#gala expo

[noidarealtor78]

Gala Expo 2023: The Ultimate Real Estate Event of the Year

Gala Expo 2023 is the most anticipated real estate event of the year, bringing together industry professionals, investors, and property enthusiasts from around the world. This grand event offers a unique platform for channel partners, developers, and real estate professionals to showcase their projects, network, and explore exciting investment opportunities. In this article, we will delve into the highlights of the Gala Expo 2023, the real estate festival that promises to revolutionize the property market.

A Spectacular Real Estate Extravaganza

Gala Expo 2023 is not your typical property expo; it's an extravaganza of real estate opportunities. From luxurious residential projects to innovative commercial spaces, the event boasts a diverse range of offerings from leading developers and real estate companies. Attendees can explore various property options to find their dream investment.

Uniting Channel Partners and Developers

One of the key features of Gala Expo 2023 is its focus on fostering collaboration between channel partners and developers. The event creates a conducive environment for these stakeholders to interact, strike deals, and forge lasting partnerships. This synergy helps in expediting real estate projects and ensures mutual growth.

A Glimpse into the Future of Real Estate

Gala Expo 2023 goes beyond the present and offers a glimpse into the future of real estate. With cutting-edge technology and sustainable development taking center stage, visitors can explore the latest trends that will shape the industry for years to come. Seminars and workshops by industry experts provide invaluable insights into upcoming opportunities and challenges.

Navigating Commercial Real Estate

Commercial real estate is a vital aspect of Gala Expo 2023. The event dedicates a significant section to showcase prime commercial properties, office spaces, and retail outlets. Investors seeking to diversify their portfolios can find lucrative opportunities to tap into the potential of the commercial property market.

Engaging Panel Discussions

Gala Expo 2023 is not just about exhibits; it hosts engaging panel discussions and keynote speeches. Industry leaders share their experiences, strategies, and vision for the future. These discussions offer attendees a chance to gain profound knowledge and learn from the best in the business.

A Global Platform for Investors

For international investors looking to venture into the thriving real estate market, Gala Expo 2023 provides a global platform to connect with local developers and real estate experts. The event showcases international projects and promotes cross-border collaborations.

Property Fest: A Delight for Home Buyers

Property Fest, an integral part of Gala Expo 2023, focuses on home buyers. It caters to individuals and families looking for their dream homes. With a wide range of residential projects on display, Property Fest offers a convenient and efficient way to explore multiple options under one roof.

The Gala 2023 Awards

Recognizing excellence and innovation in the real estate industry, the Gala 2023 Awards honors outstanding projects and visionary developers. The awards ceremony brings recognition to those who have made remarkable contributions to the sector.

Networking Opportunities Galore

Gala Expo 2023 is a melting pot of opportunities, offering attendees endless networking possibilities. From connecting with potential partners to interacting with renowned industry figures, the event sets the stage for fruitful collaborations.

Embracing Sustainable Development

Sustainability is a key theme at Gala Expo 2023. Developers and industry players showcase their commitment to eco-friendly practices and green initiatives. This emphasis on sustainable development aligns with the growing global focus on environmentally responsible real estate projects.

The Real Estate Exhibition

The heart of Gala Expo 2023 lies in its sprawling real estate exhibition. With elaborate booths and immersive displays, visitors can experience the essence of each property project up close. The exhibition is a treasure trove of real estate opportunities.

Making Real Estate Accessible

Gala Expo 2023 aims to make real estate accessible to all. From first-time homebuyers to seasoned investors, the event caters to every individual seeking to enter the real estate market.

Innovation at Its Finest

Innovation takes center stage at Gala Expo 2023, with developers showcasing cutting-edge technologies and smart home solutions. The event embraces modernity and progress to shape the future of real estate.

Conclusion

Gala Expo 2023 is the ultimate real estate event, uniting industry players, investors, and enthusiasts in a grand celebration of property excellence. With a focus on sustainability, innovation, and collaboration, the event promises to elevate the real estate landscape to new heights.

FAQs

1. When and where will Gala Expo 2023 be held?

Gala Expo 2023 will be held in prestigious Westin in Gurgaon, from August 6th, 2023.

2. Can anyone attend Gala Expo 2023, or is it exclusively for industry professionals?

Gala Expo 2023 is open to everyone interested in real estate, including industry professionals, investors, and homebuyers.

3. Are there any registration fees for attending the event?

Yes, there might be registration fees for certain categories of attendees. It is recommended to check the official website for details.

4. How can I participate in the Gala 2023 Awards?

Developers and industry professionals can submit their projects for consideration in the Gala 2023 Awards through the official website.

5. Can I book a property at the event itself?

Yes, some developers may offer on-the-spot bookings at Gala Expo 2023, but it is advisable to conduct thorough research before making any investment decisions.

[geetanjalihomestate-real-estate]

Discover Your Dream Home: Gala Expo Season 2 - All Properties Under One Roof

Welcome to GALA EXPO Season 2, hosted by Geetanjali Homestate Pvt Ltd, taking place on August 6th, 2023, at the prestigious Westin in Gurgaon.

Prepare yourself for an extraordinary event where the real estate industry’s finest converge under one roof.

GALA EXPO Season 2 is your gateway to exclusive discounts of up to 1crore* rupees. This unparalleled opportunity allows you to secure your dream property at an unbeatable price. Whether you’re looking for a luxurious apartment, SCO Plots, or a commercial space, this expo has something for everyone.

Join us as we bring together the top developers from the National Capital Region (NCR) to showcase their best projects and provide you with a chance to explore a wide range of options. From renowned builders to emerging real estate companies, you’ll have the unique opportunity to interact with experts who can guide you towards making informed decisions.

[datshitrandom]

Darren Criss + Piano🎹

[wausaupilot]

Festival of Trees returns for 26th event

This event supports Aspirus Comfort Care & Hospice Services and Aspirus Family House.

ROTHSCHILD – The 26th Annual Aspirus Health Foundation Festival of Trees event will be held at the Central Wisconsin Convention +Expo Center during Thanksgiving week, Nov. 22 – 26. Festival visitors can stroll through a wonderland of holiday trees, wreaths, decor, baskets and specialty items decorated and donated by people in our community for a silent auction and raffle. Enjoy local music,…

[geetanjalihomestate-residential]

Gala Expo Season 3: Your Gateway to Real Estate Investment Opportunities

Introduction

In the dynamic world of real estate, staying ahead of the curve requires access to the latest trends, projects, and investment opportunities. Gala Expo Season 3 emerges as a beacon of opportunity for both seasoned investors and aspiring property buyers. This blog takes you on a journey to discover how Gala Expo Season 3 serves as your gateway to a world of real estate investment possibilities.

Unlocking a World of Properties

Gala Expo Season 3 isn't just an event; it's a window to a diverse portfolio of properties. From residential apartments to commercial spaces and luxury villas, the event showcases a wide array of options that cater to various preferences and budgets. Whether you're looking for a home, an investment property, or a commercial venture, Gala Expo Season 3 is a treasure trove of opportunities waiting to be explored.

Spotlight on Emerging Trends

The real estate industry is in a constant state of evolution, with emerging trends shaping the way properties are designed and experienced. Gala Expo Season 3 shines a spotlight on these trends, allowing attendees to witness firsthand the innovative features, sustainable practices, and technological advancements integrated into modern properties. By staying updated on these trends, you position yourself to make informed investment decisions that align with the future of real estate.

Direct Interaction with Experts

One of the most invaluable aspects of Gala Expo Season 3 is the chance to directly interact with real estate experts, developers, and professionals. Attendees have the opportunity to engage in meaningful conversations, seek advice, and gain insights from those who understand the nuances of the industry. These interactions provide a unique chance to ask questions, clarify doubts, and receive personalized guidance tailored to your investment goals.

Exploring Various Investment Avenues

Gala Expo Season 3 caters to a spectrum of investment avenues within the real estate sector. Whether you're interested in residential properties for rental income, commercial spaces for business ventures, or luxury properties for capital appreciation, the event encompasses a range of projects that align with different investment strategies. This diversity allows you to explore and evaluate options that resonate with your financial aspirations.

Conclusion

Gala Expo Season 3 is a gateway that opens doors to a world of real estate investment opportunities. By attending this event, you're not just exploring properties; you're gaining insights into trends, connecting with experts, and gaining the tools to make well-informed investment decisions. Whether you're a seasoned investor seeking to diversify your portfolio or a first-time buyer looking to step into the world of real estate, Gala Expo Season 3 promises to be an enriching experience that empowers you to navigate the intricate landscape of property investment.

[waytray]

Anime Expo 2022 - Cosplay Music Video

[miela]

Shattered Memories {Masterlist}

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Reader Type: Afab! Iron Spider! Silk! Avenger! Stark!

Length: Series (Longish, about 20 chapters)

Series Genre(s): Romance with Dramatic and Comedic undertones (if you squint)

Series Theme(s): Fluff, Angst, Smut (some Dark themes)

Series Summary: After Peter sacrificed his identity for the sake of the world, five years go by before he finds you back in his life again.

Series Content: Content from Civil War, Homecoming, Far From Home and No Way Home will be heavily present. Some content from other MCU movies and shows may come up here and there.

Series Warnings: 18+ {MDNI}, Mentions of substance abuse, alcoholism, s*icidal thoughts, self-harm, abusive relationship (not Peter x Y/N) in later chapters. warnings subject to change. Please proceed with caution.

Extra Content: A Few of my OCs are in here! Let me know if you want me to make a character list to reference.

You can also send in request for drabbles for this story/AU!

Updates: Fridays (may post chapters eariler, but there will usually always be an update on fridays)

➼ Playlist

➼ Pin Board

➼ Trello

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

CHAPTERS:

Prologue: The Last Moment Before New Beginnings Chapter I: The Expo & The Files Chapter II: A Sense of Reunion Chapter III: A Sense of Reunion II Chapter IV: What Friends Are For Chapter V: The Do Over Chapter VI: Two Spiders, One Sorceress Chapter VII: Full of Feelings Chapter VIII: Lovers at the Gala Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk & Gold Chapter X: The Return of a Hero Chapter XI: Hummingbirds & Honeybees Chapter XII: Sunflower Love Chapter XIII: The Rumor & The Scandal XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX (MORE TBA)

DRABBLES:

Two Peas in a Pod {Friendship with Gwen} A Sense of Reunion {Alternate Universe}

[larcenywrites]

need your thoughts/headcanons abt tony and PDA 😳👉👈 Please

I wanna do young!Tony too!!!

