#but i think the simple fact that it was reed and reed alone that brought him to the palace

[razberrypuck]

fucked up that dropping gillion off for his training was done as unceremoniously as it was btw. it wasn't some grand goodbye, they didn't do anything special that day for their little boy -- it was just gillion and his father. his sister, his mother, his grandfather, they weren't there. it was just gillion, his father, and a quiet, possibly several day long trip to the capital. it was just gillion and his father at the steps of the palace, just his father that saw the big smile on his face, heard the little boy's promises of telling them everything when he got home. no one had even bothered explaining what was going on to him. he had to figure it out on his own, when papa never came back.

[abbatoirablaze]

Fire & Ice, Chapter 3

Word Count:  936

“Wh-where are we?”

Your carbon copy chuckled as she gestured around herself, “this is the place where my world ended…Johnny had snuck me up here...he wanted me to see every part of his life; including the superhero stuff even though I wasn’t interested.”

“Wha-what happened?”

She sighed, “Well, me and Johnny were making love in Reed’s machine when Sue found us. We’d accidentally started it, but nothing happened…at least, we didn’t think anything did…but that was the blip that started it all.  Only, I didn’t know it at the time.  Turns out, Sue had a visit from another version of herself, and she found out about my mind control abilities.  Her other self thought that I was controlling Johnny and convinced her that I was.”

“But you weren’t?” you asked slowly. 

She shook her head, and you noticed a few tears streaming down her cheeks, “I-I loved Johnny...I would never do anything to hurt him.  And that includes Sue.  I never wanted to hurt her.  But she was going to knock Johnny out.  They’d started fighting because she‘d tried to tell him that Reed needed to study me; to figure out how I got my powers, because it wasn’t like how they’d got them, and if people were mutating then they had to know why.  But he didn’t want Reed anywhere near me.  She’d had him pinned and I knew she was going to knock him out and come after me…so I used her blast against her, and she became impaled on some of the loose metal bars that Reed had left out.”

“Jesus…”

“Johnny knew it was an accident…he never held it against me…he was upset, sure, but he never blamed me for Sue’s death.  But Reed-he was a different story.  He hated me because of it.  Him and Ben called me a murderer.  But the only person we had ever hurt was our sister…and we were so young.  That was an accident too…” she said as she rushed up to you, “you know that, right?”

When she touched you, you saw the battle between Johnny and Sue play out. 

You saw how he wasn’t using his powers against her; he was only being defensive. 

And you saw her take advantage of the fact, knowing that Johnny didn’t really want to fight her.  Especially after Johnny pushed the version of yourself back into the machine to keep her safe. 

But she was desperate to get to him.  She froze the mechanical components and broke through the door just in time to use her mind-control abilities to bounce Sue’s forcefield back into herself, throwing everyone in the room in separate directions. 

She’d knocked herself out, narrowly missing death herself, but that fact didn’t matter to Reed or Ben. 

No, the only thing that mattered was that Sue had died.

“How did we get here?” you asked.

Your question cleared up the room once more, and you saw her standing beside you, holding onto your hand. 

“Simple enough...the last blip!” she said simply, “I think I was meant to write the wrong.”

“The wrong?”

“And I created a diversion downtown,” she whispered in an ashamed tone, “I did what I had to…I needed to show you why this place is important.”

Your eyes trailed to the tv where the desecration of downtown was playing out on a loop.  Your stomach turned as you saw a version of yourself freezing people and forcing them to harm themselves or simply unable to move because they were being controlled.

You turned to her, “y-you hurt people…you said that the only person we ever hurt was our sister.  That-”

You took a step back and she reached out, cutting you off, “I did what I had to do, April.  We were brought here for a reason.  We were meant to change our path.”

“I-I’m not on a path!” you said quickly, pulling yourself even further from her, “I’m not some murderer.  I don’t hurt people.  Leave me alone!”

“We need to kill them, April!”

“NO!”

Her nostril twitched and her gaze turned to an angry one as she scoffed, “I knew that you didn’t have it in you.  I could see it the second I walked into that café and saw you flirting with him.  You’re weak!  You don’t deserve the chance.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’ve been watching you for weeks, April,” she hissed, “ever since they last saved the city.  I saw how you were being coy.  I saw how you showed him your powers but kept everyone else in the dark.  You wanted him to see you…to chase you…BUT HE’S NOT A GOOD GUY!  HE WAS GOING TO LET ME DIE!  HE’LL DO THE SAME TO YOU, BECAUSE WE ARE THE SAME!”   

“WE’RE NOT THE SAME!”

“WE BOTH FELL FOR JOHNNY STORM WHETHER YOU WANT TO ADMIT IT OR NOT!”

“I WOULD NEVER HURT PEOPLE!” You screamed, “YOU’RE THE MONSTER, NOT ME!”

“You’re right…but there is one canon event that can stay the same…” she growled, “one thing that doesn’t have to change…and then I can take over this universe.”

“Wh-what?”

“Goodbye, April!” she smirked as she pushed you hard against the window. 

You screamed as you felt the glass breaking behind you.  It all felt like it was happening in slow motion as you felt weightless.  Your eyes widened as you realized that you were falling out of the Baxter Building. 

She had pushed you out of the building. 

Her eyes were glaring into yours as the top of the building became further and further away. 

The canon event...she wanted you to die, so that she could take your place.

Tag List:  @designatednewbie, @elbell20-blog, @lohnes16

[bonefall]

Reply Roundup: All Over The Place Edition

Had a couple of questions piling up over time, so I’m gonna get to them all in one place! No theme to this Reply Roundup because there’s a lot of different scraps today

@halogenwarrior for Bonefall TNP: “How long will Frostfur and Wildfur live?”

For Frostfur, she can survive up to early OotS without a problem. I’m keeping her in mind as a body to toss into a major epidemic, she will probably die in one of the Color Cough outbreaks at the beginning and end of Po3. That said, I’m keeping her in mind as a possible kill for TNP, too. In any case, she won’t be left behind at the Forest Territory.

For Wildfur, he will no longer die of chest complications! There’s no need to kill him as a warning for Briarlight in the future. He’s getting a simple mobility device and he will be making the journey as a respected ShadowClan elder. He’s not getting a BIG role, it’s just nice to just have some disabled characters in the background. He’ll either die peacefully just before Briar’s injury, or shortly after giving her some practical advice.

@halogenwarrior for Bonefall TPB: “Since Cloudtail is now Firestar’s adopted son, does Cloudpaw have a new mentor?“

This is a special case where a father figure mentors their son. It’s not forbidden under the code, just usually counterproductive to the social purpose of Mentor/Apprentice relationships.

But here, the reason this taboo is being broken is because Bluestar is trying to make Firestar eligible for deputyship as quickly as possible. It’s not that she expects Tigerstar to betray her the way he does... but she also isn’t stupid. There’s a prophecy about Fire Alone saving the Clan, there’s at least suspicion about this deputy, and there’s constant war, disease, famine...

Things can change fast. Best to be prepared, and make sure that there’s no way to dispute Fireheart’s legitimacy under the Law of the Deputy (AND THEN SHE JUST WAITS A WHOLE DAY AFTER TIGER’S BETRAYAL, CASTING DOUBT ON HIS LEGITIMACY ANYWAY)

And besides, Fireheart brought this extra kittypet to ThunderClan. Bluestar also expects him to make it into a warrior as well.

TL;DR outstanding circumstance, mentor remains Fireheart.

@hehhdhejdudues “Why are Runningnose, Frecklewish, and Ravenwing in the Dark Forest?“

Runningnose is a Bad Boy in this rewrite, Frecklewish and Ravenwing are sent to the Dark Forest because of StarClan’s clouded judgement due to their mob-like fury about the Mapleshade situation.

There are lots of reasons to end up in the Dark Forest in this rewrite, but it’s also not as bad as canon. There’s even cats who go there in protest of StarClan.

@halogenwarrior “Is Hawkfrost and Reedwhisker’s age gap too steep?”

No, don’t worry, I went and charted it out. Reedwhisker is noted as a toothless kitten when Fireheart saves him from the river, meaning he’s less than 3 weeks old in Forest of Secrets (leopardstar’s humdrum made him older but we dont respect that book or its retcons). So, he’s a few weeks older than Bramble and Tawny.

Even if we went by the official wiki estimate, at most, Reed and Hawk are 1 year apart in age. Going by the toothless-kitten evidence, it’s somewhere near 9 months. That’s well below my 4-year-cutoff.

If Reedwhisker was a warrior, the small age gap WOULD still be an issue because of the power dynamic. However, add in the fact that Reed is forced to stay as an apprentice for an entire year because of Skyheart, there’s no problematic power dynamic at play here. It all checks out.

Aaaand for this last one, I’m going to talk a bit about ex-TigerClan supporters and Thistle Law in a serious discussion about fascism so this one’s going under a cut. TW for Fascism and all the racism, sexism, and xenophobia that comes with that, with a real-world example.

What exactly do RiverClan cats besides Hawkfrost (who wants an ally in his bids for power) get out of the WindClan rebellion? I would think their aggression and xenophobia would make them unhappy to get a leader who is also aggressive and xenophobic, but against THEM. Xenophobes won't be allies of other xenophobes from the very groups they are prejudiced against.

@halogenwarrior

Much like real-world fascism, Thistle Law looks different between its incarnations. Supporters of Tigerstar’s brand of Thistle Law are committed to annexing other Clans into one unit, to enforce a standard of purity into itself. Blackclaw, Reedtail, Heavystep, and the rest of Hawkfrost’s RiverClan reinforcements want a second TigerClan.

In its simplest explanation, I could leave it there. Anything that gets them closer to TigerClan 2 is their goal.

In addition though, I think it’s very important to remember that bigotry is not logical, consistent, or principled. Prejudice is irrational. Fascists only understand power and will work with groups they're actively bigoted against, until the exact moment they don’t have to anymore.

So, I flatly disagree with the idea that xenophobes don’t ally with other xenophobes of the groups they are prejudiced against. That’s actually one of the things Fascists are known for, worming their way into other movements by breaking off prejudiced subgroups. Terfs are the well-known example, antisemitic minorities are another. If fascists take power, they will turn against the JK Rowlings and Kanye Wests who were previously useful. They don’t reject the help before that point.

I could get into deeper historical examples about this, this tactic is as old as the term Fascism itself. But I’ll leave it there for now because it’s already gotten heavy.

Just know this is a topic I care immensely about. I put more effort into this aspect of my rewrite than anything else, because I think it is the most important thing I’m doing with it.

Back to Funnie Battle Cat though,

Mudclaw thinks the RiverClan cats are united in helping to get rid of Onewhisker, and fight the encroach of Firestar’s influence. Accepting all these outsiders (thinking about this part i should definitely give windclan an ex-bloodclan member), giving away land peacefully, all this inter-clan mingling... He was willing to give Hawkfrost deputyship to get his supporters on his side for that push. I do really like Winds of Change, but one thing I reject about canon is the idea that Mudclaw was just... completely Bamboozled by Hawkfrost and really had the interests of his Clan at heart.

Like, no lol. You were going to make a total stranger your deputy so you could have more claws to kill Onestar’s supporters with. The inciting incident for the assassination was finding out StarClan was going to speak to him-- totally abandoning the idea that StarClan would sort this out if One, Fire, and Bramble were all lying about Tallstar’s switch. “Best interests of his clan” yeah right.

Hawkfrost’s plan was to get deputyship in WindClan, and then present this to Leopardstar as evidence of his capability. He is actually right that this would impress Bonefall Leopardstar, and set the stage to start merging the two Clans.

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Chapter 22: „Interesting and Instructive Tribulations of a Persian in the Cellars of the Opera“

<< Previous chapter

This is a flashback chapter that allegedly reproduces the Persian‘s personal account of his previous interactions with Erik before he and Raoul jumped into the torture chamber. It also provides some background on Erik‘s time in Persia. The Persian’s narrative begins with him stalking Erik in the hope of finding a way into his house. On one occasion, when he has taken the boat to get to the wall where the door of the house is hidden, he encounters the “siren”, one of Erik’s ingenuous defense strategies. The trick of the “siren” is to attract any intruder with its singing (as sirens usually do), so they can easily be snatched and dragged underwater when they are close enough. The “siren” is none other than Erik himself, who is using a reed to breathe and sing underwater - something that he learned from the Pirates in Tonkin, a french colony in northern Vietnam (does anyone else want to see Erik give Jack Sparrow a run for his money🏴‍☠️??). He recognizes the Persian just before he can drown him, and drags him to the shore instead, where he tells him that he does not want his presence in his house.

Apparently, when the Persian saved Erik’s life in Persia, he made him promise that he would not commit any more murders. Therefore, he wants to know if Erik was involved in the fall of the chandelier, but Erik denies it, saying that it was badly worn, and that he didn’t make it fall. It’s hard to know if Erik is lying or speaking the truth here - we naturally assume that it was his doing in the context of the novel. However, as the chandelier’s counterweight falling was a real event which happened in 1896, killing one person, all we know is that most likely, it did in fact fall without someone actively dropping it - unless you assume that a real ghost had a very real hand in making the accident happen.

Erik‘s brand of violence in general is a very artistic and impersonal one, which helps him separate his crimes from himself and focus on the art instead of the crime. When the Persian reminds him of the „Rosy hours of Mazenderan“, it is evident that he wishes to suppress those memories, sadly stating that he tries to forget about them, but that at least „he made the little sultana laugh“. Another indication of this mental compartmentalization is Erik‘s occasional use of „illeism“, i.e. referring to himself in the third person. This illustrates the „feeling of "being outside one's body and watching things happen", a psychological disconnect resulting from dissonance either from trauma such as childhood physical or sexual abuse, or from past outbursts that cannot be reconciled with the individual's own self-image.“ I think we can safely say that in Erik‘s case, both factors come into play. Erik was traumatized practically from birth - we don‘t really know about any physical abuse, but in any case, he was emotionally and mentally abused from his earliest childhood (a lack of affection is crippling to a child’s development). Disassociating himself from his crimes then serves as a coping mechanism for him. In his speech, he actually uses the first person far more frequently than the third person, though.

The Persian‘s insistence on controlling Erik‘s behaviour is due to him feeling responsible for any crimes he might commit since he saved his life, and it seems that he regards him as a mixture between an unruly child and a very dangerous animal. Later, we will learn that it was in fact the Persian who brought Erik to Persia in the first place, thus probably also feeling some responsibility himself for whatever Erik did there, and whatever he might do in the future. It is important though that Erik and the Persian - as chief of the Mazenderan police - were both in the employ of the Persian rulers, and those were allegedly far more monstruous than Erik himself, perverting his genius in a way that served their cruel ideas of entertainment.

Throughout his account of the story, the Persian usually calls Erik a „monster“ and always fears that Erik will go through with his threat against „many members of the human race“. He has been spying on Erik and Christine during their lessons, but cannot believe that Erik‘s voice would be „enough to make her forget his ugliness.“

When he witnesses the progression of the relationship between the two, and that they are now seeing each other, he once again tries to stop Erik when he is on his way out to go shopping for Christine, on the morning after the first night she spent at his house. For those who wonder how Erik was able to go out and run errands, here is the resolution:�� when he went out, he wore a papier-mâché nose with a mustache attached, which would hide the fact that he had no nose - which is apparently his most horrible feature. The fake nose made him „almost bearable“ to look upon, so he was able to go out without wearing a full-face mask.

Erik is angry at the Persian for constantly following him around, endangering his secrets, and threatens that terrible things would happen should he be betrayed. He mentions the mysterious „man in the felt hat“ again, speaking of how he had to take the Persian to the managers twice, and that he himself was there, too. Unfortunately, this is not any more conclusive than before, as Erik usually speaks of his alter egos (the siren, for example) as if they were separate entities.

The Persian insists that he has come for Christine and accuses Erik of keeping her as a prisoner (which is not really true at this point, as he offered her her freedom the night before, and she hasn‘t unmasked him yet). Erik makes the Persian promise to leave him alone if he can prove that Christine loves him for himself by coming back to him of her own free will, and the Persian agrees because he thinks that no one could love „that monster“ Erik for himself (which is kind of a sad thing to think…).

He is therefore reasonably amazed when he sees Christine freely come to and leave Erik’s house, but concludes from observing Christine‘s and Raoul‘s engagement game that Erik „occupied her mind by terror, but her heart belonged wholly to Raoul de Chagny“. Now, as we‘ve seen through Raoul‘s eyes and Christine‘s own account, it was not as simple as that. While terror was definitely in the mix, Christine herself said she cared more about Erik’s tears than his threats, and despite her fears, was unwilling to hurt him and run away until it was too late. Therefore, I personally don‘t think that the Persian has much authority to speak of Christine‘s heart, especially since he does not seem to know her particularly well.

The Persian still intends to find the entrance into Erik’s house and one day, watches Erik enter it through the third cellar. The house is apparently not soundproof, as Erik’s music can still be heard in the cellar above, but obviously no one knows where this “ghost music” is coming from.

He then recounts the events of the day of Christine’s abduction and how he briefly considered preemptively denouncing Erik („the monster”) to the police, but chose not to do so because no one would believe him. He then provides several details from Erik’s backstory: how he learned to use the punjab lasso in India, how he fought as a type of gladiator armed with only the lasso for the amusement of the sultana of Mazenderan in Persia, and how he worked as a contractor for Charles Garnier and was therefore secretly able to build his house into the foundations of the opera during the Franco-Prussian war and the siege of Paris from 1870 to 1871, while official construction work on the opera house was suspended. The house is located between the inner and outer casing that was built to contain the water in the underground lake, presumably towards the western side of the building and roughly on the level of the fourth cellar.

Upon finding himself in the torture chamber, the Persian recognizes that it is the same type of chamber that Erik had built in Mazenderan, and which was used for the execution of prisoners (and occasionally, random people as well) by the sultana. He also concludes that Joseph Buquet must also have been trying to follow Erik and had fallen into the torture chamber where he hanged himself, and that later Erik must have moved the body and hung it on the set piece from “Le Roi de Lahore” (which basically translates to “The King of the capital of the Punjab” - did I mention he has a twisted sense of humour??). But as the lasso, being made of catgut, might have aroused suspicions, he apparently decided to get rid of it somewhere else.

Now, upon finding the lasso at his very feet, the Persian’s fears rise and he tries to get Raoul to stay silent and motionless so as not to alert Erik of their presence in his house...

Next chapter >>

[wendydarling1400]

JANE EYRE: INFP

Fi:

Jane Eyre, throughout the novel is completely devoted to her principles and beliefs. Although quiet and isolated Jane is not afraid to express her true opinion and judgments. When she observes Mr Rochester alienating Adele she gently teaches him that Adele should be treated with respect; Jane shows that she has strong empathy and will not accept people talking down to children “Adele is not answerable for either her Mother’s faults or yours (...) forsaken by her Mother and disowned by you, I shall cling closer to her than before”; Jane is stubborn and unmoving in her moral judgments in which she pulls from her internal beliefs (this is evident in the fact that these views are deeply against the social norms of the time). As Jane moves from place to place the things she clings to is her sense of self and her determination to be happy with her moral actions, this brings her great comfort in her circumstances  “I can live alone if self-respect and circumstances require me to do so”; Jane leaves Thornfield on the pretence that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she were to stay and be tempted into living a bigamous marriage. Mr Rochester recognises that Jane is innocent and “untainted” leading him to ask Jane continuously if the actions he has taken are morally right to which Jane happily and honestly gives advice “you would in time find it possible to become what you yourself would approve”.Although Jane expresses to the reader that she loves Mr Rochester “while I breathe and think, I must love him” and is completely loyal to him, she will not act immorally for him “I like to serve you in all that is right” again proving that her principles are the most important thing to her and that she constantly evaluates things from an Fi perspective. Jane longs for love and affection which is what makes following her principles even harder as they often cost her the gateway to that in which she is seeking “to the crib I took my doll. Human beings must love something.”  

Ne:

After establishing her principles and gaining all she feels she can from Lowood, Jane decides to move on. Although Jane is in search of a place or someone she belongs to, she easily becomes bored with the mundane and longs for deeper conversations and interactions finding  Miss Fairfax, though kind, does not satisfy Jane in this way. Jane is intrigued and drawn in by Helen Burns and Miss Temples conversions as they discuss the bigger picture, she sees this as meaningful and interesting. Jane attaches herself quickly to Helen who is at first not particularly welcoming to Jane “you ask too many questions, I want to get back to my book” although this interaction could have put Jane off, she enjoys Helen’s insights and wisdom “Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs”; Helen is wise and unlike other people around her, she talks about deeper matters of life in which Jane asks many questions about and seemingly absorbs the answers to (her Ne feeds her Fi); it is clear that many of Helen’s teachings are absorbed by Jane and brought into later life. Jane’s Ne lives for the excitement of deeper conversation and a thirst for diving into multiple hobbies including, painting, writing and playing the piano. It is this saviour function that ironically actually works as a saviour for Jane in her life, as a child she is told that she has ‘bad blood’ due to her emotional responses but her Ne and openness to new information (Helen and her teachings) transforms Jane into a principled and responsible young woman. In Mr Rochester Jane finds another person who enjoys deeper topics of conversation, he is also out of the box and strange, before Mr Rochester returned to Thornfield (before they met) she begins to find as months move pass by that she is becoming restless and again thinks of finding herself a new situation. However it is Mr Rochester and his company who keeps her at Thornfield. Jane also possesses a vivid imagination as she constantly invisions ghostly experiences in Gateshead, down the path whilst posting a letter (Gytrash), and most obviously at Thornfield hall; she expresses that as a child she only enjoyed reading stories about “fairies” and “genii”, and in later life is constantly told by Mr Rochester that she is like numerous different fairytale creatures and that she is“Unearthly.”

Si:

Sentimental and comfort seeking, Jane moves from place to place in search for a home and love. Jane consistently looks back over the past romanticising elements and also feeling upset over others. Though the book has to recollect her past, Jane has very strong feelings and statements to make regarding it. Jane reviews her past deeply and, remembers in great detail how she categorised each person and event she encountered. Jane has a Fi-Si loop which pulls her back in her personal journey; she has at times an unhealthy look on the past as she jumpes from one extreme view on the past to the other (pain and romanticism). After meeting the aristocratic group in which Mr Rochester brings to Thornfield one of the women automatically reminds Jane of Mrs Reed, Jane begins to sink into some of her past experiences of Mrs Reed and then forms somewhat of a disliking for the woman because she looks like her. When Jane returns to Gateshead to see Mrs Reed, memories flood back hitting her hard showing the power that Jane’s Si holds over her hitting her Fi at times very harshly. Obviously, we can all have bad memories but Jane is strongly guided by them and refers back to them many a time throughout her life, sometimes strongly living in the past “Old times crowded fast back on me”; “the inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition” Jane clearly remembers Gateshead vividly as she travels back there in her mind frequently. It is clear that Jane’s Fi is strongly attached to her Si and is sometimes fed negative thoughts “I did not need directions to the well-known room, to which I had so often been summoned for chastisement in former days”; “the recollection of childhood terrors and sorrows revived”.  Even the physical places in which Jane lives mean a lot to her as she categorises each place as a new stepping stone in her life. 

Te:

Jane has a quiet and gentle nature however at moments during the novel her Te shows in a direct and passionate way; when Mr Rochester first talks about sending Jane off to a new place/situation, Jane quietly digests it trying not to show her grief, but over time Jane feels she cannot hold in her emotions anymore and speaks directly to Mr Rochester in an effort to get her views across which she had previously kept to herself “Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little that I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you - and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you." Mr Rochester is shocked by this side of Jane as it is rarely shown. Jane also speaks to the ‘gypsy lady’ directly as the interview she conducts feels uncomfortable, making Jane feel on edge and as a result she has a sharper tongue than usual “ ‘Why do you not consult my art?’ ‘because I am not silly.’ (...) “‘You are cold and you are silly’ ‘prove it’; Jane is more blunt and short when put on the spot by someone who is trying to read her deep emotions; making her defensive. 

Hufflepuff:

One of Jane’s main traits is loyalty, she is loyal in many ways; Jane is loyal to her principles sticking to them strictly, she is loyal to Helen and her guidance, and she is most obviously loyal to Mr Rochester. Jane has no idea what Mr Rochester’s big secret is and doesn’t try to force it out of him or investigate herself (by perhaps going up to the tower), instead she trusts him and does whatever she can to serve him as a friend; “Can I help you, sir? - I’d give anything to serve you”, Jane earns the trust of Mr Rochester very quickly despite the fact that he is deeply secretive, as he sees that Jane is loyal and honest and would keep his secrets not wishing to harm him “ ‘my little friend!’ Said he, ‘I wish I were on a quiet island with only you” Mr Rochester knows that Jane does not easily judge or cast aside people and that if everyone else around him were to hate him, she would not. Jane is forgiving, even though she feels great sorrow in regard to Mrs Reed she forgives her “a strong yearning to forget and forgive all injuries- to be reconciled and clasp hands with amity” this shows that Jane is caring and not prideful or bitter, she has true Hufflepuff traits (wanting peace and harmony). As Well as this Jane is also hugely modest and uncompetitive in nature “I will do my best; it is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer”; “If he expects me to talk for the sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed himself to the wrong person”, Jane is disinterested in gossip and being boastful and competitive, when Jane and Mr Rochester plan to get married Jane refuses to have anything big and over the top wanting only the simple things in life, the simple things strongly include love for Jane; “There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort”. When she learns that her uncle died and left her a huge sum of money, Jane’s initial reaction was sadness as she had never met her uncle, and not excitement towards the money that would mean a different life for her. Jane holds love above everything else. Jane is a Hufflepuff because she values, loyalty, kindness, modesty, fair-play and hard-work.

-WendyDarling1400

[allycryz]

Incandesce

Explicit Fic

Thancred x Nerys (WoL) x Emet-Selch / Thancred x Nerys / Emet-Selch x Nerys / Some Thancred x Emet-Selch

When Nerys made the mistake of telling Emet-Selch to surprise her, this is not what she had in mind.

Even more astonishing: that Thancred is interested.

(A lot of other ships mentioned/discussed, primarily Nerys x Haurchefant and Nerys x Estinien x Aymeric)

Shadowbringers Spoilers

[From This Prompt List]

Prompts Used: Hot Springs in Winter / Restraints / Double Penetration Other Tags: Minor Breathplay in the water, Shaping Aether into Extra Hands, Brief Food Mention

Meta Notes:

This is currently not-canon in the general, overarching sense, but everything that happens prior to Nerys entering the hot springs is canon. 

Prelude

Beneath the thickest canopy of trees, Nerys can ignore the great and terrible light above. Pretend she is in the Shroud again. There are Duskwight waiting among the Night’s Blessed for her to return with supplies and reports. Never mind that it’s a name they don’t recognize. The elves of the First separate themselves by region and family, not clan.

Many of Night’s Blessed look like the faces she grew up with. It has...been a long time since she was with such a group. Visiting her parents and Uncle Vaquelin had been lovely, but brief. And that was so long ago now. Before Doma, before Gyr Abania, before Minfilia came here with Ardbert and his companions.

The memory of that long-ago visit conjures Haurchefant, who she had brought with her. Her family loved him–how could they not? It makes her miss him all the more. Their too-brief, too-scarce meetings since her arrival are not enough.

