

"At least it matches your dress," Tony interjected, holding back a laugh.

Cursing through your teeth, you headed for the food counter with the intention that some cook would have one of her magical ideas to make the stain go away. Tony followed you without letting go of his burger, even though Steve and Nat advised him to stay quiet and sit down.

"Come on Murphy! It's hardly any different from the red fabric of the dress," he said stepping up beside you, and knowing how much you hated it when he called you that.

"How many times have I told you not to call me Murphy?" you said scrubbing the stain with soap and water.

"It's your name," she shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not my fault your parents decided to name you that."

You bit down hard on your lip so you wouldn't have to blurt out all those things that were running through your mind, and put on an act in the middle of the cafeteria. You were lucky that at that instant someone appeared and diverted Tony's attention.

"Ready for Stark debate class?" Justin Hammer, with whom you shared a few classes introduced himself to you.

"Of course Hammer. I can't wait to see you try to put your meager vocabulary together in one sentence," Tony took a bite of his burger, causing sauce to smear his mustache and chin.

"Come on Tony, you've got a lifetime to be an idiot why don't you take a day off?" Hammer smiled slightly.

You couldn't help but smile at the comment, to which Tony noticed and became uncomfortable.

"Hammer, everyone has the right to act stupid for a while, but I'm not really the one abusing that privilege," Tony took another bite of his burger. "So fuck off."

Justin Hammer had gotten what he wanted, and his success was grounded in a half-smile as he walked away, leaving Tony frustrated. Within seconds he turned to you, so you gave him a raised eyebrow.

"You don't abuse that privilege?" you asked, referring to what he had just said to Hammer. "Please, Tony..."

Your smile faded just as Tony dipped his finger into his burger, and, bathed in what little ketchup he could get his hands on, rubbed it all over your right cheek.

"You're despicable!" you exclaimed wiping your cheek.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Don't thank me for the insult, it's always a pleasure," you cocked your head to the side and widened a fake smile leaving him alone, returning to the table.

The doorbell once again brought the lunch hour to an end. Tony followed you and jumped on Steve's back with the burger still in his hand, while you and Natasha gathered up your bags and belongings.

"Hey, what are you doing this afternoon? I thought we could all go to Barry's and catch up," you suggested to Natasha as you headed towards the lockers.

"I've got dance class, and I guess since it's the last one before Christmas it's going to run until dinner time," she lamented.

"Did someone say Barry's?" Tony slowed his pace and interjected into the conversation.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said Steve. Barry's at 7pm?

"Nat's got dance class," you commented, opening your backpack to put your books in your locker.

"Guys, I know I'm a one-off, but you can go without me, don't worry," Natasha shrugged. "We can meet up tomorrow."

"Okay, but tomorrow you have to come with me to the mall, I'm still missing a present for my dad," you leaned in front of her.

"That means you already got mine," Tony winked at you, you hated his sudden mood swings.

"Yeah, a single ticket to the farthest place on the planet," you said, cocking your head.

"You know you'd miss me," he cut you short and you nudged him.

Oblivious to Tony, you added, "So I'll see you at Barry's this afternoon, and it's okay if you don't show up Stark."

"Believe me it's the last thing I feel like doing, but where Steve goes I go."

Taglist Open (DM) - @ravishingreid

MAIN MASTERLIST

[the-raven-who-writes]

Medieval Adventures: A Tale of Kingdoms and Knights

Genre: Slice-of-life, Fantasy, Magic, Self-Insert

Trigger Warnings: Thunderstorm mentions, food mentions, cursing, one brief war mention

Word Count: 1672 (keeps on increasing lol)

Chapter 3: A Change of Plans

I gave up on keeping a wet piece of cloth on my head and it lay on the round oak table like some sort of napkin.

My chair was much closer to the knights’ table than it was before as I heard their tales of chivalry. Something I want to mention, chivalry is not keeping a door open for lady. But I already knew that. Chivalry is more of a religious, ethical and moral code.

Ser Sequin seemed to quite enjoy talking about knighthood to a strange peasant girl.

Dame Kyda had a question to ask.

“You’ve been talking with us all this time, yet we haven’t got your name?”

“Oh, how rude of us!” Sir Jakob gasped.

“My apologies, dear lady,” Ser Sequin said, scratching their head. “What is your name?”

My name? I could go by Jo, but I kinda wanna use it as something… else. These guys are really nice. I don’t remember the last time I’ve taken a role in a fantasy world. Or met nice people that aren’t family. Shit, what do I say?

“Brenna,” I end up answering. The old Gaelic word for ‘raven’. Of course.

“My name is Brenna Cadieux. I’m glad I met the four of you.”

“Ah, now we have a name to the face,” Chevalier responded, smiling.

Kyda rolled her eyes. “You sure took your time with that, Brenna.”

The slight smile on her face meant she wasn’t really annoyed anymore so that was a good thing.

—————————————————————————

The storm had been reduced to steady rain pattering down on the roof and the occasional howling of the wind.

Most of the customers had left the tavern by now. How am I still here? This has to be the longest I’ve spoke to people for a while, albeit fictional.

I guess I’ll have to go before a caught a cold from my wet clothes.

I stood up from my seat, picking up my head-rail from the table. The fire was dying out.

Sellanddatter lifted her head.

“Are you going home?”

I sighed, adjusting the cloth on my head.

“Unfortunately. It was a good night with you knights, but it’s getting late.”

“The lady’s right,” Sir William agreed as he checked his pocket watch. “It’s half-past eleven.”

“I forgot to mention how flattering it is of you knights to even consider me a lady,” I admitted, crossing my arms.

A lady does not fall flat on her face the way I did. I touched my cheek which was starting to bruise a bit from that fall on the street.

“Au revoir, and bonne nuit!” I exclaim before walking to the barkeeper and paying for my meal with five jetons and two grains (currency units; jetons – Jeh – tuhons; grains – GRA - ns)

As I turned to leave, Woolf stopped me.

“Oui?” I asked.

He was bent over behind the counter, reaching for something. He got up with a folded piece of slate-grey fabric.

“A cloak for you, Fräulein Brenna. It is still raining outside.”

“But what about you?”

“Nein, I have plenty here. All stocked up for the winters.”

I hesitated for a second. He did say I could have it. Oh well.

“ Uh… Danke.”

“You speak Deutsch, Brenna?”

“Not really,” I reply, pulling the cloak over my shoulders. “I know bits and bobs of a few languages, really. Comes in handy.”

Now warmed both on the outside and the inside, I took leave of the Nimble Hawk’s Tavern. I walk a few steps before realizing what my heart wanted.

I had a change of plans.

—————————————————————————

“All in a day’s work, Em.”

The tired group of college-aged students and one high-schooler finally had a chance to rest after most of their work. The person who spoke was Nancy Molchalskaya, who had bleached hair with baby-pink ends in cornrows. She had just finished pouring everyone some watermelon juice.

“Thank you, Nancy,” smiled the tallest, whose name was Alexis Edler. He was seated on the ground, leaning back on the couch to give room for everyone.

Emerald Ross sipped on some of her iced drink. Her fiery-red hair was tied up in twin braids.