PDA HCs

Warnings: like two sexual references | no pronouns used for reader

young!Tony

💠 Believe it or not, he doesn’t tend to be handsy in public, nor does he tend to wanna do too much lovey-dovey stuff 😔

💠 On a date at that cute cafe and start playing footsie with him under the table? He’s usually busier giving you the side eye rather than playing back… and not in a good way 😒 but when he places a hand on your calf in an attempt to stop you or blushes and whines for you to stop, he doesn’t realize it really only makes you wanna do it more 😉🤭

💠 He probably just doesn’t wanna look horny in public 😘 He does kind enjoy it, but he definitely doesn’t look amused 😅

💠 Of course, he won’t mind holding hands while walking to his class or along the street to a date spot 🥰🥰 in fact, he loves it! If you slip your hand into his first, he’ll get all giddy inside and smile, buuut unfortunately his smile is naturally all cocky and smug 🤧 so don’t take it the wrong way! He’s having a great time!! He feels loved!! Especially if you’re leasing him somewhere!

💠 Well maybe he is a little smug 😏 He’s proud to be loved!

💠 He also initiates it, obviously! But when he does it, it’s a little different. He wants to feel close to you 🥺 he wants to touch you 🥺 and let’s be honest, he likes to feel like the big and strong one in this relationship! Even if he is, in fact, neither of those things (yet) 😅

💠 If it’s crowded, he doesn’t want you to get lost or feel unsafe 🥺🥺🥺 he wants to feel like he’s kinda protecting you okay 🥺🥺🥺 practically cuddle into his side as you’re walking tbh 🥺🥺 he’ll probably be blushy but he’ll feel great 🥹

💠 Behind closed doors, Tony is a very eager…kisser 😏 but he’s a little more shy in public spaces! He’ll very obviously wanna kiss you out on that patio of the Italian place, but instead he has puppy eyes and (finally) a dorky smile while getting really close 🥴 he’ll probably just settle for wrapping his arm around yours or if he’s really brave today, a hand on your leg 😌

💠 You know, honestly, this might be more of a turn on anyway 🤔

💠 Now, this confidence definitely takes a 180° when the general public is now other rich assholes… and when he’s had a few glasses of wine 😅

💠 Galas, parties, Expos— you’re gonna be invited to a lot of rich people things! With a lot of other brilliant minds! And rich people! Attractive people! Maybe it’s the jealousy or maybe it’s the fact that these people know a lot more about Tony and are kinda watching him (or maybe he’s actually more comfortable in this environment???), but now his arm is around your waist all night, instead of just holding your hand he’s rubbing his hand up and down your arm a few times

💠 He also gets a lot more mischievous! You’ll probably be shocked when he not-so-subtly touches your butt 🤧 but because he didn’t usually do that he’s still a little red in the cheeks and smirking like he’s holding back a laugh 🤭

💠 He still loves it if you wanna lean into his shoulder, but this time he’ll kiss your forehead when you do 🥺🥺

💠 Tbh he still saves any of the real kissing for behind closed doors, but…. he never specified which closed doors 😏

💠 After a few drinks he definitely gets a little bold 😘 play footsie with him under his table now and he might play back! Don’t let him catch you elsewhere talking with a group because he’ll hug you from behind and probably be not so, er, subtle 😳

💠 Honestly though, you get the best of both worlds! He’s more cute and subtle out-and-about, but when you get to play dress up on those special events and occasions, he’ll turn up the hear a little 😘

Tony

💠 Tony has definitely gotten to the point where he doesn’t give a damn 😅 well, mostly. Like- don’t worry, he’ll take you to a lockable bathroom to fuck in 😏🥴

💠 But he’s older, routinely goes through the ✨horrors✨, maybe a little wiser but that’s sometimes that’s debatable…

💠 And while he’s certainly not touch-starved with how much attention and pampering he gets when he’s home, he does like having a point of contact with you when you’re out of the house 🥰

💠 And when he’s feeling the love??? He’s gonna show it!!! He’s not afraid to stop and give you a quick kiss!

💠 If it’s crowded, he doesn’t want to get separated and generally feels unsafe and anxious :( so he really likes holding hands pretty much everywhere! Like sure, he won’t have any problems with letting go while you’re looking in a shop or sat down in a restaurant, but when you’re out walking he definitely wants to hold hands!

💠 Tbh he feels very special if you initiate it even though by this point you’re probably literally married 🤧🥺 hold his hand and push yourself into his side as you walk and he’ll smile just a little 🥰🥰🥰🥰

💠 Naturally, if you’re both standing in a crowded area, maybe you’re in line for something, he’ll definitely have a grip on your waist and instinctually scanning the room… squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek and you’ll have his attention again 🥰 and you’ll probably get a real kiss too 😘 even if it is tame and short

💠 At a restaurant, absolutely play footsie with him under the table! He’ll, granted discreetly, smile like he’s having genuine fun!

💠 He’ll also probably end up bumping his knee against yours all the time and keeping it there, or man spreading so his leg can be pressed against yours. He just likes having constant contact and reassurance!

💠 And considering he nearly dies like every day, he certainly doesn’t mind giving and receiving kisses whenever and wherever! Watching my fireworks in the middle of the park? Kiss him!!! Everyone and the tv is watching him about to leave for god knows what or maybe he’s getting back??? Kiss him!!!!

💠 You could literally be in a museum and he’ll randomly lean into you for a quick kiss on your cheek or head 🥰 and some cheesy like about how you’re the best work of art here before quickly kissing your lips 😘😏

💠 Now he’s still a classy guy, okay 🤨🤨🤨🤨 don’t try any tongue action with him yet 🤨🤨🤨🤨 not here 😤😤😤

💠 But that’s not to say he doesn’t mind in— you guessed it— more intimate settings like parties, galas, Expos— whatever the hell he’s getting an invite to this time! Or throwing!

💠 He’ll even come up behind you and kiss your neck a few times 🥴 while you’re talking to someone 😅 with his hands on your arms or hips and drifting up and down 🥴

💠 Sure he’s obviously still proud to be loved, but he definitely likes to show off 😏 not necessarily just you but literally he just want to show off how his love is the best kind of love 😌

[ronenrubinsteinsource]

Ronen Rubinstein attends the Los Angeles LGBT Center's Annual Gala at Shrine Auditorium and Expo Hall on May 18, 2024 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Tommaso Boddi, Michael Tran, Alberto Rodriguez, and Matt Winkelmeyer)

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Avengers Expo: Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection [Link] A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (12) It's the biggest event in the Avenger's calendar - you and Loki can keep your hands off each other for one night. Right?Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smut. Semi-Public Sex. Mild Angst. Mutual pining. Mild Jealousy. Secret relationship. (w/c 3.4k)

There was a soft knock at door. You muted the TV, walking over while fastening a final curler to your scalp. You pulled it open to reveal Loki, wearing a tight sweater and an apologetic smile.

You frowned. He never came to this floor.

God, he was so perfect. So brazen. How you wanted to pull him inside, push him on the sofa and mount him. You would ride him mercilessly, pulling the syllables of your name from his wet lips like a mantra. Or maybe you would suck him until he begged for release. Until he couldn't remember what day it was. Until he couldn't remember his own name.

"Can I help you, Laufeyson?" you announced loudly, hoping the formality would be convincing to anyone within earshot in the busy corridor.

"Stark has requested I remind all team members of details pertaining to the event this evening" he said coyly, a smirk playing on his lips, "in person."

You felt a giggle rising in your throat. Stark and Rogers were really wielding his looming evaluation like an axe.

"I presume you shall be in attendance? 7pm sharp for those involved with the display." Loki purred, his hand drawing towards the fluffy cotton tight to your waist. You felt the pressure of his fingers on your body before brushing them reluctantly away, noting the frown that ghosted his eyes. You nodded with a lingering smile.

One more day. You just needed to keep your hands off each other for one more day.

"Excellent" he murmured, before noticing something over your shoulder. "What in the nine hels is that?"

You glanced in the direction of his stare, seeing your outfit for tonight hanging against the living room door. "It's for the event" you winked, "do you like it?"

Loki's eyed widened in disbelief, checking the corridor to his sides as agents came and went from their rooms. "You mean to tell me you intend to circulate Stark’s gala tonight wearing that little dress and nothing more?"

You smirked, enjoying watching the wheels of jealousy whirring. "Don't worry Loki, I'll have shoes too..." you said lightly. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"I'll see you tonight!" you quipped, before shutting the door on his muffled sounds of protestation.

Tonight was the most important event in the Avenger's media calendar, a chance to dazzle and charm the politicians and glitterati of New York and beyond. The whole team would be out in force; dressed to the nines, ready to mingle and primed to appear in tomorrow's headlines. One day. Just one day.

It had never been more important that your clandestine relationship...whatever it was, with Loki remained secret under the glare of the world's media. And yet, you couldn't help yourself.

You looked up at the dress hanging against the door-frame. A floor length skirt swished gently beneath your touch, the chiffon of the wide thigh split dragging between your fingertips. The bodice that had so inflamed your secret lover hung perfectly, strapless goddess style edging cutting down to a deep, stiff V that spliced down your sternum. It was sinful, and it was blood red. Tonight, you fully intended to knock them dead.

-

Loki regarded himself in the full-length mirror, frowning as he straightened his tie. The crown jewel of Stark’s superfluous Avenger’s Expo was a runway of sorts where it was deemed necessary to parade the team to a backdrop of thumping midgardian music. He cursed inwardly at the simplicity of his ensemble for this grand occasion. Apparently, his fine Asgardian leather did not fit the ‘vibe’, whatever that meant. “Need I remind you, brother, that your evaluation is tomorrow…” Thor’s spoke with warning lacing his words, watching his brother grimace. “Thank you. I am aware.” Loki spat, “As if I could forget, with the number of ridiculous duties I have been assigned these past weeks.” Thor nodded knowingly, squeezing Loki’s shoulder. “Tonight is a celebration, brother. A chance to show Stark, Rogers...the world, that you are truly no longer a threat. You are one of us.” Thor smiled broadly as Loki’s bored gaze swept his reflection. “Indeed.” he muttered, thinking of that sliver of red material you intended to parade about in. Every pair of eyes in the room would be on you...on that incredible body he knew every inch of. Intimately. Not only that, images captured would be circulated throughout this realm. The thought made Loki’s cock twitch with seething jealously. Between event preparation and the inane duties prescribed by his overlords, Loki hadn't had the opportunity to fuck you in two days. Two and a half, actually. In that time, he had edged himself more times than he cared to count. His cock was screaming to feel your tight, hot walls squeezing around his length. To hear you moan his name wantonly against the pillow, trying to silence yourself. To claim you again and again with his prowess; pleasuring you relentlessly as he took his fill. “Shall we?” Thor boomed, his tie still hanging loose around his neck. Loki nodded with a sigh. Showtime. Thirty minutes later, he was lined up with the rest of the male Avengers backstage in one of the city’s prime event halls. The buzz of a heaving crowd simmered beyond the curtains of the stage as a well-heeled Steve paced up and down the line, inspecting them. Loki rolled his eyes as Rogers brushed an imperceptible flaw from Clint’s shoulder, turning to Bucky with a judgemental look before the winter soldier frantically smoothed his hair. “You all know from dress rehearsal that the ladies come first” Steve began, as Bucky turned to Loki with a wink. “As always, right man?” he murmured, as Rogers frowned with disapproval, folding his arms before continuing. “You're placed in order, so Lang you’re first up after Natasha and Y/N take their places in the line-up. Then Banner, Vision, Wilson, Barton, Barnes, Odinson, Laufeyson...followed by myself and Stark for the speeches. Got it fellas?”