She leaves the nostalgia and safety of the trees behind along with her brooding. People are expecting her. A truth no matter what world she lives on, whether they call her Warrior of Darkness or Light. Nerys is thankful this place doesn’t also remind her of Ishgard. Then the homesickness might turn her brooding into outright tears.

Now. Collecting reeds for the girl’s basket. They should be due south from here.

“Far be it from me to meddle…” Emet-Selch materializes beside her, as if picking up a prior conversation. “But my curiosity outweighs my desire to see where ‘the chips do fall’.”

Nerys turns her gaze toward him without breaking her stride. Last time he did this, she was picking berries and near fell over into the dirt. “Saying ‘far be it from me to meddle’ does not cancel out any subsequent meddling, you know.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up. “I expected my company to be polite enough not to mention it. More fool me.”

“What do I know about manners?” She cannot help herself. Maybe it is the pleased, attractive smirk whenever she says something diverting. Maybe she is tired of all the misfortune around them and needs levity. “I am but a simple warrior, a weapon of brute strength raised in the woods.”

“Self-deprecation does you no favors, my dear. Even when it is clear you know it’s all rubbish.” He waves a hand. “You are among the politest of my enemies.”

“Thank you?”

“Mm. I can be generous.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Now, about my query. Tell me...which suitor do you think will win out?”

That almost makes her stumble. And she can tell from his expression, he is reliving when she almost fell upon her basket of berries. A rare mishap from her that he will never, ever let her forget. “I...beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg for it, this one is free,” says Emet. His tone is insinuating as ever on that point. “You clearly carry torches for both Masters Waters and Matoya. I get the impression he was your lover at one time? The outline I have of your activities before the Exarch summoned you does not include the gritty details. As for her, only the Hrothgar moons after her more than you do.”

Nerys opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You truly have been watching, haven’t you?”

“Oh not everything. Mortals are not so difficult to read, once you have practice. And your eyes…” He catches her chin, directing his gaze into hers. “They are terribly expressive, once you know what to look for.”

Emet-Selch wants a reaction. She puts her hands on her hips, lifting an eyebrow. Waiting for him to continue. As if his thumb isn’t stroking over her jaw, gentle as a lover. The touch as stirring as when he graces her with a particularly enticing smile.

“Now...” He does not need her permission to continue so she doesn’t give it. Clearly, this is a soliloquy he wants to perform. “I am not sure you know how many carry a torch for you, and I shan’t spoil it by telling you. But it does make things interesting. Not to mention, this Lord Haurchefant your group often mentions. Shall you abandon your noble suitor for a rogue posing as a knight? Or for a scholar of great and terrible power? Will one of the yet undeclared reveal themselves and win the hero’s heart?”

That heart thuds painfully against her chest. The way he shapes his syllables charges each provoking word. And the directness of those wine-gold eyes, a shade paler than her own but no less piercing for it.

He has gotten so much of it wrong. That does not negate how easily he has gotten so much of it right.

Nerys curls her fingers around his wrist and tugs his hand down. Emet-Selch does not resist, though when their hands are navel-level he twists just so, clasping her wrist in return, They remain locked thus, neither one letting go.

“Surely one as ancient as you, as easily bored as you,” she says. “Must know there are other options.”

“I don’t think a vow of chastity would suit you. Your eyes run too hot upon your comrades-”

“Lord Haurchefant,” she continues. “He is my lover and my beloved. Were I the marrying kind, his ring would be on my finger. That would not stop either of us from sharing physical and emotional intimacy with others.”

Emet-Selch says not a word, betrays no emotion. He does not veer into patronizing congratulations or arrogant dismissal. That same thumb begins to stroke again, over her gauntlet.

“There are others in the Source with such arrangements. I’m delighted to know it’s fairly common in the First.” Nerys cannot resist her smirk. Is this how he feels when he lectures her? “For some, it is about a variety of sexual partners. Sometimes it’s like that for us. More often...we are the kind to fall madly for someone or someones, in addition to wanting the physical parts. So whatever may happen...it is not a matter of winning.”

“Well,” he says, looking at her as if for the first time. Considering.

“Well,” he says again, with a slow smile. “You are full of surprises, my dear. I thank you for not being as boring as I expected.”

“Accuse me of many things, but never that.” Nerys takes a step back, breaking the link of their hands. “But I don’t think my expansive heart is my most unique quality.”

“On that, at least, we agree.” His enigmatic smile inflames just the right amount of curiosity in her. She resists best as she can. “Well, that puts to rest one of my little games. No reason to stay and help you...what is it again? Collecting reeds so a girl may make a basket?”

“Yes, that,” she says. “Would you like to join?”

“Oh, I am not so starved for stimulation to partake.” Purple and black aether swirls around his ankles. “Whistle for me, when you’re doing something actually worthy of a hero.”

“No need,” she says. “Somehow, I think you’ll know.”

He smirks as he disappears.

Weeks Later

"Alone at last."

In one motion: she slams the book shut, jumps up, has the knife pointed and ready. The sharp edge gleams in the lamplight, as bright as his gaze as he sighs at her.

"Really," says Emet-Selch. "I thought we were past this stage."

They were. They are. It doesn’t change that Eulmore is an ever looming spectre at their heels. That this pressure on her chest and shoulders is building. For their last few talks, Ardbert has made sure to catch her attention well before speaking.

She keeps thinking Ran’jit is about to appear and cut her down.

Nerys exhales a breath, blade staying poised for the moment. “Do you always startle trained warriors?"

“Only you, hero.” He touches the pad of his gloved finger against the dagger point. “This is not so beautiful a weapon as your lance."

"A lance is a little more difficult to keep close at all times." It is, in fact, leaning against the wall of her room. Just behind him. By the way his eyes flicker to the side and then to her, he knows it.

They are well past when she might run for it, and brandish it at him. The gaze feels so much like a challenge though, she contemplates it. He wouldn’t expect her to start a physical fight after weeks of banter.

Nerys withdraws the blade.

“It is a well-made little knife. A gift?  I don't recall seeing it on you before."

"I always keep a dagger on me, one never knows when an ambush is coming." She slides it back in the sheath, touch lingering on the deep-plum leather of the hilt. "...But yes, this is new."

"I thought so. From Thancred no doubt, as he has been lavishing attention on you as of late." He steps away, spreading his arms. "He was the paramour I expected to win. At least until you explained that you don't limit yourself to just one."

His words conjure visceral memories without much effort. Her tender, still-aching reconciliation with Thancred at the start of this week. What they could have had in Ala Mhigo had the Exarch not spirited him away the day they meant to talk.

But also, the day in the Rak’tika Greatwood with Emet-Selch. His teasing about the choice she would “have” to make. Her defiant lecture. His fingers on her chin and on her wrist.

"Over Y'shtola, you mean?" She leans her back against the desk, arms crossed. "Or the other admirers you claim I have? Which are who, exactly?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he says with a wag of a finger. His pale gold eyes and wicked mouth brim with laughter. "You will have to try much harder than that to get my secrets."

“Does that mean you won’t explain what ‘alone at last’ means?”

"That one should be obvious, my dear." He remains apart from her but his gaze feel like a touch. Like a stroke of hand over her arm or cheek.

Attraction is like that. And she is adult enough to admit he is attractive–painfully so–without it needing to be a problem. It doesn’t change who they are or that one day, she may need to face him on the battlefield.

(Nerys had been able to face Estinien and Thancred both after all. Though unlike them, this man’s mind is his own. She is certain Zodiark’s pull is not the same as Lahabrea’s or Nidhogg’s.)

"I have been busy of late,” she says. “But surely there are others you might visit."

"None of your Scions will play with me the way you will," he pouts. "Even your scholarly Elezen friend will only suffer me so long."

Nerys laughs. "Who says I am willing to play with you? Or that is what we do?"

Emet-Selch’s expression reminds her of Aymeric’s cat, affronted over Nerys taking his spot upon the chaise lounge that one time. Unlike Sainte, he does not stomp away with a disgruntled noise. “I have never lied to you. Do me the favor of not lying to me.”

"Never?" She asks without real conviction. Nerys is certain he has not lied to her or anyone in their group. Omitted, yes. Likely a great deal.

“Never.” Emet-Selch crosses the space, moving close to her. The fur of his jacket brushes against the front of her gray linen gown. He leans in, leans in, his breath tickles her face and she tries not to give him the reaction he seeks.

He gets so close his lips graze her cheek and she breaks, breath hitching. And then he leans past her, reaching behind to take up the book she closed. "Collected Folk Tales of Lakeland. I admit, I expected something related to your quest."

His face is hidden but she feels his smirk as keenly as she feels the heat of his body against her. "I needed a little break and stories always cheer me. I wish the ones I heard as a child were collected somewhere."

"Ah, but they lose magic that way, don't they?" He breathes into her ear. "Some in the telling, but far more when we commit them to the page."

Don't shiver. Don't react. "Why not have the stories both ways?"

His chuckle is low. "Why not indeed. You do not like to make choices, do you?"

"It isn't that." Her arms remain folded against her chest. Still, if someone were to come in they would think something else was happening. And that would not be a full lie.

On impulse, her eyes flicker about to make sure Ardbert isn't there.

"Too many people reduce life to hard, either-or decisions," she says. "And I have found there is almost always a third or fourth or fifth way."

"An optimist. How very…" Emet-Selch pulls back to look at her. Sighs. "Very boring. I expected better, given all the pathos I have seen in your eyes."

"I'm sorry to disappoint." She turns towards the book, straightening her disrupted papers.

His hands come down on either side of her, balancing against the gentle curve of the desk edge. She is caged, with his breath upon her nape and his body a wall of flame grazing her back. Nerys has managed this session to not rise to his bait, but her resolve is weakening and this does not help.

Attraction does not have to mean anything. You have the will, to have it be a simple fact; not a catalyst or excuse.

"Come now,” he murmurs. His nose tickles the back of her neck. The skin there is extra sensitive; hair freshly trimmed to the new, shorter length. “You have a better retort than that."

"You think so? Maybe you're the optimist."

His laugh is a puff of air upon her. "Better, but still sloppy. I expect more from my playmate."

She wants to argue that point but he has already exposed her defense for the lie it is. Call it play or teasing, Nerys does enjoy these times. When she might pretend he is just a handsome man come only for banter; not...whatever they are to each other or will be.

She enjoys him.

Her eyes flicker to the window. Fading sunlight catches the light fall of snow, the first in a long time for Lakeland. It pulls at her heart for another reason: terrible homesickness for Ishgard. And the position of the sun now means-

"I have to cut this ‘play session’ short. I'm expected elsewhere." Nerys turns in the cage of his arms and gives him a gentle push. "And you're not allowed to be in my room when I am gone."

"Spoilsport. Whatever do you expect me to do? Languish in waiting?"

Her way cleared, Nerys moves past him to the bag she packed earlier. Just a small thing with the necessities for this jaunt...and if she doesn’t sleep in her room tonight. "I know you'll think of something. Surprise me."

As soon as she says it, she regrets it. Too late, his smirk is wide, his face lit with enthusiasm. “I can do that.”

He disappears in a swirl of aether. Nerys wonders if she made a fatal error.

---------

Amaros fly them to the Ostall Imperative. From there, she and Thancred walk the forest path. The creatures of the lilac-and-bone-colored forest keep their distance tonight, many hiding from the strange weather. They still need to be alert though, lest they or brigands cross the path.

Even still, she keeps having to look at him. Assure herself he is there, with her. Truly with her. Their hands brush together once, twice, three times before he at last laces their fingers together. Smiles up at her with a look that stills her breath no matter how many times it happens.

She has loved him...a long time. Grieved him in different ways for different reasons for a long time. And now here he is, having asked for another chance and she hopes this week is not a long, wishful dream.

“It’s never snowed while you’ve been here?” Nerys asks, using her free hand to dust the flakes off her shoulders. Five long years here, under the horrible light. She cannot imagine. No wonder he felt like a stranger when first they found each other in Laxan Loft.

"Not that I've seen. You've brought balance back to the place."

"We have, not just I." She squeezes his hand.

Thancred chuckles. "You should take the credit."

"So should you. And-"

He cups her cheek, tugging her down into a kiss. Deep and soft and intoxicating. All week he has caressed her like this, each time overwhelming her with the gentle sensuality of it. She can almost forgive him doing it just to win an argument. Almost, until she pulls back and sees the old familiar gleam, the old familiar smirk.

"You can't...do that every time." Nerys says, a little breathless. Hands still gripping the supple material of his coat like a lifeline.

"I would never. Only some of the time." His smirk grows. Twelve, but she missed that expression on his face. Not that she loves this new, more serious Thancred any less. Every part of him, every facet, she adores. "Though, I think I need to do it once more."

Never mind whoever waits for them. Now that she can touch him like this again, feel him like this again, she never wants to stop. And from the way his hands grip her, run over her sides and hips, he doesn't either. She presses herself close to him, lips tracing the line of his jaw to the shell of his ear.

Thancred pulls himself back, eyes hot. "If we don't start walking again, I'm going to drag you into the bushes."

She doesn't move. "That isn't incentive to walk."

"I should have known better." He holds out a hand and she takes it, surprised when he starts down the path again. “Come along.”

He must want this date to happen as planned. Thinking about it...they have not had many formal engagements like this. They were either comrades or they were lovers. Maybe there would be a trip to the market or a shared drink in Revenant’s Toll between battles and bed.

Nerys wonders if he might be inspired to poetry, like he had once with his other paramours. Not all of his couplets were groanworthy.

Bosta-Bea awaits them at Clearmelt, her smile wide and welcoming. The sign near her declares that the springs closed at sundown. That alone means Thancred put down a lot of coin for this. Bosta-Bea’s excellent humor doubly verifies it.

“I’ll be just inside if anyone tries to bother you,” she says after greetings and pleasantries are exchanged. “I doubt anyone will but just in case…”

“My thanks,” says Thancred. He hasn’t let go of her hand yet and he squeezes it while he speaks. “The changing rooms are just through there?”

“Yes, with towels to use in the bath.” Bosta-Bea ushers them through to the first room. It’s filled with large stalls that each contain shower, changing room, and locker. Everything hums with magic, likely a number of convenience charms throughout to dry hair and keep belongings safe.

In her own stall, Nerys strips away her leathers. The cool air of the new winter prickles over her skin until she can get under the hot water, rinsing the day off. She is still not used to washing shorter hair. Her hands reach for phantom length to lather with shampoo.

Nerys misses her curls. The haircut was necessary. For catharsis: chopping away locks that held memories of the past moons. For symbolism: starting again, refusing to let grief weigh her down.

And she did it in the city she calls home. Jandelaine paid a house call to the Fortemps Manor. Lord Edmont tried not to hover. Artoirel did hover, repeating questions and bringing her cups of tea and plates of orange-cardamom shortbread.

The hole in her heart began to scab over, the patch knit in tandem with her brother and second father; her friend wielding his scissors; and all Aymeric and Estinien did for her and with her the days and nights following her rescue from the Ascian in Zenos’ body.

Nerys is glad she did it.

Even still, she misses the length and the curl. Hasn’t acclimated to the change yet. Everyone has been complimentary. Thancred spent last night and the night before murmuring about her beauty as he took her apart. And Emet-Selch-

She yanks on the knob, turning off the shower and the intrusive thoughts with them.

The charms she expected are present, drawing the moisture from her skin and hair. Most don’t submerge themselves fully in these springs, never mind the new addition of cold wind and snow. Nerys wraps the soft towel around her body, slips her feet into the provided sandals. She takes her pack and lance with her. No offense to the lockers, but trouble never picks a convenient time to find her.

The first thing she sees is his gunblade propped up against one of the walls, just out of range of water but close enough to run for. She laughs and walks over, doing the same with her lance before taking the knife from her bag.

"Knifeplay?" Thancred asks. "I'm not sure I want to introduce that in this setting."

She turns to him with a snappy remark but it dissolves away.

He sprawls against the side of the bath, arms draped over the edge and head tipped back. What she can see of his muscled chest gleams with moisture in the moonlight. The light snow falls on his cheek.

“Nerys? It’s cold out.”

“It’s uncharacteristically cold tonight,” he said, standing outside her room at the Pendants. A pile of blankets in his hand. Two nights ago. Three days after they agreed to begin again, starting a slow and sometimes aching courtship.

Her chest tightened. “You had better come in then.”

“Just to deliver the blankets?” His eyes gleamed.

“Hm…” She pulled him inside. “That’s a start.”

His towel is folded, just within reach outside of the pool. Well then. Nerys lets hers fall, watching his eyes rake over her lush curves to the apex between her thighs. She takes her time walking over. A swell of pleasure rises in her gut. At the water’s edge, she bends at the waist to set towel and knife down within easy reach.

"You should come here," he says, a soft growl beneath his words. She fights the shudder wanting to rip through her.

"Just a minute." She slips out of the sandals. Dips a toe into the water, testing it. He starts to move towards her, but stops all at once when she holds up a hand. "Sit. Stay."

Thancred smirks. "You remember right? That I always repay you when you tease me."

A soft warmth incongruous to the moment floods her chest and she is helpless not to smile at him with soft eyes and a softer voice. "I have never forgotten a single moment, Thancred."

He swallows, his eyes telling the jumble of emotions roiling in him. She can see all the Thancreds she has known–the serious, protective Thancred, the closed-off and grieving Thancred. The teasing, playful Thancred who seduced her all over Mor Dhona. The attentive, caring Thancred who always knew when she needed him to take over and give her release, or when to let her hold the reins.

The loving Thancred, though neither of them have said the word yet.

"Nerys," he says, voice raw. "Come here."

She goes to him, sliding into the water and into his arms, into his lap as he embraces her. His tongue slides over her bottom lip and she opens to him, lets him plunder her mouth as his hands slide over her hips and waist. Traces her new scars, every mark she has earned since the Bloody Banquet. She finds the ones he has gained since, and where the First has failed to duplicate them. His soul is a near-perfect copy of the body in the Source, but there are small differences.

He parts from her after an eternity, gasping as he rests his forehead on her shoulder. "My plan was for a long, slow night of seduction. And yet, here we are."

“We always end up here,” she says with a laugh. Just as they had meant to take things slow, at least a few weeks before they became lovers again. Why had they ever thought that was a good idea? "Didn't you have any company, these five years?"

"Very little," he admits. "Almost none, once I took in Min-...Ryne. I couldn't exactly leave her to wait at a campsite while I lurked in a tavern looking for a companion."

"Very little," she repeats, cupping the side of his neck and the tattoo. Rubbing it gently. "You don't have to tell me details but...anyone I know?"

He smiles; a little sad, a little soft. "Despite having all the time to do so...no, I didn't make a move on either of them. By the time they got here, I was once again wrapped in my anger and grief."

Nerys sighs and kisses his forehead. "At our pace, neither of us will confess to Y'shtola before our sixtieth Nameday." As to when he might speak to Urianger, maybe before his fiftieth.

His laugh is gentle. "I forgot you were an optimist."

The word startles her in a way she can’t disguise and Thancred is alert all at once, ready to ease whatever troubles her. She shakes her head to assuage him. “Nothing. Nothing, just reminded me of a conversation I had with...someone, earlier.”

“Sweetheart.” The old endearment enfolds her in its warmth despite the slight reproof. “I can guess who from the evasion. It won’t bother me.”

"The last thing I want is to cause you more pain."

“He is not Lahabrea.” Thancred squeezes her hip. "Not that I am fond of our 'friend.' But it won't injure me to know you talk to him."

"Alright." She wraps her arms about his neck to better balance herself. The cold air and fall of snow prickle at her shoulders and chest, a sharp contrast to the heat of the water and where their skin presses together.

"And what about you?" He asks, shifting his leg just so between her thighs. No pressure against her center, not yet. "Was there anyone since I saw you? I know it wasn’t five years for you but..."

"Ah...yes." More heat rises in her. "...Estinien and Aymeric."

Thancred’s eyebrows shoot up. "Both? At the same time?"

“Mm.” Nerys finds herself ducking her head, vulnerable. Those stolen nights in Ishgard seem a dream now, all the more because she had thought it would never happen. And had made peace with that. "Estinien walked in on us and...well, they are a couple. It wasn't so odd to invite him…"

"And you’ve wanted him as long as you wanted Aymeric," says Thancred. He has that smug expression he gets sometimes. “Perhaps for longer. I wondered when it would happen.”

She huffs, scowling. "Is this what you do? Figure out who I am in love with and wait for me to say something?"

"I can't help it." He dips his head, kissing her shoulder. "I seem to have an extra sense for this sort of thing with you."

“I’m glad we found each other.” She means it teasing but again, her words come out warm with emotion. How long till she can stop feeling so much relief to have him in her arms? Sometimes she thinks she feels more than she is supposed to, with no way to stem the tide.

“So am I.” That leg moves with purpose now, nudging against her folds. He leans forward, catching her cold-stiffened nipple between his lips. She gasps, a low moan following right after. Thancred smirks and looks up at her. “Your exploits make for stirring tales.”

“Well, that answers that.”

In an instant, Nerys is up with the knife while Thancred rises, his fists raised. Their usual weapons are just far enough that blades and hands make sense for the interim.

Emet-Selch lounges on the opposite side of the bath, chest and below submerged in the water. He chuckles. "This is the second time you've aimed a blade at me today. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

Thancred growls. "You're trespassing, Ascian."

"Oh?" He shrugs. Nerys refuses to note how well-sculpted his shoulders are. "I wasn't aware you owned these natural springs, the night air…"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Mayhaps. But I was practically invited. Isn't that right, my dear?" Emet-Selch turns his gaze to Nerys, making no secret of how his eyes sweep over her nude body, her erect nipples, the drops of water coursing down her blue-gray skin.

She is already bare and it still feels like he is undressing her with his gaze.

“What? No.” She shakes her head at Thancred’s shocked expression. “No. When I said ‘surprise me’, this is not what I meant.”

“Well, this is why being specific is important." Emet sighs, sinking deeper into the water. “Will you put that knife down? Having two things pointing at my way is rather disconcerting...though stimulating."

At that, Thancred seems to remember he is naked and erect, though the cold air is working to amend the second problem. He sinks back into the water.

Nerys stoops to set the knife down, one arm shielded over her breasts and trying keep her thighs together. It wreaks havoc on her balance and makes Emet look even more amused. She gives up–he has already seen her–and sinks back into the water without further attempts at modesty.

The Emperor was a soldier, in his way. If his immortality hadn’t made him immune to being scandalized, being in the barracks surely had. As soon as she sits, Thancred slides an anchoring arm about her waist.

"Better," says Emet. "No wonder you have been neglecting me to spend all your time with him, hero. He is rather spectacular, beneath all the scowls he sends my way."

Thancred rolls his eyes. “You got your surprise and answered your question. Whatever that was.”

“Oh, that?” Emet-Selch’s smirk unfurls, slow as honey without the sweetness. “Our Warrior told me about Lord Haurchefant, how open they are with each other. I wondered if she was so with her other paramours, talking freely about her conquests."

Thancred glances her way again.  There was no reason to volunteer that information, it just...came up. When provoked, to be fair. Every other time she’s spoken about it...no she cannot say it was always to score points against Emet.

The look he gives her isn’t accusatory, she realises. It is...considering.

“And then here I find you two, comparing notes. Well, comparing notes against near celibacy. Either way, it’s very interesting.”

Nerys squeezes Thancred’s knee below the water. Rubs her thumb over the joint. “How long were you there?”

“Oh, long enough to be enjoyable but not so much to have been rude.” He slides a hand through his hair, pushing back locks damp from steam and snow. It...does things for his face, which he likely knows. “I did tell you that I like to watch.”

“Had your fill then?” Thancred asks, squeezing her hip.

"It takes much more to sate me. But it seems you two will be boring and stare at me till I leave." He sighs. "And as you are both submerged, I cannot even have something nice to look at. So, I suppose I'll go…"

No wait- She almost says.

She almost says! Twelve, Fury, whoever was listening, preserve; Nerys had actually thought of asking him to stay. This attraction is more dangerous than she thought. Clearly she is not so cool and objective about his beauty, if she is so on the verge.

Thancred goes very still beside her.

Nerys curses inwardly. Of course he catches on. This is what he does–understand what she wants before she admits it to herself. And that is all fine...until it is this man behind everything they have fought, everything that has hurt them and taken away their loved ones.

Attraction is not harmless and objective if Thancred is beside her, hurting because of it and her.

“Depends,” says Thancred, squeezing her hip again. “Are you going to sit there and make remarks, or are you going to do something useful?"

What?

She turns to Thancred, at a loss. Even at his most reckless, he wouldn’t invite an enemy to...maybe she misunderstands.

Emet-Selch is very still, the self-satisfied expression gone from his face. Thancred has surprised them both.

“Are you…” She swallows and starts again. “Are you saying…”

“You’re attracted to him, and he to you.” Thancred says, pressing lips to her temple. The soft pressure is unlike the rigid way he holds himself, tension all through his body. “And while neither of us trust him, sex doesn't have to require that.”

It doesn’t, but it always has for her. Even one night with a stranger requires someone she feels relatively safe with. More than that–he isn’t telling the whole truth. He isn’t testing her. That isn’t his way. But he has a reason she can’t guess at yet.

She does not trust Emet-Selch. He is not safe.

But. But.

If...when he strikes, it will not be while making love to them. It seems too gauche, too crude for him. There have been other times, more seemly times he might have waited for her to lower her guard. Like hours ago, when she presented her back to him and he had all but molded to it.

And she trusts Thancred.

“Okay,” she says. Not even sure that Emet will agree or if he is about to laugh at their temerity. Two sundered beings, thinking they might bring pleasure to an Ascian. “But if anyone says stop, we stop. No questions asked.”

“Agreed.” Thancred says, keeping her close to him.

Emet begins to rise until Thancred lifts a hand, gesturing for him to stay put. Clearly amused, the other man complies.

Nerys startles when Thancred lifts her into his arms and out of the water, carried like a bride through the chill air. He has always been strong but...he lifts her as if she is nothing. His muscles speak to the strength he has honed these five years but still, she hadn’t grasped the change. Not until now, cradled against his chest with her long legs dangling over his arms.

Thancred crouches, setting her into Emet’s lap with her back against the Ascian’s chest, smoothing his hands over her arms before he lets go. At once, Emet slides his hands around to palm her breasts. She gasps at the electric touch–both too much and not enough.

He is not shy. And he is not going to dismiss them.

His hands feel better than he imagined. And she can admit now: she imagined.

"I've no idea what you're trying to prove, Thancred." Emet says, breath against her ear. "But as it gives me something I want, I will examine it later."

Something in her clenches at that. “When you spoke of play...have you been flirting this whole time? Or was that just to rile me?”

“Yes.” Emet presses his lips to the side of her neck, feather light. Almost imperceptible. His hands are the opposite, purposeful as they knead her breasts, roll her dark purple nipples between his fingers until she squirms on his lap. It’s like he knew how sensitive she would be there.

Thancred’s hand reaches behind her, gripping somewhere on Emet. His shoulder? Digging into his hair? He has to lean in close to do it and Nerys takes advantage. She presses her mouth to his brown nipple, chasing a rivulet of water down his chest. Sweet, just like he can be.

"You don't put anything inside her until I say so," says Thancred. His voice is harsh but he shivers beneath her lips.

