#campaigns and I’ve been invited to play one campaign by a mutual and I’ve been added to the server (hi if you see this 💖)

[whimsyprinx]

my desire to make more dnd characters vs the fact that I’m in no campaigns and don’t know when or if I’ll be in a campaign are fighting

[sazc94]

The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart.

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts. Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

Part 1 Here

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+ Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 3368 it's Suburban AU.

2015 You finished up Uni staring in the school's production of Rock of Ages, Playing Sherry opposite Loki’s drew. Loki also moved to New York staying with his half brother Thor Oddinson. You stayed in touch with Loki and Pietro. The thing that took you by surprise however was six months after moving to Detroit, whilst working for Bruce Banner's start-up you received a DM on Instagram from Bucky. He heard from Sam and Jane that you were now living in Detroit and he was moving to the area after being scouted by the Detroit Lions. Hey Y/N, I hope you’re good. I know this is random and please feel free to tell me where to go, but I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime? It would be great to see you again and catch up. Let me know. So you replied feeling like maybe after all this time it might be good to finally hear Bucky’s apology. Pietro and you had stayed in touch but you knew he was dating someone else. Her name was Sue Storm, she seemed like a nice girl, very smart and could easily give Pietro a run for his money. After hearing Bucky’s apology, you two started to become friends again, he invited you along to his games always offering to secure you two tickets if you wanted to bring someone. He was a machine on the football field, earning the strange nickname The Winter Soldier.

2016

Everything changed in the summer of 2016 though when Bucky’s mother passed away suddenly in June. She had practically helped raise you, so you attended the funeral with Bucky. You stayed with him in the guest room in his childhood house, helping him sort through belongings and paperwork. Bucky’s dad had died when you were 8 and Bucky like you was an only child. You took in food from neighbours wanting to pay their respects. You held his hand squeezing it in comfort during the funeral, assuring him you were there for him. Two days after the funeral you and Bucky had finished packing up the final boxes, you were upstairs, and he was downstairs being awfully quiet. You went looking for him only to find him sat on the living room floor. He was crying holding a picture of you and him one Halloween when you were 9, Bucky had gone as Superman and you as Supergirl. Your mums stood behind you, both of them chuckling whilst you and bucky tried to out pose one another. Your heart swelled. Your Grandad had died in November and god how your heart had ached, but to lose your mum, you couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Hey, hey. It's alright I’m here Buck”, you said cradling his head to your chest whilst he sobbed. You stayed like that for an unidentifiable amount of time before Bucky’s crying eased. He looked up at you blinking away the stray tears, the familiar blue in his eyes pulling you in. Your not sure who kissed who first but that was how you and Bucky ended up sleeping together.

You and Bucky officially got back together in July. Your Grandma passed away in September, the start of football season. Bucky was unable to attend the funeral, he tried god he tried. Pietro made it though. He and Sue had broken up not that he told you. By the time November rolled around things were good between you and Bucky. Wanda’s fashion label Scarlett Witch was taking off and she invited you and Bucky out to join the rest of the old gang at the official launch in December of 2016. You accepted and for the pair of you assuring Bucky, there would be no awkwardness. Pietro was casually dating and was bringing a date called Crystal.

You arrived at the party in NYC completely blown away. Wanda had asked you to wear a piece from the evening wear collection, a Black strapless dress, the top if form-fitting made from chiffon fabric, the skirt cut out the front made of black tulle sparkled with the touches of glitter. It felt like you were wearing the Milky Way. After stopping to pose for photos for the press you made your way inside. The party was being held inside a beautiful gothic building. “Y/n! You look absolutely amazing, thank you so much for wearing this and of course for coming” Wanda practically pounced on you the minute she spotted you. “Bunny! I agree absolutely amazing. Bucky, you don’t look too bad yourself” Pietro said kissing you on the cheek. Pietro was wearing a deep blue suit, it made his hair and ice-blue eyes pop. Bucky had opted for the simple black tux to match you and your dress. He almost looked good enough to eat. After grabbing a glass of champagne, Wanda and Pietro took you to the rest of the gang who had made it. Jane was here with a date, Thor Oddinson you recognised him from the few times he had been to see you and Loki in shows. Carol was here too. Peter Parker was working the event as a photographer he had brought a date a lovely young lady called Mary Jane Watson. After about 45 minutes of schmoozing and catching up, you went to the ladies room. When you exited you were a little taken aback by the sight that confronted you, a redhead was hanging of Bucky’s arm chuckling away with Thor and Jane. You could only see the back of her from where you were standing. You decided to walk over and introduce yourself. However, when you got closer to the group the woman started to look vaguely familiar.

“Hey babe,” Bucky said as you approached quickly removing his arm from the redhead. Babe. That was weird he never called you babe. His blue eyes looked like they were hiding something. “Lady Y/N. This is Lady Natasha” Thor said introducing you. The redhead turned to shake your hand smiling at you with a knowing look. “Lovely to finally meet the infamous Y/N,” she said. “I told Bucky how disappointed I was not to meet you when I was in the City in September. I’m so sorry to hear about the passing of your grandmother. Bucky kept me company whilst I was around on some Business” her voice sounded harmless, sweet and pleasant. Genuine. Her eyes and knowing smirk told a different story. Bucky looked at you, the familiar betrayal in his eyes, pleading with you. “I was just telling Bucky, I’ve been offered this amazing opportunity in Detroit so Ill be moving there in February, isn’t that wonderful?” she asked. You smiled taking a swig of your champagne. Jane looked at you, then Bucky. You shook your head.

That was the second time Bucky Barnes broke your heart. He assured you that they hadn’t slept together, however had admitted that he had kept her visit from you and that she had kissed him. “Did you kiss her back?” you asked pacing around your hotel room. “Doll, please what does it matter,” he asked reaching out for you. His calloused hands once again burning your skin with his betrayal. The fact he had chosen not to answer was all the confirmation you needed. You had left him in the hotel room. Loki had been unable to make the event due to being in a small play off-Broadway, but you had texted him asking if he wanted to get a drink. You had told him everything and he had walked you back to your hotel room. You were drunk and distressed. Bucky had opened the door his blue eyes flashing with jealousy when the handsome black-haired gentleman had his arms around you. “Easy James, if anything was going to have happened between us, it would have happened in freshman year of college,” Loki said helping you into your room. After you and Bucky returned to Detroit you guys took a break for a few months.

2017

Natasha’s job conveniently happened to be working as a fitness instructor at the Detroit Lions. After 4 months you and Bucky got back together in March of 2017. Things were going great, Natasha seemed to have released whatever hold she had on Bucky. Bucky was performing well with the Lions, his new teammate, Steve Rogers nicknamed Captain America seemed to have caught the eye of many ladies including Natasha. He however didn’t seem that interested in her and had his sights set on a girl from his home in Brooklyn her name was Peggy. Steve and you hit off due to your mutual disinterest in Miss Romanoff, he had come up with a nickname for her, he called her Black Widow because she seemed to devour the men in her life. Banners start-up tech company had taken off with thanks to your ad campaigns. You were also performing in the local summer show of Mamma Mia playing Sophie. In the summer of 17, Peggy Carter came to visit Steve, turned out she was from Britain originally. You liked Peggy and her no-nonsense approach. During July, the four of you went on lots of double dates like you were high schoolers again. For Steve’s birthday which happened to be the fourth of July, the four of you attended an event being put on by the Detroit lions. You had a great evening mixing with various teammates and their families. You even warmed to Natasha a bit that afternoon.

As the evening rolled around a giant cake was brought out to celebrate Steve’s birthday. Followed by a firework show. Everyone made their way to various blankets and cushions set out at the opposite end of the stadium. Somewhere along the way you and Bucky got separated. You didn’t worry too much, to begin with as you’d both drifted off to interact with various people throughout the event, however by the time the fireworks started Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You started to think the worst until you spotted Natasha’s red hair on the other side of the stadium flirting with a gaggle of players from various other teams who were invited. Confident Bucky would return shortly you turned your attention to the sky watching with a goofy grin, things were finally settled between you and Bucky. As the fireworks went on you decided to snap a few shots on your phone loving the way the sky lit up with bright colours. The Detroit Lions didn’t do things in small doses, so the firework display ended up going on for about an hour and a half. After about 45 minutes Bucky returned from wherever he had been slipping down behind you pulling your back flush to his chest. He stroked small circles on your arms. His rough calloused skin making you shiver from the contact.

In September you were approached by Tony Stark’s PA Pepper Potts, they had seen your campaigns for Bruce Banner and Tony was interested in headhunting you. Your contract with Bruce was up in October. You initially shot the idea down. Why would you want to leave Michigan? Your family home was a short 20-minute drive away, Bucky was doing well with the Lions. Peggy Carter was moving here after Steve had proposed at the end of Summer. It seemed ludicrous. After initially shooting down the offer. Pepper contacted you, doubling their initial offer. The offer was tempting, so you told Miss Potts you would think it over the weekend. There was no harm in bringing it up with Bucky, maybe a move would do you both good, Natasha seemed to have gotten under Bucky’s skin again. You left the office early that day. You didn’t bother to text Bucky figuring you could surprise him when he got home from training with a home-cooked meal. You stopped off to get some supplies to make Lasagne before heading over to his apartment figuring you could just let yourself in. You had called Wanda on the drive over through your cars Bluetooth. She and Vision were engaged, and she wanted you to be one of her bridesmaids. Partway through the call, Pietro had walked into Wanda’s office so you had told them both about the job offer. When you got to Bucky’s you immediately recognised the Black Widows black Mercedes. “huh, that’s weird, I wonder what she’s doing here,” you said out loud “who’s where?” asked Wanda. “oh um nothing, look I got to go I just got to Buck’s and I’m cooking dinner, going to talk to him about Tony’s offer,” you said before hanging up. You were so blind-sighted by Natasha’s car you didn’t clock Bucky’s Motorcycle parked in the corner of the small parking lot. You grabbed your bags walking up to Bucky’s figuring that you could invite Natasha in if need be whilst you waited for Buck to come home.

If you had noticed Bucky’s bike, then just maybe you would have been more prepared for the following events you unlocked Bucky’s apartment and you found clothes strewn everywhere, his jeans. A white Blouse. His boxer trunks. A Black lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you. At first, you were so shocked by what you saw that you didn’t hear the moans coming from the bedroom. It was like you were possessed you carried your bag of groceries as you walked in a daze to the bedroom, you opened the door and found Bucky once again cheating on you. He and Natasha were in the throws of fucking each other, you found Natasha with her back to you, wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Bucky sat upright facing you however his eyes closed whilst he drank in the pleasure. You felt your heartbreak as you dropped your bag of groceries. The bag made a thud as it hit the ground, alerting Bucky to your presence. His eyes flew open connecting with yours. Natasha however didn’t stop riding your boyfriend’s cock. Bucky tried to push her off him, but you were already storming out the door. You grabbed your bag and left Bucky’s spare key in the door. Bucky grabbed a pair of joggers and slippers before chasing after you. Bucky’s apartment was on the second floor. All the apartments on the second floor opened outside to a walkway.

“Really James?!?” you turned round to face him before he could even say your name. “Was once not enough? Did you not hurt me enough the first time?” You asked. You could feel the anger threatening to burst in the way of tears. Bucky went to speak, his blue eyes once again filled with guilt. “How long?!” you asked quietly. Bucky moved towards you tugging on your wrist. “Come on Y/N, come back inside it’s starting to rain, we can discuss this inside,” he said, his eyes pleading with you. At that moment Natasha appeared in Bucky’s open doorway. She looked pleased with herself, wearing Buck’s shirt. The site made you want to vomit. “How. Long?!” you asked again through gritted teeth. Bucky faltered. “Since July. Since the 4th of July event,” he admitted rubbing his hand over his face. At that moment you felt completely and utterly broken. “I’m done, James. Do you hear me? I am done. We are through. You two.” You pointed to Natasha. “You two are welcome to one another”. That was the third time Bucky broke your heart.

You took the job working for Stark Industries. Your contract had ended with Bruce but your lease on your apartment was up until January so you stayed working for him until December of 2017 You said your goodbyes to Steve and Peggy in January and moved across the country to your new life in the big apple.

December 2018

The unknown number flashed up on your phone for the third time that day. You sighed before answering it. “Hello, Y/N Speaking how can I help?” you asked fiddling with your jumper. “Hey Doll, it's me. Don’t hang up.” Your breath caught in your throat. James Buchanan Barnes. You hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. He hadn’t even attempted to reach out to you after you split up mailing your things back to you, well all but a scarf. In January shortly before you’d moved to NYC you’d seen a magazine article saying the Winter Soldier was dating Natasha Romanoff. It confirmed what you already knew deep down, which was that you might be okay but you were not fine at all.

You’d worked so hard to forget about him long enough to forget why you needed to. He had better have a damn good reason for calling you. “You have 5 minutes,” You said getting up from the sofa you were sat on. “look, I know I fucked up with you. In more than one way on more than one occasion. I think it was the pressure to be the perfect couple, you know lifelong friends to more. And well I guess I just freaked out, and then I fell for her, but she didn’t want me, and when you gave us another shot, I thought I could convince myself to love you the way I did her, the way you had loved me. But truth be told, it was always Natasha after that summer. I know you deserve better, and I truly am sorry for hurting your doll. But I wanted you to hear it from me before you read about it in the news. She’s pregnant and also, we’re getting married.” Bucky said. You stood in the middle of the apartment stunned. “So, you call me up again, just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest?” you whispered. Squeezing back the tears. “Well fuck you, James.” With that, you hung up. Of course, Bucky tried to ring right back, you declined the call, falling to your knees in pain. You had never asked for any of this, you had been quite happy being Bucky’s best girl as his friend. He was the one who kissed you at that prom.

You weren’t still in love with Bucky, you had moved on, forgetting about him and the pain he caused you. He hadn’t needed to call you, he could have given you a heads up through one of your mutual friends, but no. he had to go and stick the knife in. After lying there like a crumpled-up piece of paper and letting the tears fall. You picked yourself up. You washed your face and made yourself a mug of hot chocolate grabbing a Christmas cookie from the tin before making your way over to the bay window. You sat down taking in the view. The traffic had eased off a bit as things wound down for the evening. The snow had been falling pretty much all day. After about 15 minutes of sitting peacefully the key in the lock turned. You didn’t move you were incredibly content where you were, even if you could use a refill in the hot chocolate department.

“Hey handsome how was your day?” you asked not taking your eyes away from the street below. A group of kids were throwing snowballs at one another. You smiled to yourself enjoying their innocence. “It was good, busy” he replied taking off his coat and walking over to join you at the window seat. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “How about you Bunny? I saw a news alert. I’m guessing you know about the engagement?” he asked. You hummed a response. Before shuffling yourself around to face him. His floppy silver-blonde hair covering those beautiful ice blue eyes, they looked at you with such love and endearment, they also spoke a silent promise that he would never hurt you the way that Bucky had. You kissed him gently on the lips before standing up. “Come on Quicksilver let's shower before the Stark Christmas Gala,” you said pulling your boyfriend along behind you shooting him a knowing grin. His nickname may be Quicksilver for athletic reasons but there were some things he liked to take his time with.

A/N If you stuck with me through all this, I am truly sorry. I'm gonna go cry

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave

[lampmeeting]

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

--

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

--

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

--

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

[vvakarians]

I need to be vulnerable for a second.

It’s been a year. I’ve made a lot of progress and am still uprooting shit I’ve been wading in for a while now. I’m growing and learning. But I’ve never gone into detail really, maybe on twitter and mentioned it a couple times but yeah. Been thinking a lot.

TW for Homophobia / Abuse

TLDR; My best friend was a shitlord and I spent ten minutes painfully sobbing about it. I’m fine lmao just needed to make a messy post.

Won’t be mentioning who they were on SM here but if mutuals who are and were friends w/ both of us want to know, hmu lmao. I sincerely hope y’all didn’t get shit on like I did

I’m so tired. I’m tired of knowing that someone I used to call my best friend literally cyberstalked me in a discord server and when I told them I wanted to have a space without them/wouldn’t be interacting with their character, they lost it.

I’ll call this person A. They were there for me through a lot but it got weird towards the end for sure. A was always clingy, always needed to be right (passed it off as an OCD thing), and always felt like they needed to be included in things I was doing. Abandonment issues due to trauma they said, still doesn’t excuse it but you know? Fine.

I identified as aro/ace for a long time bc I was severely traumatized. Someone thirst followed me and cornered me into a relationship/took my kindness for granted (Not A, not yet). A’s reaction was to assume I would never have time for them and we would drift apart, just because I had a partner. They complained about this to me and said that even if I was just their friend and QPP (we were both aro/ace) that they still felt I would abandon them. I tried to calm them down the entire time, this was October 2018. Three days later I had a severe PTSD break (unrelated trauma) and broke up with my ‘boyfriend’. A said it was the right decision and we left it at that.

Cut to me a year later having recovered a bit and realizing I had romantic feelings still. That I *wanted* to kiss and take someone out, and do heavily romantic things. During this time A and I had severe issues with D&D parties also where they would break down if they didn’t know everything and said that I couldn’t produce any part of my worlds for profit bc theh had contributed in a small way. It was a bad time. It lead to the complete disintegration of two relationships that I can...probably never get back. One of which I’m not sure I *want* back, but that’s a different story.

Basically they wanted to be the DM with half the credit despite only making npcs I could easily replace or cut out entirely. Now that I started playing again, I have.

I still was friends with them, still waveringly QPP’s with them. Though I’d often feel my skin crawl when they touched me or wanted to be in my space. This was all the time, not when I got triggered into a PTSD episode. I was annoyed when they wanted to always be in my space and have all my attention. But I felt obligated to A and had been recently traumatized again.

Even with all of this I wanted to come out as gay / mlm but still keep part of my aceness with me. Of course in feeling this, I approached A to let them know. Their response was to immediately come back with ‘we can do all of those things you want to do with a romantic partner’. Which I felt may be true for some aspecs but not me. I wanted to *be* with someone and not just...a friend. I wanted to have a boyfriend and be cheesy. I told A that it was probably true but I wanted something else. That I wanted space to think on what they had said. They came back with ‘you’re abandoning me. You just don’t like me. Everyone always leaves me’. Once again with the ‘you get a bf you’ll forget I exist’ rhetoric 🙃.