Everyone nodded grimly. They just wanted this to be over. From the other side of the stage, Loki heard a hysterical peal of laughter that was unmistakably yours, feeling his heart leap at the sound. The now-familiar ACDC song Stark had selected blared through the speakers, Back in Black; was it? Loki didn’t know how many times he’d been forced to listen to that infernal song during rehearsals. But this was the last time, and he intended it to be memorable. Steve stood with his clipboard as the opening bars thumped with Tony’s voice-over. Welcome to the stage...your Avengers. The list of names began with Natasha as she appeared to rapturous applause. Wanda followed, and then you.

Loki inhaled deeply as he heard cheers accompany your entrance, whistles of appreciation rolling through the crowd as Stark’s open bar made feeble mortal men brave. He seethed, quietly. Loki watched as one by one, the team ahead of him disappeared; their solemn grimaces giving way to practised smiles of joy and appreciation as they waved at the call of their name; pointing to the crowd. This was ridiculous, Loki thought. But a necessary evil in this strange realm, it seemed. “Loki Laufeyson” He rolled his shoulders as the bright lights grew closer, striding to the middle of the stage and turning with a flourish. To Loki’s surprise, there was not empty silence. A thundering of applause greeted him as his complimentary biography rumbled over the heavy guitar. In the last six months, Laufeyson has completed twenty-one highly volatile missions protecting our planet and our people, saving countless lives Loki found his eyes drawn towards you as the cheers grew louder at the words. There you were, poised and indescribably beautiful.

You were clapping with the others, your leg positioned seductively through a high slit in that little dress that went right to the top of your delicious thigh. He was going to bury his face under that slit, later. That little dress positively demanded to be fucked with you still wrapped inside it. The strapless bodice clung to you like glue, perfectly fitted to your sinful curves. The skin of your décolletage glowed in the theatrical lighting; your breasts nestled at either side of the most daring neckline Loki had ever seen across the realms. Gods, you were perfection. Well, almost perfection. Asgardian finesse, expert-combat, sorcery, great hair...our man in leather. Our newest addition. Let’s hear it for the dark-god in our Avenger’s line up. Loki internally rolled his eyes, waving to the darkened, cheering crowd as he squinted under the lights and paced towards his spot on the line-up. Come on, he thought. There was always one. “Show us some magic, Loki!” a disembodied voice screamed from the crowd. Loki smiled, seeing Rogers shake his head frantically behind the curtain. He spread his arms in a half-shrug towards the crowd, palms upward as he teased them. He always teased them. More shouts of encouragement soared loudly over the music before he snapped his fingers with gravitas.

In a dramatic wave of seidr, the crowd screamed with delight as your vibrant red dress transformed to an exquisite emerald green from the floor upward, bathed in flickering flame. Loki saw the flash of your eyes as he smirked, giving a curt bow to the screaming crowd as he stepped back to take his place in line. Rogers and Stark circled in front of the formation, enjoying their own applause as they geared up for the speeches. He used the moment to cast you a look, catching your eye. Green looked good on you. Now you were true perfection. – The next hours spent mingling were some of the longest of Loki’s life. He would gladly suffer through a one-to-one car polishing masterclass from Rogers to free himself from this hel. Midgard politicians, Loki surmised, were even more tedious than those on Asgard. No mean feat. Leaning against the bar, Loki’s eyes scanned the crowd. He found you, his stomach dropping as he saw you wrapped in the arms of an unknown man. Tall, handsome, dark...seems that the vixen has a type, Loki thought. A stab of jealously twisted in his gut as he swallowed his scotch in one gulp. Rogers had likely asked you to dance with this interloper...but still, this needed to end.

A thick hand slapped across his chest. “Brother, you were phenomenal. A triumph! It’s all anyone is talking about!” Thor boomed through laughter, his voice resonating above the thumping music. Loki frowned, shaking his head as he tried to convey his confusion. “The dress, brother! Y/N’s dress. Rogers is of course, furious, but the high praises you are receiving will surely balance out any misgivings he may have over your disobedience, I am certain.”

Loki nodded, making jumbled excuses to his brother before crossing the dancefloor with his jaw set, fire rising in his heart. The man’s hand was lowering down the exposed skin of your shoulders, his eyes trailing your cleavage. He was whispering in your ear, causing you to throw your head back with laughter, your coiffured curls bouncing. The scoundrel’s hand slid lower, threatening to cup that exquisite ass. “Pardon me” Loki murmured, placing a firm grip on the stranger’s shoulder. He squeezed. Hard. “May I?” he intonated menacingly with a forced smile, tilting his head towards you as the man’s brow furrowed. Loki ignored his mumblings, pushing him briskly away before sliding to take his rightful place flush against your body.

Your hand nestled in his palm, his other lightly encircling your waist, breasts tight to his chest as you began to dance. Loki enjoyed the reluctant smile of enjoyment which twitched at the corners of your lips, the thrill of contact under the cover of believability a welcome surprise. “I liked the red, you know…” you said loudly, straining to be heard against the music. Loki chuckled, his eyes crinkling. Gods, you were funny. You pressed your fingers against Loki’s shoulders, pulling him down slightly to meet your lips at the base of his ear, “but I like the green better.”

Loki’s stomach flipped. The low pulse of bass radiated through his chest as you slid a hand down his torso, releasing a devastatingly low moan deep in his ear. “Darling…” he whispered, “be careful.” His eyes flickered to a photographer circling Thor doing jaegerbombs with the mayor a few meters away. He could feel his cock hardening against his thigh, his arousal tight against the expensive suit. One picture in an overly affectionate embrace is all it would take, and he might lose you forever. He removed his cheek from yours, gazing at you questioningly. “I do not understand you, Y/N” he murmured, the level of his velvet tones barely audible over the din as he swayed you back and forth. “Would it be so against your sensibilities for those around us to know you’re mine?” Your heart pounded. Mine. There was that word again. You had thought a lot about what happened in the restaurant over the past few days, his words re-playing over and over in your mind. You couldn’t recall which were real and which were fiction created by your desperate imagination. “It’s more complicated than that, Loki” you mumbled pleadingly, brow creasing as you willed him to understand. He would tire of you. The attention and intrusion would be too much. His pleasure came from mischief and games, not domesticity. You would gladly play with him, for as long as his attentions lasted – even if it meant a broken heart. “Is it?” From what I can see, I’m good enough to pleasure you in secret but the idea of anyone being party to that fact makes your skin crawl. What more is there to say?” he muttered with a forced smile, watching your eyes widen in alarm. You pressed your lips together. “Follow me in two minutes” you said, turning before he could speak. You noticed Megan circling nearby, glancing at Loki every few seconds as she ran her hands over a confused Scott Lang.

The green chiffon of your dress fluttered around your ankles as you paced towards the side of the stage, slipping behind it away from the buzzing crowds. Loki followed soon after, still wearing that frown. It hadn’t even been a minute. The door barely had time to swing shut before you were upon him, your tongue ravenously sliding between his lips as he gasped in surprise before pushing you gently against the wall. The air was electric, quiet moans of relief escaping you as his hands ran over your curves; mapping you beneath him. “I can’t do this anymore, darling…” he murmured between messy kisses, the words barely registering in your frantic desperation. Loki's palm slid graspingly up the slit of your dress, bringing your leg to rest on his hip. His fingers found their way between your thighs, massaging your clit gently as your head fell back against the wall, his name on your lips.

“What do you want from me?” he whispered, the low embers of his voice radiating against the roll of hundreds of conversations mere feet away. Your eyes opened, finding his as those long fingers slid inside you. “I want you, Loki…” you whispered. Your hands fumbled with his suit trousers, desperate to feel the velvet pillar of flesh you craved beneath your hand as it strained for your touch. “That little dress…” he chuckled reluctantly in spite of himself, “you knew I would not be able to resist you tonight. That man. Such dangerous games pet, you put even I to shame...” You shrugged lightly, a coy smile lighting up your face. He gasped as his cock was freed, your fingers curling needily around the thick girth. Like a tube of cookie dough. You giggled beneath him before his free hand gently covered your mouth. One more day. You couldn't manage one more day. “Need I remind you of our little agreement?” he muttered darkly, thrusting his palm upwards as his soaked knuckles rubbed against your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as you shook your head beneath his palm. “No secrets” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers slowly from your core, “we are beside a stage, after all...should you renege on our bargain.” He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking the mess of arousal from them as your hips keened against his hard body. God, you needed him so badly. Always so badly. He removed his hand from your mouth and lifted you effortlessly, the long green chiffon pooling around your hips as you wound your legs around his waist. A pulley rope grazed your cheek, the wide-open stage curtains to your side throwing light in the otherwise darkened space. Loki’s perfect cock filled you as you let out a choked sigh, a low growl of approval radiating from your lover as he bottomed out. “No secrets, Loki" you groaned, as he thrust slowly into you, "it works both ways”. The movements were deep and contained. Tender, despite the circumstances. He chuckled through a quiet moan of pleasure, “Alright…” he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting against the fine hairs of your cheek. “I need you to be mine, darling. That is my confession. I need it. I need you.” There was no sound but Loki's low primal groans as you tried to process his unexpected words between searing waves of bliss, his cock dragging across the ridges of your tight channel. “But I am yours, Loki” you moaned to the ceiling a little too loudly, feeling his hand creep once more across your jaw. “No, pet. You m-misunderstand me", the firm tone of his voice wavering under his tight thrusts against your mound, “I wish for us to be exclusive, as you say.” Your stomach soared, a wave of fire and nerves rolling up your body as his words ignited dynamite between your legs. You clenched against his cock, a deep hiss escaping Loki’s lips as he tightened the grip of his hand. “Quietly, darling…” he sighed, pulling your ass closer to his hips as he re-angled himself. You felt yourself beginning to climax with every edge of his muscle, his pelvis tugging your clit with every devastatingly slow thrust.

Loki's hand fell from your mouth and grasped the edge of the curtains hanging to the side. His hair had fallen from its preened setting, errant strands dancing seductively around his cheekbones and across his brow as he fucked you against the stage wall. “Darling, answer me…” he growled, the darkness of his tone betraying his coming crescendo.