Elisa Leferve-Chang and Avery Reis both had dye their hair as well. Aegean-blue and mauve respectively. They were both sprawled at both ends of the couch.

“Welcome,” Nancy replied, seated between Avery and Elisa.

Emerald sat in thought. “Have any of you seen Jo this week?”

Elisa furrowed her brow. “No, not really.”

“She did say she was busy with something on Tuesday,” added Avery, clinking the ice cubes in his drink.

A sudden rip of a portal takes them by surprise.

“What the-”

Out walks a figure in a worn-out slate-grey cloak, with the hood pulled over their face. Though the cloudy composition of portal blocked any visual of the other World, the sound of heavy rain can be heard, which is further proven by the fact the stranger was dripping wet.

Avery squinted. “Jo? Is that you?”

The portal snaps shut and of course the stranger was Jo.

—————————————————————————

I’m not the only person who can make portals. Sure, it’s rare, like only one in a whole World but hey; Avery’s one. A portal is unique to a person and my signature parakeet-green cloudy portal is bound to be recognized by the rest of the squad.

Avery squinted before realizing it was me.

“Jo? Is that you?”

I pulled back my hood, grinning from ear-to-ear. I just couldn’t help it.

“Of course it is, silly! You guys had a good day?”

“A tiring day,” Lizzy sighed.

“But a good day nonetheless!” Nancy added, crossing her legs.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Avery asked as I took my cloak off, hanging it on the coat rack to let it dry. Compared to Equinox, I think the Australian Outback was warm enough to let it dry.

“Medievalish European kingdom,” I replied.

Alex tilted his head. “That explains the outfit.”

“You seem excited,” Emerald gushed, standing up.

“And cold. Were you walking in the rain?” Lizzy questioned firmly.

“There was a thunderstorm,” I explained, taking off my head-rail. “But there’s more to it, I promise. You won’t believe what happened!”

“You can tell us all about it,” Avery offered. “After you change into something warm. And dry.”

“Fair enough.”

—————————————————————————

“You went to a freaking tavern?!” Nancy exclaimed, unable to hold back her surprise.

“And met an actual group of knights?!” Alex piped up.

“Yes, and yes!” I cried, throwing my arms in the air. I had changed into a T-shirt and shorts long back as I told the tale.

“What surprises me more is how long you’ve been talking to them; didn’t you say you were an introvert?” Avery jested.

“Look, quarantine got to me, ok? I am not a full-blown introvert.”

Lizzy asked, “Do you have plans to visit the place again? With the number of Sub-Heroes around S-UIN, you’re not so busy as Green Raven anymore.”

“Oh,” I replied wryly, raising my brow. “I’m not planning on just visiting as Brenna.”

“Sounds like you have something up your sleeve, Jo,” Avery suggested.

“I’m going to be a knight.”

Silence filled the room.

“Just because you met a good bunch of them?” Lizzy grimaced.

I scoffed, folding my arms. “C’mon guys, have some faith! I’ll do research-“

“Just research won’t help you with this,” Emerald insisted seriously. “You’ll need to do some training.”

“Emerald’s right, Jo,” agreed Nancy.

I sighed. “I know. But first, two things;” I gestured with two fingers.

“One, my green crystal pendant enhances my strength and endurance and heals wounds.” I pull out the shamrock-green pendant from my pocket, where I had earlier kept it.

“And two, as the Green Raven, I’ve got the basics figured out.”

I know they’re worried about me. But I’m not going head-first into this! Really, I’m not!

“There’s more to it than that,” Lizzy countered. “First off, are knights allowed to use magic?”

“I, um…” I trailed off, leaning forward. I looked back at Lizzy. “Most knights don’t have magic.”

“Do you know how to fight with a sword?”

“No.”

“Can you follow a military drill?”

“Maybe?”

“And can you move around in iron mail, padding and armor plates?”

“Oh my g- I don’t know yet!” I snapped, exasperated.

Lizzy went silent, staring at the floor.

I took a deep breath. Gotta be patient about this. Remember their reaction to becoming a full-time Hero?

“No, I don’t.”

Was this really a good idea? I just ruined their good day at this point. But they would’ve been madder if I never told them; if they needed me for an emergency.

“I trust you.”

I glance up at Avery, who had spoken. Avery trusts me? Avery who is more worried about our well-being even though I don’t get hurt in an actual physical sense in S-UIN?

As if he read my thoughts, he nodded and placed his hand on mine.

“As long you’re not a fucking idiot out there; and you know what you’re doing. I can trust you out there.”

Everyone else seems to be just as surprised as I was.

“Alright,” Alex added, looking up at us. “If he trusts you, then so do I.”

Nancy put an arm over my shoulder. “Give it a hurl, Jo!”

Emerald chuckled, “I think you can take care of yourself out there; it’s not like you’ve never done it before!”

Lizzy stood up. She looked down with an unreadable expression.

She stated calmly, “Medieval military isn’t full-time. But there is great demand of soldiers during a war.”

She turned to me with a look of concern.

“If a war starts, you are not fighting it.”

She was thinking that far ahead?

“Please. You have enough problems.”

I stood up and walked toward Elisa. Then, I gave her a hug.

“Don’t worry Li. I’ll try not to get myself hurt.”

I gave her little pat on the back before letting go.

She stared at the ground again.

“Okay. You can go,” she agreed.

“When you’re ready.”

—————————————————————————

A/N: Alright.

This only took me a day to make which is- WOW HOW THE HELL DID I DO THAT-

You may have recognised the Green Banana Squad here, but if you haven’t these guys are the GBS members. Including moi~

I actually had to do plenty of research for my stories lol. If some things aren’t historically accurate, keep in mind that this is a fantasy World. Some are intentionally kept that way yo. I haven’t worked on anything this hard that I would be sharing online and the fact that only two other people are reading this is humbling.

I’m pretty sure more people will find this eventually tho~

Lil’ spoiler: There are 4 volumes for these ‘chapters’. Volume One is A Tale of Kingdoms and Knights. Volumes Two and Three are all planned out in here (points to head)

Anyway, if you’re reading, I’d love if you’d reblog this so more people can read. And I’m about people other than @transgender-er.

Thank you for reading!

[dismalzelenka]

Dawn

Heyyy! I'm breaking my DA hiatus to submit this brief moderately lengthed ok maybe it got a little out of hand fluff idek anymore anyway it’s for @dapolyshippingday!

Takes place as sort of a postlude in the Your Arms Feel Like Home universe. Cullen/Amell/Jowan, 4500 words. Explicit. AO3 Link Here.

Enjoy!

There was always something otherworldly about seeing the dawn through the skylight windows. Solona was plenty used to seeing those telltale streaks of color from the other end of the day, usually following hours of binge drinking or manic painting.

Waking up to them was much, much rarer.

It took a minute or two to shake the sleep from dream clouded eyes, transfixed as she was on whatever weird liminal feeling this bizarrely early morning instilled in her. Piece by piece, memories of last night returned.