I told them that they weren’t the person I wanted to be romantic with. I was looking for someone else. I wasn’t attracted to them that way. They took that as an insult. Though to me they relented. Come to find out A got one of our mutual friends involved bc they lived in the same area. They vented and complained to them that I was going to abandon them, that I was punishing them, that they didn’t know what they did wrong. Which was behavior my parents exhibited when I was forced out as trans to them. That Inwas punishing them somehow for a misdeed or that they knew me better, they did something ‘wrong’.

The only outlet I had away from A was TikTok, we weren’t really doing D&D anymore because the party had dissolved due to their controlling habits. Every account I had was heavily monitored by A, I would vent and they would immediately pull it up and ask if I was okay. Even if I had explicitly said before that I was alright and needed some space. But TikTok was a place they barely went on. So I cosplayed more after our last visit (October 2019), and got a small following after joining a lovely d&d tag ran by one of my now closest friends. I also met my boyfriend through this tag, and several other very close friends. I made an oc that I integrated in one or two sessions of D&D before I completely stopped DMing.

Now, it gets worse. I get a following for cosplaying my oc Asariel Whately, join a server, and for a time have a pretty okay place away from A. Some breathing room. When I mentioned that Asariel (who we had talked about maybe being w/ an oc of theirs) was going to romance my now boyfriends oc in the tag, they got upset. They said that they were sad to see them with someone else, and asked if it could all be before my campaign/not actually be real. I told them no and that I’d continue doing what I wanted.

Well, after that and scouring my TikTok (i made the mistake of saying anything in the first place), they got invited to the server and started RPing/cosplaying in the tag. Which they’re allowed to do, but A has a history of wanting to be in my things and being the center of attention. When I say A got involved with *several* other characters, including a possible *minor*, that doesn’t even cover the worst of it. They got involved in a huge polyam relationship (which is fine, i’ll explain why their behavior was weird tho) that LITERALLY took up chunks of the whole server. Any time my bf and I got into chat to rp out some scene for Asariel and Fraanic, A was there to bury our scene in their own garbage. Could have been conicidence but who knows. Then the minor got added into the mix and most of us just had the server on mute/rped in DMs. It was so bad that other people noticed their bad behavior, meta gaming, and needing to be right.

Our relationship ended when someone from a private close knit server made up of all the people who wanted to remove ourselves from the toxic environment, outed our server. Said there was an nsfw server and A immediately jumped to say they wanted an invite. I panicked and DMed them for the first time in weeks to say that they couldn’t. That I needed space from them and this was the one place I had. We had a fight, they said ‘they’re my friends too’ and I pointed out that they had forced their way in, that I said I needed space. Eventually they gave up on it, thank god. But it left me wrecked for months. I didn’t create, I retreated into a two person server with my best friend who is now my boyfriend and just never looked back.

While I’m grateful that this massive upheaval gave me a new support network, got me into a good place for a romantic partnership, and allowed me to heal...I still have a lot of pain. I felt like I had been commodiefied, like an object because of how kind and soft and pliable I was. Because someone thought I was beautiful and *theirs* in the worst way. My ocs who are some of my largest coping mechanisms were tainted, I could barely play Dragon Age, couldn’t think about it. Because someone had conpletely obliterated my love for it. I hate to think they then continued to do that same thing to other people but I honestly have no clue what A is doing now. They dropped off the planet and honestly good riddance.

[thewreckkelly]

Watch "Could Only Happen In Ireland" on YouTube

GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY (My Mother Myself) 

I love my Mum – loved her when I was under her care, loved her throughout my independence, love her now she’s in someone else’s care. Of course I’m aware such maternal love is by no means exclusive and undoubtedly, while the expression of such love tends to soften with distance and age, it remains an emotional bond that is a true unbreakable.

Recently I’ve been helping a florist – who also happens to be a great friend - with an online marketing campaign for ‘Mothers Day’ and, (during the course of concocting and plagiarising four line sentiments and graphic displays of floral fawning) , got to thinking of my Mum and what we have shared throughout a lifetime of mutual love.

A strange highlight dominated my walk through that particular past!

-o- 

The year was 1980 (I think) and I was slowly ridding myself of the adolescent petulance properly associated with teenage angst while also - willingly and without excuse or apology – continuing to embrace the evolutionary revolutionary mindset of ‘Punk’.

Don’t get me wrong I had never fallen into the ‘Mohawk’, ‘Piercings’, ‘Gobbing’, ‘Pogoing’ or ‘Safety Pin’ syndrome - not this good Catholic boy. It was more than enough for me that the freedom of expression associated with the genre felt ridiculously  inspirational and challenging in its raw depth – ‘Never Mind the Bollox’ proving a universally perfect mantra of how to be young in that very beneficial yet restrictive first world of change and changelings.

My Mum was the polar opposite in her musical taste and, (with a small ‘c’), conservative view of people, society and trends. Perry Como was more her cup of tea than the subversive Sinatra or Elvis while country music provided the stories of life she could relate to. Her idea of rocking out was to blare the Ray Conniff’ big band singers through my Da’s good stereo speakers on Sunday mornings - after mass - while letting go of any dancing inhibitions as she prepared the traditional roast.

The funny thing is; I sort of liked her music – without ever admitting such a ‘terrible’ thing to my friends and so called musical peers of course. There is an argument I liked the stuff she liked in much the same way liking anything that defines a good person has a habit of doing, but I don’t believe that was the reason.

I was too young and self-obsessed to understand that all was not simple and simple was, most certainly, not all – yet somehow aware enough to know without really knowing. Later I would realise my Mum had a terrific universal ear for much of what was good and great but back then ...... well .......

My Mum’s life, at the time, was neat and tidy by design - honed from a lifetime of consideration for others and struggle against an incomplete education, social gender relegation and being without too often. Mine was naturally a mess - a snap semi considered series of decisions and influences borne out of immediacy and yearning coloured by arrogance and naivety – a rebel searching for a ‘because’ if you like.

I had spent the summer just gone in London immersing myself in a musical and literary culture that was maturing from the raucous irregular  nature of punk and had taken in lots of pub and small venue gigs that ranged in influence from ‘The Jam’ to ‘Elvis Costello’ to ‘John Cooper Clarke’ to ‘Jimmy Pursey’ to ‘Billy Bragg’ to 'Kafka' to 'Tom Wolfe' to 'Philip Larkin' .

It was my coming of age moment when all of such seemed terribly exciting and dangerous to the person I was and surely massively influential in opening up my, (up till then), purposely covert disdain for authority and establishment

In the autumn of that year, weighed down by the morass of all such personal contradictions, I secured two front row seats for a Country & Western show at the RDS - with some degree of trepidation – to treat and play chaperone to my Mum, who was a big fan and unlikely - at that time - to actually enjoy or have the opportunity to avail of such an occasion.

And so it came to pass the two of us left the semi in the suburbs and drove to a monolith in the better part of town to see Dolly Parton do her thing.

-o- 

The Royal Dublin Showgrounds in Ballsbridge, Dublin, was, and probably still is, a throwback statement in architecture and class driven membership designed to promote and embrace all of what was good from the Protestant protectorate time of Victoria - while actually succeeding in highlighting much of what was insidious about those whom believed in a realm upon which the sun would never be expected to set. A venue where aspiring middle-class Dubliners and those beyond the pale could, on occasion, sample and digest possibilities their betters expected them to aspire to but rarely achieve.

The entrance to the RDS is signature and a facade of understated power – inviting and intimidating in measure and construction. I hadn’t been in the exhibition hall before and was hugely underwhelmed by its ordinariness, the starkness of the concrete floors and rows of institutional collapsible chairs set out in slightly skewed rows. The room was cavernous, very bright with a stage that looked more suited to a communist political convention than a glitzy C&W extravaganza.

Mum was dressed to the nines, which had worried me slightly to begin with only for such fear to rapidly evaporate upon arrival - it was twenty year old me, dressed as conservatively as I could allow in Wrangler jeans, Polo shirt and black suit jacket, that looked out of place among the throngs of Sunday best middle aged men and women taking their seats in an excited, orderly and happy manner. I felt like the proverbial fish out of water and had to reach deep to marry myself to my Mother’s mounting excitement and sense of occasion.

The support act that night was a solo artist called Kevin Johnson. Here I was on relatively safe ground as his big song was; ‘Rock & Roll I Gave You All the Best Years of My Life’ to which I knew all the lyrics and felt some level of identification with. He was a good competent performer with the troubadour’s presence and I remember being impressed at his professionalism along with enjoying the Americana folksiness of the set. I relaxed a touch and, when he finished off with that song, felt at least I’d got my money’s worth and anything else would be a bonus.

A sense of fervent excitement in the hall grew as we waited for the headliner and, to a point, became infectious. I genuinely had no idea what to expect and the sense of expectation bordering on privilege emanating from this packed venue caused me to doubt any possibly disingenuous pre-conceptions I had inwardly held since I’d bought the tickets and surprised Mum.

The lights went down, the band silently took to the stage as shadows. A fanfare of guitars, fiddle, bass and drums in galloping beat broke the deafening silence of the seated audience and then .......

‘GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY’ issued forth from a disembodied deep male voice - in the pronounced accent of a Southern American State - to rapturous applause.

A spotlight broke the darkness and concentrated its stardust on the wings from which a tiny giant bounded and danced her way to centre stage with more energy than Sellafield.

Clad in a very revealing figure hugging silver diamantes laden dress, sporting perfect make-up on cheeky cultured facial features pronounced with ruby red lipstick – all artistically framed by an abundance of perfectly coffered Dixie blonde tresses.

This would be first lady of country music lit the auditorium miles beyond the ability of mere electricity.... Oh yes Ms Dolly Parton made an entrance you couldn’t beat with a stick.

The show is a blur – I do remember her doing ‘Applejack’ on the banjo, with ridiculous big painted nails not being a bother at all – and the best I can actually recall for the most part is before you could wail ‘Jolene’  I found myself cheering, clapping, dancing and singing along with songs I didn’t know in the company of equally uninhibited people I didn’t know and wising the show would never end. This was new to me; this was a living example of the best at what they do, doing it for me along with everyone else and delivering on every level.

The famous composer of melodies, Thomas Moore, once wrote:

‘And the best works of nature can only improve – when we see them reflected in looks that we love’ 

When Dolly caused us all to settle down, mid set, and invited each and every one present to relive a childhood memory of Motherly love with her soft ballad; ‘Coat of Many Colours’, I glanced smilingly at my Mum and her returned look allowed an understanding of exactly what Tom Moore was getting at.

Thanks for giving me Dolly Mum, (I’ve held on to her ever since), and, of course, all the rest of the other stuff.

Happy Mother’s Day

[emilyrosebass]

One Nation Under God: How President Biden and The Bachelor Franchise Use Christianity As An Unassailable Defense Against Divisiveness

“I’m going to pray for everybody.” 

Since Day 1, The Bachelor has always been a reflection of American values. But who could have expected that in 2021, just days apart, the inaugural speeches of America’s first Black Bachelor and President Joe Biden would be so similar, they practically followed the same sermon? 

Matt James, the first Black man to lead The Bachelor in its 20 year run, had much stacked against him when he “entered office.” He was a person of color navigating a show with a very white, often incredibly conservative audience. James followed Rachel Lindsay Abasolo, the first Black Bachelorette, whose 2017 season was met with record low ratings—a harrowing survey of Bachelor Nation which Mike Fleiss, creator and producer of the show, commented on in a NYT article, saying, “I found it incredibly disturbing in a Trumpish kind of way. It revealed something about our fans.” And in the three years since Rachel’s season, racism in the country has been pushed even further towards the surface; James took the helm amidst a resurgent wave of Black Lives Matter protests, racial inequity exasperated by the COVID-19 pandemic, and calls to defund a criminal justice system whose governance is inherently racist—each of which was met with equally loud conservative protest. Matt James’s season practically invited criticism from detractors: That he’s here for the wrong reasons, is undeserving of the (traditionally white) title, or was cast to placate increasing demands to diversify the show’s cast rather than for his merit. 

Facing an incredibly traditionalist racist sect of Bachelor Nation, James began his opening speech: “I’ve had so long to think about what I’m going to say to you all, but I’m going to take a different approach. If everybody could just bow their head really quick, I’m going to pray for everybody.” James framed his introduction with the one thing a conservative audience can’t argue with: Christianity. His entire image on the show is centered around his faith—his belief that love is “a blessing,” that he’s “been called” to find his wife, and his confession that each decision he makes is based on his religious code of ethics. 

His faith in God, and by extension, his faith in the show’s process as God’s plan, protects him and the franchise from criticism over political or ideological differences. Frankly, being Christian is very “here for the right reasons.” Because he’s a godly man, anything else can be understood (Throwback to Hannah B’s infamous line: “I’ve had sex, and honestly, Jesus still loves me.”) It’s an MO that resists criticism��You cannot question a person’s character if their decisions, in James’s own words, are inspired by God. Worshipping the same god levels the playing field; two people are one and the same standing before their Lord. 

Framing Matt James’s season in Christianity was vitally important for the show to maintain its conservative Christian audience. With this one prayer, and the many to follow, the show effectively fulfilled its two opposing demographics—one that would, under any other circumstance, reject a Black Bachelor, and the other which threatened to stop watching if the show made no effort to diversify or progress. This isn’t to doubt Matt James’s faith, he is clearly a religious man, but the degree to which The Bachelor producers highlighted his Christianity was undoubtedly damage control.

Herein lies the identical strategy used throughout President Joe Biden’s speech at his inauguration on January 20th: Christianity as an unassailable call for unity.

Of course, President Biden faced the same divisive nation when he took office, on an even larger scale. His opposition was loud and numerous (I know few who actually favored him as anything more than an alternative to the last administration, but that’s a conversation for another day). “Sleepy Joe” was fervently and vocally hated throughout his campaign, and especially in the months leading up to his swearing-in ceremony. Just days before his inauguration, domestic terrorists stormed the Capitol in an act of political extremism opposing a peaceful transfer of power. This group, and those around the country who share their beliefs, are white supremacists who villainize the Black Lives Matter movement and the fights for economic and racial equity. Now-president Biden was called to speak to a divided, suffering nation in the heat of battles over innumerable causes: the origin of COVID-19 and the resulting xenophobia, the prior administration’s response to the pandemic, mass unemployment, the need for financial stimulus, the role of our criminal justice system, the (in)efficacy of a government that underprioritizes social programs—the list goes on. 

President Biden’s inauguration was framed by fears of another insurgence, increased police presence throughout DC and other major cities, and national uncertainty apart from the consensus that the fight is not over and more conflict is sure to come. Strategically, in response, he delivered a speech that carefully aligned national unity and peace with Christian beliefs. 

His sermon urging Americans to come together was packed with references to Christianity: “History, faith, and reason show the way of unity,” “From now on, on this hallowed ground, where just days ago violence sought to shake the Capitol’s very foundation, we come together as one nation under God,” Let us add our own work and prayers to the unfolding story of our great nation. If we do this, then when our days are through, our children and our children’s children will say to us, ‘They gave their best, they did their duty, they healed a broken land,’” and “I promise you this—As The Bible says, weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning. We will get through this together.” 

The president’s heavy handed implication is that if Americans come together united by religious values, they may still disagree politically, but morally they must grant eachother mutual respect. And if the nation at least shares a faith and a belief system, the rest can be worked out. 

With that, Biden punctuated his speech with the same sentiment that began Matt James’s: “We’ve been through so much in this nation, and as my first act as President, I’d like to ask you to join me in a moment of silent prayer.” 

The Christian unity gameplay—and that’s what it is, a defensive play leaders can pick from their playbook, as strategic and well-thought-out as a quarterback at the Super Bowl—deflects criticism and forces togetherness in a way that only religion can achieve. This isn’t to say that President Biden fixed bipartisan division overnight, or that there are no more intolerant, racist Bachelor fans, but it’s clear the two both recognized the Christian gameplay was their best shot at a win. 

[scoundrels-in-love]

Did you slip in through open doors and sit down, just to look at me like that (every day) | Chapter 2 - Jaime I

Brienne doesn’t mean to lie to her father. She just wants him to stop trying to set her up with men who aren’t Jaime Lannister, whom she’s secretly in love with. Unfortunately, that’s exactly who eagerly inserts himself in the narrative as her fake boyfriend. And her father is coming to King’s Landing in two weeks.

Truly, what could go wrong?

Also on AO3. Still part of @jbmonthlymadness Mutual Pining March.

He is so, so fucked.

Not quite the same way he thought a week ago, but still very much fucked.

Jaime glances over to where Brienne is watching a game on the couch for what feels like the hundredth time this half hour. While that itself isn’t unusual, everything else is. Tenseness in her shoulders he isn’t sure he will lure out with a stupid joke and then slay with even worse one, the way they’ve barely spoken to each other today and that his heart is being harshly kneaded by some huge, clawed animal. He’d say it’s a lion, but considering his House that feels just a little cliche .

Though, according to Elia, he is a walking cliche and a terribly executed one, at that. He sighs, realizes that the beer bottle really isn’t where he’s blindly grabbing for it, and averts his gaze from his fake girlfriend. There is exactly one word too many in that title and it’s neither girl or friend. If only he could convince Brienne of the same.

Jaime has tried , he really has. Gotten up earlier to make sure he can prepare her coffee and go on a jog with her, kissed her goodbye on the cheek, pestered her into having a lunch during work hours and ordered takeout to arrive just after she got home the days he knew he’d be home even later than her, sent her obscure memes about animals he found on some nature activist group on Raventome that he frankly didn’t get but hoped she would and have a good laugh between work and more.

Granted, he does all these things regularly anyway (except the cheek kisses, but he isn’t sure they’re as much of a highlight of the day for her as they are for him), but now it’s daily. And it’s not a bother, like Brienne tries to convince him to think, and Jaime would gladly do it for the rest of the foreseeable future. Even waking an hour earlier, although he likes to think that if they were properly dating, he’d persuade her to explore other workouts they could do in the time without leaving the house.