“No more cruel teasing. No more questioning. No more jealous games...I am l-laying...ohhhh, gods...my intentions at your feet. I wish you to be mine, and I y-yours. If that is not acceptable then I cannot c-continue...this, this...fuck.” You raised your hands from his shoulders, cupping his sharp jawline; the angles fitting perfectly into the curve of your palms. “Loki” you murmured, kissing him deeply as his breaths drew short, his slow thrusts erratic, “Answer me…” he growled, feeling your walls tighten and ripple with climax as he buried inside you. Your legs tightened, drawing him close as you both spiralled, foreheads pressed together as you fought to contain your cries to the party beyond. Loki’s fingers tightened around the skirts of your dress, tugging mercilessly as he filled you with his seed. Low grunts vibrated against your ear, the effort of containing his animalistic moans making him shake. A loud rip tore between you as a strand of emerald fabric fluttered to the ground, turning red mid-flight. Deep exhales filled the space as Loki’s gaze fluttered upwards to meet yours tentatively. “Answer me, darling” he whispered between staggered breaths, pressing your back against the wall. Your head swirled, his eyes were so beautiful. Were you going to...surely not- “I love you, Loki...” you whispered shakily, feeling as though you had jumped from a great height. Falling through the air. Waiting to hit the ground. His brow furrowed, lowering you to the floor. He pulled up his zipper, turning to gracefully pick up the ripped red chiffon tear, running it thoughtfully through his fingers. “Are you sure you are not mistaken?” he murmured, as the material turned once more to deepest emerald green. You felt your chest tighten as he raised his gaze to yours. You nodded slowly, watching his eyes narrow. “Good.” he muttered, re-attaching the fabric to your dress with a flick of his wrist before descending. His hand clasped to the back of your head, absorbing you. Wet kisses rained with new force as his full strength bore down like a tropical storm. Your breath hitched as he surfaced for air, wildness firing in his eyes as he clasped your jaw between his large palms. “I love you, Y/N” he murmured through heavy pants, “desperately...my precious mortal.” He pulled your face to him again, his lips and tongue and teeth claiming you like it was the last time. Your heart was thundering, senses overloaded under the weight of longing confession as you melted together, forgetting the world beyond the curtains. Neither of you heard the side-door creak open. Neither of you heard the sound of a low gasp from the doorway. It went unnoticed, a ghost, as the door shut again with a soft click

- A/N: The next part of this collection is absolute filth :) just FYI. Tags @lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @thedistractedagglomeration @lokiprompts @mochie85 @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @ficitve-sl0th @filthyhiddles @evelyn-kingsley @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @xorpsbane @yelkmelk @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @mad4marvelloki @mcufan72 @imalovernotahater @wheredafandomat @holymultiplefandomsbatman @five-miles-over @handsaroundmyneck @lyn-soso @123forgottherest @anonymousfiction211 @skymoonandstardust @muddyorbs @simplyholl @homesickcassie @gigglingtigger @ozymdias @xorpsbane @ravenwings73 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lokikissesmyforehead @ladylovesloki @ravenwings73 @loopsisloops @amethyst-dow @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonesomegrace @chantsdemarins @peaches1958 @trickster-maiden @absentmindeduniverse

[lullabyes22-blog]

Mel x Silco - Something Blue AU - A Drabble Thing

Based on this ask by anonymous <3

Part of an AU meta of the Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO universe.

"You are my daughter! Your future, and your legacy, are mine to protect."

"Is that why you cast me out? Protection?" Mel lifts the blue-tipped brush. The bristles sigh across the canvas. With methodic strokes, she begins to paint. "Or was it because I stood in the way of your ambitions?"

"What I did, I did to keep you safe!"

cw: sex, angst, dysfunctional relationships, abandonment issues

Based on this ask on Tumblr:

In the married AU, how would Mel and Silco reveal their relationship to the public and possibly their inner circles (the biggest of elephant in the room being Ambessa). Perhaps a discreet kiss at a public event or just say yep we're an item.

At the outset, Silco and Mel in the FnF-verse absolutely opted for secrecy during their, er, courtship. Given their alliance is literally struck due to backroom deals and intercity espionage, they keep their meetings discreet and their trysts tightly under wraps, in the guise of visiting each others' cities in the interests of diplomatic galas, festivals, and trade expos.

In these neutral settings, they are the most likely to interact and thus their illicit dealings can be easily masked.

By the time their closeness transitions from alliance to affair, they've actually hit a conundrum. Silco, a born provocateur, delights in stirring the pot to get the upper hand. Meanwhile, Mel, having been trained from childhood to be a savvy statesperson, is more restrained, particularly with a subject as controversial as her private affairs. And yet their reactions are paradoxical: while she wants to maintain her privacy, she enjoys seeing him lose control; while he enjoys the thrill of their secret trysts, he'd also relish the look on the Council's faces once they realize his fingerprints are all over the Crown Jewel of Topside.

And yet, when they finally formalize their agreement, the dichotomy culminates in remarkably different reactions.

Silco, who's always had a subversive flair for dramatics, suddenly loses all his trademark chutzpah. His first instinct is to keep the announcement under strict lock and key, a reaction Mel finds absolutely baffling. Bashfulness, now? Here is a man who's always in control of every narrative, and who is finally in a position to dictate the terms of his relationship.

And yet...

Even among his close circle, he's cagey and close-mouthed. He shares the bare bones with Sevika (to her glowering displeasure). She is not happy with how his fraternization has rapidly crossed the line from business to home. She is also, in her foresight, not the least bit surprised. She warns him bluntly about the future political repercussions, and their impact on Zaun.

Jinx, meanwhile, has already put two and two together. Her reaction is as expected:

Boom.

"No! No no no!"

They square off in his office, where she's burst in, a fitful cannonball. Silco is sitting at his desk, his expression deliberately neutral. Jinx's face is contorted, her blue hair an alarum of distress. Her cheeks are streaked with tears.

"Jinx," Silco begins reasonably. "Please listen..."

"You're leaving me! Just like Vi!"

"I'm not leaving you. I would never—"

"No, no, NO! You're leaving because I'm a monster and I ruin everything and everyone hates me!"

"Jinx, please."

"I knew it." She grabs fistfuls of her own hair. "I knew I wasn't worth saving, or keeping, or—"

"Stop that." Rising, he rounds the desk to encompass her in his arms. "Don't you dare speak that way again."

Jinx wrenches herself loose. "Why should I listen to you? You're a liar! You're gonna marry that Piltie and leave me behind, and I'll have nobody, nothing, ever again, just like before." She's sobbing openly, her voice ragged with rage. "Just like always."

"I am not lying, Jinx." Silco's voice is strained. His is trying hard to hold it together. "I will marry, yes. But you have my word: I will not abandon you."

She laughs wildly. "You already have!"

"Jinx—"

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't do this. You wouldn't leave me all alone, again, with nothing!"

"Jinx, please. Listen to me."

"No! I won't sit by and be left with nothing! I won't! I won't!"

"My lovely—"

"No! Don't touch me!"

She bolts, a blue comet shooting up the rafters. Silco is left, hands dangling, alone.

For the next few weeks, Jinx will remain sequestered in her workshop, either in a manic burst of tinkering, or staring vacantly at the wall. Silco will try to coax her to talk to him. But she'll either ignore him or scream at him to go away. He'll have no choice but to give her space, and hope the bombshell doesn't destroy their bond. In the meantime, he'll try to keep his meetings with Mel discreet, for the sake of easing Jinx's mind. And salving her hurts.

Eventually, she will thaw.

Eventually.

Mel, on her part, is disappointed, but understanding of Silco's need to proceed at a cautious pace. She's seen his girl in the flesh, and can empathize with her fragility. She'll encourage him to do what he can to repair his relationship. But she will also gently remind him of the precariousness of their alliance, and how they must secure the groundwork they've laid. Publicly formalizing their union will do just that. In time, the shock of it will settle, and their families will have no choice but to accept it, no matter the fallout.

As for Mel's family?

She has already informed Ambessa. And, she's done so with a brazen aplomb.  Despite being groomed to be discretion itself, she has absolutely no qualms about her affair becoming public knowledge. She's been banished by her clan; in the eyes of her compatriots, she is nothing. Therefore she has nothing left to lose. 

Finally free of the chains of her own making, Mel is now ready to stake her claim, and no one else's. She'll take Silco out on the town and proudly declare herself his, even though the news will be met with shock, and its downside, snobbery. The Council will be livid; the public will be baffled; the press will go wild.

And Mel will just smile.

Ambessa, predictably, is apoplectic. Mel, whatever their differences, was always destined for greatness. How dare she throw it all away on a street-rat from the Lanes?

She'll confront Mel at her apartments.

"I don't believe it. Of all the men at your disposal, you'd pick a wretched, half-rancid thing?"

Mel, her back to Ambessa, slowly mixes her paint: a deep, iridescent blue. Her bare canvas sits on the easel.  A possibility, beckoning.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Ambessa goes on. "Some last-ditch rebellion? To spit in my face, and that of our entire house?"

"I stopped belonging to our house the moment you banished me."

"I sent you here to carry on the torch! To solidify our foothold on Piltover's shores!"

"Perhaps my idea of a torch differs from yours."

Ambessa's hands ball into fists: ferocious, and yet imploring.

"Don't be a fool, Mel. Idealism blinds the brightest minds. And that man? He only has his eye on the prize—and your heart on a platter."

"My heart, Mother, is made up. As is my mind." Mel, her wrist steady, dips her brush. "Neither are for you to judge."

"You are my daughter! Your future, and your legacy, are mine to protect."

"Is that why you cast me out? Protection?" Mel lifts the blue-tipped brush. The bristles sigh across the canvas. With methodic strokes, she begins to paint. "Or was it because I stood in the way of your ambitions?"

"What I did, I did to keep you safe!"

"Safe?" Mel echoes. The paint spreads, a cobalt teardrop. "You sent me here, alone, without the slightest consideration of how I might navigate an unknown city. You left me to fend for myself. Practically left me for dead."

"Mel—"

"I've made a home for myself. Here. In Piltover. I've built a life, on my own terms. And I am no longer beholden to you, or your schemes. So no, Mother. You will not interfere. And you will not come within five hundred yards of my future husband."

"That snake will never give you what you deserve!"

"What, wealth? Prestige? Respect? I have all that."

"Until he drains it dry—and takes your city for himself."

Mel lets off a mirthless laugh. "Oh, Mother. As if that wasn't your goal all along."

"Mel—"

"You'll not threaten him. Nor our future."

"And if I do?"

Mel stops mid-stroke. Turning, she faces her mother full-on, and there is fire in her eyes.

"Do that," she says softly, "and see what it will cost you. See what it already has." She gestures, all the paintings lining the walls. No scenes of Noxus. No memories of home. Only a thousand different vistas, of a foreign shore. A foreign shore that she will not forsake.  "All this time, you've never known me. And now, you pay the price. So go on and call me a fool. Go on and pretend you're the better strategist. But the truth is, our cities are safest when Silco and I work together. Because then we are better equipped to defend ourselves against people like you."