For once, she had agreed to keep the apartment booze-free for a full twenty-four hours. Jowan had insisted. She'd protested thoroughly, of course. "Come on, it's my birthday!" she'd begged through pleading, sparkling eyes, but he'd remained firm.

"Cullen? Back me up here!"

He'd merely shrugged, carefully adjusting the glasses her flailing had knocked askew. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

His flat response drew a rare chuckle from Jowan, who up til that point had been nervously smoothing the front of his blue and black striped button up with unsteady hands.

This was new territory for all of them.

"I swear, love, you'll be happy to have remained sober for this," Jowan promised. The quickly masked wince on his face further highlighted the unprecedented nature of the situation. An unfamiliar familiarity. A pet name she hadn't heard in months, one that felt as foreign now to her ears as it seemed to taste on his lips.

Cullen cleared his throat and broke the uncomfortable silence. "Shall we be off then? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Says you," Solona grumbled. She grabbed her signature leather jacket and bent down to finish lacing up her boots. "Neither of you have said where you're taking me."

"That's what surprises are," Jowan said, affectionately ruffling her hair.

There it was again. A telltale stiffness to a familiar motion, a measure of distance to something that used to flow as naturally as moving water.

The cab ride was silent, but not entirely uncomfortable. Cullen had passed the driver a crumpled slip of paper that presumably contained the address, muttering an awkward thank you in broken Orlesian before clambering into the back seat.

Jowan sat to her right, plaid green and brown scarf clashing horribly as usual with his shirt, shaggy hair unkempt alongside what was at this point a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He had a way of looking thoroughly uncomfortable in almost every setting imaginable, but the warmth of his hand on her thigh told her he was trying his best today.

Cullen sat at her left, curly blonde hair styled back neatly with gel. He'd chosen a maroon sport coat to wear over a black polo with a golden lion stitched onto the pocket. Tucked into dark grey jeans, naturally. Solona doubted the man had ever owned a nice pair of slacks in his life. She'd seen his wardrobe. It was one set of dress blues, two officer uniforms, a single, raggedy set of khakis, and fifteen identical black shirts next to exactly three pairs of jeans: blue, grey, and black, all cut the exact same way.

Maybe she'd get him a suit tailored for his birthday next year.

His boot knocked softly into hers, and when she looked up he was smiling softly at her with something strangely close to adoration, and now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Everything alright?” Jowan murmured.

There was an odd sort of energy in the cab between the three of them. It was as though no one wanted to be the first to speak above a whisper, like the slightest increase in volume would shatter these small and tentative beginnings slowly unfolding across their laps. There would be no first kiss tonight; no, it was far too late for that. There had been a myriad of kisses over the years, a plethora of just plain fucking with the occasional lovemaking sprinkled in, all punctuated by explosive fights and violent nights alone. She had words for all of those things, but this? She didn’t know what to call this. There was nothing in her vocabulary that described the kind of energy that surrounded them.

“I think so,” she said, the words barely a whisper by the time they made it to her lips.

“Alors...” the cab driver began tentatively. “Lequel de vous est l’amant?”

Solona’s head shot up, the suspended stillness shattered by his gravelly voice as the words sank in. “Um,” she began. “I don’t...what...” She felt her cheeks turn pink and she elbowed Jowan in the ribs for confirmation. “Hey, did that mean what I think it did?” she whispered.

Jowan’s face was beet red. “He...ah...yes, probably,” he stammered. “He wants to know which of us is...you know. The um.” He lowered his voice to an even quieter whisper. “The lover.”

A nervous giggle shot out from her lips. “Oh. Oh! Right. Yep. Hah, I um.” She scrambled for both of their hands. She didn’t even have to look at Cullen to see the flush of crimson on his cheeks.

Maker’s balls, how old was she, twelve?

The driver, to his credit, seemed to pick up the implication. “Ahh,” he said, eyebrows waggling. “Ménage à trois, eh?“

Jowan sank further into his seat. “Maker,” he muttered.

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“Ah, très bien,” he nodded sagely as he pulled the cab into a cramped parking space. “Bonne chance!”

“Maker’s breath,” she heard Cullen mutter. He clambered out of the cab the second the driver parked it. Jowan quickly followed suit, offering her a hand to help her out. He refused to meet her eyes.

“So...” she began, fighting the laugh toying at the edge of her breath. “Who’s supposed to be paying him?”

“Oh!” Cullen dug through his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills he then promptly thrust in through the open window. “Um. Yes. Right. Thank you.”

The cab driver laughed. “Merci!” he said. He winked, rolled the window up, and drove off, leaving the three of them standing, rather flustered, at the curb.

“Well,” Solona said finally. “Alright then, where the fuck are we--”

She trailed off as she looked around. In front of her stood the spiraling marble columns of the Musée de Montsimmard, carefully chiseled marble steps rising elegantly to a massive glass entryway where crowds of well dressed people milled about. A smile broke out on Jowan’s face. “Well,” he said finally. “We’re here.”

She’d been to the museum plenty of times already, of course. Between research for her coursework and the occasional casual tour, she was intimately familiar with its layout. Lately, however, embroiled as she was in her writing, she hadn’t been in quite some time, and the familiar delicate wire structures gracing the front pavilion felt like a warm welcome home.

“I hope you like the exhibit we’ve come to see,” Cullen said. She was suddenly aware of him standing behind her, warmth radiating across her back as he gently rested his chin on her shoulder. She glanced tentatively at Jowan, bracing herself for his reaction, but for once, he seemed oddly content, not even a whisper of a grimace on his features. He simply extended his hand again, smile never leaving his face.

“It is quite striking,” he said, eyes crinkling with mischief as he laced his fingers with hers.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What the fuck have you two been up to?”

“Patience, my dear,” Cullen whispered into her ear, sending a warm prickle straight down her spine. He enveloped her other hand with his, a much rougher grip than Jowan’s but no less gentle, and the two of them tugged her forward.

The foyer awaited her, the familiar cream colored walls, plaques, paintings, and sculptures welcoming her in with soft familiarity. She paused for a moment to take it all in, drinking in the comfortable, muted stillness with an almost desperate sort of need. She could come here every day and never tire of it.

Cullen and Jowan, however, had other ideas. “Come on, this isn’t what we came here for,” Jowan said with a grin.

Solona pouted but relented as they tugged her toward the reception counter. Jowan strode forward, and Solona took a moment to appreciate the uncharacteristic amount of confidence he had gained since they’d moved to Orlais. She spoke the language, yes; she had to, for her degree, obviously, but Jowan was the only one of the three of them who was comfortably, conversationally fluent so far.

It was nice, seeing him like this. He’d never been particularly confident in social situations back in Kirkwall. Neither of them had been, really; she was always just better at hiding it behind humor and dismissive indifference, but it was hard to relax in a city filled with the ghosts of so many of her worst memories. Montsimmard was a fresh start for them all, and Jowan was beginning to thrive in the freedom of it.

She and Cullen approached the counter after him. The woman behind the desk, a willowy, freckled, mousey-haired woman with soft brown eyes and an even softer voice stared at her for a moment, wide eyed. “Madam Amell!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “We are so excited to have you here with us today! Please, follow me!”