"Oh," Emet breathes. "Do you always let him boss you like that, my dear?"

He squeezes her left breast and she gasps against Thancred instead of answering. All at once he stills, waiting for her response. “S-sometimes. It depends.”

That earns her more pressure against her needful flesh, the fingers pinching just so. “Tell me.”

Nerys tries to look back at him. He frees one hand to catch her chin, directing her eyes back to Thancred who kneels before her. It almost doesn’t feel real, without seeing Emet and his smile and his pale-gold eyes. It could be anyone behind her, certainly not him of all people.

Except that voice. She would know it in the haunting light of Kholusia or in the darkest cave of the Night’s Blessed. At some point, he slipped under skin as if he was meant to be there.

Thancred watches them, running one hand up and down the outside of her thigh in slow strokes. The other is underwater, mirroring the touches on himself. He nods, giving her permission to tell their secrets.

“We...switch,” she says. “I often prefer someone to hold my reins. But...sometimes I like telling him what to do. Withholding from him until he is good. Making him beg.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Emet purrs, proving just how long he watched them. She frowns and puts her hand on his wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

“That’s his name for me. You need to choose your own.”

He sighs and she can feel his eyes rolling. Dramatically. “Oh, very well. I suppose I could continue calling you my dear.”

At those words, his teeth sink into her earlobe and his hands resume their kneading. His erection presses at her under the water, the thickness apparent just from the feel of him. She resists the urge to grind against it, lest it end things too soon.

"Any other orders, Thancred? Or are you content to watch me tease her until she begs for release?"

Thancred cups her face between his hands and kisses her, unhurried and deep. She grows pliant under the luxurious touch of both men. No reins desired in her hands tonight. And from the glint in his eyes when he parts from her, Thancred can tell.

“Hold her arms behind her,” he says. “And you’ll be nice for us, won’t you sweetheart? He shouldn’t have to worry about holding you back."

"I'll play nice. This time."

“Ha." He nips her jaw. "Say stop, and we stop. And if you can’t speak, go very still and I will too.”

Nerys nods. Strong hands grip her arms, arranging them to cross behind her back before locking tight upon her. Except-

Except, there are still fingers on her breast. Palms anchoring her hips tight against Emet. She looks down and sees black and purple aether in the vague shape of hands, cupping her aching chest.

Emet chuckles, low and dark. His cock twitches against her. "I have my talents."

Twelve. Growing wet is...different in hot water. But there is still a heated, slick pulse between her legs and her hips try to jerk in response to the idea of what he could do with all those hands. The heat filling her has nothing to do with the springs.

Thancred pushes the aether-hands off her chest so he can cup her breasts, drawing them up as he lowers his mouth to suckle at one. Her head tips back and Emet-Selch takes advantage, lips pressing to the side of her neck. The barest hint of teeth whispers with them.

“So sweet, so good,” murmurs Thancred. His large, callused hands slide over her as his tongue traces her nipple. "What do you want tonight?"

Nerys can barely shiver, the hold on her is so tight and strong. Emet’s fingers pulse against her, firm but not harsh on her skin. “I want you. I want you both. However you want me.”

He smiles and she readies to receive another litany of compliments. The words always flow from him when he is amorous, praising every twitch of her muscles, every way she takes him into her. Instead, he rewards her with another dizzying kiss; so intense she forgets herself and tries to throw her arms about him.

Emet tightens his grip, tutting against her neck.  "And she was so well behaved until now."

“Sorry,” she murmurs against Thancred’s mouth. “I just-I need to feel you-”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Thancred hushes her, his fingers against her mouth as he moves into her space. She parts her lips and takes the tip of one, swirling her tongue about it. “Ah, I’ll give you what you need.”

He slides a hand onto the back of her neck, nudging her down while she continues lathing his finger. The many hands clutching her accommodate, till she is suspended and bent over, balanced by the arms held taut behind her, barely on Emet’s lap. Her chin dips into the hot water and she stares up through lowered lashes.

Thancred stands, sliding a hand to grip just beneath the swollen head of his cock.  Not as thick as what she feels against her rump, but it has grown to its full aroused length. Emet hums appreciatively, likely at the outstanding number of ilms on display. She thinks–it is hard to think, held like this, a slip away from all of her sinking into the water, his cock before her-

She thinks there are more hands on her now, thumbs rubbing subtle, light circles into her arms and legs and ankles. Emet follows the orders; nothing is inside her yet. But oh how she wants there to be, an end to the sweet torture of the many teasing touches.

“Well?” Emet asks. “Are you going to give her what she needs? You certainly have enough of it.”

Thancred smirks over her head, slowing the pace of his stroke as he goes from root to tip. Caressing each bit of the shaft before swirling his thumb over the head, worrying at his lip when he does so. Both she and Emet make pleased sounds at the same time, hers much more needy and inelegant.

At last, Thancred slides one hand into her short locks; keeping her in place as he guides himself into her mouth. Slow at first, then pressing deep as she relaxes her mouth and throat. She cannot take him all the way but she tries, savoring the heady taste of him and spring water until her toes curl.

He fucks into her mouth, his hips jerking in quick thrusts. The water splashes up her face and she closes her eyes, the sensations heightening the moment she does. Over the splashing she hears Thancred say something. In response, two fingers plunge into her folds. In and out, pulling back as soon as she tries to grind against them.

She thinks they are Emet’s flesh hands. She cannot be sure.

Nerys squirms to free herself, needing to touch Thancred. Run her hands over his shaft where her mouth cannot possibly go. The grip on her limbs tightens, a third finger slides into her. She can feel Emet’s body move with a chuckle even though she can only hear the water splashing over her nose and closed eyelids. The threat to her breathing goads her pleasure.

Thancred’s grip in her hair tightens, the other hand joining to burrow in the violet and white strands. His fingers in her scalp send a new wave of feeling through her. She moans around him, the pressure in her building but with no outlet in sight.

His thrusts speed up and she knows what is about to happen, groans in encouragement as his release pours into her. He doesn’t let go, not until he is fully spent and the momentum gives way. She can hear him now, the running litany of praise he must have kept up the whole time. “-so good, so good you did so well…”

He drags her off him and kneels, pressing her to sit again with her back against Emet, lips brushing against hers as she swallows and catches her breath. Nerys opens her mouth to him and he follows her, tasting her more fully. Tasting himself more fully.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “I feel like I’m close but also not at all.”

“I can take care of that.” Thancred says, kissing her forehead. He takes a deep breath and submerges beneath the water. She isn’t sure what he’s about until his mouth latches onto her clit, sucking as much as he can below. The fingers inside her curl

“Fuck,” she hisses again. They’re going to eviscerate her like this.

“Look at you.” Emet says, mouthing along her shoulder. "How easily you come apart. How eager you are to obey, and he is not half so dominating as I would be."

She moans–from his fingers, Thancred’s mouth, the implicit promise in Emet’s words. Nerys answers the challenge in them instead. “I-I know he’ll make it good for me. I d-don’t need that much encouragement.”

“Implying what? You aren’t so assured of me?” He catches her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head back towards him until it almost hurts. The edge of pain thrills down her spine, joining the rest of the heightened feelings in her. “I think you can accurately guess the heights I could drive you to.”

His breath tickles the corner of her mouth. At last she sees his eyes and the roaring fire they contain, the undisguised need and want. She gasps, not just from the increased thrusting of his fingers, the pressure and seal of Thancred’s mouth. If he had ever shown her that look before, she would have dragged him to bed and the consequences be damned.

Thancred emerges, taking a breath at the same time he slides his hand over the one Emet has on her face. Presses his mouth over the other man’s fingers before kissing Nerys like she is the oxygen he couldn’t have underwater.

His other hand slips between her thighs, direct and purposeful on her sensitive bud. His words pour into her ears–”yes, let go, let go, I want you to come like this, just like this”–and Emet’s fingers move faster inside her. With his wonderful, knowledgeable hand at her clit and his ragged words against her cheek, it doesn’t take long for her to come with a cry.

Thancred swallows her yell, her shaking prevented by Emet’s grip. For a moment, all she sees are the brilliant stars above them in the inky sky. The snow falling on her hair. The crescent moon, reminiscent of one of Emet’s toothier smiles.

Emet lets her go all at once and she collapses against Thancred, melting into his soothing touch. Her breath is loud in her ears, near as much as her heart slamming against her ribs and his against her ear.

“Good girl.” Thancred kisses the tip of her pointed ear. “Do you know what I would do for you, if we were in a different setting?”

She shivers, feeling the cold air for the first time since he put her in Emet’s lap. “Tell me. Please.”

“I would let you take us both, together, at the same time. Get you so stretched and wet for us, so slick...” The soft growl is back in his voice and she might climax again, just from that. As maple-sugar-sweet and poetic he can be, as worshipful as he may choose to be, this is a part of him too. Hungry and demanding.

“True, we cannot prepare her easily in this setting.” Emet says. “Very well, you’ve convinced me.”

There is a soft snap.

Nerys lies in a bed–her bed, in her room at the Pendants. She is warm and dry, not a drop of water on her. Warmer still from Emet, stretched out and pressed along her side, tracing patterns into her abdomen. (Also, the bed is made. The coverlet is far too expensive to come from the inn. She touches the red material in wonder.)

“Hilarious,” Thancred says from the center of the room. Naked and sopping wet, with all their belongings beside him in a careful pile. Emet would not harm their weapons, even if he might be unkind to Thancred’s person. “You might have dried me off too.”

“Hm…” Emet pushes himself on one elbow, the other hand tapping a finger to his lips. “If you fetch the oil from her bathroom cabinet, I shall dry you off.”

For a long moment, Thancred stares him down. Eyes narrowed. But there is no real ire and with a sigh, he makes for the bathroom. The aether lights flicker on as soon as he steps inside.

“How did you know...Emet-Selch! I said you’re not allowed to be here when I’m gone.”

She starts to sit up. Quick as any hunting animal, he braces his arm on the other side of her and swings a leg across. He leans over her, caging her in on all sides  without touching her. Yet. “Yes, but I never agreed to those terms. Underhanded but...my hero did request surprises.”

Nerys puts a hand flat against his shoulder with the intent to push. His skin is warm beneath her palm, the silken feel of him unexpected. It would be so easy to shove him off, storm away from the bed. Except this is the first time truly looking at him since they began and...he has her trapped. Immolating in the pale gold fire of his eyes, mesmerized in the quirk of his brow and tilt of his full lips. The longer she stares, the more neutral his expression becomes and he returns the scrutiny.

There is no buffer. No Thancred to protect her or distract her. And she is afraid-

But not of him, she realises with a start. It’s the intensity I feel when he touches me. I’m scared of how much I want him to touch me again. I’m scared at how right this seems.

She pushes herself up with one hand, the other cups the back of his neck. Pulls him down to her. Emet stills only a moment before his eyes flutter shut and he submits to her, mouth moving soft and slow over hers. His hands curl about her waist, thumbs stroking over her skin. He savors her with the slow drag of his tongue coaxing her more open, more vulnerable to his ministrations.

When they part his eyes are half-lidded, expression utterly relaxed. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful. But this pierces her in a new way, so lovely he could rend her heart in two with one look. And he just might.

The hands on her hips pull her forward as he leans back. She ends up in his lap, straddling his waist in one fluid motion. Nerys reaches between them to stroke him. He has been patient this whole time, the least she can do is-

Emet catches her hand and lays the attached arm upon his shoulder, then the other. She opens her mouth to protest and he interrupts her with another kiss. Just as slow and aching, one arm hooked behind her back while the other traces fingertips along her jaw. His hand is gentle as it runs over her throat, down between her breasts, stroking circles into her waist and hip.

Nerys realises it is the longest he has gone in her presence without talking. And she feels the laugh bubbling up her throat, mouth trembling with the strength of holding it back.

“Laughing at me, hero?” He murmurs against her mouth. Nips her lower lip in reprimand.

“N-no I just...felt giddy all of a sudden.” Damn her, ruining the mood like that. Just as his hand was traveling down.

“Liar.” His scolding teeth sink into the side of her neck. She gasps against him, laughter dissolving into a breathy sound. “Better. Let’s see what other preferable sounds we can draw from you.”

“You’re getting close,” she says. Now her smile is irrepressible. “A little lower and to my left…”

“Dear, dear, dear,” he sighs. “And you were so obedient before. Do I bring out the minx in you so much?”

“I thought that was part of why you always came back to talk.”

Instead of a verbal riposte, his hand moves down and to her left. Circling her center, finding the clit and pressing down upon it. As if he has brought her to pleasure a thousand times and knows just where to touch.

Nerys buries her face in his shoulder, shuddering until his strokes are too much and she has to moan against him.

“What delicious noises you make, my dear.” He says, continuing to circle. Continuing to scrape his teeth over her skin. “Thancred was a fool to ever let you go.”

“I was.”

Nerys opens her eyes. (When did she close them?) Thancred stands a few paces from the bed, glass bottle in hand. Both of Emet’s hands splay against her back, pressing her close against him. She feels his fingers snap against her, drying Thancred in an instant.

“At least you admit it,” says Emet.

Nerys has to push a moment before he lets her lean back, getting a better view of Thancred. Shakes her head. “It wasn’t as simple as all that, or one person’s fault.”

As mad as she still is at the Exarch...she might have spoken to Thancred a dozen times before this week. Taken the aetheryte to Mor Dhona to see him, pull him aside when he joined their party in Gyr Abania. Or called him over linkpearl, as she did the night they almost lost Y’shtola.

He pushed her away after they found him in Dravania, even more after Minfilia. But she squandered opportunities, each a bright and alarming memory in hindsight.

Before Thancred can respond, Emet puts a hand to her cheek and makes her look at him. His free hand raises, wagging a finger in her face before tapping her nose. “Ah ah ah, don’t let him off so easy. Not when he is doing his best to make it up to you now…”

Nerys sees the moment a thought takes hold, curling the ends of his mouth upward, drawing his brows down. He flicks a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, is that it? Why you asked me to join?”

Thancred cloaks the soft, warm expression at Nerys with a scowl at Emet. “Don’t pretend to understand my motives.”

Emet clicks his tongue in mock scandalization. “Presumptuous of you, thinking you’re allowed to gift wrap and present me as an apology present.”

Oh.

Nerys extricates herself from his lap, climbing off the bed in a hurry. Walking to Thancred. Searching his closed-off expression for a hint. “Is...is that true?”

Thancred reaches out and takes her hand. Lifts it to his mouth. For all the things these two men have done tonight, for all the things they might still do; these soft touches disarm her the most. And then he removes the facade for her, showing the hope and wariness and the mocking little smile. One she knows is always meant for himself, not anyone else.

He sighs “He’s not wrong, but he’s also not right.” Thancred peers behind her at the bed. “But if Emet-Selch feels used, he is free to leave at any time.”

That last part doesn’t sound angry or annoyed as much as...challenging. She watches him smirk and quirk a brow. Daring the other man.

“Naughty boy,” Emet murmurs. “No, I won’t leave. This has proven to be an interesting night indeed and I am not satisfied yet.”

Nerys touches Thancred’s cheek, drawing his gaze back up to her. Looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t have to do this. Your feelings matter to me and-”

“I could have let him leave, and given you a memorable night without him. I decided I wanted to give you this instead.” The old roguish smirk grows on his lips. “And besides, he has a nice prick.”

She exhales slow, deep, making herself relax. Banishing the anxious tension in her neck and shoulders. “Okay. I believe you.”

“You always can.” Thancred draws her face down and she follows, sinking into his embrace. He still holds the bottle and it’s cool against her back as she presses against the delicious heat of his body and the hard planes of his chest. As he moves, so does she until the backs of her legs hit the mattress. Down, down, she goes until she is sprawled with her head and shoulders in Emet’s lap, Thancred holding himself above her.

“That last part,” Emet says, taking the glass bottle. “You couldn’t see my ‘nice prick’ in the water.”

“But I can see it now.” Thancred shifts his balance to one hand, the other sinking between Emet’s thighs. Sliding a hand over the long-neglected length and this time, Emet doesn’t forestall his own pleasure but lifts his hips. His full lips part and he sighs with relief.

Nerys tilts her head to look up at Thancred, who gives her an expectant look. This old game then. They haven’t played this one since the Spring Festival in Mor Dhona. She meets the challenge with a grin of her own and adjusts her position to better participate.

His fingers return to the root of Emet’s cock and slide upward. She chases them with her tongue along the velvet underside. The scents she associates with him–petrichor and ice and stone–are less here. He could be anyone she might bed.

Emet gasps and slides his hand into her hair. Guiding her as much as Thancred. The steady, near-painful pleasure is unlike many men she has taken to bed for a single night. Who often keep distance and treat her like glass. He is unlike anyone else.

The fingers twist over the swollen head and slip away for her to do the same, mimicking the motion with her swirling tongue. Emet increases pressure on her until he slides between her lips. Nerys bobs up and down without further incentive. That his grip remains insistent only makes this sweeter.

He is nearly as thick as Haurchefant, sure to make her jaw ache.

Another hand–Thancred’s–grips the back of her neck and nudges her down, down, her eyes watering as Emet fucks into her throat. Her nose meets the prickling thatch of auburn curls. Emet lets loose a more desperate sound, the groan raw as he pulls her off of him, fingers still digging into her scalp.

“Good girl,” murmurs Thancred.

“And good boy.” The hands in her hair twists, angling her to watch Emet take hold of Thancred and kiss him with teeth and tongue and heat.  Arousal pulses through her at the sight. They’re beautiful. They’re beautiful and tonight they are both hers.

Nerys rises up, sliding into their tangle and they open for her, mouths and hands worshipping at her skin. She wants to be at the center of this. She wants to be selfish and feel them attend to every inch of her before they fuck her. She wants them to burn her until she is naught but ash and pleasure.

“I need you,” she says to them both. “Please don’t stop touching me.”

“Oh, my dear.” Emet catches her chin, sliding his thumb between her lips. “As if I-we could. You are a feast laid out for us and we are but beggars.”

She sucks on it, watching desire flare in his eyes. Emet sighs as if resigned, sliding his hand down so that he can kiss her again. The gentleness of it has her arms and neck prickling with awareness, her breath catching. Everything about him screams danger and yet–yet he coaxes her with lips and tongue, courting her instead of simply taking.

As if sensing her thoughts and needing to disprove her assumption, he turns her about in his arms. Bites down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Nerys gasps and Thancred is there to catch her, soothing her even as his own teeth drag over her pulse. Behind her is rustling and the soft pop of a bottle uncorked. She can hear Emet moving his hands together, warming his palms.

Thancred has not forgotten her request. As his mouth travels over her, his hands move in long strokes over arms and waist, hips and legs, neck and cheek. A dizzying perusal of caresses, maintaining the contact she needs.

She startles when Emet squeezes her rear, shivers when one oil slicked hand slides towards the tight ring of muscle. When the first finger begins to circle, Thancred kisses her shoulder. As it slides in to the knuckle, he strokes her sides.

“That’s it,” Thancred murmurs. “You’re doing so good. Look how wet you already are, ready for me to slide deep into you. And I will, as soon as he’s done preparing you.”

“My,” Emet says, kissing behind her ear. “He is a chatty one.”

“He is one to talk.”

“He must feel lost without some narration. Or is the talk for your benefit? Do you need me to tell you how good you’re swallowing me, how tight, how perfectly made for my fingers and my prick you are…”

Nerys means to laugh but a moan comes out instead. Digs her fingers into Thancred’s ivory locks and urges his lips downward. “I-I don’t need it but I like it.” She could have them talk to her like this for hours.

“Impatient,” Thancred mutters at her insistent pushing. He puts up a resistance, sliding his tongue over her stomach all the same.

“I don’t see you stopping me.” Nerys smiles down at him. “Unless you plan on making me pay?”

Teeth sink into her other shoulder as Emet adds a second finger. She wriggles against the sensation, tugging at Thancred’s hair in response. Quick, as if this is a battle–and maybe it is–Thancred grabs her wrists and pins them down on either side of her. Nerys grips at the unfamiliar coverlet, meeting his smirk with a scowl.

She tries to lift herself up, presenting herself for his mouth. He ignores the offering, attending to her breasts instead. Dipping down and then back up as soon as she thinks he might taste her. His grip is iron when she pushes against it, squeezing in warning when she does it again.

“Two strikes…” He says.

Now she has to know. Nerys tries a third time and finds herself dragged to lie on her back, his shoulders shoving under her thighs until they press against her stomach. Emet's slick hands leave her and she moans at the loss.

"You'll have him back in a moment." Thancred says. He glances up, has a wordless conversation with Emet behind her. Takes hold of her arms and lifts them, passing them over. Her wrists are shoved down, captured in the harsh grip of one hand pinning above her head.

It should be worrying that they are cooperating this well to make her writhe. Instead, she feels giddy and like she might dissolve from the force of anticipation..

She tests the restraint and finds no give, not even with her two hands to his one. Emet looks down at her, pitiless and expression bright with desire. And then her eyes shut because Thancred devours her. No mercy, no restraint, his hands gripping her thighs so tight they might bruise. He pushes her higher and higher until he thighs shake and she can see the edge-

And then he pulls back completely.

"Please," she gasps. "That's not fair. I need you-"

Emet’s face is upside-down above her, but he finds a way to slot his mouth against hers. She pours her frustration into the kiss, demanding release with a bite to his lip. He only chuckles against her mouth, his slow reprimand becoming something fierce. Engulfing.

When he parts from her, his lips but an ilm from hers, his eyes are unfocused and his breath ragged. She tastes his blood on her tongue. Licks her lips.

"Not yet," says Emet. "Not after we went through all the trouble of preparing you."

His hand is unyielding against her. Nerys tries to move her hips and legs instead and Thancred presses further, going the small distance needed to bend her in half. "I could come again after-"

“Listen.” Emet nips her shoulder. "We’ve staked a claim upon your pleasure. You’re going to have it...when we’re ready. Yes?”

Fuck. His words, his lowered voice...She would rub her thighs together if she could, if Thancred wasn't between them. Instead, she feels herself growing wetter, hotter. Thancred’s fingers slide over her but for all the lewd noises he draws out, he does not touch anywhere that might bring her release.

"Answer him, sweetheart,” says Thancred. "For once he is making sense."

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do what you want me to.”

"Good girl," Emet says, the two of them moving her to sit up between them again. "That deserves a reward."

"Please tell me the reward is your cocks," she says, leaning back against him. "Otherwise, I don't think I'll make it."

"Impatient." Emet mutters but he drips more oil into her cleft, the three fingers returning to open her, stretch her. She braces herself against Thancred, half slumped over and cheek pressed against his heart. If she tries to touch herself, he will stop her but she considers it. Dares one hand down against her stomach. He grabs at it, kissing her as he does.

Nerys groans, rocking back against the fingers stretching her. Grasping for the peak Thancred almost brought her to.

"She's ready," says Emet at last, his voice rough. His hands dig into her cheeks, squeezing as he parts them. "Needy creature. Who knew you had it in you to desire so much?"

"I knew." Thancred kisses her shoulder. "He'll learn, sweetheart."

"That you think you can teach me anything…" Emet mutters. "Mortals. And their arrogance."

"Please," Nerys begs, her voice taut with need. She clutches at Thancred as an anchor against the sweet torture they’re putting her through. "You can lecture us all you want but first give me your-"

At that, his head presses against her. Rocks a moment before sliding into her oil-slicked passage, his hands stroking circles to soothe her as he enters slow and steady. When her breath hitches and the ache is almost too much, he stops and kisses her nape and spine until she relaxes again.

She’s trembling in his arms, overwhelmed at the fullness, the sensation of him deep in her, wrapped around her. His aether seems to sink into her, embracing her as if he has re-manifested all those phantom hands again. But it is just him, just a barrier taken down between them.

When she beds someone with strong aether...those times were just a shade of this. This is beyond anything she has ever experienced.

Emet skims his hands over her muscular thighs, hosting her close until his chin rests on her shoulder. She opens her eyes as he eases them back, watching the view trade Thancred for the ceiling and instinctively reaches out for balance. And then Emet kisses her neck and soothes her skin and she relaxes again.

"Well?" He says, holding her legs open. "She wants you too, Thancred.”

Thancred crouches between her thighs, running a hand over his cock. It has returned to its full aroused length, a tantalizing bead of moisture at the head. His refractory period is always impressive, and they have taken their time since the hot springs. Teasing her until she feels ready to burst.

"I wonder if you'll even physically be able to take it all." Emet says in her ear. "Stuffed as you already are."

He rocks his hips just so and she whimpers at the feel of him. It is true–she is already full to bursting. It is also true–she wants to take as much of them as she can. All of them if she is able.

“If it’s too much…” Thancred leans over her. Presses his cock against her folds as he lines himself up. “Look at me.”

She looks at him, into the warm depths of his eyes. Into the need and heat. Nerys lifts her hips in invitation and Emet is there to slide them back down, groaning softly.

“You know how to stop things, sweetheart. If it gets too much.”

“If it gets too much,” she repeats, licking her lips. “Thancred please fu-”

He slides into her without resistance, slick and ready as she is. It is almost too much and he isn't even half-way seated inside of her. She bites her lip so she doesn't say the word because she wants more, she wants to be utterly lost-

Emet bites the back of her neck and she cries out, but her body relaxes. Thancred slides deeper inside her, bracing his forearms on either side of them. Tension furrows between his brows.

“Alright?” He asks, more breath than sound.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “Please-please-”

"How sweetly you beg." Emet curls one hand around her breast, the other sliding down her stomach. Dragging to where Thancred is buried inside her and her swollen nub waits succor. He traces outside it, slow and taunting. "It almost makes me want to see how long we can keep you just shy of climaxing."

Thancred smirks. Some of the tension eases in his face. "Keep talking like that, it's making her clench around me."

"Bastards," she moans, reaching for Thancred. Resting arms on his shoulders as he begins to move, his slow, vexing strokes in rhythm with the lift of Emet's hips.

"Oh, do be nice," Emet continues as his fingers brush against her core. "I have only ever admired you. And here you are, exceeding all my expectations. You, who shine brighter than most mortals, you're almost radiant now-"

Nerys cannot think enough to string a response together. Sex is often a release for her, a way to center herself. This feels like...being remade. Like the tandem motion of their bodies strips everything away until there is only the pleasure and the ache. Even the growing cramp in her calves cannot compare with the ecstasy coursing through her.

They are both talking, dropping praise upon her but now she cannot hold onto their meaning. Only the feeling of them sliding in and out of her, the ache and stretch of her body, the slap of their skin on hers. Especially as the pace picks up, both men pushing each other to a greater tempo, snapping hips to drive her back and forth between raging fire and raging fire.

The fingers at her clit press down. The edge is in sight and she sobs aloud for them to keep going. To keep moving. Not to stop again, not when she is so close.

Thancred kisses her. Lips press against her nape and she can feel Emet's smile, his breath as he mouths words into her skin that she cannot hear and cannot parse. They move faster inside her, the finger circling, teeth on her flesh-

Nerys screams as her pleasure rips through her, clutching at whatever she can as her mind enters the strange place of release–a mind so focused on one thing as to feel almost blank, a mind so overcome with feeling that there is nothing but relief and pleasure and not a single thought. She gasps and arches and sobs as they work her through it, the frenzied rhythm milking every onze of pleasure from her

Emet gasps and she feels the final, desperate thrusts of his release. And Thancred, Thancred keeps going, keeps moving in her and moving her against Emet until they are both sensitive and depleted and keening and then, and then Thancred lets himself go.