Ambessa's scowl is a blackened storm. She stands, arms folded. "So that's how it is, then."

"Yes."

"It'll come to no good. Mark my words. Your little romance is doomed."

Mel turns away. "We'll see."

"It's a waste." Ambessa turns on her own heel. "A waste and a mistake." Then, a parting shot: "If you'd been half as ruthless as you were cunning, you'd still be standing at my side."

Mel's fingers falter, a fraction. Her spine stays ramrod straight.

"Perhaps," she says, "your side is where the mistake lies."

Ambessa's footsteps echo, fading. Then door slams shut, and Mel is alone. Her paintbrush, poised. It trembles, barely.

Then the teardrop falls, and blooms.

Blue as the sky.

A possibility, unfolding.

In the following weeks, Silco and Mel's plans gain traction. Having shared the news with their close circle, they begin to lay the groundwork for breaking the story to the broader public. Silco is a savvy businessman; Mel, a shrewd politician. Their collaboration is a well-oiled machine. Instead of subjecting themselves to the arduous process of navigating the media storm, they'll let a third party do the legwork. An independent media outlet will build up to the reveal, starting with small, local publications. As the story gains momentum, they'll transition to more prominent outlets and heavy-hitting powerbrokers.

The idea is to slowly begin seeding their relationship into the public consciousness. Two cities arm-in-arm. Two leaders, intimately aligned.

The narrative is the hook; the angle is the bait. And the truth, a bottle waiting to be uncorked.

A bold blend, filling everyone's cup with the scintillating spoils of their union.

By the solstice, the announcement hits the newsreel. The two cities are aflame with shock and a healthy dose of scandal. From the conservative quarters, there is a barrage of criticism and downright hostility. In Piltover's upper echelons, the objections are rooted in classism, with some claiming Mel's union with a Trencher will only degrade her standing, setting a dangerous precedent for future 'downscaling' of the elite, and their social stature.

In Zaun, meanwhile, there are rumblings of discord, particularly from the chem-barons. Many question whether Mel, a Topsider and a Councilor, will throw a wrench in the black market's spokes. There is also an undercurrent of anti-Piltie sentiment, which some leverage to cast aspersions on Silco's leadership. How can a man who's built up his brand on defying Topside now choose to cavort with one of the ruling elite?

And then there are those who question whether this is a ploy. Is the Council using a honeypot tactic to infiltrate and sabotage the Fissures' economy? Has Zaun's Chancellor been taken in by a pretty face and a clever tongue? 

Conversely, Zaunites speculate that Mel is merely a stand-in, and that the real love affair is between Silco and the city of Piltover itself. Is his heart really set on the woman, or on the power she represents? The access she grants him to Piltover's wealth, and the influence she has in the city's halls? Is the Eye of Zaun staging a coup to overthrow Piltover, and seize control?

Mel and Silco's betrothal has opened a Pandora's Box. With every question comes a thousand more.

But they know what they're doing. The seeds have been planted. And their narrative is taking root.

Soon, their respective cities are a frenzy of whispers, rumors, and outright slander. Their names are on the tips of everyone's tongues, from the Black Lanes to Bluewind Court.

The press is ravenous, and the public is starved.

Behind closed doors, each respective city's bureaucracy and security agencies begin to dig deeper into the other. They scrutinize Mel and Silco's histories, searching for a chink in the armor. They scour their dealings for the faintest whiff of a trail, for the slightest sign of betrayal.

And yet, as the days turn to weeks, nothing seems amiss.

No backdoor deals. No subterfuge. No secret threats.

Mel and Silco appear to be two trailblazers, united by a common vision. They've been allies for years. They have a solid working relationship, and the fruits of their combined efforts are starting to manifest. Their joint-venture has generated an unprecedented surge in trade and tourism between Piltover and Zaun, as well as a slew of new scientific innovations.

With each passing day, the news cycles begin to shift. The stories change. So do the angles. The whispers have become questions. Questions, answers.

The doubts start to melt into admiration.

Among the younger generation, a sense of glamorous taboo emerges. For the Topsiders, the Eye is a folk myth, an urban legend, a veritable bad boy. Now, his mystique is amplified tenfold, and his relationship with Mel only serves to fan the flames. On her part, Mel becomes an overnight sensation, a risktaker who's not afraid to break the mold, and whose charm has captured the imagination of a dangerous outlaw.

To the Fissure-dwellers, the interest holds a different flavor: speculation, scandal and self-congratulatory schadenfreude. Zaun, after all, was once a backwater slum. Now, their star is on the rise. Their Chancellor—a black-hearted scoundrel through and through—has bagged the Crown Jewel of Topside. What was once unobtainable is now theirs for the taking. Their victory over the Pilties is twofold: their haughtiest is now Zaun's hausfrau. They've managed to seduce, and subjugate, the Council's most formidable.

Marriage, eh? Who knew that the old ball and chain would prove so positive?

Now that the barometer of public adulation has spiked, Silco and Mel deploy a different approach. Rather than keeping their distance, they begin to take calculated risks: public outings, shared dinners, even a gala or two. Their appearances are met with a fervor bordering on hysteria. The press is abuzz. Everywhere they go, they are greeted with the dazzle of cameras and avid calls.

This is, after all, a historic first.

"Silco, Silco! What do you have to say about the rumors that Mel's engagement ring is from the Fissure mines? The same ones where you worked as a child?"

"Mel, Mel! How do you respond to the critics who say your engagement is an act of nepotism, and that it violates the principles of democracy?"

"Chancellor! Is it true that you're secretly building a palace underneath the canals, and that it will be a wedding present for Mel?"

"Councilor! Are you planning on changing your last name as a Medarda? If so, what will it be?"

Mel and Silco answer the barrage with enigmatic smiles, and an equally opaque, "No comment."

Except the wall of reticence won't stave off the tide forever. The pressure is mounting. Emotions are boiling.

It's time to launch Phase Three.

By the solstice, Silco and Mel agree to do a joint interview. This way, they can put the most outlandish rumors to bed, while satiating the public's appetite for their personal lives. The interview is to be conducted in neutral territory, outside Piltover's and beyond Zaun's borders, to avoid accusations of journalistic bias. A balcony in a small seaside town in Tereshni serves as their backdrop, and the interview is a two-part special, aired live on prominent radio stations.

Mel and Silco have agreed on their talking points. They've also laid ground rules: no questions about their sex life, their finances, or their families. The interview is about their partnership, their cities, and their plans for the future. They are there to dispel the rumors, not perpetuate them.

The sit-down is a sensation. Millions tune in to listen to their story, and to marvel at the fairytale of it all. For many, it's as if the couple are speaking directly to them. The audience is starved for content, and the airwaves throb with excitement. Some are captivated by the way the couple engage each other: the chemistry is undeniable, and Silco's sardonic, acerbic wit is perfectly complemented by Mel's elegant, cutting humor. Their affair has a certain dark-and-light aesthetic: shadow and sun.

The questions and answers fly fast. The duo are a masterclass of media savvy. They detail the timeline of their relationship: their first meeting, their alliance, and its transition from diplomatic to intimate. They discuss their respective roles as heads of their respective cities, and how they will each be transitioning to more ceremonial titles to avoid a conflict of interest. Silco will remain the Chancellor, while Mel will become an 'honorary' member of the Council. They'll have less to do with the bureaucracy, and more to do with public affairs and their philanthropic endeavors.

They are, essentially, becoming statespeople. Their primary goal is to ensure a seamless, amicable transfer of power, from their current governments to their respective successors. Silco will groom Sevika; Mel, Jayce. This way, the transition is guaranteed. It is, as they say, a win-win for all parties.

As for their plans?

A wedding, for starters. In a year's time, they will tie the knot.

After that?

Well. Who knows. The future, as they say, is up in the air.

Any children?

That is where the interview stalls. Family is a no-go subject. Now the interviewer is pushing boundaries. Attempting to address the elephant in the room:

Jinx.

"You are aware, Councilor Medarda, that your fiancé has an adopted daughter. A rather volatile one. Correct?"

The mood changes in the venue. Silco's expression is darkly-inscrutable. Mel's is a mask of pleasant ice.

"I am aware, yes," she says.

"And do you plan to accept her into the fold?"

"The fold?"

"As your step-daughter. As a potential Medarda."

Silco's expression is granite. Mel's, steel. He opens his mouth to impart a succinct response. Mel lays a hand on his arm. Then, with a serene smile, she says:

"I do. If she'll have me."

Silco narrowly hides his shock. There's a silence. Then, a susurrus of whispers, as the crew react to the news.

The interviewer blinks.

"Do you mean that, Councilor Medarda?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Jinx is not a child, but one of Zaun's most innovative minds. One that has been linked to multiple attacks, and countless counts of homicide.  To say nothing of her role in Zaun's independence." The interviewer is careful not to be confrontational. "Many still consider her a terrorist. And yet you would take her into your family, as a future Medarda?"

"One's past needn't define one's future. Especially one so young, and full of promise."

"But aren't you concerned? About your safety? About the safety of your city?"

"My city is her home. As hers, I hope, will be mine." Mel holds the interviewer's shocked stare. "The Chancellor's and my union is meant to herald a new age of cooperation. I see no reason why it should be confined to the political arena. As far as I'm concerned, we are family."

Silence.

Then, a flurry of flashbulbs, as the camera shutters whirr. Mel's smile is sweetness itself. But her gaze is steady.

Silco, meanwhile, is eyeing her with hooded eyes.

The interviewer is floored, but scrambles to move the conversation forward.

"Thank you, Councilor Medarda. Your statement is... intriguing."

"I expect we'll be hearing much more about it," Mel says, and shoots her fiancé a glance.

Silco gives a single nod.

"Indeed."

"Then, before we end, is there anything you'd like to add, Chancellor?"

Silco is silent for a moment. Finally:

"Yes. You asked me at the outset, why I agreed to this union. At the time, I said the reason was obvious. Now, given Councilor Medarda's answer, I'd like to make an amendment."

He turns to Mel.

"Councilor Medarda and I made a choice to enter into this union. It was not the most prudent course of action. But it was the right one. It was not borne of convenience, or obligation. It was not based on any form of calculation, or expectation. It was founded upon one simple premise: two cities, one family. And, perhaps, a chance at something more. I know this won't be the last criticism. I'm aware of the risks involved. And yet, as of now, I'm certain of only one thing."

He takes Mel's hand.

"There can be no progress without sacrifice. No victory without adversity. But most importantly, no family without trust. So if we are to build a bridge between our cities, it must start from within.  Ours will be our family. Our foundation. And Jinx...will be its heart."

He smiles a crooked little smile.

"And anyone who takes issue...had best watch their step."

His tone is mild. His meaning is not.

The interview ends on a high note.