Solona felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. “Okay, seriously you two, what the fuck is going on?” she said finally.

Cullen said nothing, simply nodding his head after the woman with a faint smile playing on his lips. Solona pouted but relented.

The main exhibition hall branched off to several smaller rooms. They followed the receptionist into one of them, and what Solona saw knocked the air straight from her lungs.

“Thank you all for joining us today!” a guide announced from the podium. “As many of you know, the Musée de Montsimmard rose from the ashes of what was once, for centuries, the largest Circle of Magi in Orlais.We are forever grateful for the patronages that have allowed this incredible undertaking, and continue to allow it to this day.

“For centuries, our city has shined a beacon for anyone with magic shimmering in their veins. In recent decades we have stood firm against countless onslaughts against the personal freedoms of those once caged within these walls. Today, we are showcasing works by a remarkable woman, an artist of incredible talent who has overcome so many of the very challenges this city has striven to eliminate since the Circles were first dissolved. This exhibition is a tribute to mages everywhere: the celebrated, the hated, the many survivors of untold tragedy, and the memories of those who never saw the sun rise on their liberation.”

“Jowan?” Solona felt tears in the corners of her eyes. “Cullen? What is this?”

Cullen said nothing and simply wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Jowan stood at her other side and slipped an arm snugly around her waist.

“Everyone, in honor of the survivors of the horrific Tranquil Solution, in honor of mages everywhere, we present: Liberté!”

“That’s...I...”

In the center of the exhibit was a painting, her painting. A crumbling tower rose in the background. A girl in the foreground stood in rags, a girl with dark curly hair, a girl that represented everything she wished she could have had in her childhood, stood in the forefront, one arm outstretched overhead, triumphantly shooting a beam of light to the heavens as the sun peeked over a horizon of brilliant blues and purples and twinkling stars.

The guide was now reading a brief biography of the artist, of her, but his voice faded into static as she stood in shocked silence. She could recall every moment of painting that image with sparkling clarity, every sleepless night and lyrium binge and emptied bottle of liquor swept to the wayside in manic obsession.

The finishing touches had been done without electricity, by candlelight and mage light, in despairing silence while the streets of Kirkwall burned.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand, we left all of that behind, I thought it was lost forever, how did you--how did either of you--”

“The rest of the precinct helped,” Cullen said wryly. “We went and salvaged it all from your old apartment after the dust settled. It came over with me when I finally packed up and met the two of you for good, and the rest of it was all him.” He gestured at Jowan, who was beaming.

“I may have pulled some strings with some colleagues here,” he admitted. “I was hesitant at first, and certainly not very hopeful, but the director here was, ah, quite enthusiastic about the collection once she saw it and heard your story.”

Solona sniffled and leaned her weight into their arms. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Would you like us to give you some space?” Jowan asked softly.

She shook her head. “No,” she sniffed. “No. Don’t go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. At some point, the curator approached her and had a conversation that must have been coherent, given the business card that went home with her after the fact, but she would have been lying if she said she remembered what sorts of words were exchanged.

The cab ride home was an equally hazy affair, one with much less decorum than the trip there. She watched the street lights tick by as she lay in Jowan’s arms, feet propped up in Cullen’s lap, taking solace in the weighty feeling of his hands on her calves. It was strange, this feeling settling into her limbs. It was intoxicatingly euphoric, whatever this was. It felt like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day, like putting on a familiar, well-worn sweater that smells faintly of someone you love--

The soft edges slammed into focus.

She sat up immediately. “Stop the cab,” she said abruptly. “Stop the cab, I have to get out, I have to--”

The cab driver shrugged and pulled over, and she scrambled out over Jowan’s lap, almost tripping directly into the pavement. The world suddenly felt too small, the walls were closing in and her chest was gripped by an alarmingly familiar ache and an equally intense, crippling fear.

This was wrong. This was wrong, because there was no way, no way on this earth this was the correct version of her life.

She felt her knees hit the sidewalk and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t open them. If she did, she would be standing in Kirkwall again, and she wasn’t sure if that was something she could bear the weight of right now.

“Solona.”

Jowan’s voice tugged at the edges of her consciousness. She shook her head. She felt her chest heaving with sobs. Distantly, in the back of her mind, she was aware she was making a scene, but she didn’t know how to hold any of it in. She never had.

“Solona, what’s wrong?” Cullen’s voice this time, floating over her, filled with a familiar confusion.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she gasped through the splitting ache in her chest. “I don’t want to go back. I can’t.”

“We don’t have to, love.” Jowan wrapped her hands in his and helped her stand as Cullen supported her from behind. “This is home now.”

Solona opened her eyes. She could see the street lamps reflecting on Jowan’s cheeks, also wet with tears as he brushed her cheek with his fingers. “This is home,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

“He’s right,” Cullen murmured behind her. She turned and met his gaze, the air slowly returning to her lungs in tiny increments. “Last I checked, we’re all here to stay.”

She nodded slowly, incredulously, looking around at the shops and traffic lights, and at the handful of onlookers glancing over in apparent concern. The air smelled like lavender and magnolia and nothing at all like Kirkwall’s murky blend of industrial smoke and stale saltwater. The signs were all in delicate Orlesian script with the occasional translation beneath here and there. Somewhere to her right, a woman unlocked her car with a dismissive wave of her hand and not a single other person seemed to take notice.

“This is home,” she murmured.

Jowan wiped the tears from her face as Cullen planted a kiss on her forehead. “Home,” Jowan repeated.

“Which, incidentally, is only three blocks away, if you both fancy some fresh air,” Cullen pointed out. “At least, I hope I’m reading that sign correctly.”

The laugh exploded from Solona’s chest, so suddenly she almost didn’t recognize the sound. She turned and planted a kiss square on his lips, then whirled around and kissed Jowan in turn. Reality was shifting again, as it so often did for her, but for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel so bad. 

Her shoes were off before she even made it to the front door. Cullen helped her out of her jacket as her fingers made hasty work of the buttons on Jowan’s shirt. Jowan’s lips met hers, softly at first, with only the slightest hesitation, as Cullen slipped her blouse off of her shoulders. The sounds of two more pairs of shoes hitting the floor rang behind her as she leaned into the kiss. She scraped her teeth across Jowan’s lip and drew a weak moan from his throat that sent shivers of anticipation shooting through her core.

She felt Cullen’s stubble graze her shoulder as he planted a string of hot kisses down her shoulder. Her bra came undone, and she flung it clumsily away from her without a single care for where it landed. She almost tripped over her pants as the three of them stumbled to the bedroom, and she cursed quietly as she kicked them away.

Cullen’s hands trailed down to her hips, then back up to her chest, his touch rough and warm as Jowan buried his fingers in her hair. Cullen rolled a nipple between his fingers and she gasped into Jowan’s mouth, every nerve on overdrive as her body craved more.

Her body crashed onto the mattress. Cullen clambered on the bed with her, cradling her head in his lap as Jowan pulled away and positioned himself between her legs. It was Cullen’s turn to kiss her now, fervent and passionate. He smelled like mint and aftershave and for a moment all she could focus on was the way his tongue felt against hers.