Nerys is nothing but ash and pleasure, smoldering between them.

Emet moves first, lips pressing to her back as his hand traces patterns into her skin. Idle, swirling loops and flourishes that guide her back to the land of the living. She follows their trail without hesitation, her hand sliding over his as she follows.

She opens her eyes just as fingers slides over her cheek. Thancred leans over her, forehead pressed to hers. Studying her as if he has never seen her before. Maybe he hasn't. Maybe she is someone else on the other side of what they shared.

Maybe they all are.

He slides out of her and she whimpers at the loss, both of him and the heady sense of being filled completely. But he returns to her, resting his cheek against her the swell of her chest while the rest of him lies flush against her.

Nerys strokes his hair and finds the energy to speak. “Okay?”

"Okay," says Thancred. Smiles a little. "I don't ever want to move again."

A soft snort behind her. "Your time is short as is."

"Hush," she says. "You're not going anywhere either."

"Oh?" Emet kisses her shoulder. "Bold of you to-"

Despite what he just said, Thancred moves. Slides up and nudges Nerys just so until he is able to press his lips against Emet's. The Ascian hums in response, submitting to the delightful reprimand.

At last Thancred pulls away with a sigh. "Much better."

Emet chuckles. "So, you two plan on keeping me here tonight. Well, I put myself at your mercy...provided you let me lead the figure at some point."

"If you're good," Nerys teases, and then gasps as Emet rolls his hips against her.

“My dear,” says Emet. His hands slide up her stomach, cupping her breasts. She can tell from Thancred’s expression, they’re sharing a conspiratorial look. Anticipation and wonder sing through her. “Let me prove just how good a playmate I can be."

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Three (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death mention

wc; 8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The beds inside of the Capitol are definitely comfortable. Had today’s events not happened at all, you’re sure that you would have fallen asleep well before your head even hit the pillow. Instead, you find yourself staring at the pristine white ceiling, head flooded with thoughts that refuse to leave.

You’re here. Starting now, you’ve got an entire week to prove why you deserved to be sponsored, as opposed to their trusty District One and Two tributes. A fifteen year old girl, from the poorest part of District Four, paired with a fourteen year old boy. Two very young tributes that already have the odds stacked against them.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been finding your way through the cracks, but eventually there won’t be room for you to slip through anymore. You’re going to get stuck, it’s just a matter of time before it happens. You know you have to look on the brightside, but pointing out the obvious doesn’t hurt much.

For now, you guess you’ll just have to make the most of it.

You can’t be the only one with a nasty case of insomnia. You’d take a bet right now that Finnick isn’t asleep either. Maybe he isn’t staring at the ceiling, and instead he’s staring out his window. Either way, he’s awake and he can’t fall asleep because the terror is clawing at the back of his mind.

You’re not sure what’s worse, being alone with just your thoughts now. Or knowing that back home, your family is in just as much agony as you are. Alyssum is alone in that room by herself if Reed and Mox didn’t move the crib to their room. Reed isn’t going to sleep at all, and the only reason why Mox has fallen asleep is because his body is exhausted from all the crying.

But don’t be fooled, he’ll be up in a few hours, crying from a nightmare, waking up in a room all by himself. You can see it now, Mox burying his face in his hands as he tries to quiet down for the sake of Reed. Reed won’t show it, but he’s in just as much pain as Mox is. Over the years, he just formed a mindset that since he’s the oldest, he’s got to be the strongest too.

Of course, he’ll have his moments where he breaks down too, but it isn’t as often. He lets it build up a lot over time, and sometimes you won’t even know when he’s had his moment. You’ll just be able to tell afterward because he’s much more loose for a couple of weeks. Sooner or later though, he begins to get hard again.

You can’t take it anymore.

You throw the white comforter from your body, sliding off of the bed. On the nightstand, you swipe the silver engagement ring and move around the bed to go and sit in front of the window. It’s not very lively out there anymore since the clock is telling you it’s close to two in the morning. Earlier, when you had first arrived, it was a lot more exciting.

After you and Finnick had watched it the first time, you two went ahead and watched it a second time too, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything the first time around. Halfway through, Mags and Anchor left with Elysia to go talk about something. You and him didn’t seem to find anything new, just agreed on the fact that the first two districts and Seven would be the ones to watch out for.

Of course, you and him will be watching all the other tributes too, especially during training, just in case there are some skills that the others have that you should take note of. Other than that, the plan is to make an alliance with the other two thirds of the careers, and win.

You guys came into the Capitol train station around nine and were greeted with colorful people and cheering. You and Finnick faked excitement and waved and tried to look good. But as soon as you were shoveled into the car with Elysia, Mags and Anchor, the act deflated and you felt exhausted.

You got signed in at the Tribute Center, and then went straight to your apartment in the building. Elysia didn’t even give you real time to talk to Mags and Anchor, she just sent the two of you straight to bed because of how late it was. Neither of you complained, but you knew the second you got into your room, that sleep wouldn’t be happening. Not with the cheering outside of your window.

The city is pretty dead at the moment, everyone is asleep in their fancy homes. The occasional car will come through the narrow road, but that’s about it. 

Tomorrow is a big day, your first real debut in front of people. You’ll get to meet your stylist and prep team, and then take a chariot ride with Finnick to the President’s mansion. Every single thing you do on that chariot will matter. How grateful you are, how indifferent you are. It all will secure your future on how you should act.

Mags will hopefully settle all of that for you, push you in a direction that will actually matter. She’s been doing this for years, she’ll understand if you need to play up an act or not. Being yourself would be the easiest route to take, of course. At least then there will be no chances of you slipping up or whatever.

However, you don’t want to become completely unrecognizable to everyone back home. They’ll understand that you’re doing what you have to, but it’ll be a little disgusting when you never hear the end of it. You’ll get praise for becoming a victor, but some will shoot you down because being yourself apparently wasn’t good enough.

You can never really win.

Slipping the ring off, you hold it out and in the moonlight to get a better look at it. You’d rather not turn on the light and accidentally alert anyone that you were awake at this ungodly hour. Whoever’s awake would tell Elysia, and then you’d never hear the end of it from her. And you’d probably get a headache in the process.

You can’t actually remember any instance in which your mom did wear this ring. She had her wedding ring on all the time, you know that. But she got married before you were born, so she probably stopped wearing it when she got married. You remember seeing it in her jewelry box on her dresser, though.

She used to let you sit on the bed and play with the rings when she got ready for important things. None of which you actually went with her. She only really dressed up for fancy dinners with dad, her colleagues and her boss. One time, you brought out the engagement ring and asked her the meaning of it, since it was tucked away in a special compartment.

And she told you. It was the ring your dad proposed with, the ring she said yes to. She told you that she never liked the diamonds, they were expensive and unrealistic. Instead, she wanted a simple silver band and she had been saying it for years. So, your dad got her the ring of her dreams, and eventually the wedding ring too.

After mom died, you stopped going into the room to sit on the bed and go through her jewelry. It wasn’t a game you were willing to play with your dad. You were always afraid that he was breakable, and one mention of your poor mother would send him in a spiral. He was strong, surprisingly held all of you together despite the fact that Reed had begun to get a little rebellious.

And then he died too, and you stopped going into the room altogether unless it were an emergency. Certain things in that room have gone untouched for a long time, except the wardrobe. That had your mom’s pretty dresses and your dad’s formal shirts and such. Actually, your mom’s jewelry box seems to be an exception too, considering you’ve got the ring.

But other than that, everything in the room would be disgusting to touch. Years of dust built up on the dresser, the bed, the desk and lamps and everything in there. You slammed the doors a little too hard yesterday, and it sent so much dust flying into the air that it’s probably taken all day to settle.

You wonder if your room will turn into the same untouched graveyard if you die in the arena. If Reed and Mox will insist to sleep on the couch so she can have their old room so that yours will be nearly perfectly preserved in time. Your bed unmade, your school backpack open on the floor next to the desk. Projects you were working on, things you had made at school.

You can’t die in there. Your brothers are strong, but not that strong.

You press your forehead against the cold window, closing your eyes. You wish you were back home. You’d take a lifetime of fishing and spearing and tying knots until your fingers were mangled over this. If you win and come back, you’ll never be looked at the same way, be treated the same way, live the same way or even think the same way at all.

Your life is going to be turned upside down and you’ll have no choice but to just live with it.

Yawning, you push yourself up from the carpeted floor and drag your feet when it comes to going back to bed. You place the ring back onto the nightstand, and hope that you’ll at least get an hour of sleep in.

--

It’s morning before you even realize it. You’re up much before Elysia comes in to tell you it’s a big day. She tells you to spare the shower, just get dressed and be out for breakfast. Today is a big day, after all.

After putting the ring on, you make your way out to the dining room, where everyone except Finnick, already sits. You take a random seat at the table, not too worried about formation. You’re hungry, and you’ve been waiting a while for an acceptable time to go out and eat.

The avoxes serve food immediately. You avoid looking at them, not liking how terrifying their outfits are. Last night when you came in, you thought that you’d been seeing shadows. As soon as you got up close, you didn’t think it was much better. Finnick didn’t look too thrilled with their costumes, either.

The first thing that’s served is pancakes, a healthy serving of eggs and what you can only imagine is bacon, which you’ve never had before. Just looking at it, is a giveaway that it’s greasy and something that you’ll never get at home. Next to the bakery is the butcher, also an overpriced place to buy.

The Square isn’t much better either. It’s the best place to shop if you can’t afford certain things, of course. Body wash, shampoo, things for your house, jugs of clean water and very, very cheap vegetables. However, the times that people bring in wild pigs are the times you send your brothers in. 

Watching people just hack off bits of meat as they please is not only gruesome, but sickening too. You don’t mind the fact that it's dead, it’s just watching the knives not making it all the way through the skin and fat the first time they swing makes you a little nauseous. As the years come, you’ve begun to stomach it a lot more. But the thought alone still makes you wary.

The bacon is sweet, nothing at all like you’ve expected. You watch as Mags brings a bowl of chilled fruit in her direction, helping on strawberries, bananas and blueberries on top of her pancakes.

“Makes it healthier.” she winks, and then takes her time cutting up the pancakes.

“Really, it just makes it taste better.” Anchor says, “They don’t have maple syrup today, which is a shame. It’s my favorite.” he brings over the fruit bowl nearest to him.

He and Mags are already dressed for today’s events, which makes you feel underdressed, even if Elysia told you not to bother. Wearing yesterday’s tank top and shorts makes you feel dirty.

Finnick then comes out of the hallway, hair all sorts of messed up. As soon as he sees you at the table, there’s a smile on his face. Without missing a beat, he takes a seat next to you and as soon as there’s food in front of him, he starts eating. By the time you’ve finished your eggs, he’s through a whole plate and has already moved onto ham, hashbrowns and more bacon.

For a while, you’re impressed by the fact he eats like he hasn’t eaten in days. One plate after another, until he begins to slow down and turn green. He leans back in his chair, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head as you eat a piece of pancake.

“Hungry?” you tease, he gives you a sheepish smile.

“I’ve been waiting hours to eat. I didn’t sleep well at all, last night.”

Just as you expected, you think you deserve a few extra points for that one. Even though it was fairly obvious, it was still a good call. You think most tributes don’t sleep well at all on the first two days. But then the exhaustion kicks in and after that they sleep well, only to be messed up again when they go into the arena.

You find yourself looking forward to a good night of sleep. Whatever will keep you from being sleep deprived inside of the games.

“You should probably have coffee, then.” Anchor says, “Not a lot, otherwise you’ll make yourself feel more sick. But enough to give you a jolt.”

Anchor motions towards the avox, and you move to grab the glass of orange juice. As soon as you’ve taken a sip, you make a face, because the taste isn’t exactly pleasant. But it’s expensive back home, and if you do end up winning, you’d love to tell your brothers about all the foods you tasted, and how they need to taste them too. 

Finnick is a little apprehensive when it comes to actually drinking the coffee. He dabbles in it for a moment, and you’re sure that he’s afraid of the heat. But he was testing the taste of it, and you realize it the second he starts to chug it down.

“Finnick…” you trail, he sets down the cup, winces and smiles.

“It tastes so good.”

Elysia sputters out a laugh, covering her mouth when she does. Mags breaks out a smile, sipping her orange juice. She’s got crinkles at the corner of her eyes, showing her age and how often she must smile. It’s nice to know that she hasn’t let the disappointment of watching years worth of tributes die. 

If you were in her position, you’re sure you would have holed yourself up in your house by now. Because there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to show your face after a while. The amount of guilt that she must have for not bringing home more tributes, watching all of them die.

You don’t ever want to be in her position, but a part of you hopes you win solely for the fact that you’d get to replace her. She deserves to retire.

“The grooming process is going to be painful.” Mags says, how appealing, “But you have to sit through it. Don’t complain. Don’t resist.”

“Sounds easily enough.” Finnick says.

“You’d be surprised.” Anchor mutters.

You pick apart a sweet roll in silence. This is probably the part where they try to make you look as attractive as possible. Even though the two of you are young, the more beautiful you are, the more sponsors that’ll come through. You shouldn’t want to be unattractive, ever in your life. But now’s a crucial part.

After you’re done eating, Elysia takes you and Finnick down to what’s called the Remake Center. Elysia splits you two off, heading in different directions while she disappears entirely, leaving you in the hands of your prep team.

A girl named Cleo, with dirty blond hair and pink makeup, is the most talkative out of the three. At the beginning, she’s kind enough to tell you that they’re going to be as gentle as possible with everything that they do. And right after saying that, launches into starting to wax your legs.

It’s a painful process. You grip the edges of the cold, metal table and grit your teeth through it. After every strip is an apology, but after a while it stops being so heartfelt as they seem to enter ‘the zone’. Next comes the shaving, and the plucking and reshaping.

They scrub your body down multiple times, removing all the dirt that has seemingly become just a part of your skin. You watch it all wash down the drain in amazement. Your skin stings painfully, and Cleo reassures you that they’ll get to it eventually, they just have to finish what they’re doing.

A girl names Beth with dark curly hair and a quiet voice takes care of your hair. By the time she’s done with it, it’s silky smooth and smells of strawberries. She dries it completely, and tells you not to touch it at all, she’ll get to styling it after you meet your stylist.

The only boy of the three stands in front of you, staring straight at your face. For a moment, you think it’s an intimidation tactic, but then he smiles. His name is Leo, he’s got orange hair and he’s dressed in gold, “I’m done here.”

“So am I.” Beth agrees, taking a seat in a chair that looks much more comfortable than the steel table you’re sitting on.

“Well, we got everything, didn’t we?” Cleo asks, reaching for an electronic that they’ve been passing through. Then, she goes down a checklist, “Eyebrows, teeth, eyelashes, nails, every place with hair, her hair.” she tilts her head, “I think we’ve done it.”

“Well, let’s grease her down and then make the final touches.” Leo says, Beth nods her head.

All together, they spread lotion over your body. At first, it stings your body pretty harshly, but then there’s a cooling sensation that settles over your skin. As soon as they’re done, they then take one very last look at you, plucking any hair that they had missed the first time around.

And then they send you into a room all by yourself, with nothing to wear. On the hook on the wall to the left, there’s a light blue robe with your last name printed clearly on the breast. You can imagine that you’ll be wearing it later.

You swing your feet, humming a light tune to yourself while you wait. Staring at the wall, you try to picture yourself winning the games. Whatever the arena may be, it’s you who’s standing alone, the camera’s panning around you, a congratulations sounding over the arena. (Y/n) Gallows of District Four.

Reed would probably cry for once, right there in front of everyone. Him and Mox would be so relieved that it’s not funny. And as soon as you’d come home from the Capitol, they’d hold you tightly. You’re not sure you’d even last a second on the train station, you’d probably just jump right off and into their arms, just glad to be with them again.

The only door to the room opens, making you look over. In the doorway stands a very tall woman with tan skin. Her dark hair is pinned back to keep it out of her face. She’s got a black suit on with a white undershirt. It’s all ironed neatly, a crease in her pants to show it. She wears a black heels that she slips off almost as soon as she’s fully entered the room.

It only lowers her height just a little. She’s naturally tall, and has to be on the verge of being six foot or over. It looks like she’s not embarrassed over it at all, instead proud, willing to make herself bigger. All of the tall girls at your school would die to be shorter, while she’s the complete opposite, priding herself in it.

“I’m Laurel.” she says, her voice is smooth and she leaves just a crack in the door, “Stand for me.”

You slip off the table, stretching your shoulders a bit when you do. She takes a walk around you, looking over every inch of your body. Every now and then she’ll move something. Like your hair behind or in front of your shoulders. She’s picked up your hands already to investigate your nails.

Sometimes she’ll stop and stare, like she’s taking it into consideration, and then she’ll move again, “Go ahead and take your robe.”

On the way out of the room, she grabs the backs of her heels with one hand, and exits the room. You take your time with pulling on the silky blue robe, loosely tying it at the front. You cross your arms over your chest naturally, following her to the nice couch. She takes a seat first, and motions for you to do the same.

You tuck the robe beneath you as you sit.

As soon as you’ve sat down, she presses a button on the long table before you. Up comes a second part of it, every inch of it covered in food, “Help yourself. I just ate.”

You’re careful with what you grab, trying to find things that won’t make you sick. Sometime last night when you were tossing and turning on the bed, you realized that the food here is richer than what’s at home. Here, there’s so many flavors that you’ve never experienced before. Back home, it’s all mild. 

So, you grab a small portion of chicken, a good part of vegetables and mashed potatoes. Laurel doesn’t really watch you while you eat, more the open window beside the two of you.

“How do you feel about matching outfits?” she asks politely, still not looking over.

“Depends.” you say, lowering the plate a little, “How revealing is it going to be?”

She looks over now, “Compared to the years before you, I’d say modest.”

That’s already a relief, the girl last year had fake starfish suction-cupped to her boobs, and wore a mermaid tail. It was beautifully made, most of it was holographic and in the sun it shimmered. It was the fact that she was exposed up top entirely. To be fair, she was like two years older than you, so it was more… appropriate for her to wear something like that.

Actually, thinking about it, wasn’t Laurel the stylist?

You look at her to see she’s studying your face.

“You’re the one that designed that outfit.” you say, “The mermaid one.”

She nods, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t expect you to realize such a thing. A lot of people back home see the faces of the stylists. Some are around for plenty of years, others get replaced immediately. It just depends on creativity and whether or not you pull in interest.

“It was clever, but nothing I would want to wear.” you finish off your plate, gently setting it onto the glass. You completely ignore the golden colored pudding off to the far right, not interested in stuffing yourself full. 

“Why not?” Laurel asks.

“Because I’m fifteen, and my brother’s would have a meltdown.” you fold your arms across your chest again, “Not how I would want to be remembered, either if I do die.”

“Well, you’re going to be in something resembling a bathing suit. It covers enough skin, but it’ll draw in attention.”

Bathing suits are on the line, but you smile and nod. After she makes sure you’re done, she leads you to the dressing room. There, you’re prepared for the chariot ride.

A couple hours later, you find yourself side-by-side with Finnick, who looks eerily similar to what you look like at the moment. He’s got a white tunic around his waist, all bunched up off to one side to reveal his legs. Absolutely no shirt. His stylist, Pleurisy, had decided to go ahead and cover him in vines, both real and fake.

It’s supposed to look like he’s either a statue or just came out of the water, much like the Greek God Poseidon. You’d like to say that they got it pretty well, he’s got the looks for it. Never in a day in your life did you think you’d be calling Finnick attractive.

Then again, you didn’t think that you’d be going into the Hunger Games either. Seems like a lot of things are happening all at once now.

As a joke, you suggested dying Finnick’s skin a blue-green to submerge the idea that he came out of the water, even more. For a moment, you watched in amusement—and him in horror—as Pleurisy considered the idea. She even had a full-length conversation with Laurel about it and whether or not it would be allowed, since it is a body modification.

However, the conversation ended abruptly when Finnick loudly declared that he wouldn’t want to be caught being a shade of green. After, he glared at you but he couldn’t hold it for long. Soon, he was laughing and even jabbed you in the ribs for attempting to sabotage him like that. In all honesty, had they gone through with it, he probably would have caught the eyes of sponsors.

Too bad there wasn’t enough time for it, either.

You and him are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. While his surrounds his calves in a ladder pattern and stops just below the knee, yours only go up to your ankles. 

And Laurel seemed to take your concern into consideration. You watched as Cleo had wheeled out an actual bathing suit, the shade of teal, and came back with a similar Greek-Roman-esque clothing that Finnick is wearing. It’s white, and still resembles the idea of a bathing suit, but it manages to cover more skin.

For starters, it’s a tube top, starting below your collarbones and stopping around your upper ribs. The bottom part is tight to keep it secured to your body, because there’s no straps holding it in place, around your shoulders. The second layer of fabric is much more loose, still bunched up. But it hands down.

And the bottom half is basically a skirt with the same premise. You had to sit tight while they glued the vines to your skin, clipping and adding leaves to where they needed them to be. And instead of blue makeup, they went green to keep the theme going.

Anyway, Beth fixed a headband on your head to keep your hair out of your face for the most part. Then came diamond earrings, an expensive pearl necklace and bracelets. By the time you were done, you had to admit that you’re wearing at least hundreds of years worth of rent back home. 

Sell all of this, and you’d be able to buy a victor home and still pay rent for years to come.

Then came the wave bracelet on your upper arm, and you waited around as they made finishing touches to everything. You looked in the mirror once, and then had to look twice because on the other side, stood a stranger.  When you first went out to meet everyone else, Finnick didn’t recognize you either.

“I feel so heavy.” You tell Finnick as you take a walk around to get a better feel of what you’re wearing.

“I bet.” Finnick laughs.

Laurel and Pleurisy make small adjustments to the two of you as time goes on to make sure it all flows better. Before you know it, you and Finnick are being brought onto the chariot, minutes away from the tribute parade. You’re not normally nervous around crowds, but practically the entire Capitol population and everyone back home and more, is going to be watching.

Your brothers, sister, Caspian, and Naida and everyone from school is going to see you like this. So completely different that they'll have to squint to even see who you were yesterday. You looked poor then, dressed in a dress that didn’t even belong to you, with dirty shoes and a plain face. Now, you have pearls and diamonds, and you’re showing more skin than you’d even dare to. Now you look like you belong in the Capitol. 

It’s supposed to be a good thing, but you find yourself fearing losing who you were. You don’t want to be showered in riches. You want to be normal when this is all over. That magazine in the train did absolutely nothing to convince you, just turned you away more.

(Y/n) Gallows of District Four. Won the Hunger Games at fifteen, and lost herself in the process. What happened? She became one of them, a drooling pet of the Capitol. Just like everyone else who rose to her place.

You shiver.

“Are you cold?” Finnick asks, “I could wrap my arm around you.”

His bare skin on yours? That’ll drive people nuts, make rumors fly everywhere, especially back home. You can see the way Reed will scowl, “No, I’m fine.”

Just before the horses take off, Laurel moves forward, and changes the way the two of you are at the moment. So much for avoiding skin-on-skin.

She makes your right arm go under Finnick’s left one to hold onto it. Then, your left hand goes on top to make it look like he’s offered his elbow to you. And you are nothing but a damsel, holding on. Maybe you were wrong at the reaping. You thought that you’d be the one playing that part, and here you are, still following everything by the book.

You’re told not to move your right arm, no matter the circumstance. Your left one is free to wave and do whatever you see fit. The chariots start to move, and you steady yourself with grabbing off to the side. But soon let go as you get your legs back.

Finnick is surprisingly warm, he was right to offer to put his arm around you. If you had been cold, you wouldn’t have been for much longer. Even now you feel a little ridiculous, he’s practically a furnace. And you almost feel bad for how cold your fingers are. You can’t tell if he notices or not, though.

“This is so exciting.” Finnick let’s out a gentle laugh, a smile creeping over his face, “Don’t you think?”

“Actually, I’m a bit nervous.” You admit.

He looks over then, watching your face with furrowed eyebrows. For a moment, you feel like you said something heinous. But then he finally speaks.

“You’re not kidding?”

You’re next to draw your eyebrows in, is this a trick question? “No?”

He shakes his head, looking off to the side. You can already see the end of the tunnel. You think he’s going to keep whatever he’s thinking to himself, but again, he speaks.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t any different than the reaping. The only thing that’s changed is the crowd. There’s still cameras and thousands of people watching. The real thing you’re worried about is performing well.” Finnick says.

You open your mouth, going to say that it’s not like that. But then you realize that it is, it’s exactly like that. Before you were too shocked to care about the cameras, you were worried for your brothers and the fact that you’d be going into the Hunger Games with a friend. Now, you know that every move you make or don’t could make a huge difference.

One mess up and it could very well mean the difference between life and death, even now. 

The sun shines down onto the blonde horses first as you emerge from the base floor of the Remake Center. From here, you can see the people in the stands, cheering already at the first chariot. They’re not going to see you for a moment, you’re three districts behind. But as soon as you’re as far in as the first drummers, there will be eyes on you.

“Hey.” Finnick says, catching your attention. When you look over you can see a perfect white cube between his fingers, “Want a sugar cube?”

You hold out your hand, and he drops it in your palm, “Where did you even get this?”

“Saw the horse tamers handing them out to the horses.” he shrugs, “Snagged a few.”

“Pure sugar, huh?” you ask, lifting it in front of you. The sun catches the little sugar crystals, light bouncing off. After you’re done turning it over, you and him share a look before popping the cubes into your mouths.

It’s pure sweetness. Better than the ice cream you had on the train. It starts in the middle of your mouth, but slowly melts and takes over your entire tongue. Your mouth waters, waiting for more. But it’s a quick treat, and it was a good one.

With a smile on your face now, you lift your hand to wave to your side of the crowd. On your way back, you’ll be able to wave at the other side too. They’ll equally get to take a look at your chariot outfit and decide whether or not it was a good enough debut. Or they’ll take one good look at your body and decide from there. 

The cheering from the crowd is loud, constantly overlapping each other. They’ll cover their mouths, clap, throw affections towards you guys. Whatever to get your attention, and to every flower thrown, you make sure to look at the Capitol person. If they think it’s personal, they’ll be more likely to like you. Singling them out makes them think you two had a moment together.

Then, you hear your name called. With wide eyes, your head turns in the direction, completely shocked someone would do the same to you. You spot the person in the crowd easily, wearing a sea green outfit from head to toe, the man has dark hair and a mustache. He blows you a kiss, and suddenly you don’t feel as enthusiastic anymore.

Still, you pretend to catch it, giving him a polite smile and waving before you’ve moved on to the next person. The closer you get to City Circle, the more you can feel the smile fading. It could have very well been an innocent interaction, but your mind wanders to all those times victors have spent extra time in the Capitol after their win.

“What’s the matter?” Finnick asks, “You’re pretty pale.”

One glance up at the big screen to your left confirms what Finnick said. You’ve lost color in your face, the smile is completely gone and you almost look indifferent to this whole thing. It’s not exactly a bad thing to be indifferent, sometimes the Capitol citizens love a tribute like that, especially when the tribute thinks they’re going to win. But this is different.