Elia suggested it’s because she’s stressed about the convention, but Jaime knows better. (“Of course you do, that’s why you suggested to be her fake boyfriend instead of telling her you’ve been head over heels for her for years now.”) No, Brienne’s work has nothing to do with the skittishness in her eyes, the way she freezes when he presses lips to her delightfully reddening cheek, sometimes daring to brush corner of her mouth or lingering a second too long because her proximity makes him a little dizzy, or stumbles over conversations topics as if they are larger than boulders she can easily best when hiking. She doesn’t even shut down his flirtations anymore - instead she looks away and mumbles something or trips into the next topic.

Their new arrangement is the cause, and the realization has been rolling toward him like a house sized morning star down a gentle slope.

“Jaime? Movie’s starting,” subject of his sweet agony and worry calls out and Jaime realizes he has quite literally spaced out. And that perhaps his inner narrator is going a little overboard. Elia would have another laughing fit if she knew.

He grabs the snacks and another beer and presents them to her with a smile, falls heavily in his spot that earns a little bit of glare from Brienne because, of course, she’s concerned for the springs and one of these days he will tell her he can think of more interesting things to wreck their couch with. ‘One of these days’ feels like an awful stretch and ‘a mountainclimb later’ sort of thing, though. He heaves a sigh.

“Everything alright, Jaime?” she asks and he looks at her, armed with a bright smile and an easy no, when they crumble faced with concern that colors the blue of her eyes deeper, yet gilded shade like the last glimpse of sunset paints the sea. Of course Brienne finds time to worry about him, despite seemingly thinking she’s standing between two cannons labelled ‘work’ and ‘fake boyfriend’, ready to shoot.

He wants to pull her close and press a kiss to her furrowed brow so much he can physically feel an alternate reality, one where he’s braver and does just that, manifest.

Unfortunately, in this one Jaime only laughs and plops his head in her lap, facing the TV. “Of course I am, B. But if you’re so worried, you can always pet my head and tell me it’s going to be alright.” He likes it when she says that, the way she sets her jaw mulishly and seems to simply talk it into existence with sheer willpower and kindness. But never for herself, only others.

Brienne stills for a moment, then, much to his relief, makes indigant noise and pushes at his shoulder slightly but with no real force. “I’m not a cushion, Jaime” she tells him and he shifts just so he can grin up at her.

“C’mon, I’ve been a good boyfriend this week, have I not earned one lap cushion coupon? I must use it before it expires.”

“ Fake boyfriend,” she says seriously and Jaime looks at the screen again so she can’t witness his grin shattering like the window of Casterly Rock’s kitchen when he had been six and too eager while playing ball. He might feel even more chastised than after the lecture Tywin had given him, which had left a stone grinding sharp edge in his gut for a week.

“Fine, but I am not going to pet your head. You are not an overgrown housecat, no matter how much you may act as one,” Brienne relents, but by the end of the movie, she brushes back a strand he has shaken into his eyes and halfway through the second movie, she actually runs her hand through his hair and he barely manages to remain still, instead of following her hand like foam graces a wave’s edge.

All things considered, Jaime feels re-energized for the next week and his little war campaign on Brienne’s heart. He likes to think of it as war, though she is not a thing to conquer despite her truly formidable walls, just to trounce the narrative she has set for herself.

Once, before that fatefully shitty night when a pipe in his first own apartment burst and Brienne had invited him to stay over until it was fixed (and then he never really left), they had talked about who they would be in Targaryen and Stark eras, both revealing their dreams about knighthood.

Already knowing her love for ridiculous, historical(ly inaccurate) romance novels, he had joked if she’d not like ballads written about her instead, but Brienne’s face had shuttered and she had reminded him that no one would go to war for her . “I would rather defend the innocent and fight than stay home a sad and unmarried maid,” she had concluded, before going off about Blue Knight and other warrior women of Tarth. Jaime had already known back then that in any lifetime she’d be worthy of many great songs - of love and otherwise. But the bridge of their friendship was tentative still and he had had no intentions of being the one to lay the siege on her heart.

And when he had wanted to, he had already been so deep in the annoying, best friend role and still so utterly not having his shit together he didn’t feel he had the right to start the march. Someone better would surely come along. Except no one has, three years later still, and Brienne seems to think it’s a sign she only deserves a photoshopped suit-hanger and Jaime would rather be pierced endlessly by her glowering and risk her friendship that he treasures above anything he has ever known, than passively let her continue believing that.

For now, he’s only dying because of work, as they are currently quite swamped. It doesn’t help at all that his brain is a little (or a whole lot, but who’s counting) occupied with various Romance-Brienne-So-Hard-She-Doesn’t-Know-What-Hit-Her strategies. His plans for Friday come to immediate stop when he arrives home and finds Brienne fallen asleep at the kitchen table, her laptop’s screensaver of pixelated Kingslayer and Blue Knight from their favorite cartoon bouncing around the screen. He had installed it the first week of living here and despite her initial grumbling, she has never changed or disabled it.

This would be easier if Brienne’s one quirk when working at home wasn’t changing her workspace every few hours, as if it helps her think. It’s one of her most restless habits and typically, Jaime finds it adorable, but now that he has to haul half-asleep Brienne to her room he… Who is kidding, he also finds it endearing.

“Jaime, I can walk,” she scoffs, but leans on him anyway and when he helps her lay down on the bed, her eyes are soft and a little dazed and he thinks of early spring mornings, when nothing but the birds and clouds are awake yet, against the blueness of the sky.

Brienne curls up and he pulls a blanket over her and she gives him a sleepy smile, so warm that the consistent pull toward her feels anchored to the sun itself. He follows it and leans down and presses lips to her forehead. She exhales softly and when he pulls back, her eyes are closed, but there’s an almost sad turn to her lips.

“I really don’t want this to end, Jaime.” Her voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear - he wouldn’t if he wasn’t so close. His heart does an odd thing in his chest, something that would make it more of a rope dancer than a lion leaping through a ring of fire.

Jaime brushes a strand of her hair back, gently, in an attempt to reassure what odd fear has burrowed into her heart. He shouldn’t be so happy every time Brienne expresses she doesn’t want to lose him, but even her brilliant light can’t erase generations of carefully cultivated selfishness. “It doesn’t have to.”

“But it will.” And then she nuzzles deeper in the pillow and he knows this is a conversation to be finished (or maybe repeated) when she’s actually awake. Quietly, he walks out of the room and when the door has shut gently, bounces toward the living room with a grin that everyone would tell him begs for a punch.

There is hope for him yet.

[nyxfury]

The Big Little Merman (Part 2: The Plan is Afoot)

Rated M for swearing

Pairing: Dramione Fandom: Harry Potter / Little Mermaid

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter or Little Mermaid(Disney) franchise. This is just fanfiction and completely demonetised. Thanks to JKR and Disney for the wonderful sandboxes to let our imaginations run wild. This is also not beta-d so apologies for any mistakes and errors. They are my own.

Summary: Draco Malfoy suddenly finds himself thrust as the leading man in the gender bended wizard play adaptation of a muggle story, The Little Mermaid. How did it come to be this way and who’s slated to play the female lead? (Hint: Hermione)

Link to A03

“Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter!!” fumed Hermione Granger with her shrillest impression of a banshee as she barrelled into the redheads’ office.

“I take it you received your letter.” nodded Ginny, keeping her gaze focused on the document she was working on. With a final flourish of dotting a few more i’s and t’s, she re-slotted her quill in its’ holder, steepled her fingers together and took her sweet time shifting her gaze slowly to look at Hermione. Her expression remained stoic but her eyes held a scheming twinkle. She gestured to the guest chair, inviting Hermione to take a seat. 

Huffing at the redheads’ calm composure, Hermione closed the office door and sat on the opposite chair out of spite. She liked to indulge in being petty when she was in a mood. And she was feeling particularly irritated with the redhead right now.

Ginny rolled her eyes, ignoring the childish behaviour. She was a mother after all and Hermione was acting like her 2 year old son on a tantrum.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hermione clipped, waving the letter in the air in annoyance. Her initial fury deflated a little, simmering into mild anger. She crossed her arms and levelled a glare at the redhead.

“Well, Hermione, I imagine it would’ve been self-explanatory really. You broached the idea, I floated it to my boss, the HR Department head. He loved it, being half-blood himself. And now we’re working on making it a reality.” Ginny explained patronisingly.

“You know what I’m asking Ginny. I suggested the play because I thought it would be a hilarious consequence for the losing team. I never imagined nor wanted to be part of it!” she protested, waving her hands in emphasis. “Now explain why I’m finding myself cast as one of the leading characters and playing opposite Malfoy as his romantic interest!”

“Ah and therein lies your answer.” sing-songed Ginny, suggestively raising her eyebrows up and down.

“Ginny!”, Hermione spouted indignantly.

“Hermione!” mocked Ginny. 

“When will you finally admit that you find the man devastatingly attractive?” the redhead asked, leaning back in her chair and staring pointedly at her friend. She had a suspicion that her friend was carrying a torch for the blond scion. She’s never confronted Hermione about it until she felt sure that it was reciprocated. After observing both of them dance around each other for months, she’s grown impatient that neither was doing anything to pursue the mutual attraction.

Clarity dawned on the brightest witch of their age as she realized Ginny’s true motives. “Ginevra, if this is in any way related to you insisting on dolling me up for the pick up match, or that time you insisted I wear…I swear to Merlin that..that…” she fumbled, suddenly feeling flustered. Her lower abdomen felt like it was tying itself in endless knots. “Argh! Self care my arse.” she uncharacteristically exclaimed in frustration, throwing her arms in the air as she stood and walked towards the only window in the small office. She was feeling a little betrayed. Hermione Granger did not often feel backed into a corner. So she settled on some distance as she contemplated on the newfound perspective, completely missing Ginny’s small triumphant smile.

Finally, progress! A semblance of acknowledgement. Ginny happily sighed, patiently waiting for Hermione to process her emotions.

“I didn’t ask you to play matchmaker.” Hermione declared indignantly after a few beats of silence. The urge to escape the anxiety inducing conversation felt strong and she was on the verge of bolting.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t live vicariously through you and appreciate fine wine.” Ginny quipped.

Hermione stared at her friend. “You’re married.”

“Yes and a few years in matrimony can make life predictable.” Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “So you’re not denying it.” she stated more as a fact than a question.

“If you’ve come to that conclusion then my struggle to understand what this is must’ve been terribly obvious.” she sighed, shoulders slumped as she found her way back to her chair.

“But the self care campaign, Ginny? Really?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“It killed two birds with one stone.” the redhead shrugged, looking smug and unrepentant.

“To be perfectly candid, I don’t know what this is I have with Malfoy. Or that if there even is anything at all.” the brunette confessed. “There’s just been so much going on. He just broke off a long engagement for Merlin’s sake!“ 

“Hermione,” Ginny paused dramatically, “you’re probably the only person in this Universe who considers a year and a half as something recent.” Ginny pointed out. “Also, no one would’ve judge either of you if you started dating right after his engagement dissolved. In fact, half the Wizarding World assumed you’d be married with Malfoy’s babies by now!” the redhead exclaimed.

Hermione responded with a pointed glare.

“Ok, maybe that was a gross exaggeration.” Ginny conceded.

Before the conversation could go on, they were suddenly interrupted by another person barrelling through Ginny’s office in exasperation.

“Ginny, what the hell!?” exclaimed one very flabbergasted husband, waving a missive similar to the one the brunette flourished earlier.

“Alright, I’ve had it with everyone storming into my office today. Have all of you left your manners at home and forgot to knock like a decent person?”, declared the redhead more to herself than anyone in particular.

“Let me guess, you’ve also been casted for the play.” the brunette addressed Harry, who was still standing in askance as the door behind him was left wide open.

Noticing a few onlookers gathering and remembering where they were, Harry closed the door so as not to attract more attention.

“Well, yes. But I don’t understand why since our team won the pick up match! Hermione was supposed to be the only addition outside the losing team.” he huffed.

“Harry James Potter, please tell me that you and your wife aren’t actively trying to meddle in my love life!”, Hermione demanded, arms akimbo.

The bespectacled Auror had the decency to look chagrined as he stared at Ginny, silently begging for rescue as he realized his Freudian slip. The redhead’s only response was a wide-eyed stare, non-verbally replying that he was on his own.

Then there was silence.

Hermione sighed resignedly, “At least tell me that your scheming hasn’t gone beyond you two.” 

The married couple’s silent debate with their staring told her more than enough than she needed to know.

“Oh Merlin, who else is in this ploy and why am I only finding out now?”

~o~ 

“Malfoy, drinks are on you since it’s technically your fault we’re in a pickle right now.” declared Ronald Weasley as he plopped himself on a seat and signalled for a server. 

Draco already expected as much since he initiated the invite. But the gangly redhead chose a table for a larger group than their current party so he felt the need to clarify, “Expecting more company, Weasley?”

“Yeah, I’ve invited Harry and Dean. Apparently, my sister’s gone mental and casted them in the play! They’re out for blood. We’re all on the same team now.” he casually replied after ordering a round for everyone.

Draco is unsurprised by the development. The production will be a charity event after all and it’s only logical to include the Boy Who Died Twice and Lived to ensure that the tickets will sell out. It would also follow that the last member of the Golden Trio be included to complete the ensemble and seal the deal with the sales. Thus, he finds himself curious if she’s been casted as well.

He sipped his firewhiskey, feeling the smooth satisfying warmth of the liquid spread through his system. 

Harry Potter and Dean Thomas arrived and settled themselves. Blaise immediately declared that Potter got what he deserved after being so smug earlier that day. Everyone, excluding Malfoy, went into a heated discussion about the ridiculous stipulations included in the production.

“How can they demand us to be fit and have defined abs to play shirtless Mermen!? I’m an Auror but pushing paper doesn’t require exercise!”, Seamus tearfully exclaimed as he nursed his pint in one hand and his slight but definitely there beer belly in the other.

“Hear hear!”, Thomas chimed in support as he raised his own pint.

The conversation remained rowdy in the background as Draco stayed silent and in deep contemplation. A few more sips of his drink and he felt confident that Granger’s been casted in the play. Slowly, he found his mood shifting from dread to anticipation for the coming weeks.

Blaise never missed a beat and was perceptive enough to notice that the blonde finally put two and two together. Deciding that it was the right moment to sow the seeds, he executed his play.

“Speaking of fit, I noticed that Granger’s been looking really fit recently. Doesn’t she Draco?” he asked the blonde point blank.

Unprepared to be addressed after staying silent for most of the night, Draco decided to just nod in agreement and completely missed Blaise signalling Weasley to take his cue. 

“That she does. I blame you for losing us the match Malfoy but I don’t blame you for getting distracted. She was especially lush during the pick up match.” Weasley unexpectedly mooned.

The blonde felt confused as he bluntly questioned, “Hasn’t that ship sailed years ago, Weasley?”

“It has. But I’ve been re-thinking our relationship recently. I feel like it may be time to try again.” the redhead wolfishly replied as he polished his drink and signalled for another.

Seamus patted Weasley on the back in solidarity as Harry declared his support for the redhead’s declaration; as did everyone else in the table save for the blonde.

Draco never wore his heart on his sleeve but he was unable to mask the brief flash of hostility that overtook his features before schooling it back to nonchalance. The sudden and intense protectiveness he felt over Granger after Weasley’s declaration startled him. In his distraction, he failed to notice the silent triumphant look everyone shared. 

Blaise silently praised himself for a job well done as he watched his friend internally brood.

[laurelsofhighever]

Chapter Rating: Mature Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort Summary: The army reaches Aeylesbide, and prepares for the next campaign.

--

Seventh day of Firstfall, 9:32 Dragon  

The rain had been sheeting sideways for half a day by the time the sloped, tiled roofs of Aeylesbide came into view, a proper Firstfall gale that brought down the clouds and drove water stinging into the eyes, feeding the misery of both man and beast. After all, oilskins could only do so much before water found the exposed gaps between plate and mail and leaked through to seep its chill down to the bone. The horses’ heads were low, the company spattered with mud, the baggage soaked. The discomfort cast a pall over the countryside that went beyond mere seasonal change, and between the driving gusts of rain, Alistair cast a leery gaze over the bare trees and the fields left fallow for the winter. It was barely past midday, but so late in the year the light had already begun to fade.  

As they followed the road into the village proper, the bulk of the company split off from the head of Cailan’s guard to find the rest of the encampment. The flat of the green stretched out lankly in the space between the chantry and the guildhall, a lifeless shade of its summer self scattered with cast, half-rotten leaves and devoid of all movement save a huddle of bedraggled ducks in yearling plumage. The tree that had sheltered the villagers from the Summerday heat had been festooned with decorations in place of its discarded foliage, but Satinalia was a week gone and the ribbons and paper baubles that remained hung limp and bedraggled as broken cobwebs from its branches. What faces they did see peered out at them from the dark, misted windows of the village’s cottages.  

Bann Ferrenly waited for them under the shelter of his porch, with thick boughs of fir and holly wreathed over the lintel. The winter skeleton of the manor’s gardens loomed around them as the party squelched from their saddles, the tall husks of shrubbery and blackened flower stalks kept at bay only by the warm welcome of their hosts and the cheery hearthlight behind them. A troop of grooms was standing by to take the horses.

“My friends, it has been too long!” Ferrenly boomed, his arms open and his ruddy face beaming as he bowed low. “We had almost given you up as drowned on the road!” 

Next to him, the delicate lady Raina offered a curtsey. “Welcome to our home once more, Your Majesty. I’ve had the servants prepare baths, and fresh linens await the officers in the underhall.”  

“My lady!” Cailan laughed, throwing back his hood so he could shake his head free of droplets like a dog. “The wealth of your hospitality is outmatched only by your beauty, and it pleases me so that neither are dampened by this intolerable weather.”  

“Well said, Your Majesty, well said.” Both the bann and his wife wore their feast day attire, and the rich threads caught the light as he turned his attention to the rest of the party. “Your Highness, and Your Ladyship! From what I hear tell you’ve both tales to tell, but that can wait until you look less than half frozen, eh?”  