Hours later, hot off the press, the cities are abuzz. The story dominates the newsreel for the next several days. In Piltover, everything is dissected ad nauseum: from the Council's official stance on the union, to the general consensus on whether the Medardas are abetting a terrorist, to discourse around historic reparations. In Zaun, meanwhile, the conversation is more nuanced. Some are ecstatic, believing Medarda's acceptance is proof that Zaunites are finally gaining social clout. Others are wary, wondering what the lineage of known conquest will bode for a city that prides itself on working-class roots.

The only certainty: the union is now, irrevocably, a fact.

Jinx, meanwhile, stays holed up in her workshop.

She'd flung her radio against the wall because she couldn't bear the newsreel: Zaun Chancellor (that lying snake), and Councilor Medarda (that gilded bitchqueen) have been spotted at the opera-gallery-theater-exhibition-club-restaurant, and were they holding hands, or kissing, or dancing? What does this mean for Zaun’s future? Is Topside being sold off to the Undercity? Is Piltover getting the keys back to the Fissures? Or is it a trick, a ruse,  a scam, a lie, a betrayal, a—

From her shoddily-assembled radio:

"I expect we'll be hearing much more about it," the dulcet female voice says.

"Indeed," replies the low sardonic rumble.

Jinx, in a blind fit of fury, nearly blasts the damn radio to shreds.

But the broadcast continues, and Jinx falls still. Her ears are like little gravity-wells, and the voices are a pair of comets: hurtling straight for the core.

"You asked me at the outset, why I agreed to this union. At the time, I said the reason was obvious. Now, given Councilor Medarda's answer, I'd like to make an amendment."

She creeps closer. Despite herself, she leans into the crackling speaker.

"Councilor Medarda and I made a choice to enter into this union. It was not the most prudent course of action..."

Got that right, buster.

"But it was the right one."

Suuuure.

"It was not borne of convenience, or obligation."

What a crock.

"It was not based on any form of calculation, or expectation."

This man is a pathological liar.

"It was founded upon one simple premise: two cities, one family. And, perhaps, a chance at something more. I know this won't be the last criticism..."

Jinx rolls her eyes. The rest is a blur. The spiel, the spin, the sales pitch. It's a load of horse manure packaged smartly into soundbites. Silco's expertise is selling stories, and he's good at it. He knows how to make a sucker look like a genius.

Too bad it won't work on her. She's his daughter, after all. She knows the game for what it is. She's heard enough, she's seen enough, and she'll hear and see no more. It's a trap, and she refuses to fall into it. She'll have nothing to do with him, or his Topside trophy wife, and she'll certainly have nothing to do with—

"Ours will be our family. Our foundation. And Jinx...will be its heart."

Jinx stops. Transfixed. The radio is crackling in her lap. Her fingers are locked around the dial. But her mind has gone blank.

Jinx.

Jinx.

Jinx.

Her name is a throbbing echo. A hammer striking a chord. A lifeforce.

"And anyone who takes issue...had best watch their step."

Jinx stares down at her radio. It's an ungodly piece of junk. One of the antennae is bent and the dial is loose. The batteries are corroded, the knob is a tangle of exposed wire, and the paint is peeling. The damn thing should have been thrown out a long time ago.

Except Jinx can't bring herself to let go.

Not when it's her only connection to Silco.

His face has gone blurry over the past weeks. She can't recall with exactitude the shape of his mouth or the seams of his scars. Sometimes, the memories feel like a dream: the way he'd stroke her hair and hum her a lullaby; the way his hands would enfold hers when she struggled to aim the rifle, or steady the drill; the way he'd sit at her bedside, reading a storybook, when she was scared or feverish. Those memories are a salve, soothing the hurt.

Then the fever breaks and it returns. The guilt. The anger. The hurt.

He's found someone else.

He doesn't love me anymore.

I'm not worth saving, or keeping, or—

Jinx's thoughts are a vortex. But Silco's voice is a hook. It drags her back. Back to the moment she saw him in the rainfall, the flames eating closer and closer, Vi gone and Vander fallen. She'd been sobbing, begging, absolutely alone, and he'd stood there. His face was a Jack-o-lantern: glowing eye and jagged teeth and a knife tucked behind his sleeve.

And Jinx had wondered, in a delirious haze: Is this how I die?

And the answer had come.

Not from her. From him.

"It's okay."

His arms enfolding her, a shield against the rain. His breath, soft and smoky in her ear. The shape of his palm, gentle against her spine. The smell of cigarettes and gunmetal and blood in the weave of his coat. His heartbeat, a counterpoint to hers. The words he'd said. The realest thing in the world.

"We'll show them."

"You're safe."

"You're home."

And, cradled in his embrace, Jinx had closed her eyes and believed.

Now, with her head in her hands, Jinx lets out a shuddering breath. Then another. Then another. Until she's no longer trembling. Until the tears have stopped.

Until her choice is made.

She's had enough.

Enough of hiding, and running, and losing. Enough of the pain and the nightmares and the ghosts. Enough of feeling alone, and scared, and forgotten. Enough of the grief and the fear and the hate.

She wants it gone.

And she knows how to get it done.

****

Dear Jinx—

If I may be so bold as to call you that,

I know we've had our share of misunderstandings. Truthfully, I cannot blame you. I understand you were hurt in the past. And I understand your suspicion, as I'm sure it has been warranted. Like your father, you have a reputation for a long memory. And yet I also know your father is a man of his word. That he has a sense of honor, and humor, and loyalty. That, above all else, he is a man who will do anything for his family.

Perhaps that is why I agreed to our union. For, although the idea was mine, the decision was his. When I told him of my desire to see both our cities prosper, he did not hesitate. He accepted my proposal the same night. I think, deep down, he has always wanted this: two cities that share a common cause, and a shared legacy. And I am glad he chose to accept my offer, as it is a chance to make it so.

Not just for our cities. But for us.

Family means different things to different people. For some, it is a blood tie. For others, a bond. And for still others, a choice. To me, the definition is rather simple: family is the place where you belong. The people who care about you, and who are willing to protect you, no matter the cost. To whom you owe a debt of gratitude. And whose debt, in turn, you are honor-bound to repay.

As your father's bride-to-be, and as your future stepmother, I want to make a vow to you.

I promise to never leave you. I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe. I promise to care for you, and hear you, and see you.

In short, I promise to be your family. If you'll have me.

With sincere hopes of seeing you soon,

Mel Medarda

P.S.

I've included a painting, which I hope will serve as a gift. I've titled it: "Something Blue."

Please let me know what you think.

P.P.S.

I hope the wrapping paper suits your taste.

It's not easy to find a pattern with pink explosions.

****

The wedding is a spectacular affair.

The logistics are a nightmare, and it has taken weeks of coordination between Piltover and Zaun to streamline the process. Everything from security checks to seating arrangements to catering is meticulously planned. The event is meant to symbolize the future: two cities united by a common goal. In the spirit of this partnership, the nuptials are hugely publicized.

They are also split between both cities.

In Piltover, it's a regal, understated affair. The time is late-morning, under the blue curve of a cloudless sky.  The venue is the grandest hall in the city, an ancient estate whose history dates back to the mercantile era. Beneath a classical pavilion of limestone and marble, a close-knit collection of guests are present: Councilors, nobles, diplomats. In a testament to the changing times, they rub shoulders with Zaunite dignitaries: chem-barons and clan leaders, who've traded their usual flamboyant finery for sober suits and demure dresses.

A few steps away, Sevika and her blackguards stand at attention.

Jinx, as predicted, is absent.

Silco's eyes scan the scenery. Behind his ribs: a pang.

He can't help it.

Today's ceremony, pure spectacle, is still a step forward. For Piltover, and Zaun. A step he'd planned to take, but not alone.

Not alone, but with his little blue urchin hanging off his arm—

"Ready, sir?"

Silco turns. Sevika, in a smart deep-viridian suit, regards him inquisitively.

Silco squares his shoulders, and nods.

"Let's get this over with."

Sevika gestures, and the doors swing open. Silco steps out. The sun is a brilliant glare. The flashbulbs are a barrage of gunfire. He and his entourage are instantly besieged by the press. Everyone wants a close-up of his nuptial finery: a black double-breasted charcoal, sleek and slim-cut, with a burgundy silk waistcoat and matching gold accents. His slicked-back hair is neatly-styled, and his eyepatch boasts a glinting blue stud.

An accessory—or a tribute.

Depends on who's asking.

"Chancellor Silco! Any final words before the big event?"

"Any last-minute jitters?"

"Is it true your bride-to-be is pregnant?"

"Will Jinx not be attending?"

Silco's good eye cuts like a blade. The questions taper off. The reporters fall back.

Satisfied, Silco walks on.

At the altar, the officiant is waiting. A string quartet plays a lusterless traditional hymn. The guests have taken their designated spots. The air is a shimmer of sunlight and a buzz of whispers.

Silco keeps his posture straight and his expression bland. But his eyes stay alert, scanning the crowd, searching for a flash of blue, a peek, a hint—

A hush descends.

The quartet strikes up the familiar strains of a marching waltz. The bridesmaids, a trio of gilded cream-clad swans, are gliding down the aisle. Silco keeps his gaze straight ahead, on the ornate mirrored archway at the end of the aisle. It shows, between its curlicued filigree, a view of the courtyard behind him. Its stone pathways and leafy hedges are a lush green maze. Beyond it is the Topside cityscape: a dazzling vista of rooftops, spires, and the glittering sea beyond.

Silco's gaze shifts, and settles.

His lip curls at the corner.

Mel is here.

As ever, she is radiant. Her dress is a masterpiece. A sumptuous ivory gown, cut in a classic bias-cut silhouette and embellished with an intricate golden overlay and delicate floral detailing. Her features are dusted as if with stardust. A golden band affixes the diaphanous veil to her richly-coiffed updo. She holds no bouquet. Instead, she is the sprig of flowers in motion, the enticing waft of jasmine and hyacinths suffusing the air with every step. As she approaches, she looks every inch the Noxian noble: chin up, gaze direct, each motion unerringly graceful.

At the altar, she takes her place.

Her fingers, fleeting, skim Silco's knuckles.

"Hello, Chancellor," she says, a coy purr.

Wryly, Silco tips his head. "Councilor."

"Fancy meeting you here."

"Just passing through."

The officiant clears his throat. The crowd hushes.

The ceremony begins.

The vows are conducted with somber dignity, and conclude with a chaste kiss. Afterward, the bride and groom lead the procession down the aisle, arm-in-arm, amidst a storm of confetti and camera flashes. Outside, a motorcade surrounds a lone limo, the black lacquer gleaming under the sunlight.

The newlyweds slip, soundlessly, into the backseat. The doors slam shut.

And they're off.

They travel along the coastal road, parallel to the scenic blue seaside. The motorcade keeps a discreet distance. In the limo, the couple sit side-by-side. Their smiles are stiff. Their muscles, frozen into pleasantly neutral masks, need time to thaw. Then their eyes meet, and formality gives way to something else.