You lean into Finnick, placing a smile on your face as you turn your head over your shoulders. He leans in to hear you, “Just watched a grown man blow me a kiss. Pretend to laugh.”

He does, and you listen as a few people call your names. But the second you look forward again, the two of you are sharing the same worrying look in your eyes. Still, you laugh a bit and go back to waving. It isn’t much distance now, half a stand to go before you get a break.

For as long as you can, you solely pay attention to the ones that don’t seem creepy at all. Even one weird look from them, and you’re turning your attention to the next person. People seem captivated by the idea of you sharing an intimate moment with Finnick like that, leaning your head on his shoulder and whispering something. Too bad for them, it wasn’t anything good.

The chariots fill the loop of the Circle, and with curious eyes, you go ahead and look over the windows of the president’s mansion to find that most of them are packed with expensive-looking people. The horses come to a stop in a particular spot, and the music graciously ends as the last of the chariots come through.

President Snow comes out and onto the balcony, a smile on his face as he stops in front of the microphone. Here, he gives out an official welcome to the tributes, and then the traditional speech comes after. You’ve been watching this man give this speech for fifteen years now, and it never changes.

During this time, it’s customary for the camera crew to pan around the tributes to show off their outfits again. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see yourself and Finnick the focus at the moment. All you can think about is the potential sponsors, so you go ahead and lay your head on Finnick’s shoulder. 

You can hear a few people, way, way back give out a squeal or a cheer. But Finnick knows the exact game you’re playing, and goes ahead and places his head on top of yours. Not only do you have your half-naked body next to him, arms wrapped around his, you also have your head on his shoulder. And he’s repaid the favor.

You hope this pays off. You were worried about Reed and Mox and the outfit situation before. Now you’re just worried about how they’re going to react to you clearly playing up some act with a boy. You know they’re protective, you just hope that they keep their mouth shut and don’t cause too big of a commotion.

The anthem plays after the speech, and knowing that this means you’re going to be moving again, you and Finnick straighten out. The chariots take one last lap around the Circle, and then you’re heading back towards the Training Center. On the way, you rinse and repeat with the side that Finnick had originally been on.

It’s much easier this time around, you know how to avoid the same mistakes you made the first time around. Before you know it, the entire ordeal is over. You’re quickly covered by shadows again, and you and Finnick are untangling your arms to give them a good stretch.

As soon as the chariot has fully stopped, you’re surrounded by everyone. The prep teams who are talking loudly and helping you down from where you stand. The stylists who are still pretty far back, probably tired of listening to their friends. And then Mags and Anchor, who are already singing praise.

“Smart.” Anchor says, motioning between you and Finnick, “The head thing, I mean. Was that planned?”

“My half was, I didn’t expect him to follow.” you elbow Finnick and watch as his face turns a very light shade of red.

“Whatever for the sponsors, right?”

“Right.” Mags agrees.

You cooperate to the best of your abilities when it comes to getting the vines off, wincing when it pulls at your skin painfully. Finnick seems to not like it very much either. It’s all in sensitive areas, and after they’re removed, your skin is a bright color.

The prep teams don’t even say goodbye, disappearing off to wherever they have to head. You’re still covered in jewelry and makeup, and so is Finnick. As the two of you turn to your mentors, really hoping to get back to the Four floor, Anchor nods at something behind you.

You’re the first to look over, Finnick seemingly clueless. You tug on his arm a bit when you realize what’s going on. A sprinkle of fear begins in your heart, and you do your best to suppress it. It’s not the end of the world, in fact, it might be the beginning of one. And without even thinking about it, you wave them over.

One chariot over is the District One tributes, staring at you and Finnick. While you and him were distracted a second ago, they got their first opportunity to size you up, measure your body and take predictions on what you may or may not be good at. It’s a jump, one you wish you could have taken yourself. You only get to see them so many times before you go into the arena. And this is the first real look up-close.

These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial. Once your viewpoint is set, you can’t imagine you’ll be thinking much different later on. And talking to them is a good way to get a feel on how they’re going to be for the next five days.

Three of those being training, where you get to see what they do and don’t excel at. It’ll be important for you to pay attention to the tributes that head straight for certain areas in the Training Center. It means that they’re good at it, especially the ones that go for the weapons. The fourth day is the private training score, showing how dangerous they are.

And the very last day is the interview. There, they’ll be able to show the whole sponsor pool why they’re good enough. Same thing for you. You have to pay attention to every little detail. Every single one.

Like now, how both Trink and Lennox head your way without a single moment of hesitation. Either they were waiting on an invitation or they were planning on heading this way anyway.

“Scram.” you hiss to your mentors and stylists, and it looks like they understand why, because they leave with no questions.

When they’re within speaking distance, you start, “Cute outfits, where’d you get ‘em?”

They’re both dressed in sparkly outfits. From where you were on the chariot, you thought they looked like disco balls with how the light reflected from them, into the stands. Thankfully, their stylists must have taken the tributes behind them into consideration, because you never got blinded once. 

“Oh, you know.” Trink smiles, it’s cute, attractive. You can sense a bit of danger with it, attractiveness will get you everywhere with sponsors because of how they think. But if you manage to become allies with them, their sponsors might just become yours. Think smarter, not harder, “Went shopping yesterday after the reaping.”

She poses to add effect, Lennox doesn’t look as entertained as she is. He’s stiff, stares you and Finnick down like you’ve got some ulterior motive. No, it’s just an alliance. It’s reasonable. Districts One, Two and Four regularly team up. The only problem this year is you and Finnick are young. 

Young can easily get you killed. If you’re twelve, thirteen and fourteen, you have little to no chance of winning. Your odds increase slightly at fifteen, and get bigger and bigger at sixteen, seventeen and eighteen. The older you are, the more your body has developed. And considering they’ve had years of preparation, while other tributes have never done something like that ever, they have an unfair advantage.

“I’m (Y/n).” you give her a smile.

“Trink.” she says, “This is Lennox. He’s jealous at the moment.”

Your eyes slide over to him to see that he’s staring you down now, “What you did on the chariot was…”

“Smart?” you ask, “I know, there’s no need to tell me.”

Now there’s a smile on his face. It looks like confidence is the key when it comes to him, that’s something you’re going to have to remember until later. You complimented Trink to get her to be playful, and you were confident with how you look.

“And you?” Lennox looks over to Finnick.

A smile spreads over your face as you watch Finnick offer his hand, “Finnick.”

Lennox’s impressed expression only deepens, taking Finnick’s hand and shaking it. They’re definitely older than you are. Not only because of their height, but because of the way they talk and carry themselves. Either Lennox has got a superiority complex going on, or he’s extremely old-fashioned, which you don’t think is likely.

You look between them to see that District Two is coming over uninvited. Perfect. If you all gather now, then it’ll be easier to gather later inside of the training room. You’ll all know each other, and naturally gravitate into a group. Just like how it is back home at school when it comes to group projects. You normally go straight for your friends or people you know in general to make the process a lot less painful.

“Looks like we’ve got company.” Finnick says, beating you to it.

And just like that, Lennox and Trink split, allowing Eytelle to come to a stop next to Trink, and Allio next to Lennox. With Trink and Eytelle standing next to each other, you can see just how much of a distance there is between them. Eytelle is nowhere near the same height as Laurel just yet, but if she keeps growing, she will be.

Her parents must be tall, because that’s the only reason why she would be this height. Her long legs are going to give her an advantage when it comes to running, but it’ll be hard for her to hide easily in an arena. She’ll have to find a space where she hides completely, while you would just be able to slip right on through.

“District Two?” you ask, “I’m going to have to ask your names.”

“Eytelle.” she says, she’s hunched over, arms around her exposed stomach. Eytelle’s outfit isn’t nearly as flattering as Trink’s. With District Two, they’re always trying to go for a gladiator look, like they should belong in a coliseum rather than a Tribute Parade.

“Allio.” his voice is deeper than you expected, “And you are?” he must be older, otherwise he just went through puberty early. 

“(Y/n), this is Finnick.”

“Nice show you put out there.” Eytelle says, her voice is calm, but there’s something festering beneath. 

You have a feeling that she’s jealous of the attention, just like Lennox.

“I saw an opportunity and took it, I hope you’re not expecting me to be apologetic.”

“Not at all.” Allio says, “It was smart, if anything.”

Finnick laughs, and Lennox and Trink break out a smile too. After you explain to him what’s so funny, they seem to loosen up a lot more. For a couple of minutes, it’s casual conversation on how long it took for you to get ready for the parade. Then, the conversation is wrapping up, with you bidding them goodbye until tomorrow. It gives an edge that you hope they’ll catch on to.

On your way back to the Four floor, you and Finnick agree on making them allies. It would be easiest after all. They seem reluctant to trust, but so do you. It’s only fair at this point, you’re still very new to each other. But eventually, they will grow to like you, and expect you to pull weight if you can sell an alliance.

Another step taken, another crack slipped through.

[vsterolson]

Hi hello! I’m Bee! I never know what to say in the intros so here’s the basics: I use she/her pronouns, I’m 23, I live in the EST, I’m not currently working so I’m sure I’ll be around a lot if I’m not sucked into my rewatch of Grays anatomy too much. my discord is big miss steak#9778 if you prefer to chat and plot on there. Now onto Aster! 

tw: miscarriage mention, cancer mention, death mention

[ cis woman, she/her, benedetta gargari , twenty-three ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw ASTER OLSON drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +GREGARIOUS and -RASH that makes them feel SHAKEN about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of CRACKED LIPS COATED IN CRIMSON LIPSTICK, CRUSHED VELVET DRESSES PAIRED WITH BEAT UP DOCS, A COLLECTION OF HALF DRANK TEA COVERING THE COFFEE TABLE. either way, i hope they get back safely.

Aster is Reed born and breed. She came into the world the hospital just ten minutes from the house she would learn how to walk and talk and sing joyfully off tune. Where she’d learned that love wasn’t always spoken but shown in the tenderness of cleaning up a scraped knee and making sure your favorite snacks are always in the pantry and finding time to read your child bedtime stories even if it’s over the phone because your shift went long. 

Aster learned a lot about heart growing up, but not always what to do with it. She saw her parents love and fight with equal passion. Even when their marriage fell apart she couldn’t even be mad because she saw them fight so hard for it. 

Growing up she was one of those kids that made witches brew out of mud and sticks and acorns and any other odds and ends she found during recess and always invited the kids sitting alone to help. And she always brought her classmates a cupcake on their birthday even if she didn’t know them because everyone deserves to be celebrated on their birthday. And freshman she went through a phase of writing secret admirer notes to just leave in random lockers so for just one moment they would feel like they were worth admiring even if she was taking the risk of inflating someone’s ego.

Aster is an empath through and through and has made it a very bad habit to run herself dry to keep everyone afloat. Unlike her parents she never learned when to give up the fight and walk away.

Her fierce tenderness was tested junior year of high school when her mother got sick. The big C. But after all those nights of barely sleeping in hospitals, Aster knew there was a place for her and her big dumb always caring heart. She knew she had to go into medicine. Her mom didn’t make it, but maybe Aster could help other people’s moms make it.

She was a little harder after her mom passed, a little colder. Or at least she tried to be. She didn’t want to feel like this tragic person with eyes like broken faucets, but she didn’t know how to fix the plumbing so she tried just freezing the water. But then the empty aching of running from herself set in so eventually she just had to let the water run till a dry season came along. It took about six months, but eventually she could hold herself together and her and her big heart moved along.

Then college came and she was determined to have it all, the tv worthy college experience. Freshman year she joined everything she could till she was properly burnt out and realized that premed was going to take a lot more of her attention and she got much more studious.

Then came senior year and the first time she let herself be selfish. Somehow her TA position got a little blurry and despite being madly in love with her boyfriend at the time she kept finding herself tangled up in her professor’s sheets. The guilt was heavy but soon she got even heavier. Before she knew it she was late for her period and there were little pink lines on a stick and her life was quickly changing.

While flooded with panic and guilt she was also thrilled. She always wanted to be a mom, more than almost anything. But before she could even figure out whose it was, she lost it. 

The depression was almost as heavy as when her mom passed and she only had a few weeks with the new future she was creating for herself. Accept now she couldn’t even talk about it. Not until her ex best friend dragged it out of her. Finally some relief until her ex best friend turned on her for her own gain and blasted her business for a gossip column.

 This wrecked everything, Aster lost her scholarship and ended up dropping out with a semester left to go. She also lost the love of her life. The whole incident turned her quite bitter, the bright eyed tender hearted girl was taking time off and left way the cold girl she tried to play the part of in high school.

Now she works at dana’s dinner and lives in her childhood home that her mom left her. She’s learning how to be warm again, that it’s ok to trust people. That there is value in being vulnerable and tender and having a big stupid always caring heart is a gift and not just something people will take advantage of.

As she was figuring her life out she reflected back on her mom’s time in the hospital and realized she wouldn’t have made it through without the nurses. So now she’s starting nursing school to give that heart of hers a purpose.

As for how she’s holding up with the disappearances. It’s hard for her. Being such a big feeler she can barely stand to have the news on, but that doesn’t stop her from hearing the gruesome details. Towns like this thrive on gossip and the dinner is not the place to avoid it. Everything is feeling very heavy these days so if you see her eyes red as she’s serving you coffee don’t mention it.

She does feel a bit guilty for how emotional she’s gotten because of it, none of her loved ones have been harmed, but there are people hurting, this town is hurting and there’s no one to fix it. This sort of thing really troubles her. All she can do is bring baked goods to those in morning and offer a shoulder to cry on or ears to listen, but it doesn’t seem enough. 

Even worse, she can’t help but be consumed with the fear that it could be her father on the news next. She calls him everyday, sometimes twice. He’s very stubborn and she knows he does a lot of business out of town. 

random facts:

she has two rescued cats. An all black cat named zelda and a calico mix named luna

she has a vast tea collection because its good for the soul and its also rude to not offer guests a warm beverage so she has to be prepared for whatever they might like

she thrifts almost all of her clothes and is like a magnet for the good stuff. Her wardrobe consists of lots of crushed velvet and silky lacy things and of course an abundance of sweaters and flannels.

She’s very bad at finishing projects. She’s pretty bad at finishing almost anything actually. Her apartment is filled with half knit scarfs, books with only chapters to finish but will never be opened again, unfinished drinks growing mold.

She has a scar on her ribs from a bicycle ride gone wrong as a kid when she was caught by the sharp branches of a fallen tree

she hates to text, she will call just to answer a simple question. 

connection ideas:

childhood friends

her ex from college - if you like lots of angst this is the one for you

other exes

fwbs - even better if theres feelings they’re refusing to admit

ride or dies

coworkers

other nursing students or people that work at the hospital she might know from volunteering

after the incident in college she kind of went through a party phase so maybe people she partied with 

[robin-the-enby]

Confusing feelings

Pairing: Abe Sapien x OC

Summary: Abe meets a creature he's only ever read about.

Warnings: Probably very long with grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), a little bit of violence

A/N: I've been thinking about making this into a full book on my Wattpad account. I already have one English book there, so if you're a Moomins fan, go check it out, the name is TheDarkSide019 .

* * * * *

Fridays never really meant anything at BPRD, apart from it being the most chaotic day of the week. I mean, it's not like they didn't have to work at weekends. They did. And that sucked, as Liz said many times.

The last few weeks were pretty calm, nothing big was happening and there wasn't any danger that could wipe out humanity.

That meant Abe, Liz and Hellboy could have more free time.

Liz finally accepted herself as she is and her and Red's relationship has been just great. They were spending most of their free time with the other, doing all sorts of things and going on all sorts of little adventures at BPRD.

Abe didn't have anyone he would be this close with and he definitely didn't want to be a third wheel, even though he thought that if he asked to, Hellboy and Liz would let him hang out with them. Of course, there were some agents that came to the library, which used to be dr. Broom's office, to ask him all kinds of questions, some more interesting than others, but as the kind-hearted soul he was, he answered them all with patience. If he could help, why wouldn't he do so?

But when the agents left, he was all alone once again. Alone. That word tasted bitter on his tongue. However, this alone felt different than how he ever felt before. He was so lonely it was distracting. Soon he couldn't even read books with how distracted he was. So his days were spent in his tank, just quietly thinking about what was it that he lacked.

However he didn't lack anything, it was his soul that was weeping. Every time Abe saw Hellboy with Liz, his soul cried out a little. He was happy for them, he really was, but there was something about the sight that made him feel a wide range of emotions at once. He was confused.

If you're confused, you can just ask someone, he told himself. So he went to the first person he thought could help him understand his feelings a bit more. Liz.

"You're jealous Abe." was the answer he got. It was simple, but genuine and said with care. She wasn't mad in any way, but she didn't see a reason to beat around the bush.

But that's ridicoulus. Abe thought. "What do you mean jealous? I'm not jealous, in fact I am very happy for you two." Liz laughed at his confusion. "You're not jealous of me or Red, Abe. You're jealous of what we have. Maybe you don't realize it, but inside, you want it too. A relationship, I mean." He didn't look much wiser than before and she shook her head a little "Look. I'm not saying I'm right, but from what you've just told me it looks like it. It's normal, everybody sometimes feels like this when they've been single for a long time. Just think about it and if anything, you can talk to me." she reassured him. He nodded and slowly stood up. He only managed to mumble out a 'bye' before slipping through the door. He didn't even notice Hellboy who was coming to see Liz in her room. Red said hi, but he didn't recieve an answer, so deep in thought Abe was. Red turned his head to look at him, then shrugged and entered the room of his beloved girlfriend.

"What's up with Abe?" he then asked Liz and pointed at the door with his thumb like the said man was just behind it. "He's lonely." Liz explained. "What do you mean? He's always been kinda lonely." Red didn't understand. Sometimes Abe would rant to him how he felt a little lonely sometimes, like there was no one that could fully understand him. But he almost immediately after said that he didn't mind and was grateful for everything and everyone he had. "Yeah, but he's that kind of lonely that you were when I left." she said, trying to light up the mood a little. Although, they both knew it was true. "Poor man." Red shook his head and sighed.

Abe immediately went into his tank after arriving in the library. How could one be jealous of a non-materialistic thing? That's ridicoulus. Although, he had to admit, it would be nice to have someone you can hold, trust and rely on, to share all the nice and bad things with and who would hold, trust and rely on him and want to share all those things with him too. Oh, that's how.

The next day his mind was still overloaded with thoughts. In the morning Red stopped by and asked how he was doing and if he wanted to hang out with him and Liz later. Abe politely declined, saying he needs to sort some things out. In my head. he added, but not out loud.

Unknown to him or the other two, who were a little worried about him, things were going to get exciting in just a moment.

Manning recieved a newspaper with a very strange title right on homepage. He was told by the agent who brought the thing, that the local police doesn't know what to do anymore. It was time to call the special agents.

Abe was forcefully pulled out from his thoughts by the library door opening. In came Manning with a few other agents, Liz and Hellboy trailling behind them. When Abe looked at their joined hands, his soul cried out yet again, but now he knew why. It was refreshing and frustrating at the same time, which left him as he was the days prior. Confused.

"What's so important that you have to pull us away from our day off?" Red asked and Manning decided to ignore him, because getting mad would not get him anywhere. "We've recieved an anonymus tip about paranormal activity going on in Scotland. Look at this." he handed Hellboy the newspaper. Red took it from him and looked at the homepage. There, in bold, capital letters was a title: TWO MEN DEAD AT A LOCAL LAKE. ONLY REMAINS FOUND ARE HEARTS AND LIVERS. "That's nice." Red commented. Then he came over to Abe's tank, where Abe was practically glued to the front glass wall, to show it to him. He watched as Abe's eyes scanned the title "What do you think it is pal?"

Abe thought for a while, blinking owlishly once or thrice. Just as they thought he maybe wasn't paying attention, Abe turned to look at them "I don't know. There are lots and lots of water creatures, but I can't recall a single one that doesn't eat a part of their victim."

His interest has been piqued. "A new creature perhaps?" Liz piped up, her gate set on the paper laying now on one of the tables. Manning sighed an annoyed sigh "Great." "Or a one we don't have much information about." Abe said. "Either way, I want you to catch it and bring it back for studying. The details will be given to you later today." "So wait, we're actually going to Scotland?" Liz asked excitedly. "You bet'cha babe." Hellboy smirked and wrapped one arm around her waist.

Abe was excited. Finally something distracted him from his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn't figure out what creature could've caused this. He tried to narrow it to water beasts from The brittish islands, but that didn't really help, there were still too many options and too little information.

Another thing he didn't really like was how Manning said studying. Oh he was going to keep an eye on that. There will be no harmful experiments on his watch. No cutting, probing, chemical testing, nothing. That just wasn't right and even if he believed Manning was a good man, he knew how he treated those of different species.

They gave the trio all known information. The lake was near a small town that was build for people who worked in a nearby ink factory. It was that type of town where everyone knew each other.

They all left on Sunday evening and by Monday morning they were already there. It was necessary, all citizens will be at work or at school so there will be a near zero percent chance of someone seeing the trio.

The sky was grey as the water that reflected it, gentle breeze making small waves on the water surface. The lake was surrounded by reeds that swayed ever so slightly and rustled quietly. There were a few spots where the reeds had been cut, probably for people who wanted to fish. Strange thing was that there weren't any animals, usually this place would be full of water birds and insects, but here everything seemed dead. It was a little depressing.

Hushed voices of Liz and Hellboy could be heard with the rustling. Liz liked the idea of getting out of BPRD from the beggining and when they arrived, she fell in love with the place. Abe had to admit, the scenery all around them was beautiful. But he could feel that something wasn't right here.

A young agent called out to them to get their attention. He beckoned them over to where he was standing. They came to one of the fishing spots where remains of footsteps were highlighted by the police. "You got anything for us?" Hellboy asked. The agent nervously gulped "Well, you'll need to know what happened, before you start investigating." he said with a shaky voice. "And you know that?" asked Liz. The agent opened the casefile, which wasn't really thick "Well, two victims went to an inn after work. They were fairly tipsy, but didn't come in a vehicle, so the innkeaper let them go. And now this is where it gets interesting. The footsteps lead straight into the water, like they did it from their own will. Bodies were never found, the only remains are their hearts and livers which were thrown in the reeds over there." he pointed to the place where they had been found.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something new. "Thank you for your help." Abe thanked the young man. He then scurried off somewhere without saying anything.

There wasn't really anything to do now, Abe still didn't have enough information to figure out what exactly they were dealing with here. They decided it would be best to look around and hopefully find something new.

"Do we know where this thing could be?" Liz asked. "Well, because the victims were lured into the lake, I think it's safe to assume it lives there." Abe explained, even though he thought she could have figured that out on her own. "Well, if we won't find anything usefull, you're going to have to dive down there." Hellboy said and gestured to the lake with his head. Abe sighed "I know." Although he was excited, they still didn't know anything and he wouldn't like to go there unprepared.

As they were walking, Abe pointed out the lack of animals at this place. "Well, they could be just scared from all the people suddenly showing up." Liz shrugged.

Soon they were on the opposite side of the lake and nothing strange had happened so far. They could see meadows upon meadows everywhere and even those looked empty. There wasn't anything alive, only a horse on one of the meadows. Wait, a horse??

Liz softly gasped "Look, a horse!" and immediately started to go towards it. Red and Abe looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing if it was safe, but they trailed behind her nonetheless. What could a horse possibly do?

The closer they got to it, the worse feeling settled in Abe's gut. Liz was already standing next to it, petting it softly.

It was beautiful. But something felt off. It's fur was white like fresh snow and clean, even though it was standing on a meadow with no fence around it. How was it so clean when it probably didn't belong to anyone? If Abe could frown, he would. The horse was peacfully munching on the grass, until Liz touched it. It lifted it's head up, showing them the deepest dark blue eyes that they've ever seen. They looked almost...hypnotizing.

"Do you think it'd let me ride it?" Liz wondered. She was looking into the horses eyes and her voice sounded quiet and soft, like she was daydreaming. Abe found it strange for the girl to be so enamoured by a simple horse, but it seemed he was the only one.

Hellboy picked up his girlfriend and set her gently on the horses back. She sat there for a while, before trying to run her hands through its mane.

It was as white as the rest of its body, without any knots. "Somebody has gone for a swim, eh?" Liz cooed at the animal. And aparently wet too.

Abe stared at the horse, deep in thought. It didn't belong to anybody, it was beautiful and enchanting. It just encouraged you to ride it. Abe looked at its mane, small droplets still dripping down. If it went into the lake, it must have been before we got here. Wouldn't it be dry now?

It was just encouraging you to ride it. Encouraging....encouraging...luring...

And then it clicked.

"Liz, you need to get down. Now." Abe said, urgency evident in his voice. Hellboy registered it before Liz, who seemed in some sort of dreamy trance, sensing the tone he immediately felt unnerved and went to retrieve his girl.

"Give me your hand babe." he said gently. Liz blinked, suddenly confused. It took her a few seconds to process what did he want her to do, but when she was going to lift her hand, she realized she was stuck.

"Red." she said, her voice quiet "I can't take my hads off it." Hellboy looked confused "What do you mean you can't-"

It happened so suddenly. By now everyone figured that the cteature wasn't a regular horse and could in fact understand everything that had been said. Like a lightning from a clear sky it took off in a fascinating speed. Hellboy cried out his loves name while Abe's breath has been stolen. He finally understood what was going on and Liz was in deep trouble.

At this point both of them were running after the two. But they could never match the speed of the beast. Liz knew she had to do something when she saw where the creature was headed. She tried to concentrate on increasing the heat inside of her, until she burst into blue flames.

The creature let out a pained screech full of agony and fear and if it wasn't going in an unhuman speed before, it sure was now. Abe would later tell that it sounded nothing like a sound horses make. It resembled a human scream, but then times more terrifying.

All the agents looked from their work when they heard the commotion. And all of them jumped to their feet when a horse, that was on fire, ran past and straight into the water.

Liz could feel the water detaching her body from the beast. Even though she couldn't feel it anywhere around her, she still kept herself hot enough to boil it slightly.

Then she felt something grab her arm and pull her upwards. Thinking it was the beast she thrashed as much as she could, but when they broke to the surface and she could hear her boyfriend's shouts to try and calm her down, she stilled almost immediately.

Abe was surprised to see them both covered in some sort of black goo when they got out of the water. He pointed it out and told them it would be best to clean up. They didn't have anything against it and left him alone.

The next twenty minutes were chaotic. Agents ran all around the place, some tending to Liz, some questioning Abe and Red, some taking samples from the weird water and some looking for the Kelpie.

"A Kelpie? What's that?" Hellboy asked. "Well, it is a water creature living mostly in Scotland and Ireland. Because it's so far away from BPRD, we don't know much about it. That's why I couldn't figure it out for so long. However, what we do know is that in water it takes shape of a horse with a finn and on land of a beautiful horse or human." Hellboy grumbled "Well, I'm gonna kill it after they're done getting the information." if it was him it would go after, he wouldn't be surprised. But it dared lay a hoove on his Liz and that's a sin he can't forgive.

About thirty minutes later the trio joined the agents in looking for the Kelpie. They had to split up, which left Abe alone. Not that it was dangerous anymore, the Kelpie would be hurt. Abe was afraid it would die before he'd get his information and he scolded himself for feeling this way.

A few meters from him the reeds rustled and something dragging on the ground could be heard. That must be it. Abe thought. He stealthily crept to the spot and peeked between the reeds. And there it was.