Jowan parted her gently with his fingertips. Solona shuddered and gasped when he closed his lips around her clit, warmth blooming between her thighs with the sweet ache of arousal.

Cullen swirled his fingers around her nipples as he cupped her breasts with both hands, pinching with just enough pressure to send lightning through her spine. She reached up, blindly, to touch him, any part of him, but he pulled his hands away and closed them over hers. “Not yet,” he whispered into her mouth. “This is for you right now.”

She could only moan in assent, eyes squeezed shut as Jowan’s tongue between her legs sent her spiraling higher and higher.

“There we go,” Cullen murmured, gently stroking her hair. He shifted his legs slightly as he leaned in to kiss her again.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. The static began to build. “Please.”

“Let go,” Cullen whispered.

And she did. She hit her peak and cried out, body trembling under wave after wave of euphoric bliss as Jowan gently brought her back to earth. She slumped back in Cullen’s lap, letting her fingers trail up his torso as he ran his fingers through her curls.

Jowan kissed his way up to her navel, cradling her trembling body with his arms as he planted delicate kisses along her stomach, trailing upward until he gently captured one of her nipples between his teeth.

Cullen slipped out from his position beneath her head and took Jowan’s place at the foot of the bed as she writhed under Jowan’s touch. “Kiss me, please,” she whispered. She could taste herself on Jowan’s lips, was drowning under his touch, losing herself in the sensations of hands and fingers and lips.

She gasped when Cullen entered her, agonizingly slowly, both hands gently grasping her by the hips as he sank into her with deliberate, measured intensity. The friction made her body sing, and she felt her hips moving almost of their own accord, begging him to move faster.

She would have asked out loud, but Jowan’s fingers trailing down her collarbone, his lips ghosting hot kisses down her ear and across her neck, had left her incapable of finding words for much of anything.

“In my mouth,” she finally managed to gasp, fingers closing around Jowan’s wrist. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Anything for you,” he whispered.

She tipped her head back and let her lips close around the tip of his length. It was his turn to shudder as she swirled her tongue around the head. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, closing them just tight enough to slowly pump him as Cullen drove into her, each stroke intentional and methodical and filling her with a need so intense it was almost painful.

Where her end was vocal and filled with explosive fireworks, Jowan’s was gentle and quiet. He instinctively moved to withdraw, but she tapped him on the thigh and shook her head ever so slightly, mentally pleading for him not to move. She needed to taste him, needed it so badly it was driving her frantic with desire. She caught his hand in hers and squeezed it, gentle and reassuring as she met his eyes a split second before he gripped back tightly, eyes closing, hips bucking into her mouth as he came.

And Maker, was he a beautiful sight when he did, the way his tousled brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his freckled chest heaving as he caught his breath. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he squeezed them shut, the faintest shy smile blooming across his face.

He was breathtaking, and in this moment she wondered how she had ever pushed him away. She prayed she never would again.

Cullen paused then, withdrawing from her and drawing a whine of protest from her lips. He held out a hand and pulled her gently upright into a deep kiss. “Sit on my face,” he murmured teasingly against her lips. “I want to taste you too.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask it. She’d never really speculated overmuch on the nature of their relationship with each other at this point; she’d never seen them be particularly affectionate with each other without her involved. Part of her, truthfully, feared the answer, feared what it would do to this fragile sense of tranquility she’d finally managed to grasp, but the question slipped from her love-drunk lips before she could hold it in:

“Can you kiss each other?”

Cullen’s eyebrows raised, and she heard Jowan shift on the bed behind her. Anxiety gripped her suddenly, and she nervously began to shrink into herself. “You don’t...you don’t have to,” she stammered. “It would...I think it would...”

“I think it would be nice,” Jowan finished. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“As do I,” Cullen murmured reassuringly. He took her hands in his and squeezed them, and when she looked closer, a shy flush had crept into his cheeks.

She scooted back on the bed then, equal parts reassured and transfixed as their lips met. Jowan’s kisses were always tentative at first, each brush of his lips a question softly begging for an answer. Cullen kissed back firmly, decisive and precise, one hand nestling gently along Jowan’s jawline, the other winding into Jowan’s hair.

It was one thing to kiss Jowan. It was another thing entirely to watch Jowan be kissed. Jowan melted into Cullen’s arms, gripping tightly to his back as Cullen claimed his lips, then pulled away and nipped gently at his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck. The way they moved together, hands seeking purchase, bodies aligned, filled her with a need she didn’t even know she had, and she reached between her legs and slipped two fingers into herself with a breathless moan.

She pumped in and out of herself, rubbing furiously at her clit with her thumb, letting out an audible gasp when Jowan disengaged and slowly sank to his knees, hands gripping Cullen’s hips and thighs as he slowly took Cullen’s cock in his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, that is. Maker. You’re both so beautiful.”

“Wait,” Cullen murmured. He ran his fingers through Jowan’s hair before reaching down and gently tugging him to his feet. “I want both of you.”

Solona couldn’t keep her hands off of him as he positioned himself on the bed beneath her. Jowan knelt between Cullen’s legs, and when he looked up at her through sweat soaked hair she almost came right then.

How was he so beautiful? How were they both so beautiful?

How close had she come to losing them both?

And then Cullen’s tongue swiped her clit and her thoughts sank into blissful surrender. She fought to keep her eyes open as she rode him, shuddering when he moaned into her. Jowan’s head bobbed up and down on Cullen’s cock, one hand wrapped around the base of it, the other pressed into the mattress. Her breathing quickened as Cullen traced shapes into her slit, teasing at the tip of her clit until she felt her limbs would catch on fire.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. It was too much, everything was too much, and she was lost without an anchor in a wash of sensation and emotion. She searched for Jowan’s hand on the mattress. Jowan laced his fingers into hers and squeezed, and she wondered if it were possible for her heart to explode with the intensity of it all.

“Please,” she murmured again. She clung to them both, Jowan’s hand in her right, Cullen’s gripped tightly to her left, thighs aching as she climbed into the stratosphere. “Please, please, please.”

She felt Cullen shudder and jerk beneath her, moaning into her as he came, and the vibrations sent her teetering over her peak, plunging into a wave of color and sound and oh, Maker, oh fuck--

When she opened her eyes again, she was cradled between them both. She lay there for a moment in disbelieving silence, listening to them breathe on either side of her, drinking in the warmth of their chests as Cullen nuzzled her forehead with his lips and Jowan whispered soft “I love you”s into the nape of her neck. Twinkling orbs of mage light danced lazily on the ceiling.

This was home, she realized. It was home on a level that shook her to her core, in a way she’d never, ever experienced, because this was a home that would be here when the dust settled. This was a home that could exist for good, a home that came with so much more than the desperate but empty promises of a morning that had never before been guaranteed.

But morning would come.

Morning would come, and she would still be home.

Fin.

Thanks to my partner in crime @laraslandlockedblues for creating this particular AU with me, and an extra big thank you to all of my new fandom friends who gave me the space to let this muse out. I love and appreciate every single one of you.