Their lips twitch. Their expressions quaver. They both turn away. They can't help it.

Silco bites the inside of his cheek.

Mel struggles to maintain her composure.

But the visage is cracked. And the flood is inevitable.

The laughter escapes in a rush. Mel's hand flies to her mouth, her shoulders quaking. Silco lets his head loll back against the headrest. The pale curve of his Adam's apple thrums with a chuckle. The car continues, a sleek black bullet, slicing through the cityscape.

Their gazes meet sidelong.

Mel twines her fingers with Silco's. He squeezes, once.

The partition between them and the driver's seat rolls down.

"Where to, Mister S?" Dustin asks.

Silco smiles.

"Home," he says.

In Zaun, twilight slips like a silk stocking down bare skin. The Undercity, in a display of festive splendor, is decked out in fairy lights. Zaunites relish a good spectacle. A wedding is always a riot. And this one's rare as black diamonds. The bride is a Topsider. The groom is a Zaunite. The most unlikely pair in the most unlikely story.

There's already a betting pool.

Odds 3: 1 for a marriage of convenience.

Odds 2: 1 for love match.

Odds 1: 1 for a marriage borne of a single night's indiscretion.

But everyone agrees on one thing. It'll be a miracle if this doesn't end in disaster.

Meantime, hope springs eternal. So does booze.

The wedding party is held at the Last Drop. The club, decadently decked in red and black, is packed to the rafters. A livewire band plays the Sumpside Waltz. Dancers sway exuberantly to the beat. There is laughter and ribaldry; parlor games and prize fights; bed-hopping and burlesque. It's a celebration the likes of which hasn't been seen in years.

Not since Zaun's ascension.

In a private lounge upstairs, a handful of guests have gathered. They are an eclectic mix: clan leaders, business tycoons, merchants, all with a stake in Zaun’s finances. A toast, a bit of networking, and the party will resume. Meanwhile, a line of bodies—admiring, avaricious, or just plain curious—are queuing up to pay tribute to the bride.

Mel sits, a picture of poised elegance, receiving their well-wishes. At the outset, she was dressed in a sequined black-and-gold gown. The bodice was intricately embroidered with pearls, and her train was a glittering, trailing cascade of crystals. Then, as the hours waxed, the costume was peeled away, strip by tantalizing strip, until the gown lay in a shimmering pool at her feet. Her true garb, emerging from the translucent carapace, is a dramatic jet-black number, exquisitely-tailored, with a sheer panel cutting a daring swathe from décolletage to belly, and a deep slit riding each thigh. The back is a dramatic, plunging swoop. At her brow is a gold diadem with a single black diamond. Her lips are red, her eyes are lined with kohl, and her feet are encased in a pair of heels so sharp they could cut a man's neck.

It's a far cry from the pristine Piltovan bride she'd played above. Here, in Zaun, she is a siren of sinful splendor. The sight of her elicits lingering stares.

For a Topsider, the Eye's new missus is packing serious heat.

Silco, idling by the mantelpiece, is a picture of louche elegance in a smoky bespoke suit. The lapels and button-holes are edged with gold brocade. His cravat is pinned by a single blue gemstone. His hands are encased in sleek leather gloves, the hems studded with matching blue buttons. A cut-glass of bourbon rests loosely in his grip.

He and Mel have spent the evening tag-teaming. She is the center of attention, the shining lure. He is her shadow, the sharp-eyed hook.  They'd prearranged the dance beforehand. A flirtatious smile from Mel, a wry aside from Silco, and their targets are snared. Soon, conversation transitions from platitude to business. By the time the Old Hungry strikes nine, Silco and Mel have secured a slew of new investments. And the party is just getting started.

Two cities: one agenda.

In between, they trade veiled glance. There's no missing the glow in Mel's eyes. The fire, simmering low. The promise, implicit and enticing. It's a look he knows all too well. One he's yet to tire of.  And yet, with the nuptials still fresh, he finds his mind drawn elsewhere.

The party is in full swing. The hour is late.

Jinx is nowhere.

He'd known it would be a long shot. The chances of her showing up had been slim. The chances of her appearing as a happy-go-lucky bridesmaid had been infinitesimal. Still, the fact that she'd stayed away—

Silco's grip tightens around the glass.

"Silco?"

He turns. Mel regards him from beneath her lashes.

"For a bridegroom," she says, "yours is a singular scowl."

Silco's mouth curves, wry.

"I thought we'd agreed," he says. "Tonight, you'll smile for the both of us."

"If I smile any more, I'll split a seam."

"On your dress? I'd pay good money to see that."

"That's why I had it tailored with your tastes in mind."

Mel runs an idle finger along the sheer neckline. Silco's eye follows the movement, then flickers up. Their stares lock. Mel's expression softens.

"Dance with me."

"Now?"

"Of course, now."

The band is playing a languid waltz. The dance floor is dotted with a handful of guests. It's the perfect opportunity to make a discreet exit. And yet—

Silco hesitates.

Mel, seeing the conflict, modulates her tone.

"Please?"

Silco sets his drink down. He offers his hand. She rises and slips her fingers though his.

On the dance floor, she lays her cheek against his shoulder. They sway in a graceful circle.  They've spent the day trading pleasantries and playing the game. It's tiresome, but they're both old hands. Thankfully, the night is drawing to a close. Soon, their guests will depart. And they can finally rest.

And, finally, have a moment alone.

"She'll come around," Mel murmurs.

"Hm?"

"Jinx. She'll come around. Later, if not sooner."

Silco's lips twitch, a bitter reflex.

"Your optimism is a wonder to behold."

"I can hardly let your pessimism have a monopoly on the market." She smooths his lapel, and sobers. "I understand. Neither of us is much for ceremony. But having family at one’s back. It makes a difference. Part me wishes my mother could see this."

"See what, exactly? You, in a hellpit."

"Me, brokering a historic truce. The start of something greater. Better."

"Truce is not a word the Medardas esteem."

"That doesn't make it less valuable." Her eyes dip. "Times like this, I wish she could see me. Not the heir she wanted. The person I've become."

Silco's palm settles on the small of her back.

"She sees you," he says.

"Just not the way she would've liked."

"Her loss."

Mel lifts her gaze to his.

"I see you," he says softly.

A flicker, there and gone. Then, Mel melts into his embrace. They glide together in the glow of the neon lights.

By midnight, the festivities are ebbing. The guests, trailing congratulations and well-wishes, trickle out. Sevika, who's been keeping guard by the entrance, comes up and makes a discreet report.

"No sign of her, sir."

Silco nods, once.

"Should I alert the crew?"

Silco shakes his head. "That won't be necessary."

"You're sure?"

Again, a single nod. He knows Jinx. Tonight's vanishing act isn't a warning, but a rebuke. He has no idea where she is. And if he did, he'd still keep his distance. If he's going to reach her, it won't be by coercion or cajolery. The choice must be hers.

In the meantime, he will wait.

Sevika's eyes are on him, a knowing appraisal.

"I'll have the crew check in on her tomorrow," she says, preempting his order.

"Do," Silco says.

Sevika nods. "Enjoy the rest of your night, sir."

She turns on her heel.

"Sevika."

Sevika glances over her shoulder, irreproachably aloof.

"Thank you," Silco says, quietly.

Her gaze, level, softens a fraction.

"You're welcome, sir."

Silco watches her leave. Then, a light touch on his elbow.

"Are you finished?"

Silco turns.

Mel's eyes are bright circlets of green and gold beneath heavy lids. Her updo is unraveling into sultry corkscrews. Her dewy make-up has begun to fade.  Her costume—because that's what her risqué little get-up was: a costume to match the theme of tonight's theatrics—is a study in artful disarray:  the bodice unlaced, the straps slipping, the buttons undone. She's practically an avatar of Undercity debauchery. And, Silco knows, she is reveling in it. Shedding the trappings of decorum, and coming alive. It's the side of her she typically keeps under wraps: the sybarite. A side he's always known was there.

In baring it now, she's not only privileging him with her trust. She's inviting him to join her. To play. To lose himself, a little. Forget, for a night, his worries.

And, perhaps, a little, the hurt.

"Your ride is ready," Mel says, a breath against his ear.

"Ride? Well, well. You're already picking up our vernacular."

"I wasn't referring to the limo."

"What then?"

Mel's lashes lift, a slow, inviting sweep.

"Three guesses," she whispers. "And the first two don't count."

Silco says nothing.

He only encircles her, and guides her deep into the shadows.

The limo drive to his private quarters is a torturous tease. The doors are barely shut before Mel's mouth is on his, hot and seeking. Silco's palms are gliding up her thighs. Their journey back is a breathless blur of lips and teeth and tongue, and Mel, in her lapse, letting loose a throaty little wail.  

Silco smiles and drags his teeth down the arc of her throat.

Dustin, beet-red, has long rolled up the partition.

Upstairs, they slip arm-in-arm through the doors. The apartment is a sprawling maze, a sumptuous affair of black, mahogany and gold. The Art Noveau furnishings are elegant, the artwork striking. Mel spares a cursory glance, then sheds her heels. Silco shrugs off his jacket and begins to undo his waistcoat. She beats him to it, her palms, a whisper of satin, coasting down his torso. Fingers, deft, undoing the buttons on his trouserfront. Her mouth against his, a slow burn of need. The kind that goes on and on, steeping and simmering. The kind that's been under the skin all night, waiting to be let loose.

Silco's hands, encased in leather, skate down her spine.

He knows the feeling.

Without warning, he traps her wrists behind her back. Mel's breath catches. He takes her mouth, sliding his tongue inside and sucking out all the heat he can find. She cries out, a delicious contralto, and his teeth close around her lower lip. Her scent is a cloud of sweet heady motes—hyacinths, smoke, champagne, sweat—and he breathes her in.

"What do you want?" he whispers.

"You," she gasps.

"How?"

"Any way you like."

Silco drags his mouth away only to bite the hollow of her throat.

Then he backs her, dark-eyed, toward the bedroom.

Afterward—a languorous stretch of bodies, tangled sheets, and ragged sighs—Mel lays her cheek against his shoulder. Her body is a sated spill of sweat-sheened silk. Her hair is spread in a dark cloud across his chest. Idly, Silco loops a finger into one of the curls. She sighs, a spent little hum.

"Extraordinary night," she says.

"Hmm."

"The media likely took enough photographs to fill an album."

"Likely."

"And my mother will burn every single one."

"Doubtless."

"And between Piltover and Zaun, we've amassed enough enemies to start a civil war."

"Mm-hmm."

Mel nudges his jaw with her temple. "So. Overall, would you call it a success?"

Silco's smile is a ghostly twist.

"I'd call it a marriage." The twist deepens. "Shame, though, about your dress."

"I'm sure I'll find its shreds between your teeth."

"The wrapping never tastes as sweet as what's inside."

"Mm, flatterer."