With a chuckle, he stepped back to usher everyone through the main door. They passed from the cramped vestibule to the open hall at the bottom of the stairs, into the reach of servants armed with towels and hangers for their sodden outer layers. Water dripped onto the baked tile floor, reflecting the candlelight and the sheen of the Satinalia ribbons that wove around the banister and draped from the iron chandelier in the middle of the room.  Alistair shucked off his cloak with gratitude, so far beyond shivering after so long in the cold that he could barely get his gloves off. Next to him, Rosslyn looked just as miserable. Her rain-matted hair was plastered to her face, a stark contrast against her skin that robbed the life from her cheeks and made his hand twitch with the urge to tidy the black strands behind her ears. Instead, he watched the reflexive scrunch of her expression as the sudden transition to a warm room stung her eyes and nose and invited a sneeze. She smothered it well, and met his anxious look with a lopsided smirk – all she could do, given their audience.  

“I’m afraid dinner will not be ready for another two hours,” Lady Raina was saying. “We did not expect you so early.”  

The king shook his head. “It just gives us more time to wring ourselves out, my dear. Those baths are ready now, I understand?”  

“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Raina smiled. “If you would follow me.”  

With an instruction to her husband to check on the cook, and for the chamberlain to lead the guard to the servants’ quarters, she started up the stairs with Cailan, Alistair, and Rosslyn following behind. A creak above and a tumble of giggles greeted them halfway up, but the flash of three bright faces vanished from the landing too quickly to catch as a sharp reprimand from an unseen nanny shooed the children back to the nursery.  

“They’re excited at the prospect of an extended Satinalia,” Raina explained, casting a fond glance upwards. “We told them you would want space after your journey, but I expect they’ll find a way to ambush you sooner or later. I promise to fend them off as long as I can.”  

“No need,” Cailan replied, and raised his voice. “Perhaps I shall at least exact my revenge upon the fabled warriors three!”  

More giggling. Alistair caught a wistful tilt to the corner of Rosslyn’s smile and brushed his hand lightly across hers. He hoped nobody noticed. When they reached the landing, Raina showed them their rooms, the same ones they had had recuperating from West Roth, and curtseyed again before continuing up to the nursery on the next floor. An awkward silence descended, fatigue so profound it left them giddy now that rest and food were so close within their grasp.  

“Brother, you brought no change of clothes,” Cailan realised. “And you’ve no servant to attend you.”  

Alistair, who like Rosslyn was dressed in layers donated by the templar quartermaster, blinked and rubbed a hand down his face. “Oh.”  

“No worry, we’re of a size – I’ll have Villers run something to you from my trunk.”

“What about Rosslyn?”  

“We travelled light into the Frostbacks – most of my clothes stayed with the army,” she answered, a hand over her mouth to suppress a yawn. “A good thing, too. I don’t think His Majesty’s clothes would fit.”  

“You could pull it off.”  

She turned to him, an amused smile canted at the corner of her mouth as she folded her arms, the half-outraged tilt of her brows betraying the connotation of his words an instant before they registered in his fogged mind.  

His face flushed with heat. “I only – that’s not –” His eyes flicked down before he could stop them, mind alight with easily half a dozen images determined to translate exactly where such a phrase might take him. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t mean it like that!”  

“Like what?” she asked sweetly.  

“Uhm…”  

Stuck between the two, Cailan swallowed a laugh behind a cough. “That is my note to leave, I think. Though a word of caution – our Lady Falcon takes no prisoners.”  

“Enjoy your rest, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn said, perfectly nonchalant, nodding as he bowed and turned to leave.  

“You’re evil,” Alistair muttered to her once they were finally alone.

“Maybe I just wanted to chase away our audience.” She leaned towards him, still with a smirk playing around her lips, and looked him up and down.

“Ha. I don’t know who finds it weirder that he knows, me or him.”

Something guarded entered her expression then, and she dropped her gaze to take his hand. “Are you… Do you mind that I told him?”  

“Mind?” he repeated, breaking into a grin as he squeezed her fingers. “You said your heart belonged to me. In front of a real, actual person. I’m not sure how I deserved such a treasure, but how could I mind?” He pressed her knuckles to his lips, frowned at how cold they were.  

“You’re trying to flatter me.” The worry in her expression lingered. “You don’t think it was too soon?”  

“Do you want to take it back?” he teased.  

“No.”  

“Good.” He sidled closer. “You know, it’s been too long since I’ve kissed you.”  

She leaned back just far enough to stay out of reach, grinning. “You kissed me yesterday.”  

“Like I said, too long.”  

“Alistair.”  

He stopped when her palm landed against his chest.  

“I’m cold, and tired, and – frankly – filthy.” Before he could open his mouth to argue, or apologise, she tugged on his fingers and drew them to her lips. “Come find me before dinner.”  

Rueful, he caught her chin in his fingertips. Every fibre of his body yearned towards her, weary and worn as it was, seeking an instinctual sort of comfort that damned the need for propriety, for company, for the appearances that would mean he’d have to sleep in a strange bed without her in his arms. A rebellious little idea flared in the stubborn corners of his mind, grumbling at the need to go to dinner at all.

The thought passed in an instant. “I’m not sure I could deny you anything,” he confessed, even as he realised it himself, and let her go.  

She darted forward and stole a peck against his cheek. “Love you.”

“That one doesn’t count,” he groused. “You still owe me a kiss.”  

“Be sure to come and collect it, then.”  

--

The light had entirely gone from the sky by the time Rosslyn dismissed her maid. During the months on campaign, she had become used to the feeling after battle, the empty, worn out expanse where conscious thought flickered like the shapes of fish beneath an iced-over pond. She stared out at the dark only because it made a better impression than staring at a wall, her eyes unfocused on her wraithlike reflection in the window, the flash at her throat where a pendant turned between her fingers. She’d managed to doze in the bath, long enough to prune. Her right arm ached. Her hair hung damp in its new braids, fragrant with jasmine, loose down her back over formal attire that rested warm and crisp against her skin, and still her mind was far away. Rarely did the tide of war give her so much time to dwell on what had happened. What would it be like when the war was over altogether, once Highever was back in her grasp and the coastlands hers to rebuild? The demon had worn her father’s face, and even then, she hadn’t hesitated…  

Someone knocked on the door. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she turned and called for whoever it was to enter, ready to be gracious, as if there were nothing wrong at all.  

“Are you decent?” Alistair called as he poked his head around the door. His eyes were squeezed comically shut and he kept his nose in the air in case he had to hurriedly look at the ceiling.  

“And if I weren’t?” she asked, amused.  

“Then, uh…” A blush stalked its way up his neck as he cleared his throat. “There’s no way I can answer that, is there?”  

She chuckled. “You can open your eyes.”  

He did, first squinting with one eye then staring with both, the slow, involuntary scan over her body leaving her flustered, demuring at the pleasant flutter in her stomach. Her gown was the deep blue of her family’s colours, cut traditionally with a high collar and a fitted bodice that flared ever so slightly into long skirts at her hips, and flared outer sleeves that trailed almost to the floor. It felt good to have it appreciated, even if this particular form of appreciation was one she usually met with a cold glare and a colder snap of manners. He let out a steadying breath, moving forward to slip his hands around her waist, chest against her back and a kiss against her hair, and denied her view of him in Cailan’s clothes, which suited him well despite being rather loose about the waist and shoulders. She tapped her fingers on the bracers at his wrists, a smile on her lips as she traced the interweaving lines of the War Dogs she had commissioned for him all that time ago.  

“Fascinating view.”  

“I was thinking,” she chided, sliding a hand to the back of his head.

He hummed at her touch. “About what?”  

She hesitated. They had so much left to do, so many worries, bound by honour and duty already even before any sort of future might present itself. If the demon’s vision had shown her anything, it was that she would always be beholden to Highever and its people, to the legacy of her family, and whatever path it lay before her, more and more the desire to walk it waned without the certainty that Alistair would be beside her, as close as he stood now. One of his hands had unfolded itself from her waist so he could push her hair away from the side of her neck. His fingers brushed her skin so lightly she gasped.  

“How long until dinner?” she asked.  

His grin pressed against the juncture of her shoulder, words a shiver that raised gooseflesh along her arms. “We have some time.”  

“Alistair…”  

“At your service,” he murmured, trailing his kisses higher. “Rosslyn?”  

She had forgotten to breathe. “You’re being bold today.”  

A heartbeat, and he withdrew, not far enough to lose contact, but enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. Her fingers foundered in his hair, and she felt the loss of his warmth as keenly as a winter gale against her back. The movement drew her with him, turning so she could look upwards into the worry she had put in his face. Where her palm cupped his jaw, she felt him swallow.  

“Too bold?” he asked.  

Her head shook, both in answer and because yet again she found herself falling further. “I still owe you a kiss, remember?” The joy that spread in his smile brought an answer to her lips, made her lean closer.  

“How good of you to remind me…” but then he paused, frowning, and brought his fingertips to her throat with an unsteady breath she didn’t know how to read. “You still have it.”  

“What –?”  

His fingers were tentative on his mother’s amulet, as if not even touching it could make him believe it was really there. “You’re wearing it. I hadn’t thought after everything, that… that you’d still have it.”  

“I…” It would be too easy to comfort him, to tell him she never lost faith, nor her temper. “I almost threw it at a wall when I heard about the plans for you and Valesh. I was so angry… I tore it off and shoved it at the bottom of my strongbox so I wouldn’t have to look at it – or remember.” She smiled. “I missed wearing it.”  

Reverently, his touch moved upwards, along her pulse to the corner of her jaw, pulling lightning in its wake. His gaze rose to her mouth. When she moved, less than an inch of encouragement, whatever spell held him broke and he swept down to meet her, a hungry, ragged edge to his sigh as the kiss deepened and her fingers slid once more to the back of his neck. She pulled him close without preamble, flaring with the same spark that had taken her in Greagoir’s office, the desperation of needing him closer, grasping at clothes and hands and anywhere she could reach, and grinning when strong arms wrapped like a vine around her back, as if he too might drown without such contact. His mouth found her neck as the windowsill collided with the back of her legs. Breath heavy, she wavered, shuddered, sank teeth into his shoulder to stifle a moan at the wander of his hands. It only caught fabric, but he felt it enough to stop, even if he stayed so close the tickle of his laugh ghosted across her skin.  

“So the lady does bite,” he murmured. “Interesting.”  

She smirked, remembering the conversation from so long ago, and turned her lips to his ear. “Someone baited me.”  

“Can I do it again?”  

“I…” Uncertainty crowded in, a stormcloud covering the sun. He felt the tension freeze in her shoulders, but she couldn’t look at him, or the frustration surely painted over his features. “I don’t mean to tease, I – I really don’t.” His attention had made her bold; her enjoyment made her want to toy with ideas she had rarely before entertained, and yet in her mind there still yawned that massive gulf between thinking and doing.  

“I love you,” he said, tilting her chin without a hint of accusation. He smiled. “And you’re not teasing. And I’m not disappointed – I could kiss you for hours and not get bored.”  

The admission sent warmth curling down to her toes. She reached up, aware of his palm on her waist, the other on her jaw, and trailed her fingers through his hair. “But you do want more.” Somehow, hearing it was important.  

He swallowed. His thumb brushed her lips. “I want –”  

The doorknob turned. Startled, they sprang apart, stung by blushes as their hands fell to straighten their rumpled clothing. A young girl no more than eight pouted at them from the doorway, her black eyes squinting suspiciously in a face framed by a mess of dark brown ringlets.  

“Were you kissing?” Bann Ferrenly’s eldest demanded.  

Rosslyn exchanged a nervous glance with Alistair. His mouth opened to reply, but his hair still stuck up at odd angles and he had little experience with children, especially those on the cusp of discovering adults could lie. He looked at her as she clamped her hand on his arm, but took her warning and kept quiet.  

She turned back to the child, who on their previous stay had been introduced as Moyna. “What do you know about kissing, little one?”  

“I know Mama and Papa do it, and they say I’m not to do it ‘til I’m older.” Moyna made a face. “I don’t want to do it ever!”  

“Very wise of you,” Rosslyn replied with a reassuring smile. “Can you keep a secret?”  

The child regard them both suspiciously. “What secret?”  

“Not a bad secret, just an important one,” came the assurance. “Like… when you pick strawberries for your mama but you don’t want her to know until dinnertime because then you get to give them to her.”  

“Mama likes strawberries.”  

“I know. Can you keep that kind of secret?”  

“I’m the best at that kind of secret!” Moyna declared, puffing out her chest.  

“Cross your heart?” Rosslyn asked.  

A solemn nod. “And hope to die, stick a dagger in my eye.”  

“You are good at keeping secrets.” Rosslyn smiled. “Alright. The truth is, His Highness and I were kissing, because we like each other very much.” The words, unspoken until that moment, scorched crimson across her cheeks, as if it were the utterance alone that made it real. Alistair pressed reassurance into her hand, and she squeezed back. “He’s very special to me.”  

“Like Mama and Papa?” Moyna asked.  

“Exactly like, except nobody can know that we like each other.”

“That’s stupid.”  

Alistair offered the girl a wry smile. “Sometimes the reasons adults do things seem that way when they’re complicated.”  

“That’s what Papa says.”  

“And do you trust your papa?” Rosslyn asked.  

The child tilted her head to the side, but nodded.  

“Then you know this is important. It’s a very special secret, and you can’t tell anyone you even have it, because then they’ll all want to know and it won’t be special anymore.” She let a note of steel creep into her voice. “And we’ll know who told them.”  

Chastened, Moyna’s gaze dropped to her feet. “Is he nice to you?” she asked. “Mama said that’s important.”  

For an instant, Rosslyn’s mind stumbled. Traitorous thoughts ran back to the moments before the interruption, stoking the heat in the back of her neck with reminders of broad hands across her back, the sensitive mark over her pulse he had discovered for her with his teeth. But then there was also the way he held her in comfort, his jokes, the warmth of waking up beside him, and the faith that always shone from his eyes when he looked at her.  

“He’s very nice to me,” she answered finally. “It’s good of you to ask.”  

“I was meant to get you for dinner.”  

Alistair stepped forward this time. “Lead on then, fair maiden. We wouldn’t want to be late. This one –” he grinned and snaked his arm around Rosslyn’s waist “– gets awfully grumpy when she’s hungry.”  

“You’re baiting me again,” she warned.  

“Am I?”  

If not for their audience, she would have kissed him to wipe the grin from his face, but an eye-roll did just as well. Moyna retreated and led the way into the hall, and the moment the child’s back turned, he stole a kiss to her temple.

“I don’t think that would have gone half as well if I’d opened my mouth,” he muttered. “How did you know that would work?”  

She leaned into him. “I had a nephew, remember?”  

“Oh… Rosslyn, I –”  

“You don’t need to apologise,” she murmured. “Come on, before all the food’s gone and I really do get grumpy.”  

He chuckled, still contrite, but let her untangle herself and followed though the quiet house after their guide. As they neared the dining room and the warm light spilling from it, they became more conscious of the space between them, hating that it had to be maintained, but even with propriety aside, Cailan had warned them about being discreet until Eamon’s part in their separation was brought to light. Rosslyn caught Alistair’s hand a moment before he reached for the door, brushing a swift kiss over his cheek when he turned to question what was wrong. He wavered towards her, expression torn, but before he could say anything Moyna tramped through the door and announced them both like a herald, vanishing all opportunity for escape.  

“We could still go back upstairs, finish our conversation,” he murmured, and sighed. “But we can’t really, can we?”

She shook her head. “As much as I would like to, and not just because I haven’t had a proper       meal in two days. We should follow Cailan’s lead on this, at least until –”

“Are you two ever going to join us, or do we need to come and find you?” Teagan called.

--

They had no chance to finish their conversation after dinner, or in the weeks that followed. Besides interruptions from Ferrenly’s children, who spent the bad weather and their extended Satinalia holiday playing hide and seek through the house, preparations began in earnest for the push north. Daily, Rosslyn traipsed through the mud to attend drills and oversee the installation of boardwalks in the army camp, sensitive to the balance of morale that pitted the misery of the rain against the rumours swirling amongst the ranks. Even the most oblivious soldier could sense their change in purpose, and the change in their commander. No longer did they suffer a long slog through the Bannorn, subduing lord after lord with barely a sniff of home – no, now the exercises Rosslyn ran with her officers gave the air of a knife being sharpened, honed with intent to make quick work of the kill. The soldiers who had been with her at Harrowhill recognised the new manic edge to her movements and they responded. The energy of the camp swelled and churned, until one night, it culminated in a group of soldiers breaking into the equipment store. The next morning, the new face of every practice dummy was revealed, rows of blank heads turned into crude likenesses of Howe, complete with his telltale crow-like nose and sneer. The ranks held their breath as Rosslyn caught sight of them, and sighed in relief when her only reaction was the slight lift of a smile and a chuckled carry on.

Most days, she left Cuno with Alistair. Loyal hound he might be, but he despised muck between his toes, and stank badly enough to wake the dead when he stayed out in the wet too long, and in any case, ever since arriving with Eamon’s contingent, he had been sulking at her for leaving him behind to fight at the Circle. He much preferred snoring by the fire for the hours Alistair sat at his desk, going over logistics. Tedious but comfortable, it mirrored the work he had done as Teagan’s right hand, except the extra authority his title gave him meant there were far fewer people willing to pick a quarrel these days. He met daily with quartermasters, cook staff, smiths, bookkeepers, and even templars looking to have their particular supply needs met, and he counted every headache as another step towards seeing Rosslyn safer on the battlefield.

He found himself with a spare hour two days before they were due to depart for Deerswall. The following day had already been cleared for the judgement Cailan would pass on Arl Eamon, but that thought only churned his stomach. Sick of fidgeting, he rose and crossed to the window to peer through the misted glass at the grey daylight beyond.

“Rain’s cleared up,” he informed the dog, who had lifted his head at the unexpected movement. “How about a walk?”