It was a woman. She layed on her side, her back facing Abe. She was naked and covered in the substance from the water. Her back was badly burnt and she sounded exhausted, only shallow breaths and quiet noises of pain leaving her mouth.

He slowly came out of his hiding spot as to not scare her too much, but she was too weak to move. He came around her and saw her face. Without all the goo she'd be very beautiful. He didn't know if it'd be apropriate to calm her, so he just looked at her reasuringly, at least he tried to do so, and called to the nearby agents.

He felt strangely calm knowing the Kelpie was safe with the agents. He once again, couldn't understand his feelings. At least he could go home now.

* * * * *

Please leave a like and/or a comment if you want part two ;)

[the-fiction-witch]

Ye Old Westeros

TV SHOW: WOLF HALL X GAME OF THRONES COUPLE: JOJEN X READER RATING: SMUT

I sighed as I watched the sunrise over the green hills, watching as light-flooded on the tallest tree's to the smallest of daisies, the blue sky was hidden behind clouds that passed through the sky quickly and silently, I let out another sigh as I heard a knock on my door.

"Yes?" I asked turning back to the door shutting my curtains

"Master Jojen, Your father has requested your presents," A maid told me from the other side of the door

"Alright" I sighed running a hand through my hair and getting out of bed getting some clothes on grabbing my glasses and heading down the long staircase to the main dining room "You wanted to see me, father?" I asked

"Ahh Jojen, Perfect" He smiled as he got up from his chair and brought me over to my usual seat on the left of him beside my sister and across from my mother "now Jojen, Once you're done with your breakfast I want you washed and dressed and with me for the council this morning"

"The council? are you sure father?" I pressed

"Of course, after all your my successor Jojen, and I won't live forever I need you to understand the workings of being king" he explained "And this may in fact be a key moment in our history, one you may have to contend with as well"

"Who's coming to this council father?" I asked curiously

"all the usual, and we have invited that dam lot from across the way, been pushing at each other my whole life today we settle or we go to war" He explained

"Yes father" I nodded finishing a little food and going up to my room, having a hot bath and getting dressed into some nice clothes trying my best to fix my hair before I headed down to the main chamber of the castle, I stayed out of sight for a while a little afraid I cleared my head and my breath before stepping out and standing on the left side of my father's throne my mother on the other side as she smiled at me gently, I saw people looking at me many lords and lady's looking at me even the present people looking at me everyone looking at as much f me as they could see, I hadn't been allowed in the councils, or in public at all for as long as I remember.

The kingdom celebrated my birth as the first heir to the throne, my mother once told me that the whole kingdom flooded to see me when I was born, men from the furthest reaches of distant kingdoms came to wish me well and to offer their daughters to be my eventual bride, my father turned them all down and decide that the life of a prince should be concealed much like his was until he deemed I was old enough which I suppose means today.

I did my best to stand straight my hands behind my back a little overwhelmed by the number of people here when there was suddenly silence. the doors opened and a man stepped in he was clearly a king of another kingdom on his arm was a young girl, she seemed young enough to be his daughter she wore a beautiful y/f/c dress it reached the floor and had a black corset hugging her waist tightly her dress rather.... revealing, the skin of her chest clear to me both her breasts rather obvious and tight in her dress due to the dress and her corset, her face was beautiful her y/h/c hair done in a thousand different plaits and braids I couldn't help looking at her, I had never really seen any girls, none but my mother, my sister and the few staff girls who worked in the castle, but she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Your grace?" My father said as he stood

"Your grace," his man nodded "I assume this is your Queen?"

"Yes, this is my Queen" He smiled to my mother "I assume this is the Queen of yours I have heard so much about?" he asked indicating to that beautiful girl

"I'm afraid not, My beautiful Queen died quite some years ago" he explained "This is the only heir she blessed me with my daughter Y/n"

She gently curtseying "Good Morning your grace" she smiled,

"then may I too present My heir, My son Jojen," He said indicating to me I was unsure of what to do so I bowed my head slightly to them I knew my father and hers were talking, discussing all sorts of things that I knew I should have been listening to but I was too distracted by this girl I couldn't keep my eyes off her, but her eyes moved to me and she caught me looking so I looked away trying to hide my blush her cheeks dusted with a slight pink blush too as she gently giggled...

I think I'm in love.

"This petty squabble has gone on for long enough" her father yelled

"I agree" my father answered

"Your choice is simple, you agree to peace on my terms or I shall rage war upon your people"

"You must agree to my terms, else we will be at war" my father yelled,

"then we are at war!" He yelled marching out with his daughter soon enough everyone cleared out leaving me alone with my father

"Would you have gone to war Jojen?" He asked

"I don't know father..." I answered

"I mean... his demands they where fine they where acceptable but f he won't take ours we have no choice but to fight," He says

"Yes, father" I nodded returning to my room,

she was all I could think about for weeks, anywhere and everywhere,

In the gardens, In the dining hall with my family, during war councils with my father, playing with my sister, in the bath, while I read my books, and mostly when I was in my bed I couldn't help thinking about her.

I groaned pulling my pillow tighter "UUmmm... Y/n" I groaned trying not to be ripped away from the dream I had about her "uuhh! Y/n!!" I groaned hugging my pillow even tighter I sighed as the sunlight forced me to wake up so I got out of bed starting to get dressed and going down to the garden sitting on the grass and looking out across the kingdom where I could see the y/l/n castle I couldn't help but imagine what she was doing in there, maybe she was in her room reading, or maybe she was wondering the gardens or maybe she was... having a bubble bath.

I threw those awful thoughts out of my mind trying to think of anything else but those are thoughts wouldn't leave I decided as I looked around Me and saw I was alone in the gardens I got my little telescope from my pocket extending it out as much as I could and looking over to the y/l/n castle I looked around all the windows searching for anything interesting but found nothing so I scanned the garden... And found a very interested sight.

I saw the heir to the throne y/n, the girl I couldn't stop thinking about since I saw her, she stops in a beautiful floral gown that flowed like water across her luscious body, her ever curve realed to me she walked though the twilight garden as the sun was yet to rise she walked though the grass with a lit lantern in hand she reached a risen pond with some waterfalls that fed the gardens with water she smiled widely putting her hand in the water and before I could even think she slipped off the gown leaving her completely naked she stepped into the pool and began to swim often diving and playing around As she sawm I couldn't bare to take my eyes away from her

"How's the peeping?" A voice Asked making me squeal and drop my telescope on the grass

"Mother!" I yelled as I saw her behind me so I hid my telescope and my obvious erection

"So Jojen, how's the peeping?" She asked

"What? I uhh I umm I wasn't peeping" I lied

"Jojen" she warns "I know that look" she says putting her hand on my chin to force me to make eye contact with her "your father use to make the same look at me" she laughs "course back then it was just peeping in the ladies wash house and over garden fences" she explained "so who is she?" She asked taking my telescope and trying to look though to see what I was looking at

"Nothing! Nothing mother I was just bird watching" I lied

"Ummm bird watching" she says handing me back my telescope "be careful Jojen, some 'birds' will slap you for peeping" she warns So I nodded and ran back to my room.

I sighed as I sat with father in his war councils listening to endless military men discuss pointless little things when the door opened "a message my king" a boy said bringing a message for my father he took it and began to read when the messenger came close to me "pssst" he whispered making me jump

"What?" I asked

"Ssshh!!" He argued "I bring a secret message..." He whispered handing me a letter

"Who from?" I asked

"The Princess y/n" he says I was going to ask more but my father gave him a message to return to king y/l/n so I hid the Letter unendingly curious till I was told I could go so I rushed to my room locking the door and getting the Letter, it was a beautiful white envelope with a purple wax emblem of her family as well as a sprig of lavender, the Letter smelt like lavender, pine, daisies and roses and I instantly fell in love with the scent I opened the Letter doing my best not to break the seal too bad unfolding the perfect hand written letter

"Dear Jojen prince of the Reed kingdom, I have no other way to speak with you due to the war between our families at this time, but I must tell you even at the risk of my father finding out. That... I haven't been able to stop thinking of you, you have been all I've been able to think of since the decloration of war between our kingdoms. You looked so handsome and I must admit that I have begun to reglect my duties in favour of time thinking of you.

I don't know how you feel about this or if you even think much of me at all,

Either way I will hopefully await your response

lovingly Princess y/n y/l/n"

I was Lost my heart overwhelmed with joy reading her letter over and over but I knew I had to respond not keep her waiting for me so I got some paper and began to write

"Dearest princess, I was shocked by your letter it truly did suprise me. But it overwhelmed me with joy to hear from you, and I must express that my feelings are the same I haven't been able to get you out of my mind my lady since I saw you at the council I can't think I can't work your all I can think about all hours of the day, the first moment I saw you I was blinded by your beauty and I could have Swan my love for you at that very moment my sweet princess. I know the risks we both take knowing the raging war between our families but... I must see you again, and I fear I cannot wait long.

If you wish to meet with me in person, meet me at the Oakland farm at the edges our our kingdoms on Sunday as the sun sets I will be waiting,

I await your response

Prince Jojen"

I sealed the Letter and ran to the war council that was still going on I spotted the messenger stood around as they debated a message so I signalled him over her, he quiet rushed over S I handed him the letter

"For the princess, please keep it a secret" I told him and he nodded hiding it away.

[iatasbcl]

Head In The Clouds

Request by @ infinitew-olf : You👏know👏I'm👏always👏thirsty👏for👏some👏RKs👏 (I hope I'm not spamming you tho) how about RK900 X Reader where she's just an airhead who's completely clueless to his pining after her (he is getting frustrated and possessive 👀)

Pairing: R900, Nines x reader.

Warnings: Pining, badly written fluff I’m sorry.

word count:1407

A/N: The RKs thirst never ends, thanks for requesting this and you’re not spamming me at all! enjoy reading it, love :)

Nines was rather cold compared to his predecessor, RK800. He lacked the humanity Connor had, even after his deviancy. He wasn’t created to be social or friendly, after all. He is a combat android or was a combat android.

He worked in the D.P.D and served as detective Gavin Reed’s partner. The man was difficult, constantly acting like a toddler and lashing out every other minute. It did nothing but annoy him. Hank was their superior and a man with his fair share of personal issues, but he was a good lieutenant none the less.

Connor, on the other hand was his counterpart. He was full of all kinds of emotions; he was more human than most humans. He wasn’t, a part of Nines felt as if he was stuck being a soulless machine, he didn’t feel human enough. And for the longest time, it hadn’t bothered him, not at all.

Then she came along, she just had to ruin it all.

She was a new member of the D.P.D, a bright young officer. She didn’t mean anything to him first, just a new face around the office, nothing more. That changed when she was assigned to help him and Reed on a case.

She wasn’t the best asset, but he could see she was trying her best despite her inexperience. It didn’t change the fact that she caused unnecessary inconvenience. Gavin was much more outspoken with his criticism, to which she responded with a simple ‘Okay.’

Her company became constant after that, with her occasionally dropping by his desk to say hi. It became an everyday thing after that, and they eventually began having actual small conversations. It was nothing deep or personal, just two D.P.D workers discussing their jobs.

But before he knew it, it had changed into something more for him. It became a routine; he grew used to her soft greeting and short talks. Their conversations gradually transferred to more personal ones.

She would ask him about his day, what he liked and disliked, how the hell he put up with Reed. It was an entertaining conversation.

She told him about herself, shared details of so many things; her home life, her hobbies, her pets. It was quite endearing, seeing her excitedly ramble about those things that shouldn’t matter to him.

He felt something; this strange sense of attachment filled him. He wanted her to talk more, he loathed seeing her go back to work away from him. He felt.

It was new, it was strange, it was scary. He didn’t know how to best deal with the million thoughts that swamped his artificial brain. He continued to stare at his terminal, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

“Nines?” she called, and he looked up. “I’m gonna go get lunch, you wanna tag along?” he stared for a moment then nodded, getting up and walking by her side.

Nines could feel himself heat up as he gazed at her, his vision focused on her and only her. She was giggling with Connor. His pining had only gotten worse, now deeming it impossible to see her with anyone else. His attraction to her wasn’t logical, he thought, he still did not understand how things ended up like this.

Him, hopelessly smitten by this ordinary woman who was nothing an aloof mess, her not noticing anything and enjoying her time with others. It made his chest ache.

He did not own her; she wasn’t something for him to control or claim. He knew that and fully realized it. Then why did he feel this sudden urge to take her away from this crowd, to make her see what he felt, to make her his?

It wasn’t logical, then again nothing he did was. He approached her unconsciously, “Officer ____” She turned and flashed that same pleasing smile, “Nines, I told you to drop that ‘officer’! we aren’t at work.” She scolded.

“I apologize.” He said, looking the RK800 who looked between them suspiciously. “Oh, that’s Miller and Jess, I’m gonna go say hi.” She said and left the two. Nines gaze lingered on her until she disappeared into the crowd.

“You like her.” It was more of a statement, “I beg your pardon?”

“You like ____.” Connor was grinning, Nines did not think he would be that easy to read. “I do not, that would be unprofessional.”, Connor laughed, “You were watching us talk, you could’ve killed me with that look alone.”

He didn’t respond, only glaring at him through a side glance. “You should talk to her about it.” Nines scoffed, right. “I’m serious, you can’t keep scaring away her potential lovers like that.”

He was right. He was scaring them away with his expression alone, he couldn’t help this burn in his chest whenever someone got too close. He felt terrible, this was wrong, he didn’t have the right to do it.

He didn’t what else to do, he wanted to be the one to hold her close, to laugh with her but something was stopping him from even trying to reach that. He was afraid, afraid she would not feel the same.

She was also rather oblivious to how she affected him.

“Wow, your hand is really warm.” She said as she wrapped her hand around his, not realizing the cause of his heat was her.

“Hey, I brought Connor along, hope you don’t mind.” She said as she brought him to what he thought would be a private reading session.

“There is only one bed left, but it’s big enough for the two of us.” She said, they ended up sharing a room on a stakeout before, she didn’t look bothered by it at all. He opted to stay up all night instead.

God, how could someone be so... unaware?

“Nines, Nines!” She held his hand, Connor smiled and excused himself, leaving them alone. “Listen, I found this amazing spot, come I will show you!” She said and pulled him, leading him through the crowd and into a small door; it was a small balcony.

The view was breathtaking, there was a soft breeze and the music from the inside was now muffled. She stood next to him; his eyes went from the view below to her. She was staring at him, “It’s beautiful, right?”

“Yes, it certainly is.” He muttered. She somehow looked even prettier now. “I’m glad to be sharing this with you.”

“Me too.” It went quiet after that. he tried to keep a straight face.

He felt a little bit of reassurance.  “Can I tell you something?” she looked at him in wonder but nodded nonetheless, “I…” He paused, gulping the invisible lump in his throat, “I like you.”

“I like you too.” Was their immediate answer, but their expression hadn’t changed. “No, I like you, ___.” He emphasized the ‘like’, wanting her to understand his confession.

“Aw, I like you too.” They said and patted his shoulder; Nines closed his eyes. “Nines?”

“I love you; I absolutely adore you, with all my heart. Not in a platonic sense.” He knew he would lose it if she somehow did not get it now. “Oh.” Was her low response.

“Oh,” she said, louder this time. The look of surprise on her face made him want to forget this ever happened. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, I will go back inside.” He said and he turned to leave but she caught his arm, pulling him toward her.

“Wait, I feel the same!” Her heart was racing, he could hear it. “What?”

“I’m not good at this stuff, shit.” She cursed and paused to collect herself, “This explains the whole glaring at everyone like an angry puppy thing.” she said to herself and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Nines just looked at her fumbling to get her words out.

“I like being around you, Nines, you’re special to me.” she finally said and looked at him, embarrassment was written all over her face. “I won’t mind being more than just friends, I would love to, actually.”

Nines blinked, once, twice, thrice. These were the words this troublesome human made him crave for a while now but now that it was finally real, he didn’t know what to do. So, she moved in, wrapping her arms around him gently and resting her head on his chest.

He wanted to feel this way forever.

[novelcatauthorcorner]

The man who had a flash marriage with her was the richest man in Asia!

"Karen Daly, this is my bank card, and the password is 131224, you can use it to buy anything necessary.” A few hours had passed, but Karen Daly was still thinking about what her new husband had said as he handed her a bank card before going out in the morning. Honestly, she knew very little about her husband. Apart from the fact that his name was Kevin Kyle, she knew nothing else about him, not even who his family members were. Karen Daly did not know where she got the courage to get married to a man she had only met twice. Ten days ago, with the help of Faye Reed, her best friend, Karen Daly met Kevin Kyle for the first time on a blind date. She was not hopeful. After all, she had been hurt three years earlier, and she no longer had the right to be picky about others, but had to succumb to letting others pick her instead. She was 15 minutes earlier on the day of the blind date. Since she didn’t have any good qualities, she could only do better in other aspects, hoping to leave a good impression. If she could marry a man that was suitable for her, she could also make her parents feel at ease. The man came on time. The man's suit and shoes were very formal, which made her feel how important he viewed this blind date, which gave her a good first impression of him. His way of greeting was also very ordinary. "Miss Karen Daly, Hello! I am Kevin Kyle." It was a very ordinary sentence, but because his voice was very magnetic, it made Karen Daly feel unusually pleasant, leaving behind better impression than before. After a brief chat, they exchanged their phone numbers and left. Since Karen had been on many blind dates before, she did not take this blind date seriously. She thought that this blind date would end up the same as those before. Unexpectedly, she received a call from Kevin Kyle two days later. His voice was as polite as before, "Miss Karen, are you free tonight?" That night, Kevin Kyle invited her to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Karen Daly didn't like the awkwardness of a blind date. There spoke very few words in at the restaurant. During the meal, she felt a little cautious and she didn't eat much. Originally, she wanted to find a reason to leave early. While she was hesitating, Kevin Kyle spoke first, "Miss Karen, I have some time next Wednesday, how about we get our marriage certificate picked up then?" "What, what certificate do you want?" Karen Daly was shocked by Kevin Kyle's words. "A marriage certificate," he repeated in a serious tone. He did not sound like he was joking at all. "A marriage certificate?" Karen Daly still did not believe what she had heard. She put her hand on her thigh and pinched it hard to make sure that she was not dreaming, then she looked at the man in front of her seriously. Kevin Kyle had a pair of thick sword-shaped eyebrows, bright eyes, and a beautiful face. He was so eye-catching that others could spot him immediately in a crowd. His expression and attitude were very serious, and he didn't look like an impulsive person. This was only the second time they had met, and he yet said he wanted to marry her? Then, the man's deep magnetic voice arrived at her ears again. "I thought that you were just like me. Going on a blind date with the objective to form a family, to get married and have children, and live an "ordinary" life." "Yes, I think so too, but after all, we have just met for the second time. Don't you think it's too fast?" Karen Daly said. She wanted to have her own family, but she didn't expect it to be so hasty. "It is a bit too fast." Kevin Kyle continued with a calm look, "After the first meeting, I went back and thought about it for two days. You have given me a good feeling. I personally feel that our personalities don't clash, so I want to have a try." Karen Daly frowned slightly and was a little unhappy. "In my opinion, marriage is not a trivial thing. Try? If this doesn’t work out, does it mean you want to..." Before she could finish, Kevin Kyle interrupted her, "Miss Karen, we are all adults. Of course, we would never yearn for a love that does not even exist. We all know what we want." Karen Daly did not answer and continued to stare at him. On the surface, this man was calm and not flamboyant. He would be a good husband. However, could she really hand over the rest of her life to this man whom she had only met twice? Really? Seeing that she was hesitating, Kevin Kyle added, "Maybe it was impatient of me, to not have considered your feelings. If you think I'm suitable, you can go back and think about it. I'll wait for your call." After returning home that day, Karen Daly had been thinking about it all night. She admitted that some of her opinions were similar to those of Kevin Kyle's. For example, she also believed that there was no true love in the world. After being deeply hurt, she no longer believed that there was love in this world. After a sleepless night, Karen Daly called Kevin Kyle early the next morning and agreed to his so-called proposal. In the afternoon, Karen Daly brought along her household registration book and went to register their marriage at the Registry of Marriages with Kevin Kyle. When they collected their and walked out of the Civil Affairs Bureau together, she had a feeling that she could not explain. It was said that for women, marriage is the mark of a new life, but now it seemed to be just so simple. All it took was 9 dollars for a certificate that now meant that Karen Daly legally belonged to Kevin Kyle. Karen Daly then moved into Kevin Kyle's apartment. Kevin Kyle had behaved with chivalry that night. He took the initiative to leave the main bedroom for her to rest alone, while he slept in another bedroom. Karen Daly had never expected for Kevin Kyle to hand over his bank card to her before he went to work today. They didn't even know each other that well. How could he be so sure with giving all his property to her? "Karen Daly, the reporters from the media are waiting inside. The directors and the new boss are coming soon. Why are you in a daze at this time?" The stern voice of the Public Relations Manager, Emma Wilson, interrupted Karen Daly's daydreaming. She quickly pulled back her thoughts and said with a straight face, "Manager Wilson, I'm sorry, I'll pay attention." Emma Wilson looked at Karen and said in a harsh tone, "Karen, although you are an employee from the Sales department, your manager has sent you to assist with the Public Relations Department. You had better wake up and don't drag me down with you." Karen Daly pursed his lips and nodded. "Manager Wilson, I was just distracted. It won't happen again." Emma Wilson looked at Karen Daly again and then looked away. She clapped her hands and called several employees who were also responsible for the reception over. "Everyone, try your best. We must hold today's press conference smoothly. We can't afford any mistakes." While speaking, Emma Wilson glanced at every employee. "Yes." The employees of the Public Relations Department, who were assigned temporarily to support this reception, responded in unison. Emma Wilson's eyes finally fell on Karen Daly again. "Karen, I heard that you are the top employee in the Sales Department. You will be with the new boss later and be responsible for him. You don't have to worry about other things." Karen Daly nodded, but Madonna, another employee of the Public Relations Department, gloated and said, "Karen, if our new boss is still single, would you take advantage of him?" It was actually easy to get close to the new boss, but everyone knew that it would be a difficult job. No one wanted to pick it up, so Karen Daly took the job. Emma Wilson stared at Madonna with a straight face and said, "What happens today will highly affect our future. Be serious." After being scolded by Emma Wilson, no one made a sound. They took in a quiet breath and put on their best behavior. It was not Emma’s fault that she was nervous. After all, this matter had come so suddenly. Just as everyone had thought that everything was finally at peace in the company, the board of directors suddenly issued a statement saying that the boss wanted to have a new person take over the business. However, this new-appointed big boss was very mysterious. The heads of various departments enquired about him through various means, but they could not find any information about him. Karen Daly was usually not nosy. But even she could not help but stretch her neck to look at the entrance, wanting to see who this big boss was. "Yes, yes. All the directors and the new boss are here." The voice of the reception staff channeled from the walkie-talkie to the other employees. Her colleagues subconsciously adjusted their clothes and stood respectfully in their positions. Karen Daly followed closely behind Emma Wilson to welcome the mysterious boss that everyone had awaited for long time. After a few steps, a tall man in a silver-gray suit walked elegantly towards the lobby, surrounded by several men in black suits. At first glance, she was stunned. The tall man in a silver-gray suit in front of the crowd was her newly married husband, Kevin Kyle! "Impossible!" Karen Daly thought that it was an illusion. She immediately closed her eyes and shook her head. But when she opened her eyes and looked again, the man's appearance did not change. If it were someone else, she could have made a mistake, but this was her new husband. She couldn’t be wrong. His features were as sharp as a knife, his height was exactly at 1.88 meters. He had a strong build, and walked with a discreet air of elegance. No matter what this man did, he was perfectly the same as her new husband. "Kevin?" Karen Daly stared at the man and subconsciously called out his name. When he heard her voice, the man's gaze shifted to her. Looking at his eyes, Karen Daly felt so nervous that she almost forgot to breathe. She would never think that her "ordinary" newly married husband would become the new boss of her company. She looked at him with her head buzzing, she felt as if she might explode. The man's gaze lingered on her for a moment and then moved away, as if he didn't know her at all. After what he just did, Karen Daly’s heart sank rapidly. He was obviously Kevin Kyle, her new husband. Why did he look at her with such indifferent eyes? After a while, various thoughts flashed through her mind. The most possible scenario was that she was dreaming. It was an unrealistic dream. Kevin Kyle had always been gentle and patient. He spoke and did things politely. He would never pretend that he didn't know her. She pinched herself hard and twitched her mouth in pain, only to find that this was not a dream at all. Since it was not a dream, there was another possibility. This man might have the same face as Kevin Kyle did, but he might be a completely different person. Emma Wilson pulled Karen Daly aside and scolded her in a low voice, "Karen, do you know what kind of occasion is this? What indeed are you doing?"