[rainwolfheart]

For the DADWC: DA: Inquisition Codex Prompt- a note/letter found in your OC’s pocket

I took this opportunity to develop Marfisa and Gaël a bit! I wrote it in French because they speak Orlesian together, and then translated it :) @dadrunkwriting​

disclaimer: I did not run it through Antidote so 99% chance there are grammar mistakes in the French

rating: G content warnings: none

-

Codex entry: A Note from Gaël

My dear Marfisa,

I have good and bad news for you.

Good news: I got a letter from Isbelle and Urien. They’re back in Val Royeaux and they’re staying at Paol’s right now. They escaped just before us and spent two years in Tevinter. And!!! Isbelle is pregnant! It’s absolutely incredible. You’ll have to write to them, and we’ll have to visit them after the baby is born.

And, well. Bad news: Ex-Knight-Captain Merlette Gamelin poked her nose in our stuff yesterday. She has a whole troupe of ex-templars calling themselves the “Disciples of Transfiguration” and offering their services as mercenaries to nobles who need them. Jocaste told me she saw one of them yelling the Chant in the streets of the alienage this morning. We suspect that they’re more than just mercenaries; they might be a cult. It wouldn’t surprise me, with Merlette in charge. I think they’re going to be a problem. Jocaste is writing an official report for your brother, but I wanted to warn you as soon as possible.

If you feel capable of travelling, I’d really love to have you here. Not just because you’re brilliant, but I miss your company. But no worries. Just make sure your brother gets the message that something is stirring in Ghislain.

With love,

Gaël

-

Entrée du codex: Une note de Gaël

Ma chère Marfisa,

J’ai de bonnes et de mauvaises nouvelles pour toi.

Bonnes nouvelles: j’ai eu une lettre d’Isbelle et d’Urien. Ils sont de retour à Val Royeaux et ils restent chez Paol pour le moment. Ils se sont sauvés juste avant nous et ils ont passé deux ans à Tévinter. Et puis!!! Isbelle est enceinte! C’est absolument incroyable. Il faudra que tu leur écrives et qu’on les rende visite après que le bébé est né.

Et bon. Mauvaises nouvelles: Ex-chevalière-sous-capitaine Merlette Gamelin s’est pointée la face dans nos affaires hier. Elle a toute une troupe d’ex-templiers qui s’appellent les « Disciples de la Transfiguration » et qui se proposent comme mercenaires pour les nobles qui en ont besoin. Jocaste me dit qu’elle en a vu un qui criait la Cantique dans les rues du bascloître ce matin. Nous soupçonnons que c’est plus que simplement des mercenaires; il se peut que ce soit un culte. Ça ne me surprendrait pas avec Merlette en tête. Je pense qu’ils vont être un problème. Jocaste rédige un rapport officiel pour ton frère, mais je voulais t’en avertir aussitôt que possible.

Si tu te sens capable de voyager, j’aimerais bien t’avoir ici. Pas juste parce que t’es brillante, mais je manque ta compagnie. Mais pas de souci. Fais juste faire sûr que ton frère a le message que quelque chose grouille à Ghislain.

Avec amour,

Gaël

[remys-lucky-franc]

Sick - Queen of Thieves Fic : Nikolai x MC (Daisy)

Pretty fluffy - no bad language or nsfw - no trigger warnings

Shout out to my friends @ispookyloaf and @stopforamoment as this was a product of a silly idea on one of our fun chats 💕

Word Count ~2200 (couldn’t resist the sneezing cat gif 😂)

[[MORE]]

Remy scuttled out of Nikolai’s room with a frown and a worry-line stretching the length of his forehead. He rounded the corner to the kitchen as he ran into Daisy. She stepped back looking surprised as he exclaimed,

“Ma Cherie, you’re back!”

Daisy nodded,

“Yeah, glad to be home, was a long couple of days. Leon’s just bringing the rest of the stuff up from the car. Worth it though, think we have the mark’s movements down to a tee... Remy are you ok?”

Remy raked a hand through his thick hair and sighed dramatically,

“Non. When was the last time you talked to Niko?”

Daisy looked puzzled, concern creeping into her voice,

“We haven’t talked on the phone, but we sent some text messages yesterday... Is he ok? What’s going on?”

Remy shook his head, looking towards the heavens,

“Did he tell you he is... Unwell?”

Daisy’s eyes widened, as she stared towards the closed bedroom door,

“He’s ill?! What?! Since when?!”

Remy sighed again,

“Since yesterday. Daisy, it’s not pretty...”

Daisy raised an eyebrow, starting towards their room,

“Not pretty? What the hell’s happened to him?!”

Remy reached out, catching her arm to stop her,

“He’s in bed, congested, running a temperature! He can’t taste his food, he has a disgusting cough, a sweaty sheen-“

Daisy held up her free hand to stop Remy in his tracks,

“Wait. Remy? Are you trying to tell me that ‘Master of the Impossible’, Nikolai Stirling, has taken to his bed with ‘man flu’??”

Remy covered his face with his hands,

“Go! See for yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you...”

Vivienne breezed past, pursing her lips and commenting,

“Are you heading in there, darling? Good luck! I wouldn’t dare! He’s foul when he’s poorly, the only person who would brave going in there is Remy!”

Remy shrugged, a sad look flitting across his face,

“I take him his favourite soup...”

Daisy noticed his expression, but only barely, as she shook her head at both of them,

“You two are exaggerating! He can’t be that bad - plus he’ll be happy to see me!”

Vivienne waved a dismissive, if perfectly manicured, hand at Daisy,

“If you want some advice? Let him be, darling! He’ll emerge like a beautiful butterfly from his chrysalis in a few days time!”

Daisy tutted as she headed towards the door, Remy and Vivienne exchanged an awkward grimace as she gently knocked, edging it open, with a half-whisper,

“Nikolai?”

He turned to face her and Daisy tried to stop automatic recoil as she caught sight of him: Remy was not exaggerating!

“Solnishko, you’re back.” A faint smile crossed Nikolai’s face as he watched her step inside, his usually sparkling blue eyes heavy and puffy-looking as he pushed his way up into a seated position against the plush cushions, “Things went well?”

Daisy nodded as she made her way across the room, Elizabeth twining around her feet and meowing as she went, eventually Daisy perched on the edge of the bed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Nikolai’s head,

“I’m more concerned about what’s going on here? When did you start to feel like this?”

Nikolai waved away her concern, voice irritable but somewhat dulled and nasal,

“I’m fine, I had a particularly late night last night, that’s all.”

He tossed the covers back, readying himself to stand, only for Daisy to flip them back across his lap,

“Ohhhh no you don’t. You never sleep? You’re sick.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to protest, starting a second attempt to get out of bed but erupting into a kink of coughing as Daisy grabbed for a box of tissues from the bedside table. She smoothed his dampened hair back from his forehead easing him back into the soft pillows by his shoulders,

“Kotik, you’re sick. You don’t have to prove anything to me, please will you just relax?”

Slumping backwards into the soft bedding as Daisy kept a gentle pressure on his arms, Nikolai let out a frustrated groan,

“I can’t be ‘sick’. This is quite inconvenient, there’s still so much to do for the- ACHHOOOO!! Urgh. For the heist.”