Cuno eyed him balefully for a moment, before setting his head back on his paws with a groan.

“Suit yourself.”

He spotted Rosslyn a little while later at the far end of the training field, overlooking weapons practice for a group of soldiers all bearing the Laurels on their surcoats. A pair of guards cleaning equipment pointed her out, standing with feet planted and arms folded as she watched the exercise. The past two weeks had shed all her refined accoutrements and left her once more dressed in a plain gambeson and breeches, her only ornament in the belt she wore to secure Talon to her hip. The stray wisps of hair feathered around her head told him she herself had been involved in at least one bout already that morning.  

“Is this your pool of volunteers?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

Her frown eased slightly as she glanced at him. “All eager souls wanting to prove their mettle. There were more of them, but these were the only ones who could tie knots.”

“Do you have enough?”

“More than.” She grimaced. “That’s what today is – a final cull before we set off.”

Worry lurked beneath her clipped tone. A place as well fortified as Castle Cousland could never be taken by brute force, and they had spent hours poring over strategy, weighing options, looking for chinks in the defences of her childhood home. She knew them all intimately, she told them, because her father had been practical, and had wanted his children prepared in case Highever ever fell to another occupation. It was only small comfort that the queen’s presence prevented levelling the walls being considered even as a last resort.

Alistair cleared his throat as Gideon bellowed at one of the volunteers to retreat to the edge of the field.

“Aren’t those the men who deserted Howe?” he asked.

She nodded. “Riley and his mates. When word got out I was looking for a strike force he all but barged into my office to ask for a chance to honour his debt to me.”

“Isn’t he worried he’ll be facing old comrades?” he replied. “Aren’t you worried about his loyalties?”

“What’s this, my love?” she teased, turning to him. “You’re usually the one trying to remind me about mercy.”

“Mercy doesn’t mean turning your back on someone who would have once tried to kill you,” he told her, and dropped his voice. “You’re risking a great deal.”

“Not really. Howe isn’t one to suffer slights to his authority, and Lowan’s reputation is brutal. Even if Riley and the others hated my guts, they care too much for their own survival to kill me.” She tilted a smirk at him. “Even if they thought Howe would react favourably, they know there are people whose loyalty to me would see them hunted down and butchered.”

He hated the relish he heard in her voice, a cold spark of ruthlessness that hadn’t been there once upon a time. Cailan had told him about the events at South Reach, but only in the barest detail, with the understanding that no account could match the ordeal of actually being there, and thinking there was part of her he couldn’t reach stabbed him with a peculiar kind of discomfort.

“What?”

“It’s…” He sighed. “You talk about your own life like it’s just another – like it’s a tool to use for leverage.”

“Maybe that comes from having your entire family murdered,” she snapped, and flinched. “I’m sorry, I… I’ll be better when we get moving.”

Wishing he could do more, he laid a hand against her arm. “We’re nearly there, and we’ll make it all the way.”

“And tomorrow?” she asked, with a glance at his mouth.

“Everything’s set, but Cailan refuses to tell me what he’s planning.” A note of uncertainty entered his gaze. “I know I said I didn’t want to hide this anymore, but if there were another way – we don’t have to –”

“Yes we do,” she interrupted. “He has to pay for what he’s done, and that is inextricably tied to the fact that he somehow knew about us and wanted to stop it. What?”

He smirked. “Just admiring the love of my life. She’s the most determined person I’ve ever met.”

The blush that stole across her face matched the flustered smile she tried to hide behind her stern warrior’s mask, and both brought a flutter to his stomach. He leaned closer.

“Why, my dear lady, whatever is the matter?” he teased.  

“You,” she answered, with a wry glance. “You’re entirely too charming.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“I think a lot of things about you.”

“Such as?” Very little space remained between them now, and he only regretted that they had had so little time in recent days for any kind of privacy.

Her gaze darted down. “Why don’t I tell you later?”

“You’re mean,” he retorted, and cleared his throat. “But I’ll have to look forward to it. Your commander looks very grumpy all of a sudden.”

Behind her, Gideon’s disapproving look burned like sunlight through a shard of glass, not so much aimed at him but at his audacity for distracting Rosslyn from her task. She glanced over her shoulder, abashed, and folded her hands behind her back as she turned to face her soldiers once more. Most were still too busy with the drill to have caught sight of the conversation, but those already eliminated from the selection did their very best to show they were not watching from the side of the field. The blush still lingered on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry to keep you, Your Highness,” she said formally.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Carry on, Your Ladyship.”

He looked back just as the rain started again. She paid it no mind, her gaze once more fixed raptor-like on those under her command, and if a faint brush of pink still tinged her skin, from a distance it left less of an impression than the tired circles bruised under her eyes. A squirm of anxiety woke in his gut as he recognised the look, but this time, he promised himself, things wouldn’t be like they were after West Roth. He had the power now to see to it, and he cared too much to fail her again.

[banduckoot]

I don't know if its been done yet but can we have a KongStripe headcannon? I love these.

Now that’s a ship I’ve never considered! Let’s see what I can come up with…

Pinstripe and Koala Kong have, naturally, known each other since the start of Cortex’s world domination efforts, even before they were mutated.

Part of Cortex’s efforts to create a mutant army included familiarizing his test subjects with one another so they wouldn’t tear each other apart as mutants. Kong, as a normal koala, tended to prefer Pinstripe’s company; he recognized him as a fellow marsupial, and tended to see him as less threatening than the other animals. Pinstripe was unsure at first about this strange koala’s interest in him, but after realizing he was harmless, he let him hang around.

Even as a normal Potoroo, Pinstripe showed early signs of being very cunning and sneaky. He’d often steal food when Cortex was unaware, and, since Kong was nice enough to him, he’d try to share it. Unfortunately, Kong only ate eucalyptus leaves at the time, and when Pinstripe managed to figure that out, he started stealing that for Kong instead.

As the two animals grew closer, Cortex would often find them snuggling up against each other. Cortex thought this adorable behavior was disgusting, and tried separating the two of them as much as possible. Unfortunately, this grew to annoy Kong immensely, and the normally peaceful koala began lashing out at Cortex with acts of violence… and he proved to be surprisingly strong for something on a eucalyptus diet!

Eventually, the time came for the two animals to be mutated. Kong’s mutation was heavily focused on muscle power, but not a lot on brain power. Pinstripe’s mutation was focused primarily on intelligence, but not enough to be a genius. Cortex didn’t want him to be TOO smart, after all. Just enough to be the mob boss Cortex wanted him to be. Kong and Pinstripe barely recognized each other post-mutation, but when it finally clicked for them, they couldn’t stop complimenting each other on the other looked. Again, Cortex thought it was gross.

Then came time for the Cortex Vortex. Kong was subjected to Sylvester Stallone films spliced with subliminal messages about Cortex. When he was done, he spoke with a similar voice to Stallone, and was as competent a fighter as Rocky Balboa. Meanwhile, Pinstripe was subjected to gangster movies: Goodfellas, Scarface, The Godfather, etc. He gained his Italian-New Yorker accent and a love for tommyguns. When he and Kong saw each other after, despite their changed personalities and voices, they managed to bond over their mutual love of violence and serving Cortex. Plus, they still had some memories from before… even if they were a little fuzzy from the brainwashing.

Once Pinstripe got his own set of potoroo goons to command, he invited Kong to be his personal muscle, not just for obvious reasons, but because he wanted an excuse to be close to him. Kong accepted, though this was an unofficial position more than anything else. If Cortex needed Kong for something, even when Pinstripe needed him, he had to answer to Cortex first. Despite the inconvenience, the two managed to get a lot of time together… at least until Crash Bandicoot was put into the Vortex. Then trouble started.

Cortex sent out Ripper Roo, Koala Kong, and Pinstripe out to capture Crash and prevent him from collecting Gems or rescuing Tawna. When Pinstripe found out that Crash had soundly trounced Kong, he was furious. He was more than happy to try and spray the bandicoot with bullets. Unfortunately, he failed and got his butt kicked, too.

When Cortex Castle burned in the end, the two reunited for a brief time. They mutually agreed that serving Cortex had been a pain in the ass. They almost confessed their feelings for each other at that point… but out of fear of rejection, and out of wonder about the outside world, they decided to go their separate ways for the time being. Kong went to Hollywood for speech therapy and a movie deal with Universal Studios, and Pinstripe moved to Chicago to start a city-wide sanitation business.

Despite being far apart, the two mutants kept contact with each other often through letters (e-mail wasn’t popular yet). Kong would regale Pinstripe with tales about playing monsters or science experiments gone wrong in movies, while Pinstripe would talk about his plans to use his business to fund his campaign to become governor. Their letters grew increasingly flirtatious over time, until finally, Kong admitted his feelings towards Pinstripe. He didn’t write anything too fancy. Just a simple, “I love you” at the end of his letter.

Pinstripe, upon receiving this confession, decided not to write back, but to fly to Hollywood and visit Kong directly. He surprised him on the set of a film he was working on and spoke with him privately. Did Kong seriously think he could just get away with confessing at a distance? Hell no! Pinstripe then surprised him with a kiss and told him he’d come all that way to tell him TO HIS FACE that he felt the same way.

The two mutants spent an entire romantic week together before Pinstripe was forced to fly back to Chicago. During that time, they ate at fancy restaurants, mingled with celebrities that Kong had met, and… well, you can use your imagination for what else happened between them. For a while after that, the two carried on a long-distance relationship, one occasionally visiting the other.

Imagine their surprise when this arrangement was interrupted by Cortex summoning the two of them back to Cortex Island. Both of them initially refused, but Cortex did not take “no” for an answer. Cortex manipulated his way into ending Kong’s contract with Universal, as well as bankrupting Pinstripe’s business. The mad doctor cruelly reminded both mutants that he owned them, and they had nowhere to go except back to him. So, sadly, Pinstripe and Kong returned to their island home to serve their master. At least they’d be living together again…

Of course, just to make sure Cortex had some regrets about what he did, Pinstripe and Kong made sure to be as open about their relationship as possible. If Cortex thought they were disgusting before, they were even more so now: kissing, holding hands, making out in the hallways… it made Cortex furious, and so he didn’t include them in his plans for a long time after that, hence why we don’t see them too often anymore.

… Wow, I didn’t expect to write this much! I thought my brain well would be dry, but instead it ran over like crazy! I hope you don’t mind… sorry if I went overboard…!

[dippedanddripped]

A Q&A With Keary Kase On Pioneering Hip Hop In Portland

Trenton, NJ born rapper Keary Kase is now pioneering hip hop from Portland, Oregon. After having been involved in a Nike ad campaign that featured him on Billboards across the US, Keary’s singles began to top the radio charts. He began to work with artists like The Wutang Clan and producers Bosko and Non-Stop Da Hitman. Most recently, he partnered with Adidas designers in Portland to develop ‘Reder’ – an athletic apparel brand with focus on CBD delivery systems for athletes who are recovering from injuries.

We had the chance to sit down with Keary Kase to talk about Portland’s thriving hip hop scene, his Nike campaign, and what fans and followers can expect in 2020.

Tell us a little bit about the hip hop scene in Portland. We’d love to know more!

Portland hip hop has so many facets, I’m not sure where to begin. We do have a solid foundation of originals, like Mic Crenshaw, Cool Nutz, Mellenium (Kenny Mack), Maniac Lok, Bosko, Vursatyl, X-Kid, DJ Wicked, Pete Miser and myself, who are still active.

Having strong artists, who have made careers in Hip Hop, as role models and idols allows the kids to aspire to become musical artists. Without these examples, the endless call to normalcy and job security (which we all now know is B/S) by pretty much EVERYBODY, would lead these young Ore-guns to self doubt and failure.

Mike Capes, Swiggle Mandela, Drae Steve’s, JR Patton and Keith Canvas are a few Portland artists to check out.

Right now, a lot of artists are showing support to the BLM movement using their voices to speak, rather than rap to those participating in protests, rallies and such.

How do you feel being originally from the east coast has affected your musical style?

In my embryonic years, I saw myself as an east coast rapper. I felt like, with the exception of rappers like Ice T, Too Short, NWA and The DOC, west coast rappers were mostly basic compared to east coast rappers. They had KRS, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick (my favorite golden era rapper), Special ED, Kool G Rap & Polo, RAKIM!!! Plus WBLS used to play all the hot new shit off the block.

I was enamored by east coast swagger and tone. The slang and accent was natural for me because my entire family spoke with it. My ability to slip in and out of the style made me different in Portland.

In the early 90’s I started spending time in LA. I was slanging FIMO beads to tourists at Venice Beach in the daylight and going to clubs and shows at night. I met this dude named Self Jupiter at this summer festival called The African Marketplace, where I was selling jewelry and celebrating my black youth. Jupiter was a member of a rap group called Freestyle Fellowship. He gave me a tape. After I listened to it, my entire opinion of west coast hip hop was turned upside down. I witnessed west coast rappers like Volume 10, WC, Divine Styler, Cypress Hill and E40 change the game. I became influenced by them and my style was set free. I became open to all influences, no matter if they came from the east, west, northwest, midwest or south.

Tell us more about the Nike ad campaign you were featured in. How did that come about?

One day I was leaving my boy Tommy Hestmark’s studio in downtown Portland. I was walking down the street with my back straight and my chest and chin up, as all men and women should. This guy approached me and said “excuse me, can I talk to you?” I looked at him sideways and he says “no, no. It’s just…. Your face is CRAZY!” I squinted as if to say “do you hear yourself fool?” He pulls out a card and explains that he owned a modeling agency and he thought my look was money. He asked me to call to schedule a test shoot. I called and scheduled the shoot. When I went there, he asked me if I was wearing boxers. I confirmed, then he asked me if I would take some test shots in my boxers. I’m thinking this dude is either going to proposition me for sex or he wants to see if I can be the next face of Calvin Klein. I gambled on Calvin Klein and agreed to take the pics. We walked into a hall and he said “you can get undressed here,” then walked away. So there I stood baring all that my boxers would not cover, with my clothes in a small pile on the floor. I heard footsteps, then an attractive woman appears holding a camera. It was his wife. She told me where to stand , took a couple quick pics and said “Keary, you’re a machine,” then allowed me to get dressed and walked me out.

A few weeks later they called me back and said a photographer knew of me and wanted to do a martial arts shoot. There was no pay, but the photographer was well known and really good. I had no portfolio, and no published work so this was an opportunity to do TFP to add to my comp card.

The photographer, Marcus Swanson, wanted me to do a flying sidekick, which is a classic taekwondo photo kick. When I got there, there was nowhere to get a running start so I improvised and pulled it off. While I was there, a Nike scout was lurking. As I was leaving, Marcus’ assistant, Amber Geiger, mentioned a potential shoot for Nike and asked if they could do a quick polaroid. Snap snap and I was out. A few months passed by before I got a call back from my agent about the shoot. In those few months, I became a black belt, won a gold medal at the the regional national qualification tournament in the black belt dividion, then a silver medal at the US National Championship, and was leaving in a few days to go whoop everybody’s ass at the invitational US Team Trials. It didn’t play out that way but I believe being so active in the few months between the martial arts test shoot and the paid shoot is what influenced their decision to go with me for the ad campaign. We agreed on a date and time, after my return, for the shoot.

When I got back, we did the shoot. I thought it was going to be light work but it was brutal. Modeling is hardcore. I remember seeing myself on a billboard for the first time. It felt like a distant relative to masturbation. I also remember it taking forever to get my money. Agencies can be gangster. I had to make some very firm promises before I got the check. After that, our relationship became square.

You have worked with several platinum artists and producers. Do you have any memorable stories about your experiences that you’d like to share?

Hmm. I don’t like to deride or D-RIDE anyone, but there was an interesting encounter with a Wu-Tang Clan member named Cappadonna. Cappadonna, Killa Priest and a small crew they were touring with were staying at my house when they stopped through Portland. My roommate, MyG,  was helping them do some business in Portland while they killed time before their next tour date. At the time, we had a lil 5 bedroom spread with 2 recording studios in it, so we let their whole crew crash at the spot. The house was already like a revolving door for whoever was on tour in the NW. Artists could come through while in town and collab, get local pub through us and be blessed with some Oregon grown greeneries for the road.

So this was the first time we met (Cappadonna & I). I was taking acting classes at the time so I was gone when they pulled up. When I got home after class, Cappadonna was in the booth. I walked in the room and he started talking wild like “aye yo break that nigga watch!…stab that nigga!” I’m standing in a room full of dudes, with New York energy, that I don’t know, so I assumed he was talking about me. I dip out to my room and get a screwdriver just so I have something in my hand incase things go left. A few minutes pass, then MyG tells Cappadonna to move on to the next part. At this moment I realize he’s in character and not talking about me at all. Killah Priest enters the room. We introduce ourselves and dap up. He asks me what I do and I tell him that I’m in acting school. When Cap comes out, KP says “this is Kase, he’s an actor.” They gave each other a look that, to me , expressed what he spoke as “this is Kase, he’s a fake nigga.”

Granted, I’ve been a skater since day 1, so I understand that some black people (especially at the time) associate being a black skater with being less black or more white. With that in mind, I let what he said breeze by.

After we blessed up, we got to the business. Bosko had let me hold a beat that I wrote a sticky verse to; Cappa liked it so I let him put a hook on it. Me and KP did a DOPE song on a track that this dude named Smoke produced. It sounded like some official Wu-affiliate shit. MyG lost the session so none of that material was ever released.

The next day the energy still felt suspect. Like they thought I was a suburban negro, lol. I took them to the block, which is now gentrified, but was still hood at the time. Cappa called my whip a 666. It was the same Denali XL with the same 26” Trump Spinners that was in the video for the song he was promoting at the time, but mine was cleaner. It seemed like he felt a way about it. We went to my mom’s restaurant, where Cappa requested a Psalms verse from my mother. She said “how about a Revelation,” and laced all of us.

I dropped them at the barber shop to get faded and bladed. When they came out, the energy was different. Cappadonna got in and said “you know your hood and your hood knows you. He said you put your moms in that restaurant, didn’t you?” I just looked at him and put my hand out. We dapped up and the respect, which was first being given by me and received by him, suddenly felt mutual.