Karen Daly was a little annoyed, as if she was rudely woken up from a dream. Emma Wilson whispered again, "Hurry and keep up." Karen Daly nodded and quickly followed the new boss. She had concealed her emotions and faced the big boss who looked exactly like her new husband professionally. Emma Wilson quickened her pace and caught up with the new boss and the others. She pushed open the door of the banquet hall for the reporters and said, "Let's welcome all the directors and our new boss!" As Emma Wilson's voice fell, there was a fierce applause in the conference hall. Everyone stared at the entrance, waiting for the mysterious big boss to show up. Karen Daly gasped quietly and followed closely behind the big boss. After the big boss was seated, she quickly handed over some documents. Even though she had professional training, the fact that the company's new boss was actually her new husband, still shocked her too much. She trembled, and two pieces of paper from the documents in her hand fell to the ground. Karen Daly was about to bend down to pick up the files, but Kevin Kyle picked them up before she did. Then he whispered in her ear, "Wait for me at home tonight." If Kevin Kyle had not said these words, Karen Daly would still treat him as a man who only looked exactly like her husband. As soon as he said this, Karen Daly was mind-blown, she was dumbfounded and forgot what to do. Fortunately, the attention of the reporters was not on her, so she had some time to adjust her emotions. The reporters did not notice her. However, the sharp-eyed employees of the Public Relations Department did not miss this little episode. The Public Relations Department was well prepared for the event and all other departments cooperated well. Kevin Kyle was charismatic enough to take on the press, so the conference went very well. As soon as the new boss and the other directors left, Madonna rushed over and said, "Karen, the way you "accidentally" dropped the documents just now was great - you successfully attracted our new boss's attention." Karen Daly frowned slightly, she turned to Emma Wilson and said, "Manager Emma, I'll go back to the Sales department after finishing my work here." Looking at Karen Daly turn away from her, Madonna was so angry that she stomped her feet. "She ignored me! She just ignored me! Why is she so arrogant?" Emma Wilson glared at Madonna and said, "Don't just stir up trouble all day long. If you continue to make trouble, you will be the next one to leave. If you are capable enough, just do your job well. As long as you climb to a higher position than she does, you will be qualified to be arrogant as well.” Madonna glared at Karen Daly's back as she walked away. She gritted her teeth and replied, "Understood, cousin." Karen Daly returned to the Sales department office and heard her colleagues discussing about the new boss. Everyone had something to say, as if they knew the new boss very well. When her colleague, May Lily, saw her, she hurried over and said, "Karen Daly, you're so lucky to be the first one working side by side with the boss." Karen Daly smiled faintly and said, "It's all just work. Even we were side by side, it is still just work. If you think you can work well with the boss, you can ask our manager to send you to work for the boss in future." May Lily quickly waved her hand and said, "Although our new boss is handsome and charming, we don’t have the guts to approach him, given his eyes and charisma." "The new boss will be coming over for a routine inspection. Go back to your positions and do what you’re supposed to!" Sunnie Olsen, the manager of the sales department, walked into the office, reprimanding his subordinates. The new boss was coming to inspect! Hearing this news, Karen Daly could not help but gulp in fear. She was so nervous that her heart was about to jump out of her throat. She still needed some time to digest the fact that her new husband, Kevin Kyle, was the new boss of the company. She was not ready to face him for a while. The other colleagues all returned to their seats except for Karen Daly, who was still standing there in a daze. Sunnie Olsen looked at Karen Daly and asked, "Karen, don’t you have anything else to do?" "I'm fine." Karen Daly came to her senses and quietly clenched her fists. She quickly returned to her seat and turned on the computer to check a client's information. After a while, the elevator bell rang, and Kevin Kyle, surrounded by a group of people appeared before Karen again. Fortunately, Kevin Kyle just came to say a quick hello to the employees of the department. After listening to Sunnie Olsen's quick report, he led the group of people away. After Kevin Kyle left, the department became noisy again. Even Sunnie Olsen, who was usually very serious, could not help but gossip along with everyone. The only topic they talked about was whether this handsome boss was unmarried or married. Karen Daly listened to their discussion and did not say anything. She was thinking if this group of women had known that her name was written as his spouse on the boss's marriage certificate, would she be skinned alive by them? This tense work day had finally passed. Karen Daly packed up to leave after all her coworkers had already left. When she finished her work during the day, what kind of mentality should she have to face Kevin Kyle at night? Karen Daly really didn't know what to do. She didn't even know if she should go back to her "home" with Kevin Kyle. Outside the building, Karen Daly habitually turned to the right towards entrance B of the subway. After walking for a while, she remembered that she was now living with her new husband. Kevin Kyle's apartment was not too far from Tech Valley. Three stops by bus about half an hour by foot would get her there. Karen Daly looked at the time. It was only five o'clock now. Anyway, she hadn't figured out how to face Kevin Kyle, so she chose to walk home. She could slowly think about what had happened between them. Down the valley, Karen Daly decided to buy some vegetables and meat from the fresh supermarket nearby. No matter how big one’s problems were, filling one’s stomach was still a first priority. She didn't know what Kevin Kyle liked to eat, so she took out her phone and wanted to call him to ask, but she was worried that it was not convenient for him to answer the phone, so she put it back in her bag. After picking up the ingredients, she carried them home. As she approached the apartment’s elevator, she saw a familiar figure. He was facing the elevator and standing very straight. He wore a light gray suit with great taste. Kevin Kyle’s figure was very well built. From afar, he seemed so good looking. Karen Daly still didn't understand why had such an outstanding man, who was the boss of a big company, would go on a blind date, and that she was the lucky girl who was chosen. "You're back." Karen Daly walked over and tried to greet him casually. "Yes." Kevin Kyle looked back at her. He didn’t change his expression, he was still a little indifferent. Karen Daly gave him a faint smile and stood beside him. She glanced at him and felt that he seemed to be a little different today. She couldn't figure out what exactly was different. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. It turned out that he wore a pair of glasses today, with a golden frame, it made him look calm and more restrained. Karen Daly sighed silently in her heart. This man had again only spoken a few words when meeting her today. He was usually very soft-spoken. She didn't know what to do, she wanted to bridge the gap between them. Now that she knew his shocking true identity, she didn't know how to approach him. While she was thinking about this, Kevin Kyle suddenly stretched out a hand towards her, but she took a small step back subconsciously to keep a distance from him. "I’ll carry those for you." he said calmly. He was not angry although she had kept her distance. Instead, he casually took the bag in her hand. Karen Daly felt her face burning hot. He had just wanted to help her carry the bag, but she was thinking too much. She looked down at Kevin Kyle's strong arm, carrying the large bag effortlessly. A warm feeling hit her heart. She thought optimistically, "Even if there is no love, even if he is the boss of the company, as long as the two of them could devote themselves to managing this marriage, it would be fine." The two of them entered the elevator, and no one spoke a word during the trip up the elevator. After returning home, Kevin Kyle put the things in the kitchen and said lightly, "I don't know how to cook. I'll have to trouble you tonight." "You can do your work. Leave the cooking to me." Karen Daly put the bag away, took off her coat and put on her apron. "Thank you," He said lightly. "You're too polite," Karen Daly forced a smile, which felt a little awkward. They were already husband and wife, but the way they got along felt like two strangers. She felt that it was reasonable for a wife to cook for her husband, but his way of talking to her created a distance between them. She thought that even if their marriage was not based on love, their interaction shouldn’t be that distant. She didn't think much about it anymore. She turned around and went to the kitchen. She quickly washed the rice and put it into the pot. Then she sorted out the vegetables and washed them... After a while, from the corner of Karen Daly's eye, she saw a tall figure standing at the door of the kitchen. She turned back and asked, "What's the matter?" "If you need any help, please tell me," Kevin Kyle stood rigidly. His tone was still calm, but it sounded a little distressed. "Wait a minute. I'll be done soon!" Karen Daly poked her head out and looked at the clock hanging on the wall in the living room. It was already 7:30 p.m. and he might be starving. She thought to herself, “I must come back quickly after work tomorrow. I should make the dishes earlier so that he can eat straightaway when he comes home." No matter who Kevin Kyle was, this marriage was her own choice. She must try her best to make it good. "I..." Kevin Kyle moved his thin lips but said nothing. His eyes showed a hint of incomprehensible depth beneath the golden glasses. He stared at Karen Daly's back and thought for a few seconds, then he turned and walked to the study room. In the past three years, Karen Daly had rented a room for herself and lived alone. She was very good at making some home-cooked dishes. Soon, two dishes and a soup were served on the table. "Kevin, it's time to eat." Karen Daly knocked on the door of the study room carefully and gently pushed the door open when she did not hear a reply. Kevin Kyle was making a phone call in the study. He said, "Take care of these things. You don't have to report everything to me." After that, he hung up the phone immediately. The moment he looked up, he met Karen Daly's eyes and asked coldly, "What's the matter?" "Time to eat," Karen Daly smiled and did not dare to look at him. "I’ll be there in a second." His tone was indifferent as usual. The two of them sat opposite each other, eating their meal tensely. Neither of them spoke to break the silence. For a moment, the atmosphere seemed to be extremely boring. Karen Daly moved her lips several times to find some topics to talk about, but she swallowed back her words after she saw Kevin Kyle's indifferent expression. After dinner, Kevin Kyle offered to wash dishes for her, and Karen Daly did not refuse. Since was willing to share the burden of these chores with her, she was happy to let him do so. It could be seen from Kevin Kyle's clumsiness that he had never done these things before. But it was true. It was impossible for a boss of such a big company to do such trivial things such as washing dishes. Clank— Hearing the crack of a porcelain bowl in the kitchen, Karen Daly stood up immediately and walked over. What she saw was Kevin Kyle holding a bowl in his hand and staring blankly at the broken porcelain pieces on the ground. "Let me do it." Karen Daly walked over and wanted to take the bowl from Kevin Kyle's hand. "No, I'll do it." Kevin Kyle stretched out his hand and his tone did not change. "Kevin, actually..." Karen Daly looked at Kevin Kyle's firm eyes and could not say anything. She nodded and left the kitchen to let him continue. Although they were legally a couple, Kevin Kyle was still a man that Karen Daly was not familiar with. She wanted to know him more, to know everything about him, she was trying her best to be a good wife. However, with a personality like his, could she really get close to him like how she had planned when they had gotten married? Karen Daly sat down in the living room, picked up the remote-control, turned on the TV, she randomly put on a news channel. While watching the TV, she occasionally turned his head to look in the direction of the kitchen. Through the glass door, she saw Kevin Kyle carefully cleaning bowls and cutlery. She secretly sighed in her heart, how could a man look so good while washing dishes. Perhaps Karen Daly's gaze were too obvious, Kevin Kyle looked back as well. Their eyes met, and Karen saw the slight coldness in Kevin Kyle's eyes. But he then let out an impeccably polite smile. As she was caught looking at him, Karen Daly's face turned slightly red, and then she returned a polite smile. Karen Daly turned her eyes back to the TV screen, thinking about Kevin. This man was so confident at work, and even looked so good while washing dishes. When would she ever see him make a fool of himself? After tidying up the kitchen, Kevin Kyle returned to the hall and saw that Karen was in a daze. He stared at her delicate face and said after a few seconds, "Karen." "Ah..." Karen said as she listened to his soothing voice, she found it very pleasant. For a moment, she felt her face burning hot. Kevin Kyle sat down on the sofa beside her. "I have something to discuss with you." "Okay." Karen Daly replied. She also wanted to have a good talk with him and take this opportunity to make things clear. Kevin Kyle's deep gaze swept up and down her, and then he slowly said, "Karen, today at the company..." "We’ll have a separate work and personal life. I understand that. In fact, I don't want to let people gossip behind our backs because of our personal relationship." Kevin had not finished yet, but Karen interrupted him. She had worked hard in this company for three years to have her achievements today. She wanted to continue climbing up the corporate ladder on her own. She didn't want anything to change because of Kevin Kyle. His face was calm, but his eyes flashed an imperceptibly beneath his glasses. "I didn't mean to hide my identity. I did not know how you would feel about me when I saw you during the event, so I did not announce anything to the public, but I didn't mean to hide it on purpose." "I know," Karen Daly nodded and said, "My work life and personal life is always separate. I don't want to bring my personal life to work." It was their own business that she and Kevin Kyle had gotten married. Karen Daly felt that there was no need to announce it to the people in the company. On one hand, she did not want her job to be affected. On the other hand, she was not sure how far she could go with Kevin Kyle. Looking at Karen’s firmness, Kevin Kyle paused and said, "Did you tell your family about our marriage?" Karen Daly shook her head, she did not want to talk about her family. "I have just taken over Innovative Tech, and I have some things to deal with in person. If you don't mind, after all pressing matters have been attended to, I would like to go with you to visit my father-in-law and mother-in-law," He said calmly, as if he had expected Karen to have mentioned this matter to her family. "No." Karen Daly refused immediately, but then felt that it was inappropriate, so she hurriedly explained, "I have had some issues with my family. I haven't contacted them for a long time. Let's talk about it later." Family? Every time she thought of this word, Karen Daly felt a dull pain in her heart, it made her a little breathless. Three years ago, that home was no longer her home, and she could never go back. "Karen." Kevin Kyle called her name in a deep voice and said, "You are no longer alone. You have me." Kevin Kyle's tone was dull, but because of his pleasant voice, it carried a different feeling. This sentence was obviously not romantic, but it made Karen Daly's heart full of inexplicable feelings. Although she gritted her teeth and had gradually overcome the pain over the years, some late nights, she would still feel sad and silently shed tears while thinking of it. "Karen." After a long silence, Kevin Kyle spoke again, "We are already husband and wife. I sincerely want to spend the rest of my life with you." Kevin Kyle suddenly said this, and Karen was stunned again. Looking up at him and into his sincere eyes, she also said, "I am determined to live with you for the rest of my life." Kevin Kyle stared at her beautiful face, paused for a few seconds and said, "Karen, can you promise not to break up with me no matter what happens?" "Yes!" Karen Daly nodded heavily. "I will try my best to be a good wife." She had also thought that they should not break up so easily. And now, Kevin had said so, and this made her feel at ease. After chatting with Kevin Kyle, she felt much more at ease. Kevin Kyle went back to the study. Karen then cleaned up the room and went to the bathroom to take a bath. After her bath, she sat in front of the dressing table and blew her hair dry. Just when her hair had dried, Kevin Kyle came in. He also took a shower and put on a white bathrobe, revealing a small piece of supple smooth skin on his chest. His hair was still dripping with water, which followed the lines of his body and disappearing into the white bathrobe. Karen Daly's face suddenly blushed. "You must be tired. Go to sleep early." Kevin Kyle suddenly said. His voice was low and magnetic, which made Karen’s heart beat inexplicably. Kevin Kyle did not intend to leave. Did he mean to sleep in the same room tonight?

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[streetsofsecrets-a]

TW: the n-word - both forms of it, a general discussion of explicit historical racism, and domestic abuse.

--Bedford Stuyvesant, 1961.

    Grandaddy had rings, but she was not given the privilege to do anything except look on. Now once upon a time, great admiration was tied to her wistful gazes. However since Ms. Bedel moved in, those days came to an end.

    Now Ms. Bedel had a name, which was “Lucille Tallulah Masters-Bedel.” Delores did not know how a person could have two last names but apparently, Bedel was the last name of her dead husband. How could she bring herself to reside with a new man when love was supposed to last forever? Delores did not know - and was not allowed to ask, for that matter.

     In fact Delores Littlejohn, a young girl of seven, was prohibited from pushing out her lips and daring to sound out Lu, because the hand of this old woman would come flying before she could say cille. Not her mother, and not ever going to be her mother, this adult insisted she be called Ms. Bedel. If the youth desired to be more casual there was always, “ma’am” that could be said in place. Now, being a quiet, obedient (and as her grandfather would sometimes put it, “simple”) little thing, Delores never thought of doing anything other than what was said.

      Any other young girl would see Ms. Bedel as a fat haggard woman set in her ways, but Delores honestly thought there were no flaws in Grandaddy’s lover. If there were, she certainly could not detect them. Appreciation factored into this child’s blind ignorance, because after all: Ms. Bedel was the one who bathed her at the end of each day, detangled her hair, fixed she and her Grandaddy dinner, ensured she wore “baby doll” dresses, and eventually, Delores had the honor of being among her jewelry. 

    It was absolutely exciting to watch thick fingers pull out a wooden key and insert it into the jewelry’s box slot for the first time. Then, with a turn, it was opened and treasures were right before her eyes.

     If somebody said, “don’t do that,” Delores would not engage in whatever was before her. If somebody said, “don’t speak,” Delores would never open her mouth. Thus to be enabled - to have rings and necklaces and earrings capable of touching and tracing with her fingertips - filled her little body with utmost delight. She knew she was privileged and she would use every ounce of it. Also while basking in this privilege, Delores would realize there existed differences between a man’s ring and a woman’s.

     Granddaddy’s rings were thick accessories of solid colors: more often than not the dimmest shades of silver and gold. So dull it was almost if they were old decorations that lost what could once make them shine. There were a few bumps - prongs, and frankly they just looked downright sad in contrast to Ms. Bedel’s prized possessions that shined. That shimmered. 

    Her earrings dangled, shaped from gold. Her rings had what she thinks are authentic, real diamonds protruding in the center. And her necklaces? They were full of the beautiful little rocks, as well.

    “Where do these come from?” Delores would ask.

    “Child, everything you see before you has a story.”

     “During the Harlem Renaissance, I held a man named Aliki Eliopoulos in the palm of my hand. He was bronze, Greek, and thought we could make it through the odds. Hmpfh. He was unaware that I had no intentions with him. One night, he found me after the curtain closed and he presented this. This necklace is dear to me…I suppose because I never quite knew where Aliki went.”

      Ms. Bedel missed the discomfort worn on the child’s face, too caught in her own reflections. Really, what Delores desired to hear were the literal tales of the source where all that glittered came from, and furthermore she had wondered who was skilled enough to make such beautiful things. 

    “This engagement ring - not a wedding ring - engagement, was given to me by my first husband. To accept it would mean I would make a vow to remain pure for him. He knew of my past, and knew that even if I couldn’t right my wrongs, I could try to start over in his name. I think he had that idea because he was Catholic - hmfph. I don’t believe in true love. I’m a jaded woman…Delores.” Ms. Bedel did not say her name to end the statement, she was calling to her. Sharply, at that.

     “Ma’am?”

     “Don’t follow in my footsteps.”

      Feeling the intensity of her gaze, Delores found herself disliking this conversation. Purposely, she shies away from talk of vows and purity, focusing on the piled riches. Noticing the green-centered ring that lays amongst gold and rubies. The longer Delores stared into it, the more she began to notice lighter streaks struck out. “Like thunder n’ lightening,” she thought before wondering -

      “Ms. Bedel, where did that ring come from?”

     “This -” she lifts it, studies it almost as if it was an artifact. Indeterminable. “This belonged to my mother.”

      “Did her husband give it to her, too?”

      “My mother was never married.” With that unpleasant remark came a pause that Delores felt lasted forever, however Ms. Bedel spoke again: clear and without strain, “she emerged from a place in Mississippi so unimportant that it can’t even be defined by a name.” Delores felt bad for asking, it sounded as though Ms. Bedel did not care for her mother let alone Mississippi. “Do you know what slave labor is?”

       At the height of her discomfort, Delores nodded. When she was but the age of five her granddaddy decided it was time she learn how Africans, not even colored people, Africans were chained like dogs and brought to America. After that, they were bound to pick cotton all day long in the sun. That was slave labor, her mind decided.

      “After I was born, my mother didn’t want to stay in No Mans, Mississippi, and took me with her as she journeyed North. Of course, being a colored woman, she didn’t have the luxury of driving or having a fortune to get her there in an instant. Hmpfh. So she worked as a maid here and there until she reached New York. And there was one white woman she worked for that was just downright nasty.” The word gets pronounced like a snarl, and her gaze is particularly intense. “She…that woman sat so high on her horse, that she had my mother feeding her baby through her teat.”

     Delores’ face scrunched: not understanding what was said to her just the right amount to be puzzled - yet understanding just enough to be both bewildered and uncomfortable. “From time to time my mother would take little things from the house. Sugar, flour. But before we left Kentucky and never looked back, she deserved something more in return, and this was it. And after my mother passed on, this has been with me ever since…” Suddenly Ms. Bedel takes to a soft and tender tone, “try it on.”

      Not only soothed by a preferable tone, Delores was elated. Felt like she was ascending to new heights: practically skipping from seven years old to seven in a half!

     “Oh…” Ms. Bedel’s thick lips push out with sympathy, onyx eyes hold traces of adoration. “It’s too big for you…” Looking at how the ring hang heavy on her index was a pitiful sight in itself - for Ms. Bedel to point out the obvious causes Delores’ joy to further deflate.

     “My fingers are too little…” Delores feels like a baby, a fresh six at best.

     “Maybe..” Ms. Bedel takes the child’s hand into her own, covering it in love. “One day you’ll grow into it.”

                                                                      -------

     If Ms. Reed was kind, then Ms. Bedel should have been thought of as a saint. Because unlike many of her classmates, Delores was not fond of her teacher. At all. 

     She could not explain why even if she wanted to, just knowing her educator maintained a bit of an indifferent air when it came to her. Ms. Bedel could have this similar demeanor, Ms. Bedel could even holler at her: but underneath each treatment, Delores sensed that love was there. Delores was sure Ms. Bedel would forever and always be someone as special as Granddaddy - after all, it was through her that Delores learned of a love that existed for all that shined.

     There began to come occurrences when after taking the hot-comb to her hair, Ms. Bedel would take one of the necklaces and fasten it around her little neck. Granddaddy would sneer, stating she was making Didi into a fast-tail girl and, Winston would agree once he moved in. Although Winston and Granddaddy were separated by generations, their “masculinity” gave their stance a high sort of power. If Granddaddy thought she was fast, if Winston thought she was fast, then it was so. And with that official, not even a ring could slide on her little finger.

      Delores did not like change, but it did not mean she disliked her cousin. Still, she was not joyous to have her cousin residing under the same roof as her, either. Previously she caught wind of how adults would make statements of being “lonesome” when you’re the sole child of the household, but Delores thought she could never be lonely: not when she had Granddaddy. Not only that, but from time to time she heard how lucky she was to be an only child because had she had siblings, certain things would not have been purchased. Instead, sacrifices would have had to be made, as Granddaddy said himself.

      And how sacrifices came with Winston’s presence.

     He slept on the couch while Delores kept her room. But breakfast was smaller. Lunch and dinner too. She had to be tolerant, patient, when her cousin sat by her side and bastardized the personalities of her beloved dolls. His rough housing even lead to the tearing of Marilyn! And even though tears fell on her pillow that night - by sunrise, she forgave him.

      One of the most noticeable changes were in how Ms. Bedel seldom spoke to her anymore. Oh, never did the adult say don’t talk to me, Delores simply acknowledged the body language. The expressions. With that she concluded she was not wanted around, unaware of the hostile conversations that took place between the adults of the household. Still, considering all the changes that had occurred under this roof, Delores gradually reached the conclusion the last time she had been happy was when she could admire diamonds right from the palm of her hand. It felt good to not only having Ms. Bedel in a warmer state, but it made up for the struggles school would inflict on her.

      Some days were better than others, but this day was particularly awful. Having outright been backhanded by Lenora during Duck, Duck, Goose, Delores had returned home with low spirits. In the beginning, among the other children in glee, she could feel the tension build. Each moment was a thrill - no one knew who the Goose would be - but there was nothing playful, or thrilling, about Lenora’s hand suddenly flinging into her face. Not head, face.

      Five fingers left a powerful sting and even a faint mark that would cause her to avert her eyes and shrug when adults asked about it’s origins. Yes, Delores understood it was a part of the game, but given how Lenora usually treated her, she doubted this was a mistake. Still, she did not say anything. She did not even cry - not really. Instead after getting settled, Delores shyly - oh so shyly, approached Ms. Bedel as she laid down a bowl of steaming soup for Winston. Having been ill, he did not go to school that day.

      “Ms. Bedel,” she began meek and soft, “can I see your diamonds?“

       The look that came on Ms. Bedel’s face looked as though she could just retch. But ignorant, Delores did not know how her crime in asking this was in how Winston was among her. Naive, she was not even aware how Winston’s eye size doubled at the sound of, “diamonds.” And clueless, Delores did not know how Ms. Bedel, if anything, saw Amos’ grandson as a troublemaker. One of those boys you had to warn about your additional pair of eyes that saw all. “Yes.” Ms. Bedel comes to answer with a struggle, “yes you may. But put everything back as found. Do you hear me? Everything."

      “Yes Ms. Bedel.” And with that, Delores was on her way.

      It was in fact a mistake for Ms. Bedel to even allow this because jewelry box in arms, she moved herself to her own bedroom and shut the door. Alone and secluded, Delores would find that rings and necklaces would detract from her bruise. She couldn’t wait until she had her own to possess when womanhood finally approached, as she concludes that everyday would be spent in happiness. And when she took everything back as told, Delores really did believe every diamond, earring, and necklace was where it needed to be.

     “Ever since you took that boy in he’s been nothin’ but trouble! He wasn’t even sick on Tuesday, he was connin’ your ass!”

     “I didn’t know you was a doctor, thought you just played one once!”

      “I was with him that entire day! I could see him running and jumping and actin’ a fool! Maybe if you weren’t trying to run the street with your old ass-”

      “Woman! Y’don’t know a GATDAM thing you talkin ‘bout!”

       This was not an argument that could be ignored. It was clear as the siren of a distant ambulance: both children could hear as it echoed through the walls and it summoned them both to sit - well, in Winston’s case, crouch - outside the elder’s bedroom. Would Delores say Winston was trouble? Although he tore Marilyn that one time - no, not really. The passing of days would have her find the perks in having him around.

       “Look - damn you Amos, look! My ring is gone!! I know that lil’ nigger took it and he probably sold it to some - some hustler!” Oh. “You should have seen him - the way he was looking when Didi mentioned I had diamonds. I could just about read his mind!” With each infuriated word, Delores finds herself unable to stop quivering. Her heart’s bumps are even audible against her ears. This, she knows, was not Winston’s fault at all.

      “He’s a boy, who he gon’ sell it to? He prolly done gave it to some lil’ girl!”

       “Amos! Why are you defending that little nigger?!”

       For Delores, the sound of skin hitting skin was horrific. However, it was not a new sound for Winston. In contrast to his gaped mouth, she cringed as if she saw the impact of Granddaddy’s hand, and as she notices how Winston stretches his legs and places his palm against the door knob she whines low, but nonetheless frightful, “Winny, no!” As he ignored her, Delores decided that if Winston would get himself in trouble for getting in grown folk’s business, she wanted no part in it. So she did not peek, consequently sparing herself from the sight of her grumpy and nonchalant grandfather in a different state far different than what she was accustomed to.

��    He had one fist raised and another fist clutching at hair. “Y’goddamn bitch.” He sneered,

      “y’ain’t gonna keep standing here and keep callin’ my grandson outta his name. Bitch, y’got one more time t’do that-” His fist shook. Though he was old, he was strong. “And I’ma drag you outta here like this.” Her clothes could be flung out the window for all he cared, “keep on talkin’ about some itty bitty ring. Keep on.”

       “I hate you.” When Ms. Bedel weeps, Delores feels her heart break. “You old son of a bitch, I don’t have to be with you. I don’t have to live here. I accepted your granddaughter, willingly, but you put that grandson on me. I’m too damn old to be going through burdens like you -” never did Delores consider herself to be a burden, however she also failed to think of the struggles old people went through beside the occasional bad knees. “I don’t even have to be with your tragic ass.” She hocked, she spat on his cheek, “get up offa me, nigga.”

      Now Delores was prompted to peer in, right as her caretakers aren’t body to body. Free, Ms. Bedel is moving faster than Delores has ever seen her. Apathetic and rough, she tosses the jewelry box on the bed, grasps at coats, blouses, and furs. “Where you goin’?!”

     “Wouldn’t you like to know?! Wouldn’t you like to know?!”

       Don’t go… Delores bites at her bottom lip. Don’t go. She did not know where the ring of Ms. Bedel’s mother was. Truly, she thought it was safe in the box where it needed to be. Although admiring it more than anything, she would have never thought of stealing from a woman she respected. Why - if she had the chance, if she had not been frozen where she sat, Delores would find the ring. She would search the apartment up and down and present the item to her.

       “Move, move!” She feels Winston grasp her shoulders as heavy feet stomped their way. Delores did not recognize what was going on, only rising because she knew in these moments that it was right, and to her bedroom they moved like mice: diving on Delores’ wooden floor. Whether Ms. Bedel saw or not was obvious to anyone other than them.

       “When y’find that damn thing-” Granddaddy followed her, not caring about the wide eyes of children. “You can’t never come back here. Never!”

       “I don’t plan on it, Amos!” She slammed the door - and only looked back for her fine china. 

       After that, Ms. Bedel never thought of the Littlejohn family again.

       For days, this memory would sting all three of them. Something they could not replay in their minds because it was too harsh. Delores felt bad for her cousin. He was called one of the ugliest words in the world, twice. Not only that, but he was reduced to a thief and it was all because of her own, “carelessness.” And Winston, forever denying to his irked and cynical guardian that he ever touched, let alone gazed at some old lady’s ring, would have to let his innocence be known countless times.  He was bold enough to ask if he had been a burden, though. Not like Delores, who was even too much of a coward to find out Granddaddy’s true feelings about her.