Daisy tucked the duvet around his shivering form, smoothing his hair as she told him firmly but kindly,

“The heist is already ahead of schedule, I know you like to feel indispensable, but there’s literally nothing at this stage that the rest of us can’t do to keep ticking over for a few days until you’re feeling back to normal. Just please, stay there, let me look after you? Please?”

Nikolai didn’t vocalise his answer, he simply closed his eyes and relaxed his aching head against her hand, feeling too poorly to argue any longer.

Daisy murmured, “You’re burning up, just, stay put...” heading into the bathroom and swiftly returning with a cool face cloth, pressing it to his head as Nikolai hummed in appreciation.

“Did you take any medicine?”

“I don’t like to.”

Daisy frowned,

“You’re going to take two paracetamols. They’ll stop all this shivering. You’ll feel better.”

“But-“

“Nikolai.”

Nikolai attempted a sigh, that turned into another bout of coughing as Daisy headed back towards the kitchen, she was sure there was a collection of over-the-counter medicines in one of the drawers. Remy raised an eyebrow from his seat at the breakfast bar as she entered,

“Well, how is he?”

Daisy nodded firmly,

“He’ll survive. He just needs to rest for a couple of days.”

She rummaged around, locating the paracetamol, and pouring a tall glass of iced water, “And I’m going to look after him til he’s back on his feet.”

Remy shrugged his shoulders, smiling at her,

“Of course you will. That’s what you do. You’re his partner now, what’s that expression, ‘in sickness and in health’...”

Daisy swatted at Remy’s arm as she headed back towards Nikolai’s room,

“Firstly, that’s not an expression, it’s a ‘wedding vow’, and secondly, I don’t think when those were written they were intended to cover the common cold, Remy.”

Ducking out of her reach, Remy smirked, calling after her,

“Bonne chance!”

—-

Handing Nikolai the pills and the glass of water, she watched to make sure he actually swallowed them, before heading to the bathroom and returning with a vial of essential oils. Nikolai looked at her curiously as she dripped a few droplets onto his pillow. She took a deep breath in, wafting her hand, encouraging him to do the same,

“It’s menthol. It’ll help you breath.”

“I can’t smell it.”

“You will, eventually. In the meantime, here.” She pushed her iPad into his lap, “We are going to binge on Netflix until you feel better. None of your high-brow stuff, Nik. We’re going to watch something that you don’t even have to concentrate on. Easy watching, total trash. No arguments.”

Nikolai pulled a face as Daisy reiterated while she climbed onto the bed snuggling into his side, “No arguments. I’m in charge of getting you better, ok?” He stroked her cheek offering her a half smile as she pulled up the Menu.

___

Three episodes into Daisy’s TV trash of choice, Nikolai, despite himself had become quite captivated. He could feel his eyelids getting heavier, but was fighting the urge to close them, because he didn’t want to miss the drama unfolding onscreen...

Daisy could see him getting more and more tired,

“How about I switch this off and you doze for a little bit? I won’t let you dream.”

Nikolai forced his eyes wide, blinking,

“I’m fine, put another episode on, I want to see what happens to- Dear god what is happening to me?! Am I delirious?! Maybe I do need to sleep.”

Daisy smiled as she fluffed the pillows around him, dimming the lights, and in a hushed voice, she began,

“Soooft kitty, waaarm kitty, little ball offfff-“

Within seconds Nikolai’s eyes were wide again and staring in confusion,

“What is the meaning of this?”

Daisy shrugged,

“I thought you might like it?”

Nikolai closed his eyes, a perplexed wrinkle appearing in his forehead as he settled back down,

“You’re a very strange woman sometimes.”

Daisy squeezed his fingers,

“I mean, I don’t have to sing to you?”

Nikolai murmured, his eyes still closed, voice with a warmer edge to it than before,

“I don’t think anyone has ever sang me a lullaby before. I suppose it’s not completely terrible.”

Daisy beamed as she snuggled back into her snuffly partner, closing her own eyes and stroking his chest lightly as she hummed the rest of the tune.

—-

Daisy jolted awake, she wasn’t sure quite how much later, but quickly exhaled a sigh of relief when she realised that Nikolai was in a peaceful, even if he was softly snoring, sleep: there were no thrashing movements or strained facial expressions. He must really have needed the time to rest and heal his tired body. She touched his forehead - he felt decidedly less clammy than he had before. Grinning she decided that the paracetamol must have worked. Gently she ran her fingers over his cheek , murmuring his name softly until he started to stir. She’d promised not to let him dream, so she shouldn’t leave him asleep too much longer...

A faint smile crossed Nikolai’s face as he looked up at her,

“May I have my tea?”

Daisy’s jaw dropped, horrified,

“No, Nikolai! You can’t have your tea?! You’re not drinking poison while you’re taking paracetamol?! Absolutely not.”

Nikolai started at her indignantly,

“You’re being ridiculous. Anytime Remy’s looked after me, he’s brought me my tea.”

Daisy scoffed, one brow arched,

“I don’t believe that for a second! How about I call Remy in here and ask him?”

Nikolai opened his mouth to retort, but knowing her was beat he simply muttered about how ridiculous the situation was instead.

Daisy rolled her eyes, trying to change the subject,

“Hey, how about I get some more of the soup you love? I’m sure Remy would have made a whole vat of it. It’s funny, you know? I would have sworn you didn’t like mushrooms?”

Nikolai froze as Daisy looked at him curiously, confused.

He eventually broke the silence,

“Daisy, please don’t tell him, but I don’t. I’ve never had the heart to tell him when he’s been so kind as to make the soup for me. Remy is the only person who’s ever looked after me when I’ve been ill. Even as a child, my mother would ‘shoo’ me if I were poorly. My father would always say it was a sign of weakness and tell me to show some mettle.”

Daisy felt like her heart would break as she looked at him; the expression on his face looked like he was holding himself together, bracing himself against an unkind blow, but at the same time wanting to share something important to him. She reached out squeezing his hand, nodding in encouragement for him to keep talking.

Giving her a tight-lipped smile Nikolai continued,

“Remy has such a good heart. When I was first poorly, he asked me what my mother would make for me, back at home. When I said ‘nothing’ he was appalled. That’s when he started to make me chicken and mushroom soup, because that’s what his grandmother would make for him whenever he was unwell. I don’t like mushrooms, but I always finish the bowl.”

Daisy picked his hand up, kissing his knuckles,

“Even though you don’t like the taste it makes you feel better?”

Nikolai gave her a half-laugh,

“Exactly. Strange isn’t it?”

Daisy shrugged,

“Not so much. It’s not about the food, it’s about the feelings. That’s why they call it comfort food I guess? Do you want me to go get him to bring you some?”

Nikolai’s cheeks flushed as he nodded.

Daisy quickly smoothed his hair as she headed back to the kitchen,

“Remy?“

Remy lifted his head from a glossy magazine,

“How is the patient?”