Cappadonna is a wise dude and a beast MC. I asked him questions related to his lyrics. He explained to me what “God Degree” and “7:30” meant and told me the story of the origin of his name. You might be able to detect that I’m most definitely still a Wu-Tang fan, although I liked his earlier work. KP knows what I mean by that.

Tell us about your involvement with the CBD industry and your views on how it can be a therapeutic tool for people?

CBD is my go-to treatment for a number of conditions. If I am anxious, I use a non-psychoactive tincture. This gives me a general sense of well-being, without making me feel altered or high. I feel like myself on a good day. If I need to restful sleep, I employ a cannabinoid rich CBD blend that allows me to drift off into REM without jumping up 100 times to make sure the garage door is closed (or whatever). Using CBD is like taking premium vitamins.

In 2019, I started a company called Nina Botanica with a material designer who works for Adidas in Portland. I began researching how to use compression technology as a CBD delivery system for athletic injury rehabilitation. There are some products on the market that offer a similar product, but none that fully address the issues of muscle strains, tears and associated pain that can knock an athlete off of their game. What sets us apart is, our CBD compression system has a lifetime guarantee. You can use it until you’re tired of using it.

We also designed a pod based delivery system, called the NINA , with Shenzen based technology company Smoore. The smart hexagonal pod + cartridge system uses inductive charging in place of the industry standard USB to power up.

Due to COVID-19 and our current bout with systemic racism, the techy products will be in preliminary production until mid-late 2021.

Tell us about your latest project “Craze”. Who is involved and what inspired it?

I was a week back on after being off music for years. Just getting my lungs back, not planning on dropping anything yet; just warming up. An artist named Uneek, who had been my mentee for several years, reached out. He was talking about how he blew all of his savings on medical expenses for his seed and how William, Lil Willi and Big Bill were all coming for him at once. He had just got robbed in Atlanta, so he was shy about who he could trust in Portland.

Uneek asked me to help him to rebrand himself and act as a manager, as I did in the beginning of his career. Since he had just found the strength to come out about his sexual identity, he wanted to look to the LBGTQ community for support. Since that was outside of my sphere of influence, I decided to help him generate some traffic in his home studio, offering tracking and mixing as an engineer. I told him we could put out a mixtape to re-introduce him to his followers and the rest of the world. I got 15 tracks from  producers, Sixteen and J Doe. I wanted to see how serious he was about his career so I told him to put hooks on  all 15. He would send me a rough lyric or melody, then I would write or rewrite the lyrics then massage the melody and coach him on how to execute it.  After he did it, I would chop it and arrange it in a Logic, while I was on the road.

Once the mixtape concepts were in the bag, I told him we needed a real record to kick it off. There was a lot of material in his catalog, but nothing that sounded like a hit single to me.

He got a track from this lil dude named 64 and put a hook on it that had us laughing. He was like “yeah this track sound like something Da Baby would get on.” It wasn’t my style, really, but I kept getting drawn into the drums. I let the first line go off the top then it seemed like the rest of the lyrics were just there. We called it “She A Thot.” It dropped on all platforms back in April of this year.

Craze, the follow up single, manifested itself off of the vibe we were on after “She A Thot” dropped. 64 had sent us a 3 pack of beats so it had some of the same feel as the others, however, the “Craze” beat was much more elegant than the other two.It was like the bigger, sexier, more mature and pondering sister of the “She A Thot” beat.

When I started writing, I felt the beat asking me to confess. It was saying “tell your truth, Kase.” The melody in my head was so balanced that I just let it drive through the first verse. I remembered, as a young man, being so caught up in hustling that I lost my compassion for people. I reflected on how I had spent the last decade, since my first daughter was born, re-approaching life with more compassion.

Whatever you have done in your past does not define you. But sometimes it’s good to talk about it. Black  people have traditionally been afraid of counseling or therapy. Mostly because of our trust issues with the people providing those services. I strongly suggest talking to someone about the things that trouble you. My uncle Jeff calls it “dumping.”

Music is my therapy. Dumping is my new craze.

What artists are you listening to right now and why?

I like listening to new music. I’m listening to Lil Durk, Pop Smoke, Amine, Jack Harlow, etc. But that’s like research for me. I like to see and hear what the big dogs are investing in. But right now, I’m developing a K-Pop artist, so I’m listening Big Hit Entertainment’s people. I’m about to go over there and liberate some musical slaves. (*artists)

But I still listen to Sade.

What’s next for you in 2020? What can fans look forward to?

I’m dropping a mixtape later this month. I may be doing a record + video with Compton artist, AD in the next few weeks. We’re still working out the details, but he’s doing real good right now.

Other than that, I’m developing a young K-Pop idol named Kiari. That genre is making big waves. I’m also looking at television as a next play. I have a pocket ace in the Chinese market that I’m keeping tucked. Oh I’m doing business with China.  Sorry Chump…I mean, Sorry Trump. No, wait, I had it right the first time.

[alexsfictionaddiction]

12 of the best feel-good books

I think we could all do with a pick-me-up right now. We’ve been in some level of isolation for over a month and we’re perhaps being forced to accept a new normal. However, we’re still seeing frightening and tragic headlines all day every day (ration your news time, if you’re not doing so already), so of course, fear and hopelessness is going to set in. If you’re not used to spending time alone, loneliness is also a huge possibility but we know that books are a great source of solace in times like this. 

Maybe you want to do your own research and discover how far into the realms of science-fiction we’ve got. For you, I have compiled a list of the best books that pandemic fiction has to offer but if you’re looking for something more light-hearted, I’ve got the perfect tonic. Whether you need a laugh, to be comforted or to simply remember what life used to be like, here are some books that will help you escape the current face of reality. Above all, remember that it’s perfectly natural for your mental health to be suffering at the moment. Do whatever you can to look after yourself and stay safe.

1. The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary

Remember when you could just move in with a stranger without worrying about keeping two metres apart at all times? Tiffy and Leon share a flat and even a bed but due to entirely opposite work schedules, they manage to not even meet for months after Tiffy moves in, only communicating via texts and notes left on the fridge. But Tiffy’s controlling ex-boyfriend and Leon’s innocent prisoner brother ignite a connection that is fuelled by basic human kindness and a touch of romantic attraction, of course! This quirky rom-com has been a bestseller for over a year now and it’s not hard to see why. It’s a celebration of love, friendship and the unexpected happiness that can come from taking calculated risks. Beth O’Leary’s second novel The Switch has also just been released, so there has never been a better time to read her debut!

2. Wonder by R. J. Palacio

A beautiful story of empathy, kindness and acceptance, Wonder has fast become one of the most popular and widely read contemporary middle-grade novels. Auggie Pullman was born with a facial deformity and he’s attending mainstream school for the first time but of course, kids can be staggeringly cruel to those who are different. Wonder kickstarted a global kindness campaign and spawned a film adaptation, which is one of the best and most faithful I’ve ever seen. It has already given so much to the world and I know you’ll get a lot of joy out of it too.

3. The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Of course, not all sci-fi is doom and gloom. This is the first instalment in Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series and it’s laugh-out-loud funny. It follows a misfit crew of space travellers and their wonderful smile-inducing relationships. Celebrating the coming together of a variety of races, sexualities and personalities, it features a lot of loveable memorable characters who begin to read like dear loyal friends. If you’re looking for quirky, light-hearted sci-fi in a similar vein to Star Trek and Firefly, you’d be wise to start here.

4. Less by Andrew Sean Greer

Arthur Less is a struggling writer about to turn 50 and the love of his life is engaged to someone else. To say that he’s not feeling too hot right now would be an understatement but he has been invited to a range of literary events around the world, so he does the logical thing and accepts them all. We can’t travel right now but with Arthur, you’ll visit Paris, Berlin, southern India, the Moroccan desert and Japan. You’ll also go on a journey of self-acceptance, learn how to love the life that you have and appreciate the time you have left. 

5. Hot Mess by Lucy Vine

It’s rare that a book makes me guffaw out loud in public but Hot Mess did exactly that, when I read it a couple of years ago. Ellie is a single woman who hates her office job and is absolutely nowhere near having her life together. However, she does have some great friends and a lovely relationship with her dad Alan, whose drafts of a romance novel are truly side-splittingly hilarious. We see Ellie through terrible dates, trauma confrontation and a quest for true happiness that is hugely satisfying. It has been described as a modern-day Bridget Jones but I found it much more relatable and actually quite a lot funnier!

6. The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

It’s the first in a trilogy of novels that explore the trials and tribulations of finding romance when you’re genetics professor Don Tillman. Don likes facts, logic and reason and he applies all of these things to his latest endeavour, The Wife Project. He knows exactly the kind of woman he wants to marry but then he meets Rosie, who ticks none of his boxes and he’s forced to accept that perhaps true love doesn’t always follow the rules. Don and Rosie’s relationship is such a heartwarming, mutually beneficial one that will make you laugh and leave you with a big bag of warm fuzzy feels. 

7. The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

There is a huge chance that you will have read The Hobbit but what better time to revisit a funny, charming favourite? Re-embark on the quest to retrieve Smaug’s treasure, take back the Lonely Mountain and make a plethora of fantastic friends along the way. As well as relating to Bilbo’s personal growth throughout the novel, I think the idea of facing epic threat and mortal peril in unknown environments and yet still returning safely home to a quiet comfortable life is the reassurance we need that this too shall pass. Of course, it will also be an intoxicating nostalgia trip, so there’s really no reason to not pick it up again!

8. The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams

I read this over the Valentine’s Day period and was so enchanted by it. Gavin is a top baseball player for the Nashville Legends and he has recently discovered that he has never given his wife Thea a genuine orgasm and it’s threatening the relationship. So he does the logical thing and turns to his team mates, who actually double as a secret romance book club. They suggest taking a leaf out of a smutty Regency paperback to save his marriage -what could possibly go wrong? Funny, heart-warming and touching, it’s a great choice if you’re looking for a rom-com with a difference.

9. My Pear-Shaped Life by Carmel Harrington

If you’ve spent a lot of self-isolation being wholly unproductive and perhaps not looking after yourself too well, you may be feeling that you’re simply not good enough. Especially if your social media is full of happy healthy people doing just about EVERYTHING. Meet Greta, a struggling actress who is used to playing the role of the funny, overweight girl in all areas of her life. That’s ok as long as she laughs with everyone else, right? But things have been pretty rough lately and it’s only when she hits rock bottom that she begins to realise that maybe things need to go a little bit pear-shaped sometimes. With joy and despair in equal measure, this new novel, populated with an array of wonderful characters, will teach you that true happiness comes from simply being you.

10. A Boy Made Of Blocks by Keith Stuart 

Eight-year-old Sam is autistic and struggles to make sense of the world. His dad Alex has also lost himself somewhere along the way and needs to change. Minecraft offers a place where father and son can rediscover their bond and put the family back together, block by block. I reviewed this incredibly moving, uplifting story when it was first released a few years ago. It’s actually inspired by Keith Stuart’s real-life experiences, which I think give it an extra dollop of heart-warmth! 

11. The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

The entire focus of this fantastically written YA novel is on embracing your own personal uniqueness and on not being afraid to let it out. Michael is a mixed-race gay teen who has grappled with his identity for his entire life. On arriving at university, the idea of becoming a drag artist causes everything to begin to slot into place. Told in verse, The Black Flamingo will show you how your boldest brightest colours can shine through the darkest of times. Highlighting the power of words and challenging all forms of homophobia, whether it be external or internal, this is a book that I’m sure will become a staple of LGBT+ literature in years to come. As for now, it will simply inspire you to live your very best life, regardless of who tries to prevent it.

12. Reasons To Be Cheerful by Nina Stibbe

As the title may suggest, there is plenty to smile about in Reasons To Be Cheerful. It’s chiefly a coming-of-age novel about a young woman called Lizzie living in 1970s Leicestershire. She has just got a job as an assistant to a work-shy, racist dentist who is desperate to join the freemasons. Navigating this new position alongside a relationship with her alcoholic writer mother, a boyfriend who doesn’t seem terribly interested in her and a few unlikely friends, Lizzie’s life makes for some pretty amusing anecdotes. Whether it’s the simple retro setting or small cast of eccentric caricatures, there is something quite other-worldly yet familiar about it. There is a lot of detail that is relevant to the period it’s set in, including the blatant social prejudices that were so rife at the time. I am too young to have experienced 1970s Britain but it certainly feels authentic to what I know. I have no doubt that those that were there will get even more enjoyment and nostalgia from Lizzie’s life than I did. 

[soothinghymn]

Character Interview: Epitome

I couldn’t resist, I love my tiefling wizard daughter. 

Saw @s0tc​’s post tagging anyone interested, and knew I had to go for it. Not sure who the hell would be interviewing her, but I’m interested in playing around with her written voice, so we’re doing this anyway.

For the mutuals who are my party members in this campaign: some backstory spoilers follow. I tried to keep them fairly vague, but there is some info here that you don’t have yet. Just a heads-up.

Tagging: Anyone who feels like it!!

(This art is a commission I got from @needlesslycryptic​​, btw — see the full portrait here, if you haven’t already!!)

► NAME ➔ She brings a hand up toward the hollow of her throat, gesturing to her person. “I’m Epitome. Pleasure.” That last word sounds distinctly insincere.

► ARE YOU SINGLE ➔ She exhales in a half-hearted laugh. “Of course.”

► ARE YOU HAPPY ➔  "Hm, that’s a weird question. I suppose I’m as happy as I can be, but... well. Ambitions keep people on their toes.”

► ARE YOU ANGRY ➔ "At you? No.” She gives you a look of mild amusement. “At certain individuals and organizations who shall, for now, remain nameless? Very much so.”

► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED ➔  Her eyes narrow. “Oh, I don’t even know if they’re still alive, much less if their relationship survived." She comes across as rather dismissive.

NINE FACTS

► BIRTH PLACE ➔ “Right here in Baldur’s Gate, although I left for a while, at a fairly young age. Been back here for about...” She stops to do the math in her head. “Eight years now.”

► HAIR COLOR ➔  “It’s white. You can see me, can’t you?”

► EYE COLOR ➔ “Why ask when you can just observe?” She leans forward slightly, half inviting, half daring you to do the same. Behind her glasses, her eyes are a milky white to match her hair. At first they seem to be one solid hue, but on closer inspection she does have irises and pupils, only slightly offset in color from the rest of the eyes. They’re staring directly at you. 

► BIRTHDAY ➔ “The 27th of Flamerule, 1469 DR.** I’m 25 years old.”

► MOOD ➔ “Oh, just ecstatic to be here.” She sounds sarcastic again, but her smile is genuine.

► GENDER ➔ “I generally prefer to be seen as a lady. But I’m not picky.”

► SUMMER OR WINTER ➔ “Hard to choose. I think I enjoy the summer myself, but... people appreciate fire more in winter. If you take my meaning.”

► MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➔ “Afternoon. More people out and about.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► ARE YOU IN LOVE ➔ "No. Should I be?”

► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ➔ “Not particularly.”

► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP ➔ "Who said I’ve ever been in a relationship? Quite frankly, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART ➔ “Possibly, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS ➔ "All commitments I make are to myself, first and foremost, so there is nothing to fear.”

► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔ “Does a fey spirit in the form of a winged cat count?”

► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER ➔ “If I have, I’d like to think I’d have known about it... and maybe found a good use for it. But nothing comes to mind, so no. I doubt it.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔ “I have regrets, if that’s what you mean. But I prefer to take chances and live with my mistakes, then regret never trying at all.”

SIX CHOICES

► LOVE OR LUST ➔ “You really enjoy asking questions about my nonexistent love life, don’t you? Why don’t you answer this question for me?”

► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➔ “Both.”

► CATS OR DOGS ➔ “Cats... but I’ve come around to dogs a little. Lived with someone who really liked them.”

► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➔ “I prefer a great number of casual acquaintances.”

► WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➔ “Again with the romance! I’m starting to get annoyed.” She doesn’t sound annoyed; she sounds like she’s teasing.

► DAY OR NIGHT ➔ “Night.” She grins. Her canines are longer than average. “I can see in the dark.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➔ “Yes, many times. No one ever seemed to care much, though— well, except the one time.”

► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➔ “Graciously, no. Not yet, anyway.”

► WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➔ "I still do.” She doesn’t elaborate.

► WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ➔ "At one time, yes. Badly. But not anymore.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► SMILE OR EYES ➔ “Here we go again,” she says flippantly. “Taking a non-romantic angle: I can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. Smiles, on the other hand, tend to be used as a disguise for all sorts of ugly emotions.” As if to prove her point, she smiles wide.

► SHORTER OR TALLER ➔ “Doesn’t matter to me.”

► INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➔ She takes a more serious tone than usual to answer. “I love learning. Knowledge has always been, and will always be, my greatest pursuit in life.” She relaxes a bit, begins speaking more casually again. “So obviously, I like conversing with smart people... or at least, people who can provide the information I want.”

► HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➔ “How does ‘neither’ sound?”

FAMILY

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➔  "Depends on what you consider my family. If you mean my birth parents, then no. Absolutely not. If you mean my...” She deliberates for a moment. “...my teacher, then also no, although at least he sort of saw me as a person. Enough to let my young, stupid self argue with him a few times, and not smite me where I was standing.”

► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➔ "Definitely,” she deadpans.

► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➔ "Yes.” Then she adds with mock reassurance, “I had some help.”

► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➔ “Hmm. More like my teacher kicked himself out, leaving me to get my affairs in order on my own.”

FRIENDS

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➔ “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s the sort of thing you keep to yourself, in case said ‘friend’ could still do you a solid.”

► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➔ “No... although I have a surprisingly good feeling about a few people I’ve met recently.”

► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➔ “Winnie! She’s, uh... she’s my familiar. In case that wasn’t clear.” 

► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➔ “Well, my teacher knows more about me than most people.” She sighs, her face falling just a little for the first time. “An extremely powerful mage, off doing god-knows-what in god-knows-where... has potential dirt on me.” She gives you a wry smile. “Remember when I said I have regrets?”