       As the months came and went, so did the severity of the emotional wounds of that day. Never would they forget the disaster, but they did not have to shoulder it with grit teeth. Though, one day, Delores would find something shiny below her bed. Like a calling, the light green streaks requested for her attention in an abyss of darkness. As she cupped it and brought it to light: that fateful day would hit her all over again. Silent, Delores would keep this ring. But not wear it.  Not even as seven became eleven. Or eleven became thirteen. Or thirteen became sixteen.

      Always, this ring was to be hidden. Forever her secret.

[vsag23]

Don’t Jump In! Moon conjunct Neptune.

Don’t Jump In! Moon conjunct Neptune.

Imagine this scenario: someone you know has come to see you and on their way over they have got stuck in traffic, had an argument with a co-worker on the phone and discovered that their husband spent the housekeeping on a hooker, then they call in at your house, and actually, they like you very much and just want to hang out for a while so they don’t mention any of that bad stuff, but inside they are angry, upset, hurt and frustrated, as would only be natural for anyone who had experienced such a frustrating and upsetting set of circumstances. For most, this visitor would appear agitated perhaps, maybe a little off and flat and for anyone without Moon conjunct Neptune it wouldn’t represent much of a blip on their personal radar, off their friend would toddle, and they might think to themselves “hmm, they seemed a little odd today, no matter”, and they would carry on about their business and probably forget all about it.

Not so for Moon conjunct Neptune. Not by a long chalk.

For anyone with Moon conjunct Neptune, they can feel the anger, resentment and frustration from their friend almost as a physical force in the room. The hostility would be profoundly uncomfortable, they feel so uncomfortable in fact that they may even begin to physically sweat, or shake, or feel a little wan and pale. And even before their friend was out the door they will already be running through the list of all possible misdemeanours they could possibly have committed to have caused such an upset, because it is entirely possible that their friend is angry because of something they have done, or said, or not said, or not done, or implied, or inferred or failed to anticipate.

Moon conjunct Neptune is sensitive.

So sensitive in fact that they can walk into a room and feel something in the walls. Moon conjunct Neptune doesn’t like hospitals, or asylums, or even places where somebody else has been in a bad mood in the last hour; and they really absorb the ambient and prevailing feel of people and places; they’re so sensitive in fact that you might even consider it a kind of social disability, because people who don’t have Moon conjunct Neptune simply have no clue how to behave around this person. Moon conjunct Neptune often wants to simply shut herself away if only to feel normal…

It’s not all bad though. There is no more refined possibility of feeling than that which exists as a potential within this aspect. It is entirely possible indeed to experience a sense of near-rapture when the conditions are just right. There is a deep well of feeling and compassion possible within this blend that probably exists nowhere else in the astrology, it creates many difficulties, peculiar ideas and strange notions, a feeling of being unsatisfied and misunderstood, a very difficult level of sensitivity to people and events, but by that same token it creates a sensitivity that when tweaked positively can open up a wide and verdant vista of communion with life that is truly rich and rewarding.

The most difficult consideration of Moon Neptune conjunctions however is found within this very deep pool of feeling that is created within the psyche, because all too often, and most especially in times of adversity, it is all to easy for them to simply “jump in”. It becomes something of a siren call for the native, not so much to wallow in their sense of being misunderstood, but actually to dive head-first into it and actually revel in it just a little. The most important advice I can possibly offer to anyone with Moon conjunct Neptune is to learn to recognise this tendency and when they hear that seductive song, to resist: “don’t jump in!” Skirt around the edge if you have to, paddle a little if you want, but keep your head above water: self awareness is the key, and the eternal refrain: “don’t jump in!” Make it your mantra.

The sense of Moon conjunct Neptune through the signs can be easily delineated by studying some examples.

Moon conjunct Neptune in Leo works rather well, because Leo is among the most naturally affectionate of the signs, so there is a route out of the adversity of this aspect through allowing that natural predilection to feeling human warmth shine through. At its worst Moon in Leo can tend to the vain and snobbish, but wherever Neptune is configured there is created a predilection to the immaterial. Those with this aspect who pursue the inclination to love of luxury found in the Moon placement will invariably experience disappointment as a result. Neptune in Leo though is profoundly melancholic too, so the tendency to jumping in to the lake of sorrow is decidedly exaggerated here. Jack Lemmon, Anne Frank and Peter Ustinov all demonstrate the gentle and kindly warmth of the conjunction in the eternal flame of the sign Leo: consider Nancy Reagan, Queen Elizabeth II and George C. Scott, all of whom evinced both Moon and Neptune in Leo, but without the conjunction, the quality of the blend when viewed in this context, is unmistakable.

In Virgo then, compare the three examples above: the Dalai Lama, Dustin Hoffman and Marvin gaye with any three other natives born with both Moon and Neptune in Virgo but out of the conjunction: so, for example, Sean Connery, Jack Nicholson and Lou Reed. Immediately you will get a sense of the conjunction, the blend, which sensitises, softens and creates an often difficult vulnerability in the manner. Moon in Virgo alone is not the greatest placement for Selene, since it creates an incompatible practicality where the head rules the heart, a love of tidiness, method and order but also, in its best manifestation a tendency to simplicity and frugal habits. At its worst, Neptune in Virgo is pedantic, fault-finding and difficult to work with (which is a criticism very much associated with Dustin Hoffman for example), but it also gives an intuitive understanding of others and a profound interest in natural health. When these influences are brought into the conjunctive blend then we have a potential for great sensitivity to environments, especially cluttered, chaotic spaces. It makes one hyper-sensitive to working relationships (which explains Dustin Hoffman’s reputation almost perfectly) and gives a profound interest in simple, healthy lifestyles and philosophies: which rather gels with the Dalai Lama’s admirable message of compassionate simplicity. Any Moon – Neptune contact speaks volumes about the relationship with the mother too, perhaps she was fault-finding and practical but in some other sense vague or hard to understand or especially sensitive herself. Maybe she was a clean and tidy drunk. Possibly she was profoundly spiritual and methodical in her habits too; the blend always plays out through the maternal experience in one way or other.

Libra creates a subtle leaning toward the Other, thus any configuration in the sign of the scales profoundly affects the entire process and approach to relating, and the Moon – Neptune blend is no exception. Neith put it this way, which speaks to this exact potential:

Having spent many years dealing with a Moon-Neptune conjunction in Libra making it very difficult for me to see the reality of what was going on in my relationships, I have some experience and a few thoughts on coping with Mr. Fogbank.

All of that innate sensitivity and confusion is experienced through close relationships, and nowhere more so than in the marriage, although it can potentially create a similar ambience in business or creative partnerships too. Moon in Libra alone creates a need for love and affection as well as a measure of dependence on the partner for security and comfort and when Neptune in Libra is configured there is a genuine requirement for friendship with the partner too, so all of that sensitivity that is implied by the conjunction must in some sense be played out through the partner, who must be a friend of the most supportive kind otherwise the native will tend to become melancholic and confused and – as ever with Libran concerns – slightly off-balance. Sting, David Essex and Benazir Bhutto all shared this conjunction.

Moon conjunct Neptune in Scorpio creates a very different ambience to Libra, although the vulnerability and sensitivity engendered by the aspect is still its standout feature. Consider the three examples of John Cusack, David Schwimmer and Greta Scaachi and contrast them with three natives having both Moon and Neptune in Scorpio but without the conjunction of the two in force: Will Smith, Liz Hurley and Jennifer Lopez. The softening and emotionally refining influence of the blend in these latter cases is absolutely conspicuous by its absence. Moon in Scorpio alone creates a tough, resilient, emotionally tenacious and frank impetus, while Neptune in this most emotionally intense of signs creates a very peculiar disposition, one that is rather difficult to fathom which simply increases the potential for being misunderstood that is already inherent in the aspect itself. Scorpio is of course deeply compassionate when evolved, and this aspect certainly encourages that outcome in those affected; this set of circumstances makes the Moon – Neptune in Scorpio native most likely to withdraw from the world – a fairly natural condition for the Scorpio in any case – since the sensitivity is increasingly tweaked by the experiential incomprehension which is the result of this blending. Neptune in Scorpio creates a tendency to soul-sickness and states of low level melancholy too and often this, when integrated into the emotionality of the Moon, creates a soft but world-weary ambience. When all is said and done however, Scorpio on the Moon is required to survive on meagre resources, they can nurture themselves on Spartan rations, emotionally as much as anywhere else, so there is at least an intimation of balance in the equation.

At its very best, in whatever sign it is found, the contact of Moon and Neptune of any type creates a great sympathetic ability in the astrology, a person who can understand and empathise with the difficulties of others, but the conjunction feels those self-same difficulties more directly and immediately than any other type of contact, and very often the sense is entirely involuntary. Vivid dreams are another factor in any of Moon’s applications to Neptune. At worst, the contact creates a tendency to fantasy, delusion and dishonesty, most especially with the square or the opposition, but even in such difficult cases, the overriding impression is one of profound sensitivity.

https://chirotic.com/2008/12/03/dont-jump-in-moon-conjunct-neptune/

[gavinreedslut-blog]

Proposal.

When Richard had first been introduced to Gavin, he wouldn’t have thought that he’d find himself here. In fact, if someone had told him that three years into the future, he was going to be staring at himself in the mirror, clad in a pristine, white tuxedo with an engagement ring in his pocket---a engagement ring meant for Gavin---he would’ve laughed right in their face. He would’ve insisted that they couldn’t be more wrong, and he was sure that Gavin would’ve done the same.

But things had changed. Only a few months into being the detective’s partner at the DPD, he had cracked Gavin’s hard shell; broken down his barriers. He had found Gavin to be more than just a grade A asshole. He had found him to be broken, alone, and angry, and the android also found himself to be affected by the very visible mess that Gavin was.

He wanted to take care of Gavin; make him feel better. Make him happy. So he did. And now he was sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to make Gavin happy. That’s why he was there, standing in front of that mirror, adjusting his tie and running his hands over the white fabric of his suit.

Connor had helped him pick the thing out, had said it reminded him of his Cyberlife jacket, and Richard had just nodded along, finding the choice in attire agreeable enough. And, as he stared at his own reflection, he found his mind wandering to what Gavin would think of how he looked. How he’d react to the proposal.

Everytime Richard would pre-construct the event, his statistics would tell him that there was only a fifty-three percent chance that Gavin would agree to marry him. The number never went up or down; it stayed there, static. But worry still pounded into the android’s mechanical mind, and he mused about the possible rejection that he could face, then wondered if proposing was really all that good of an idea.

Quickly, he pushed the anxiety ridden thoughts away, blinking a couple times as he brought himself back to reality. Then he noticed that, standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, was Gavin.

Gavin flicked his eyes up to meet Richard’s, tilting his head to the side in consideration. “You seem...nervous.” He observed. “You alright, Nines?”

Richard smiled slightly, nodding his head as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and let his fingers dance over the velvet box that held the ring. “I’m great,” he leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Gavin’s forehead.

Gavin smiled too: A wonderful, beaming grin, accompanied by a bubbly laugh. He flattened his hands against Richard’s chest, “I like the blue tie. Nice touch.”

“Thanks, Connor picked it out for me. In fact, he picked out the entire suit.” “Of course,” Gavin said sarcastically, though the comment held no malice. He simply smiled and leaned into Richard’s chest as he was pulled into a hug. “I don’t see why we have to go out to such a fancy place. Why can’t we just stay in and order takeout?” he whined.

Richard hummed for a moment, before finally settling on saying, “Because we never go out anymore, and I want to do something nice as a couple.”

And despite his whining, Gavin found himself grinning once more, because he couldn’t remember the last time that any of his boyfriends had actually wanted to go out into the world with him, and it felt good to have a significant other that wasn’t ashamed of who he was.

The car ride to the restaurant was mostly silent, and there was this thick sort of tension that hung in the air as Richard grew distant and preoccupied with his own thoughts. The android was distracted so much that he had almost missed the exit that he was supposed to take to get to their destination. This caused a great deal of worry to settle within Gavin.

He placed a hand on Richard’s knee, rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Richard replied, though there was this nervous quake in his voice that was just subtle enough that most anyone wouldn’t have noticed---except Gavin wasn’t most anyone. He knew Richard, and his ears perked up at the waver.

“What’s wrong?” Gavin pressed.

Richard sighed, turning to look at Gavin for a moment before he returned his eyes to the road. “Gavin?” “Yeah?” “I love you.”

Gavin tried to resist the urge to grin, but he couldn’t, so he let a smile spread smoothly across his lips and his eyes crinkle up in happiness. He thought that he couldn’t possibly be more enamoured with someone, and that it was sort of embarrassing how he melted into a pile of goo at those three, simple words. But most of him just didn’t really care, because Richard was most definitely the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he’d be damned if he let his pride get in the way of their relationship.

“I love you more,” Gavin replied playfully, and all Richard did in response was drop one of his hands from the steering wheel and place it over Gavin’s, his anxieties and worries melting away.

Once the two arrived at the restaurant, they walked into the building with their hands intertwined and Richard’s head swimming.

“Wow, I’m surprised they even let someone like me in here,” Gavin mumbled quietly, “You really didn’t have to pick such a classy place, y’know.” “I did.” Richard insisted before he turned to tell an employee that they had a reservation under the name Reed.

The couple were lead outside, to a table under strings of fairy lights and twinkling stars, and Gavin took a moment to gaze up at the sky and let out a small, enchanted breath. Richard glanced over at him and felt something within him flutter. He remembered the first time that he had felt such a feeling; he had come to Connor about it in a haze of panic, worried that his systems were failing in a way that he hadn’t been previously warned about. The feeling ended up to not be any type of system failure, though, it ended up to be love. Which that, well, that was what Richard had laughed at. And Connor actually was the person that he had laughed in the face of. Until he had realized that he wasn’t kidding, and that he actually did love Gavin. Or more so, he was in love with Gavin. And at first when he realized this he wanted nothing more than to rip his thirium pump straight from his chest and bleed out until he escaped from the nightmare that was being in love with Gavin Reed. But then...things changed.

Now, Richard knew that he didn’t want things any other way, and if he could go back and do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing. Gavin was the love of his life, and he was sure of that.

“This is…” Gavin began, blinking around, “gorgeous.”

“I know,” Richard smiled, kissing Gavin gently on the temple. “That’s why I picked it. It reminded me of you.”

And then there Gavin was again, melting into a puddle of goo, his stomach fluttering and his heart beating rapidly in his chest. “Fuck,” he cursed, pulling away from the android so that he could take a seat at the table.

He was in so deep; he loved Richard so much. More than he had loved anyone or anything else. Most of the time, he thought it was all too good to be true. That’s how things usually were in his life. They got good, and then fell apart. Dissolved. And he was always left hurt. 

Richard had told him a while ago that he’d never hurt him; he’d never leave. But then, halfway through dinner, as Richard looked at him with those sparkly blue eyes, and as he said, “Gavin…” in that tone that made his stomach drop, the man found himself to be not so sure about all those things that he had said.

Richard exhaled sharply, a nervous tick that he had adopted from Gavin. “When I first met you...we didn’t really hit it off. So when I first felt...love for you I, quite literally, thought that I was dying. And when I first made you smile I---I knew that I wanted to be the one to make you smile like that for the rest of your life.” Richard slipped from his chair and onto the floor, and as was human custom (one that he didn’t quite understand), he positioned himself on one knee. Swiftly, the android pulled the velvet box from his pocket, and lifted the top. “So, Gavin Reed, will you marry me?”

By this point, tears were cascading from Gavin’s eyes, and his mouth was agape. He pushed himself up from his seat, throwing himself onto Richard. “Yes, yes, yes!” Gavin exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Richard as tightly as he possibly could. He kissed the side of Richard’s jaw, then his cheek, then his nose, and then, finally, his lips.

Richard smiled into the kiss, bringing a hand up to place it on Gavin’s cheek. Once he pulled away, he grinned, a real, broad, beaming grin. One that Gavin had never seen before; one that made him feel like he was on top of the world.

“Here,” Gavin sniffled happily, holding his left hand out for Richard. He watched carefully as the ring, which was white gold and glittered with tiny diamonds, was slid onto his finger. “I love you, Nines.”

Richard nodded, wiping away Gavin’s tears away gently with the pad of his thumb. “I love you more.”

--------------

I might start posting my fics here. lol

[bambikippen]

AFTERMATH

A TYRUS ONESHOT

SUMMARY: after the incident wiht the gun, cyrus fears that he has ruined his relationship with tj. however, tj’s feelings have exploded in on himself and cyrus is the only one who can help.

Cyrus stood outside of the principal's office, sorting through all of the emotions that had flooded through him in the past hour. He had felt bad about telling on T.J. and his friends, but took pride in the fact that he was doing the right thing. When he saw the police officer, his heart had dropped. Cyrus has never gotten in trouble before, and he had worried that there had been a miscommunication of some sort. Fortunately for him, the officer just wanted to hear his story, so she could compare it to the others'. 

Now as he was standing alone, he felt upset, but couldn't pinpoint why. He wasn't mad about the gun anymore, he knew he was right to report it. He was more upset with the fact that T.J. had known about it. He thought he had changed him, but now he had to deal with the disappointment surrounding his friend's mistake. Cyrus couldn't stand around forever, though, he had already missed all of first period, and the majority of second, so he started to head down the hallway.

On the way, he bumped into Buffy, bathroom-pass in hand.

"Hey Cy! How'd it go?"

"Fine," answered Cyrus; he was still conflicted about the whole situation.

"Well you did the right thing," she patted him on the shoulder, "don't worry."

"Oh, I know that Buf, but now T.J. is going to hate me."

Buffy sighed, she was still a little wary about the whole T.J. not being an awful person thing, but she knew how much he meant to Cyrus. "Look, he knows you, Cyrus. If he's as good a person as you say he is, he'll understand. Ok?"

Cyrus nodded, "Yeah, thanks. Hey, does the girls team have practice today?"

Buffy grinned, "Yep! Will you be there?"

"Of course!." He paused for a moment, "It's just- just the girls today though, right?"

Buffy looked confused for a second, but then grinned. "Yep, just us. Don't want to see T.J. today? I totally get you."

"Yeah..." muttered Cyrus, confused with his own emotions. "Anyway, I should get to class. Have fun in the bathroom."

Buffy smirked, "Dude, never say that again. But okay, see ya!"

After school was over, Cyrus headed to the gym. Buffy waved him over as he headed in.

"Hey, we're just about to get started! You can sit in your usual spot," she chimed.

Cyrus smiled and headed over to what he called "The Bench for Sports Enthusiasts Who Hated Sports," also known as his seat on the bleachers.

Halfway through the practice, the girls came over to the bleachers to take a water break. Cyrus was staring ahead as someone sat down next to him. Assuming it was Buffy, he looked up and opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he was met with an angry pair of eyes that belonged to a light-haired girl.

"Um, may I help you?" he asked, confusion plastered all over his face.

The girl's expression somehow got even angrier. "You're the guy who got my brother arrested yesterday. F*** you."

Cyrus gaped, "Um, I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person."

The girl flipped her hair, "Nope. You were there yesterday. With the gun?"

Cyrus sighed. He knew the boys would get in some sort of trouble, but he didn't think any of them would get arrested. "Oh."

"Yeah. I spent all of last night at the police station with my family, but they're keeping Reed detained until further notice. It's your fault."

A puzzled expression was drawn upon Cyrus's face. "I'm sorry about your brother, but he's the one who had a gun. It's his fault. Also, I didn't tell anyone about it until this morning. So you do have the wrong person."

The girl's eyes seemed to soften for a moment, but then lit up again with flames. "Well besides Reed's friends, you were the only other person there. So you're lying."

"I'm telling you, I didn't tell anyone until today," argued Cyrus.

"Come on, I know it was you. No one else there is a baby like you are. I mean you can't even handle seeing a gun?"

Cyrus was struck with hurt. "I didn't tell yesterday. But you know what? I should have. Waiting until today was a mistake. Now I'm leaving, thanks for the chat. Not."

Cyrus got up off the bleachers and walked out the back door. He could hear Buffy asking where he was going from across the gym, but he ignored her. He needed to be alone right now. Of course, the universe just couldn't let that happen. As he walked into the break room, he was struck with the site of none other than T.J. Kippen.

At first, Cyrus felt angry, but that flame quickly died down. The site of his friend sparked something else within him. He realised that T.J. deserved an explanation as to why he fled yesterday. Maybe, just maybe, he could help T.J. understand why he was wrong. He walked closer to the table, and noticed a pack of cheese puffs sitting atop of it.

"Eating your feelings again?" he asked, a grin on face. His grin dissipated as T.J., ever so slowly, looked up.

"Don't have much of an appetite," muttered T.J., pushing the snack across the table to Cyrus.

Cyrus couldn't help but let out a small gasp. T.J.'s face was covered in tear tracks, and his eyes were swollen and red. He had obviously been crying.

Cyrus was shocked. As far as he knew, T.J. had two modes: confident, and less confident. Tears? Not something that he associated with the boy. Seeing this vulnerable side of him made Cyrus's stomach twist in knots. His heart ached at T.J.'s sadness, and he didn't even know what he was upset about.

Suddenly, he came to the realisation that his friend was in need of comfort. He frantically hurried over to T.J. and leant in for hug. He pulled away just as quickly though, because he remembered how angry T.J. could get when he felt exposed.

To Cyrus's surprise, T.J. stopped him before he could pull all the way back.

"Please," he said in a broken voice that just about split Cyrus's heart, "I-I need it."

With that, he leaned into Cyrus's grasp, and the smaller boy held him tightly.

After a few minutes, T.J. pulled back, fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. "Thanks for that, Cy, especially after," he paused for a moment to gather his words, "the- you know- the gun thing."

Cyrus sighed and looked into T.J.'s eyes, "It's okay, really. Now, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

T.J. wanted nothing more than to do that, but he couldn't bring himself to speak the words. "I can't."

Cyrus knew that his friend was in a tough situation, so he kept a calm demeanour. "And why's that?"

T.J.'s breath hitched as a small sob erupted from his throat. Embarrassed, he covered his mouth with both hands and gazed down at the table.

Cyrus didn't want his friend to feel confounded around him. So he slowly lifted his arms, and wrapped his hands around T.J.'s wrists. He then brought both of their arms back down to rest on T.J.'s lap, giving his hand a squeeze of comfort. Patiently, he waited for the taller boy to continue.

Another moment of silence passed, but then T.J. managed to squeak out four heartbreaking words. "I don't know how."

Cyrus gave T.J.'s hand another squeeze, and caught his gaze again. "What don't you know how to do?" He cooed.

T.J.'s face reddened. "Talk. About stuff like this. About my emotions. Feelings."

"Well that's okay," replied Cyrus. "I'm a pro at it, so I'll teach you."

T.J. glanced at him before flickering his eyes back to the table. For just a moment, Cyrus could see a tiny smile form across his lips.

"How about," continued the brunet, "you start with something simple. Why are you upset?"

T.J. furrowed his brow for a moment, before deciding that he really did trust Cyrus. He turned to face him, and slowly but surely began his tale.

"I- I guess I'll start with what happened yesterday. I lost all of my biking friends. But most importantly, I thought I had lost you." He sniffed, but kept his gaze on Cyrus.

Cyrus's face somehow managed to get even softer. "Why would you think that?"

"Because after you left, I called the- I called the police. On Reed. And then this morning, I saw you come out of the principal's office, and thought that you'd gotten in trouble too. And it would've been my fault."

Cyrus wanted to wrap his arms around the blonde again, but held his stance. He was shocked at what T.J. had said. "You? You're the one who called the police yesterday?"

T.J. nodded, "You knew that someone did?"

"Yeah. Some girl on the basketball team- Reed's sister, I think- yelled at me today. She thought it was my fault that her brother got arrested."

Those words seemed to break T.J. even more. His face contorted as he groaned, and he dropped his head into his hands. Hesitantly, Cyrus put his hand on the small of T.J.'s back.

He listened as T.J. mumbled through his hands. "That's the other thing, Cyrus. I'm so sorry. They all blame you. I tried to tell them it was me, but they thought I was just sticking up for you. Reed said that he'd- he'd kill you. I'm sure he was overreacting, but I told the officer about that too. I can't bare the thought of you getting hurt because of me. I'm so sorry."

As T.J. finished his ramble, he could feel more and more emotions piling up in his chest.

"Oh T.J., it's ok. I'm not upset about it. I'm really proud of you for calling the police. You did the right thing."

T.J. picked his head up again and stared ahead. "I've just been so worried that you'd never want to see my again. Which is understandable, considering I was friends with them but-" he sighed, "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there, Cyrus. I guess at first I didn't realise how dangerous it could be. I mean, I didn't tell Reed to bring it, but I didn't tell him not to either. Seeing your face though- that look on your face when you saw the gun, I just-"

Cyrus placed a hand on T.J.'s shoulder, "It's okay. T.J., really, it's okay. Yes, I was upset at first, but the fact that you were the one to report the gun changes everything. I was angry because I really thought that you had changed, and I was worried that I had imagined that. But I had faith in you, T.J., I still do. And I'm glad I did."

T.J. wiped his face and stood up next to the table, "I really don't deserve you, Underdog. I'm an awful person compared to you; I don't know why you hang around me, but I'm glad you do."

Cyrus stood up as well and smiled as T.J. leaned in for another hug. They wrapped their arms around each other, and stayed that way for a while. Neither of them could keep track of the time.

Cyrus was the first to pull away, T.J. would have stayed like that forever if he could. He smiled as the smaller boy looked up at him, feeling emotions he hadn't felt in a long time.

"You're not an awful person, T.J.," muttered the brunet. "Don't say things that aren't true."

He began to walk to the door, T.J. not far behind. "I should get back to Buffy, she's probably wondering where I am. But I'm really happy that we're cool again-" he paused, "we are cool, right?"

T.J. smiled, "We're cool."

As Cyrus turned around, T.J. stopped him. "Thanks again, Cyrus. I hope you're not too weirded out."

"Why would I be weirded out?"

"Well, I mean a dude crying into another guy's arms isn't the most manly thing in the world. In fact, it's quite the opposite of that."

Cyrus sighed, "Look, T.J., I know you have this whole cool-guy thing going on right now, but sometimes you just need to let yourself feel. Everyone cries, it's okay. And who decides what gets to be manly? Is there some supreme man who makes up the manliness rules?" Cyrus answered his own question, "No, there's not. So cry if you want to. Make it manly. You can be the epitome of a man and sob like a baby. Just don't hold it all in, okay?" Cyrus sucked in a breath, worrying he had gone too far.

For a moment, T.J. looked like he was about to start crying again. He stood there, soaking in the words Cyrus had said, as his friend looked at him anxiously.

Finally, T.J. looked up with a smile on his face. "Thank you. Thank you, Cyrus. Thank you so much. You're- I just, thank you."

Cyrus beamed at his excitement. "And as for the hugging thing? Do that too! I hug Buffy and Andi all the time, it's great! And it's scientifically proven to make you happier!"

"Really?" T.J. chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. "How so?"

"It releases endorphins into your bloodstream, serotonin too. So yes, hug on the daily!"

T.J. grinned, forgetting every single thing that had upset him before, "Well, I'll keep that in mind. I'm hiring you as my go-to endorphin releaser, okay?"

Cyrus smiled, "I'm more than happy to take that job."

“Oh and one more thing,” exclaimed T.J. as Cyrus titled his head.

“Would you want to hang out this weekend? Just- just you and me?”

Cyrus smiled widely, “I’d love to.”