Daisy, understanding that Remy had been looking after Nikolai for many years before either of them knew she existed, suspected that sharing the soup might warm Remy’s heart as much as being cared about warmed Nikolai’s,

“He’s ok. But I really think he needs another portion of chicken and mushroom?” She watched intently as Remy’s big green eyes lit up, grinning, “Maybe you could even teach me to make it some time?”

Remy enthused about his grandmother’s recipe as he busied around the kitchen of the penthouse heating a bowl for Nikolai, telling her the perfect type of mushrooms, which oil was best, how long to prepare the stock...

Daisy nodded as she repeated instructions and asked about ingredients, finally stopping and sighing,

“You’ve been making this so long, it could take years for mine to be as good as yours-“

Remy cut in, a look in his eye that said he knew exactly what she was doing, but choosing not to call her on it,

“Ma cherie, I’ll be here to help you! We can make it together! Or I can make the soup and you can snuggle with him until he feels better?”

Daisy beamed as she extended her right hand for Remy to shake on it,

“Deal! We’ll take care of him together. ”

Remy ushered Daisy back in the direction of Nikolai’s room as he placed the soup and a spoon on a tray, following closely behind her.

[celestialholz]

I just like to think the bridge crew is surprisingly supportive. Q might do something vaguely sinister like show up to play poker and decide to make them play Jumanji instead, but they all treat him like Picard's theatre-kid boyfriend instead of a trickster god. He ends up actually being friends with Data and possibly Riker, who low-key punks Q by persuading him to do little things that get on Picard's nerves (like sing falsetto or bring him Italian wine). They all just want their captain happy.

Hello you! ^_^ I’ve got to write you a little fic haven’t I, especially as this is so lovely and I’ve never really written anything where Qcard isn’t a secret

 Picard takes his seat with played-up sobriety, every inch the commanding figure, replicated tea curtly placed upon a readied coaster. He’s deliberately fashionably late, the ambiguity to whether he’ll be attending ramped up for maximum psychological effect, and with a tone of airy confidence, he glances at Data and announces, “Deal me in.”

The careful act very nearly disintegrates entirely at Riker’s amused grin. “Evening, Captain. Nice to see you’re taking this seriously.”

A glimmer of steel flashes through eyes, though there’s more than a hint of a smile upon his lips. “Naturally, Commander. Jean-Luc Picard plays to win.”

“First person to tap him out gets a dose of the less-than-secret alcohol supply,” Guinan pipes up dryly, shooting him a wicked smirk, and he purses sour lips at his old friend even as everyone else beams in her direction.

“Good to see you, sir,” Geordi adds, accepting his first card with the briefest brush of Data’s fingers; Picard wonders if subtlety had truly crossed his mind, and privately grins.

“Glad to be here,” he replies warmly, “though the Risan wine also sounds highly appealing. I assume the prize is also open to me, if I emerge triumphant?”

“… Two doses, guys.” A ripple of laughter echoes around the quarters.

“Well, far be it from me to look a gift El-Aurian in the mouth,” Riker quips cheerfully.

“This just isn’t quite as fun without you, Captain.” Beverly’s smile is warm. “I think we’re all secretly pleased that you’re not too… preoccupied this evening.”

Picard contains a flush admirably, stoicism mostly intact, surprise lowered over time but omnipresent nevertheless; he’s never quite gotten used to them all being at least somewhat accepting of Q’s presence in his life over the past few months, and certainly there’s still the odd flicker of cynicism, the occasional questioning look, but he’s managed to keep the god’s customary antics largely at bay, and it imbues a distinct warmth at his dead centre that they’re supportive even through their doubts.

“Despite my best efforts,” drawls a familiar tone suddenly, as though bidden by vague thought alone, and there sits Q, perched upon Riker’s sofa, lips twitching into a smirk. “Honestly, I don’t know what in the cosmos he sees in all of you.”

Looks are exchanged across the table for a long moment, and Picard bites the inside of his cheek at their scepticism; accepting they may be, but he’s valiantly managed to keep his work and home life entirely separate for the duration, and perhaps this is less forgivable - poker night is sacred, after all, a tradition even he is always welcome at but doesn’t usually indulge in, and Q is capricious at best -

His fears are alleviated in record time, however, as Riker leans forward, eyes gleaming with the challenge. “You’re joining in, I take it?”

Q stops dead, and Picard can’t quite tell which of them is more astonished.

“Money where your mouth is, Q,” Guinan adds crisply.

“I for one am intrigued to see how a self-proclaimed god plays poker.” Deanna this time, eyebrow risen but tone not unkind.

“The casinos of Altaron VII have never been the same, I assure you,” Q replies dryly, though the wideness of his gaze doesn’t diminish.

“Well, now I want to know even more,” Beverly says, smirking. 

“No tricks.” Guinan again, glare sharp.

“No Sherwood Forest.” Worf, growl slightly darker than usual, but Picard’s astonishment redoubles at the fact that even he doesn’t seem too averse to the idea.

“And definitely no spiking us with actual alcohol,” Geordi instructs coolly.

“I would be pleased to deal you in, Q.”

Utter affection for them all surges hot in their captain’s chest, for the uncharacteristic silence and the unmoving lump in his lover’s throat.

“IQ of two thousand and five,” Q points out, and dear stars, Picard realises softly, is that a glimmer of tears in his gaze? “Last chance to back out.”

He shares a warm smile between his crew in gratitude, and turns a tender gaze on the entity - he’s the captain, after all. The final say falls automatically to him, and he’s more than happy to fulfil his duty.

“Sky’s the limit, then,” he murmurs, “and no, I do not mean that literally.”

Something in Q cracks, hairline, and Picard belatedly understands even as the god grins in delight - ‘last chance to back out’.

You are always welcome here, he promises him in thought, knowing his intended audience will hear him loud and clear despite his own lack of telepathy. As long as you’re well-behaved, anyway.

They all shift up just slightly to accommodate an extra seat summoned from nothingness, and a burst of love, of harmony, sparks brilliantly in the depths of his mind in response.

Oh, darling, Q whispers, when am I ever not?

I won’t dignify that with an answer, mon dieu.

He laughs inwardly, accepting cards with a sly wink.

“New wager, then,” Guinan unknowingly interrupts, smirk pure devilment. “First man, woman or android to sabotage the omnipotent guy gets the whole stash.”

Never mind, Jean-Luc. I know exactly what you see in them, Q self-corrects, grinning wickedly.

“Bonne chance, dear mortals…”

Fancy sending me any fluffy Qcard headcanons, folks? https://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/612863839271337984/so-to-be-perfectly-honest-im-a-depressed-bean I fully intend to run this for as long as the global garbage continues

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

Hi miel and everyone, have a good day honey, just wanted to say hi again and good luck -🏇- anon for your bio test, you’re gonna kill it my dear😊 xo😘

🇫🇷: « coucou miel Suz et bonne chance à toi -🏇- anonyme pour ton test » > « hi honey Suz and good luck -🏇- anon »

-🍯-

AHH HONEY ANON ur so sweet!! I hope 🏇 anon sees this!!! 

did you have a good day my dear!?? did you eat lots of yummy food? did you drink lots of water?!?! Man I've never been to France but I really want to go one day. You will catch me shoving my face full of croissants. 😌😌