** Yes I bothered to look up the Forgotten Realms calendar for this question — in irl terms, she was born toward the end of July.

[night-filled-mountain]

For the Hozier ask thing: No Plan, Be, Talk

- No Plan - Do you believe in a pre-determined purpose in life?

No, but I think it can be helpful–for some people!–to think and act like you have a pre-determined purpose, as long as you’re not too rigid about it. Sometimes the random twists and turns of life just get overwhelming, you know? And you need to weave them into some sort of pattern–“A, B, and C all happened in order to lead me to D,” or “Despite X obstacle, I know I’m meant to accomplish Y.” Humans are pattern-finding creatures–that’s why we like stories so much. I can’t imagine getting through life without periodically making it into a story, whether you actually believe in some divine Plan and Author or not. (This is reminding me once again of that Brian W. Foster lyric I’ve become obsessed with: “And if it wasn’t designed, then I’ll be damned if I ever know why.”)

Though honestly, for me? The opposite is true. I’ve faced, and continue to face, so many mental-health barriers to having the kind of life I’d like to have, and I’ve fought (and continue to fight!) such a harrowing, hard-scrabble fight to make that life happen anyway. It’s a massive struggle, it’s ongoing, it’s every day. It’s exhausting and humiliating and entirely without dignity. So the thing that I like to tell myself about the life I want? Is that I wasn’t meant to have it. Some particularly nasty gods have played a trick on me since birth, crafting a person for whom friends/romance/productive work/artistic fulfillment/Happiness are impossible–and day after day, I’m fighting them, trying to prove them wrong. Clawing and biting at them with everything I have in me. Forcing my way out of their boxes, grasping at what I want, and spitting in their eye for good measure.

I’m sure my preference for this narrative says something about me as a person, but I leave that up to you, anon!

- Be - Have you changed much as a person in the last year? 

…I literally don’t know where to start.

In August 2018, I wasn’t married yet. I lived in a small town in New Jersey with my parents and sister, and was desperately terrified of moving (permanently) anywhere else. I had completed two master’s degrees just a few months before, but I’d never had a full-time job, and I was 250% convinced (for the aforementioned mental-health reasons, and a chronic physical illness to boot!) that I could never, ever have one. Oh, and I’d just gotten back from a visit to my former roommate (which remains the last time I saw her, not counting Skype), and I was suffering constant agony over the intense, passionate, mutually pining, emotionally needy, co-dependent mess that was that relationship.

And now?

I’m married. I live in Boston, in an apartment where I’ve paid 100% of the rent for the past six months (though that will soon be changing!). I have a full-time job that has challenged and transformed me in ways that I could not possibly have imagined six months ago. Like…literally could not have fathomed. Outside the scope of my brainpower. Beyond my wildest dreams.

I’m the head of my department…because I’m the entire department. I do heavy-duty customer service. I interact with dozens of strangers every day–children, teens, and adults–and I usually do it without a whisper of social anxiety. I pick up my desk phone when it rings. I make phone calls when I have to. I send and receive dozens of e-mails a week. I manage a budget! I place orders! I schedule programs! I answer reference questions! I operate and troubleshoot various forms of technology constantly, and teach others how to use them. I reason with, joke with, assist, educate, entertain, chastise, and discipline 20+ rowdy teenagers ON A DAILY BASIS. There have been many days, and once an entire week, when I was literally in charge of my entire workplace and everyone in it. And it was all still functioning when my boss got back.

…And it’s actually really timely that I should write about all this now, because I’m smack-dab in the middle of an extremely daunting work task, one that’s causing my ADD to kick my ass to hell and back. And I’ve spent the past few days wondering just how fucking desperate this place must have been to hire someone who’s been wretchedly sobbing over her utter lack of focus and organizational skills for almost 30 years. So it’s…quite the morale-booster to look at these paragraphs about just how goddamn far I’ve come in a year.

…Also, Ex-Roommate and I have gone no-contact, and most days, I don’t think about her. And if I do, it doesn’t hurt so much.

- Talk - What’s your best friend like? 

I have three (3) best friends, and they are MY WORLD, so get ready for this.

(1.) My husband. We’ll call him Kit, which is, in fact, a name he often goes by. He is a Gemini, which I mention only because he’s a very classic Gemini: bursting with curiosity, interested in everything, with a dizzying array of hobbies and interests that seem to change and shift by the moment. He teaches science, and used to teach history. He loves camping, sea shanties, Lawrence of Arabia, board games, and tabletop RPGs. Being a teacher, he’s had the summer off, and he’s spent it being a house-husband: cleaning our apartment, buying all the groceries, doing my laundry an embarrassing number of times, and cooking me dinner every single night. He loves being useful to people and making people happy. He’s terrific at long-term planning, but has no sense of time, and he’d be late to everything without my intervention. We have separate bedrooms, and mine is obsessively neat, and his is…not. He was once bitten by a squirrel that he was hand-feeding on the Boston Common. A few days later, he received a serious electric shock from a string of Christmas lights, and the bandage he’d placed over the squirrel bite was burned black instead of his hand. This perfect balance of cursed and blessed is, in a way, all you really need to know about Kit.

We love to watch movies and TV shows together and discuss/analyze them obsessively. We love to have looong philosophical discussions and/or debates. We take walks, we get Italian food and/or ice cream far too often, we go on jolly road-trip adventures, and we read out loud to each other. He’s currently reading me Charles Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend, which I have read before (twice) and he has not, because I love it so intensely, and I know that he will too. He’s the best person on earth to discuss virtually anything with, to be honest. He’s my DM in the best D&D campaign I’ve ever been part of. I’ve just made a new D&D character, although I don’t have a campaign for her yet, and Kit cannot stop lavishing praise on her and getting excited about her…even though she’s a hobgoblin, and he spent a significant portion of a recent car ride passionately arguing with me about the viability of hobgoblins as player characters.

He is absolutely extraordinary at admitting when he’s wrong, owning it fully, changing his opinions, pursuing personal growth, and just becoming a better and better person all the time. And I’m so damn honored that I get to be here for it.

(2.) We’ll call my second best friend Unicorn, which is a multilayered inside joke.

I met Unicorn during my freshman year of college. We lived on the same floor. I was the odd woman out among my suitemates because I had crippling social anxiety; he was the odd man out among his because he was gay. Somehow we started watching movies and TV shows together, and it became our Thing; I think our current marathon record is six or seven movies in a row. We’re both from New Jersey, and he still lives there, and there are few places in the world I feel safer than on his giant couch, in front of his giant TV, with snacks and glasses of Limeade close at hand, and his neurotic little dog nosing about. He has a pool, a massive movie collection, and an encyclopedic knowledge of state politics, because he works as a full-time environmental canvasser. His hours are absolutely terrifying, as are the physical and social demands of his job, but he still finds time to run a D&D campaign for his coworkers, and to visit the rest of us in Boston at every possible opportunity.

Unicorn is barely a month older than I am (a fellow Leo, though I think it suits him a hell of a lot better than it suits me), and he understands me in specific ways that the other two members of our little quartet just can’t. We get each other’s humor, we have similar tastes in men, we both love to swim. When the four members of our found family are all together, he is invariably the only person who notices all my little puns and innuendos, and laughs every time.  He listens to me, and asks me questions, in a way that no one else in the world quite seems to do. He made a speech at my wedding that reduced me to a blubbering mess. And, most importantly of all: He started inviting me to our college’s LGBT group when we were juniors (right after Kit and I started dating), which was how I met my third best friend, and how we all became a family.

(3.) I’m going to refer to Best Friend #3 as “Dragon,” because…he loves dragons, and because he was Unicorn’s roommate when I first met him, and it keeps the mythological-creature theme going. …And once again, I don’t know where to start, so I’m going to go dig up an old post I made about Dragon, copy and paste it below, and then figure out how to elaborate on someone who both my husband and I have identified as the best human being we have ever met.

This is a friend who invites the whole gang of us to his apartment for entire long weekends, and cooks for us, repeatedly. Who hosts “fake Christmas” every year, complete with a tree decorated with blue and silver ornaments because he is Jewish, and made all of us hand-stitched, personalized stockings, and fills them with gifts and sweets purchased specially for each of us. Who once baked me a cake just because I was coming to visit him. Who organized and directed my entire move from New Jersey to Boston because his Tetris-like car-packing skills and his utter laidback unshakable calm in the face of any task are absolutely unparalleled. Who is a goddamn wizard at literally everything, from cooking and baking and sewing to Photoshop and graphic design to painting D&D miniatures to putting together elaborate cosplays to theater tech to writing and research to courageous and tireless activism to law (did I mention he’s a lawyer?).

…That was my old paragraph, so let me add a few things. I can’t emphasize enough how much he carries that aura of calm and kindness and competence about him at all times. Never in my life had I had a cooking/baking experience that didn’t stress me out until Dragon let me help him make an entire dinner and various desserts for our friend group, and it was just…so chill. So well-organized and perfectly timed, but without ever feeling like those things took any effort whatsoever. He was so kind and patient with me, demonstrating each task step by step, then being entirely confident in my ability to perform said tasks, and never trying to nitpick at the way I did them or take them over himself. Part of his job involves teaching, and I know he must be fantastic at it, because no one else has ever been such a soothing balm and a stimulant (both at once, somehow!) to my poor, tormented ADD brain. Someday (maybe soonish!), our whole found family is going to live together, and the thought of being around Dragon all the time just makes me weep with joy. And did I mention his sweet, child-like enthusiasm for holiday celebrations and ghost tours and spooky TV shows and musicals and fantasy novels and text RP and all other Best Things? (Ok, he also loves dogs and Marvel movies, and I love neither, but I forgive him for this.)

Oh, he also officiated my wedding. And he also had top surgery today, and I have maybe never been this happy about anything ever, what an auspicious day to finish this post!

[canadiankazz]

The First Time - an L.A. By Night Fanfic

I received a positive response to my inquiry about people being interested in my new L.A. by Night fic, so here we go. Because I got my start on fanfiction dot net back in the day, I’m going to give my warnings thusly:

I obviously don’t lay claim to any of the characters involved. This fanfiction is part one of several, maybe as many as five parts, depending on when I run out of ideas. It is intended for a mature audience, and it is the beginning of what will end up being a pretty heavy multi-part Jasper/Annabelle story. SPOILERS for the end of campaign 1, but not for the one-shots. This is going to go off canon pretty quickly, so consider this an AU. Written before the premiere of Season 2.

Annabelle is going to try to help Jasper with his problems in finding food. He reluctantly accepts her help. They both have a better time than they thought they would.

Very, very special thanks to @cravatfiend, for their encouragement, ideas and enthusiastic reactions to reading the first drafts.You are the weird person into weird things.  I dragged you into this fandom and we are both hopelessly down the rabbit hole now, friendface. ;)

First posted Jan. 11, 2019.

Now can also be found at my Ao3.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The First Time

When Jasper excused himself early from their coterie meeting, Annabelle was the only one who followed him. Though Victor asked if anything was wrong, Jasper brushed him off. He was fine. He didn't like Victor or Nelli involving themselves in his problems. They both said they understood him, and perhaps they did, but despite their shared experiences, it was only a surface level of understanding. Other than sharing their already mutual coterie spaces, neither of them had done anything else to help him.

Annabelle caught him just before he got to the elevator, just before he disappeared.

“Jasper, are you okay?”

There was something in her tone that made him stop, or maybe it was because she had followed him and she was the only one making an effort. Normally, he did not like being followed. That was his job, not the other way around. Tonight, however, he was feeling more vulnerable than usual. He hated it, but he knew that he had to do something about it. He glanced at her over his shoulder and put on a fake smile.

“Sure, I'm fine.”

Annabelle saw through it instantly. She thought he looked awful, like what he did before his early and frantic departure from the Highland. It wasn't his physical appearance, nothing could be done about that, but it was something in the way he moved, in his tone of voice. There was something very important bothering him. She glared at him critically. “No, you're not,” she said softly.

He sighed.

“When was the last time you ate?” Annabelle asked, zeroing in on the issue.

“I can take care of myself.”

He went to leave, to continue to brush her off, but she was not having it. She closed the distance between them and put her hand on his elbow. His muscles were tense, like a bowstring that's been pulled back. He didn't pull away from her.

“Jasper, I... I know you can take care of yourself, but one of the things that has helped people survive as long as they have is others helping them when they needed it. Please, let me help you.”

His icy, inhuman eyes met her deep, dark, emotional ones. There was a beat where he weighed his options. She was stubborn, one of the most stubborn Kindred he had ever met. She was also still kind, still had the streak of humanity that he had all but lost a long time ago.

“Alright,” he relented. “Come with me. We'll talk.”

Her eyes lit up a little with this forward progress. “Okay, where are we going?”

“We'll go... back to my home,” he said reluctantly. “It's private.” He glanced back to the board room. The others could be listening in.

“Okay,” she nodded. She trusted him, but while they were in the elevator, she sent Victor and Nelli a text to tell them she was with Jasper and they were going to talk. She felt a little guilty about doing so. It made her feel like she was going on a dangerous date and texting someone about it just in case things went south and she needed the cavalry to come in and get her, or someone to tell the cops about the last person she was with if she went missing. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Jasper was her friend, and she had no doubt that if he really had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. Jasper was invisible now in the elevator, but she knew he would have seen her text.

“I can call an Uber,” she offered. She had a mental image of Jasper sitting perfectly still and invisible in the back seat while she chatted with and distracted the driver.

“No,” came Jasper's disembodied voice in her ear. She suppressed the urge to flinch. “We'll walk. It's not that far.”

She nodded and started walking. She did her best to ignore the shivers Jasper had given her down her spine.

They left campus and headed for the L.A. River. Once they were more or less alone and definitely out of ear shot, Annabelle felt it safe to be able to talk to him out loud, but softly.

“Jasper?”

“Yes?”

His voice was coming from her left. She glanced towards him, swishing her hair out of the way, but of course, she couldn’t see anything.

“You never answered my question. When was the last time you ate?”

“I haven't really... not since Tara.”

Annabelle blinked in surprise and mild alarm. “But that was weeks ago!”

“I know.”

“But, you...” She was suddenly much more afraid. His Beast, his hunger... it must be so bad, but he was only just now starting to show any sign of it. She admired the restraint, the willpower he had been quietly using all this time.

“I ate a stray dog the other night,” he admitted, “I haven't found another solution yet, but I will. Don't worry.”

“You ate a dog?! Of course I'm going to worry, Jasper,” Annabelle snapped. “You're telling me you haven't eaten in weeks! I – argh!” She made a sound of frustration and sighed. Anger wasn't the answer. “This has gone on long enough Jasper.”

“What are you going to do? Kidnap someone for me to feed on?”

“No! God, no! I... why don't you feed on me instead?”

She had said it without really thinking. She stopped walking and got the vague feeling that he had stopped too.

“No,” she heard him say.

“Well... why not?”

“Because... I don't want to hurt you.”

She hated that she couldn't see him. “You won't hurt me.”

“I could though. If I lose control, I could kill you.”

“You won't though, Jasper. You've never done that. You're too strong to do that.”

He was quiet for several moments. She wondered briefly if he had left. She tried to keep her voice steady. “Are you still here?”

“Yeah,” he said very softly. She didn't think he had moved based on where his voice came from.

A thought surfaced in her brain. This wasn't the first time she had thought this, but it was the first time she was going to ask about it out loud.

“Has anyone ever offered themselves to you before? To be fed on, I mean.”

“Let's keep walking.”

She thought she could hear him move, but she wasn't about to let him leave without her. “Jasper-!”

“Come on,” he invited her along. He wanted to walk and talk.

She fell back into step beside him, or so she assumed.

“To answer your question, yes, I have been offered,” Jasper's voice came in hushed tones by her side. “At the Succubus Club, I could have fed and no one would have protested. I've been to other vampire social gatherings and declined to feed there. But that was the others being polite and having to obey social rules. Outside of those circumstances, no. No one has offered themselves to me before. No Kindred, and definitely no mortals.” He chuckled softly. “The little game you were playing on campus before Victor and Nelli and I found you... I can't do that. It's different for me, for Nosferatu in general. We can't...” He sighed quietly, forming his thoughts into words. “We don't tend to get very many opportunities where people are happy for us to feed upon them. Have you ever seen Nelli feed?”

“Yeah. She um... she gets people who want to sit with her and she kisses them and...” Annabelle made a face. It was kind of disgusting.

Jasper chuckled again. “Yeah. I can't feed like that. No one is ever going to want to sit in my lap with champagne.”

Annabelle tried to play it light. “Oh, I don't know... there's a lot of weird people who are into weird things out there.”

“It's nice of you to say so, but none of those people have found me yet. To be honest, I don't know what I'd do if they did.”

Annabelle smiled a little. They walked in silence for a few minutes. They were close to the river now. She found her thoughts circling back around to her biggest anxieties about choice and consent. “So... you've never gotten consent before you fed?”

“No,” he said quietly, reluctantly, truthfully. “I wish I could though. As I said, that's not an option for most of my kind. Being a Nosferatu is like... hard mode vampire. We don't get the luxury of having people want to be in our company, and most of us aren't wealthy enough to pay people to be with us. People see us and scream and run, or scream and attack, unless they have been mind controlled, but in that case, are they still giving their consent?”

She chewed that over in her mind. It had dreadful implications.

They were quiet again until they were almost at Jasper's front door. Victor had paid to get the door replaced so it would be just as secure as it had been before. It was a nice gesture, but it didn't change the fact that the location of Jasper's home was still known to them, and that he wished it wasn't so.

“My offer still stands, by the way,” Annabelle said at the door. “You can feed on me if you want to, just to get you through the night, just until you... can find another option. Please, let me help you, Jasper.”

He become visible suddenly. His hand was on the work hatch-like door and he was pulling it open. He paused and looked at her, and she was relieved to be able to see his face. He seemed deep in thought, considering his options once again. As she watched, she saw him flinch and growl to himself. She knew then that this was his version of talking to his Beast. They all did it, Annabelle knew, some more vocally than others. She waited to see what he would do, what, if anything he would say in reply.

“Okay,” Jasper said at last.

Part of her was surprised, and almost hadn't expected him to say that. “What?”

“Okay. I'll do it, but... there are conditions.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “I want you to be safe.” He glanced around suddenly, up and down the river. They were alone, but he still seemed spooked. “Let's go inside.”

She nodded and followed him. He held the door open for her, and made sure it was shut tight behind them. He led her through the twisting path down to his living area, through the secret passages. He moved with utter confidence. This was his space. She wasn't hesitant, but she had to admit she was a little nervous.

“This is the first time I've had someone in here... who I've invited,” Jasper said as they emerged into his workshop room. Annabelle saw that Tara's cage was in the corner. She swallowed.

“Why is that still there?”

“The cage? It's very difficult to take that apart. I built it to be very... durable.” he smiled to himself and Annabelle could see his fangs. He was remembering something amusing, something she probably wouldn’t find amusing at all. Her nervousness grew, and doubt bloomed inside her. She found herself involuntarily taking a step back. Jasper saw her reaction and frowned. It was his own fears and doubts coming back to the surface. He hoped that saying yes to Annabelle to let her help him wasn't a mistake.

“Are you going to use the cage again?” she asked him softly.

“I hope I won't have to, but...” he shrugged. She took his unsaid meaning. It's still there if he needs it.

He moved past the cage, towards the pivoting door that lead to his living room. He beckoned Annabelle to follow. He correctly assumed that Annabelle would be glad to be out of the cage room.

Annabelle found his living room was more or less as it was when she, Victor, Nelli and Strikes the werewolf had been through. Some of the books on the table had changed, but the furniture was still sparse. Jasper turned on the lamp and gestured to a chair, offering it to her to sit. She did so. It was fairly comfortable, but in an inexpensive way. Far from any kind of plush leather seating that Victor and Nelli couldn’t seem to do without. Annabelle found her gaze drifting back to the closed metal door on the other side of the room that lead ultimately down to the labyrinth. She swallowed, and tried not to shiver thinking of that place. She forced herself to look at his painted landscapes instead. It was beautiful and sad, to think of someone who spent so much time in the dark tunnels under a modern concrete and glass city to want to admire green, rolling hills instead. Maybe that was why he liked to live near the park as well, she thought.

Jasper sat in another chair near her. He seemed suddenly awkward, unused to pleasant company in his personal space. He pulled his hood back, exposing the black veins that crossed his bald scalp and disappeared down the back of his neck. It was his equivalent of letting his hair down, she supposed, now that they were in the comfort of his sanctum. Annabelle caught herself wondering if the whole rest of his body was darkly veined like that... and surprised herself by some small curious bit of her wanting to see his torso without the black hoodie.

“So, um...” she said, trying to break the awkward tension.

“So...” Jasper said at the same time.

They laughed. Tension broke.

“So... feeding?” Annabelle asked. She wasn't so nervous as to want to back out on her offer to help Jasper.

“Right.” Jasper licked his fangs as he collected his thoughts again. Back on track. He leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Are you're still sure you want to do this?”

“I am,” she said with a nod.

Jasper nodded back. “Okay. So, here's how I want it to go. Just... going to lay out a plan here. I'm only going to take enough from you tonight to keep me going for a little while. I don't think that this should be a reoccurring thing between the two of us.”

Annabelle nodded, agreeing and following along.

“I'm not so hungry yet that I'm about to frenzy like I did before,” Jasper continued, “but I don't want it to get to that point, and I know that you don't either, so that's why I'm agreeing to do this, just this once.”

Annabelle nodded again.

He had been looking at her, but his gaze moved down and away. “I don't think that the others need to know about this.”

“Oh, no. No, I agree.”

He looked at her again, sharply. “Ever.” There was a note of warning in his voice now. “We'll never hear the end of it if they do find out.”

“No, I totally agree. I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

Jasper nodded. “And... if you want... you can count me as owing you a favour afterwards. A boon.” He made air quotes around the word 'boon.'

Annabelle's first instinct was to deny him that. “Oh no, I'm not doing this for-”

“Actually, I insist,” Jasper cut her off. “I owe you one. This is... kind of a big deal. Kindred usually don't take feeding from other Kindred lightly.”

Annabelle nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.

Jasper nodded as well, satisfied. “Take off your jacket, please.”

“Um... okay,” Annabelle stripped off her red leather jacket and lay it over the back of her chair. She was wearing a grey T-shirt underneath with an Anime character printed on it. She was still a little nervous, but now it was a little more excited than fearful. She wondered where this excitement came from.

She could see Jasper considering her body in a way she had never seen him look at her before. His eyes drifted over her neck very, very briefly and settled on her hands. He reached one hand for hers. “May I?” His voice was soft. He was nervous too. He wasn't used to getting permission, or having it given.

“Yes,” Annabelle said, steadying her courage. She offered Jasper her hand. He took it and turned it over to expose her wrist. His fingers were long, pale and cold. He looked into her eyes, one last time, one last chance to back out, but she wasn't going to.

Jasper moved. Without letting go of her wrist and hand, he slid off his chair and down onto one knee on the floor in front of her. He was so tall, his limbs so long, that this was a more comfortable height for him to do this from without her having to move from her chair. It was a submissive gesture she wasn't expecting. He exposed his fangs, his terrifying long, gleaming, dangerous canines and with a tenderness that surprised her, sunk them into her wrist.

She gasped at the sudden pain of it and resisted the instinct to pull her hand back. His grip on her hand wasn't at all strong. He was just using one hand to lightly steady her wrist against his mouth. She could pull away at any time if she wanted to end this early.

She gasped again when the pleasure hit a half a second later. Oh, she wasn't expecting that either, not at all. A kind of ecstasy began to cloud her brain. It reminded her oddly of sexual pleasure, of her first time in bed with Elleanor or Mark, but at the same time not quite the same at all. She had a sudden sensational memory, one she had heavily suppressed until now, of an entirely different set of fangs entering her throat and the smell of well-worn black leather. She could feel her Vitae moving down her arm and into Jasper. Her Beast squirmed in her chest. She could feel something delicious and eager coiling down deep inside her lower belly. If her heart could still beat, it would have been hammering away like a rail road piston going full steam. She wondered if his heart would be doing the same if it could, and decided that yes, yes it would be.

In the haze, she managed to notice a few things about Jasper. His eyes were tightly closed while he fed from her, and his free hand, the one not holding hers to his mouth, was clenched in a tense fist. It was as if he were holding an invisible leash, and whatever was at the other end of that leash was straining against it with all its might. She could feel Jasper's lips, his tongue, his fangs and the rest of his teeth on her, violent and a little disgusting but at the same time, so, so gentle.

She realised suddenly that he was holding back with every ounce of his being. He could bite down harder, she could tell he wanted to, but he was resisting. It was intimate and much more... loving than she imagined. She concluded that none of this was how she pictured it would go. She had a sudden urge to touch him, maybe to caress his head, but her other hand was clinging tightly to the arm of the chair and by the time she wrenched her fingers free, Jasper had let her go. What had seemed to last for ten or fifteen minutes was really only a few seconds.

She felt him run his tongue one last time over the wound he had made to seal it closed and he released her arm. She withdrew it slowly back to her chest, staring at him. She was breathing hard, a left over human reaction to the extreme stimulus she just went through. She felt dizzy and light headed and she was glad they had done this with her sitting down, or she feared she may have swooned like some Victorian lady in a too-tight corset. Her hand trembled, just a little.

Jasper was perfectly motionless for a moment, still on one knee, staring up at her. She could see a faint line of red on his lower lip, which he quickly licked away. He seemed to realise the pose he was in, and lowered his other knee and leaned back so he was still on the ground, but a little further away. He didn't want to be further away from her though. He had been expecting this, and was fighting it back. Both he and his Beast wanted to be closer to her, to be consuming her still. Instead, he was giving her space to recover. He watched her, and waited.

“That was..” she panted. She took another moment to collect herself. “That was good,” she exhaled.  “I didn't know it would... feel like that.”

Jasper gave a tiny, humble shrug. “There's a reason why most vampire victims stop fighting once they're bitten.” He cocked his head a tiny bit to the side, still watching her, unblinking. “Did you never notice?” Annabelle would have found it creepy before, but now she found it oddly... adorable.

“Yeah, but... wow...”

Jasper made a small sound of amusement. He smirked a tiny bit. “You'll be dizzy, maybe weak for a little while. I tried not to take too much, but... you should probably feed tonight also, if you can.”

Annabelle nodded. “How do you feel?”

“I feel better.”

He certainly looked better, Annabelle thought. A lot better. She told him as such.

“You look better.”

“Thank you,” he said with feeling, “for letting me...” He gestured toward her.

“You're welcome.” She felt pleased inside, more than just the fading ecstasy, at having helped him. She remembered suddenly Tara saying she had felt that way too, but fought to push that out of her mind.

She must have frowned, because Jasper suddenly looked a little worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just... that was more... it wasn't like what I thought it would be.” Her eyes felt wet and she put a thumb to them to stop any tears before they began.

Jasper moved back onto his chair. “Well,” he said softly, putting a long, pale hand on her knee. He was suddenly more willing to touch her. She wondered if the blood had anything to do with it and knew it likely did.  She also noticed that she did not mind the touch, not in the slightest. “It's over now, Annabelle, and we don't have to ever do this again if you don't want to. Thank you again for tonight though.”

She put a hand on his. It was the one he had been sucking from such a short time ago. She smiled at him. “You're welcome,” she repeated. She hesitated, looking at their hands together. The cloud of pleasure had lifted now, but it left an invisible memory on her body and soul. She realised that she would probably not mind at all if they did this again. “Can I ask a weird question?”

Jasper chuckled. He hadn't pulled back from her touch yet and he was a little surprised at himself at that. He hadn't been quite like this with any of the other Kindred he had fed upon in the past. Maybe actually liking the person made all the difference. “Sure. Ask.”

“What do I taste like?” Annabelle asked shyly. Her nose wrinkled adorably. This was just this side of taboo, she knew, but she was so very curious.

Jasper smiled and she saw his fangs again. They were clean. She felt an odd little ache in her wrist. “Are you worried that you don't taste good?”

“No! No, I'm just... curious?”

“You taste good,” he assured her. He almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

“Better than a dog?”

He laughed out loud, fangs flashing. “Yes, Annabelle, better than a dog. Animals taste... nowhere near as good as other Kindred do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Feeding from you...” he shook his head. He didn't want to elaborate too much on how fucking good her Vitae had tasted, and it had been good. He couldn’t taste any of the terror he had on the others. Terror was delicious, but this was different. He didn't want to scare Annabelle and he was relieved that he hadn't, not really. She had been nervous and excited... in more ways than one.“I could taste your emotions.”

“Oh... you could?” Annabelle squeaked.

He nodded, amused by her reaction.

She put her hand to her mouth, drawing away from him for a moment. “Ah... no, that's cool,” she assured him. “I kind of enjoyed it, so...”

He was very well aware that she did. “Yeah.” He pulled his hand back.

Another little moment of awkwardness set in. “Well... what now?”

“You should probably go home,” Jasper advised. “Feed a little if you want. Don't go using any crazy powers tonight. Please understand, I'm not kicking you out, it's just...” he ran his tongue over his fangs and Annabelle was again finding herself surprised at how oddly aroused that made her feel. She tried to shake it off. It was probably just because the intimate moment they had shared was still so recent. At least, she hoped that was why. “It's just that I think you should have some 'you' time tonight,” Jasper concluded.

Annabelle nodded. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” She stood up slowly and yes, she was a little light headed. Jasper rose too, and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. He held up her red jacket for her to slide her arms into, like a gentleman, and she did.

He walked her back to his front door. She didn't even look at the cage on the way past it this time. She was only watching him. At the threshold, they paused.

“See you tomorrow night?” she asked.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow night. And remember... this is just between us, right?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

In a stupid rom-com, she realised, this would be a moment for a kiss.

Instead, she pushed the door open. Jasper lingered back in the shadows, but she could see him give her a wave when she looked back. She waved back and made sure the door was closed securely behind her.

She realised she had a text from Victor asking if all was well with her and Jasper. She bit her lower lip in a sudden urge to laugh out loud. She confirmed that she was fine, that Jasper was fine, and they'll see him tomorrow. Then she went home.

[karadluthor]

I currently have outlines for a few fic ideas I have. Mostly romcom movie AUs because those are my kryptonite. I’d like to hear which ones if any that people may be interested in reading. I posted some earlier, they didn’t show up in tag search so here’s my second list.

Definitely, Maybe AU (started planning January 2019)

Ruby sees how happy her mom has been with Alex for the last five years. She loves her Aunt Lena and Aunt Kara who used to be best friends, and she tries to play matchmaker. Kara tells her that can’t happen, and Ruby asks why? And why doesn’t Kara ever date anyone and why she’s never married? Kara says it’s a long story, but she was close more than once, and then eventually is roped into telling the story, omitting the names of the 3 women in her love stories.

The first woman is Diana Prince, who she had a crush on in high school when she first met Diana thanks to Clark. They eventually date briefly when Kara is 21 after she saves Alex from the plane crash and becomes Supergirl. Diana really shows Kara femininity and power and Kara sort of falls to the wayside. She works at CatCo and after meeting Lena, decides she wants to be a reporter. Lena encourages her to pursue a career in journalism, and they become fast friends despite their family history. Kara plans a grand proposal to Diana, and Lena supports her. Kara is on one knee ready to propose when Diana says she’s leaving to move to France. They part ways when Diana tells Kara not to follow her. She can be Supergirl anywhere, but Kara needs a chance to be Kara too.

The second woman comes to her in the form of rival reporter, Siobhan, trying to steal Kara’s spotlight from Cat Grant. They are both asked to cover press for Olivia Marsdin’s Senate Run. Their rivalry turns them from enemies to secret lovers in copy rooms on the campaign trail. Lena surprises Kara at her hotel in Metropolis while attending a fundraising gala for Marsdin’s campaign. Siobhan steps into the foyer of the suite with only a towel on and introduces herself. Lena leaves, and Kara doesn’t follow her, but they meet up later that night at the gala where Kara tells Lena about Siobhan, and that she’s considering telling Siobhan she wants more than a casual hook-up. Lena again supports her and promises to end Siobhan’s career if she breaks Kara’s heart. Kara knows being with someone means them knowing she’s Supergirl but can’t share that part with Lena because Lena doesn’t know. As the campaign comes to a close, Marsdin is ahead in the polls with every chance of winning the senate race. Siobhan discovers that Marsdin is an alien and plans to expose her. Kara puts her feelings aside, realizing Siobhan May not be the person she thought she was. Cat Grant steps in, Siobhan is let go quietly after signing NDAs to salvage her career, and Kara returns to National City after Marsdin’s victory, once again single and alone.

After weeks of being sad and depressed, Lena drags Kara from her apartment for her “birthday” and at the end of the night, Kara tells Lena she’s Supergirl and how being Supergirl means she can’t have a relationship. Lena is upset that Kara didn’t tell her sooner, and she leaves. Lena starts dating after that and eventually they do become friends again and see each other every time Ruby has a piano recital, but they’re never as close as they were. There’s obviously more that I don’t want to disclose without giving away the entire fic as I mostly have here.. lots of mutual pining and a really slow burn until they eventually pull their heads out of their asses and realize they’ve been in love with each other the entire damn time.

Crazy Stupid Love AU (began planning January 2019- I’ve shared this on my main blog, but I’ll dive more into it here)

Kara frequents a lesbian bar in National City and engages in casual hookups. One night Lena and Sam are visiting National City and decide to drop in at the same bar. Kara hits on Lena and she’s low key into but is adamant that she’s not interested, so Kara backs off and Lena returns home to Metropolis to Jack and begins questioning her relationship and her sexuality..

Sometime later, Kara introduces herself to Lillian at her usual lesbian bar after watching Lillian tell her sob story of her maniac son she adores for weeks. She takes Lillian under her wing and shows her how to woo women into bed with her and teaches Lillian how to live a life separate from her children for once.

Back in Metropolis Lena, Jack, Sam and their small circle of frenemies have a celebratory dinner for Lena’s birthday and the rebranding of LuthorCorp to LCorp. Lena expects Jack to propose, and when he instead proposes a different kind of “merger,” one between LCorp and Spheerical in Metropolis, Lena announces she’s moving to National City and that she’s a lesbian.

She flies first class to National City that night and after quite a few glasses of brandy, ends up in the lesbian bar looking for Kara. Crazy stupid lesbians end up falling in love, and Kara is ready to settle down with Lena.

Kara invites Lena to meet Eliza, and when she does, Lillian is there in all her glory WITH Eliza. Chaos ensues. But eventual happy ending.

Matilda AU (began planning December 2018)

Pretty much the movie.. I’ll call her Matilda because I don’t really want to change the name. Matilda’s parents are Rhea and Lar Gand, her brother is ”Mike” and they don’t act like she exists at all.

She goes to Luthor Academy when her parents finally accept that she’s old enough to go, and her teacher is Miss Lena Kieran. Matilda becomes friends with Ruby who is sometimes picked up by her moms and sometimes by her Aunt Kara who flirts with Miss Kieran incessantly. Lena sees how smart Matilda is and asks the Headmistress, Mrs. Lillian Luthor if Matilda can be moved to an older class because she is incredibly smart and would learn more in a more advanced course. She goes to Matilda’s parents, and they tell her to butt out.

Lena takes matters into her own hands and tutors Matilda independently, and eventually discloses her biggest secret. How her evil step mother murdered her father and how she escaped the Luthor Mansion. Lena takes Matilda to her small cottage in the woods where she grows fresh flowers and has a vast vegetable garden. It’s there that Matilda officially meets Kara as Lena’s fiancée.

When Matilda’s powers begin to manifest, Kara helps her and Matilda helps Kara and Lena to take the Luthor Mansion back from Lillian.

The 2 40 Year Old Virgins (began writing January 2019-oneshot)

I almost have this one finished already, but essentially it’s the 40 year old virgin, but if both Kara and Lena were 40 year old virgins who met in college and almost had sex but didn’t, and they reconnect at 40 and go on twenty dates and end up eloping before they finally get there.