She nestles closer. Silco, his good eye sliding shut, enfolds an arm around her.

It's a moment of strange incongruity. An entire day spent conducting themselves according to the strictest rules of decorum and shrewdest stratagems. The next, nakedly twined in bed, exchanging lazy barbs and banter. In a few hours, they'll wake, and enclose themselves back into their respective armors. Silco will slither into his tailored suits, Mel will pour herself into her sumptuous gowns, and together, they'll don the mantles of rulership. They will play their parts. They will conduct themselves without fault. They will carry on.

Until the next time, they can be alone.

The dynamics of their old affair, he thinks, remain intact. It's only the intimacy that's inverted

Something new. Something stronger. And the thought—of being known, and strong, and seen—makes him...

Mel's lips nuzzle his collarbone.

"Where are you, husband?"

Silco opens his good eye. The window, half-open, throws a pale rhombus across the bedspread. Outside, the cityscape is a mapwork of neon, as familiar as the lines on his palm.

"Here," he says. A wry aside: "Wife."

"I've always preferred the term 'Ball & Chain.'"

"Sounds like one of Jinx's pejoratives."

"Does it now." Mel's lips are a petaled curl against his shoulderblade. "Have I told you what the media are calling Mother?"

"This ought to be good."

"Zaun's Monster-in-Law."

Silco blinks. A beat, and a scoff breaks loose. Mel's smile blooms full, and she buries her laughter against his skin. It's been a long day, and a longer night. Now, passions spent and tension drained, there's only this: a rare, tactile, transitory joy. Hell, Silco thinks, if this is his wedding night, it hasn't been such a bad one. Not if he can still smile. And, for a moment, forget the ache.

For himself. For Mel. And for—

A burst of blue is framed by the windowpane. The crackling boom holds an eerie echo.

Silco goes still.

Mel stirs. "Was that a rocket?"

Adrenaline sluices. Silco disentangles himself.

"Stay inside," he says, and slips from the bed.

Mel sits up, watching as he drags on his trousers. Barefoot, he creeps out into the balcony.  The night holds a biting chill. The sprawl of rooftops is silvered by the moonlight. A surreal haze of blue flecks floats in the air.

Bemused, Silco sniffs. There is the unmistakable whiff of gunpowder.

A premonition coils down his spine.

"Silco?" Mel, draped in one of his shirts, is standing by the threshold. "What's going on?"

Instinctively, Silco pivots to drag her back inside. His ears have already caught the low whump of a second rocket being launched, followed by the whistling shweeee as it arcs through the air.

"Down!" he snaps. "Get down!"

Encircling Mel, he dives for the floor. The round passes almost directly overhead, erupting fifty feet beyond them. The atoms in the airwaves jostle. The explosion echoes across the rooftops. In the ringing silence that follows, Silco's mind races. Two rockets in rapid succession. His place of residence targeted. Either it's a coup, or a terrorist attack, or—

Beneath him, Mel gasps, "Look."

Silco follows her gaze. Tiny pink lights, like fireflies, float through the air. They suffuse the cityscape with a kaleidoscopic glaze. Then, with a series of pops and hisses, the lights erupt into fireworks. A spray of corkscrewing sparks. A dazzling, dizzying, disorienting dreamscape. 

Silco drags himself to his feet. Slowly, he approaches the balcony's railing. Mel, finding her feet, follows. Her shock is palpable.

Then it happens again.

A third rocket blasted skyward on a straight trajectory. The velocity peels it to nothing but a needle of smoke. At the top of the arc, the missile detonates. A bloom of cobalt explodes, a starburst of light.

Then, a cascade of blue teardrops.

Each one blooms in different patterns. Some spread with the slow-motion tendrils of a breath of frost on glass. Some erupt into a spray of butterflied shards. Others plume into a cloud of shimmering spangles.

The effect is hypnotic.

Each missile, when it is fired, has an intense familiarity. A single shot, a precise aim. Silco recognizes it in an instant.

Then he sees her.

Jinx.

She crouches, elfin, on an adjacent rooftop. Fishbones is slung over her shoulder, a sharklike silhouette. Her braids, wind-tossed, dance to separate tangents. Her face, tilted skyward, is a picture of glee. She watches the fireworks with a rapture so total, so triumphant, that Silco is struck still. His heart, in his throat, beats a drumroll. But what's most overwhelming is the sense of relief, because—

Jinx fires the last rocket. It arcs and detonates into a pyrotechnic delirium, umbrellas of brilliants color blooming open against the dark. The haze drifts back and forth. Jinx, her handiwork done, stands. A small, solitary silhouette, the moon washing over her like a baptismal tide.

Her head swivels. Her eyes lock with Silco's.

Her smile takes a shot and scores a direct hit.

In a blur, she is gone.

"Jinx," Silco breathes.

Mel, enfolding her arm through his, whispers, "Something Blue."

He stirs. "What?"

Mel's features, glossed in the radiant blue remnants, are soft. "It's the painting I sent Jinx. 'Something Blue.' It featured a panoramic view of Zaun. Bathed in blue, like the aftermath of a fireworks display. I chose the color with care. I wanted it to be the same hue as the Hex-Gates. But also to capture the shifting shades of Jinx's hair. I think I was hoping to convey a sense of homecoming." Mel's eyes lift to his. She smiles wistfully. "Now I realize that I was looking for the wrong hue. Jinx did a better job than I could've imagined."

"You—sent her a painting?"

"I did." Mel squeezes his arm. "I told her I'd like us to be a family. That I was hoping we could all belong. Together."

"I see." Silco's jaw flexes. "Did she reply?"

"She didn't have to."

Mel's stare returns to the sky, a dappled mosaic of lights. "I find booms to be a popular Zaunite mode of discourse."

Silco stays silent for a moment. Then, he dares a smile.

"You might," he says, "be on to something."

The fireworks fade, the glitter dissipating on the wind. Soon, all that's left is the lingering waft of gunpowder. And a city, brighter, somehow, in its glow.

Silco and Mel, side-by-side, contemplate the vista. 

Jinx's gift, for the world to see. And, in its own way, a sign.

Blue means forgiveness.

Blue means family.

Blue means home.

[tkstrandreyes]

Brian Michael Smith attends the Los Angeles LGBT Center's Annual Gala at Shrine Auditorium and Expo Hall on May 18, 2024 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Tommaso Boddi, Michael Tran, Alberto Rodriguez, & Matt Winkelmeyer)

[batpham-discord-highlights]

Secret Santa exchange 2023!!! (pt2)

Art works!

Brothers, At Any Age, Will Always Annoying by DuskyAshe (AshesGleamandGlow) For Moonfoxgazer.

Summary:

Danny Fenton wasn't always the youngest child. He wasn't always the only boy of the family. He also wasn't always this short. Through Clockwork's meddling, Danny finally has a chance to fix the first two problems with the last one, finding his long lost younger twin brother in the last place he would have ever looked—Gotham City, New Jersey. Though, he might not be able to fix that first problem just yet, on second thought... (NOT A FIC AT THIS POINT IN TIME, ONLY ART CURRENTLY. THIS MIGHT CHANGE AT A LATER POINT IN TIME)

Fanfics!

Bothersome Bonds by RaaorQtpbpdy for smallish_stuff

Summary: {includes art work!!}

Jason wakes up handcuffed to a stranger in an empty concrete room with no doors. Neither of them have any memory of how they got there, or who is responsible. Now, Jason has to work with this random civilian to escape—without revealing that he's a vigilante. And to make matters worse? He's super annoying.

Shoot Stars Make Crash Landings by Bewitched_Forest For TheStarfishAlien

Summary:

A brand new super villain known as Star-Kaiser has exploded onto the scene of Central City. How will his relationship develop with the Flash, Barry Allen, and, more importantly, Kid Flash, Wally West.

Desert Table by jaytriesstuff For Riyori

Summary:

Danny Fenton attends a Wayne Gala with Vladimir Masters. Danny is a gremlin and the batfamily joins in the chaos.

Ghostly Shenanigans by Blue_Eyed_Dreamer For 44luna

Summary:

Danny has never had a field trip not go wrong in some way. He doesn't see how the Wayne Enterprises Expo in Gotham will be any different. Unfortunately he's right. Fortunately, none of the goons have any experience with ghosts, so why not have some fun?

[official-nrc-prophet]

Unsure if twst thought this through on the anime expo... cause I just got the gala wear Silver... except I have zero of the materials for him, since I wasn't on for the event.

So... how am I supposed to use this card?

[baby-alien11]

MASTERLIST

Lewis Tan

Like in the movie, 2

Avatar

Being Miles Quaritch daughter, Pt 2

Scream Franchise

Being in a relationship with Chad and Liv

Being in a relationship with Chad after Livs death

Needles and Stitches (C.M.M)

imagine being pregnant with Chads baby

imagine walking during a ghostface meeting (E.L.)

Procura coquetearme mas (E.L.)

Y/N Ulrich Universe

being Skeet Ulrich daughter and dating Jack Champion

Y/N Ulrich and Jack Champion social

Being an horror icon child with Y/N Ulrich

Dinner with the Ulrich family

Online haters (Y/N Ulrich universe)

Birthday Scream (Y/N Ulrich universe)

Lover (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Late Prom Night (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Cat Distribution System (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Y/N Ulrich and Jack Champion social (2)

Return to Riverdale High (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Fan Expo Denver (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Anniversary (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Extra: Y/N Ulrich room

Season of the Witch (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Memories: First meeting and date (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Extra: Y/N Ulrich Premiere Looks

Blurb: Pool Day (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Memories: First time watching Avatar (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

A Nonsense Christmas (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Memories: First Public Apearance (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Memories: Scream Premiere (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Avatar Set Visit (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Variety Nepo Babies on Nepo Babies (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Y/N Ulrich First Anniversary

Blurb: Abigail Premiere (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Blurb: The Tortured Poets Department (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

MET Gala (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

A 'Mamma Mia' Birthday (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

Never Have I Ever

being the good girl dating Ethan Morales

Outer Banks

Unicorns (R.C.)

Formula 1

First Win (LN4)

Requests

Tolya Yul-Bataar angst

Tolya Yul-Bataar angst/comfort

poly Chad x Reader x Tara

being pregnant with Ethan's baby

being a Carpenter dating Ethan Landry

[petrovna-zamo]

Upcoming Events

2024:

January 5th: Salt Lake City - TB&TB Live*

January 6th: Denver - TB&TB Live*

January 19th: Philadelphia - TB&TB Live*

January 20th: Pittsburgh - TB&TB Live*

February 1st: Monterrey, Mexico - TB&TB Live

February 2nd: Mexico City, Mexico - TB&TB Live

February 28th: San Diego - TB&TB Live*

March 1st: Los Angeles - TB&TB Live*

March 18th: Richmond - TB&TB Live*

March 20th: Atlanta - TB&TB Live*

May 1st: Katya’s Birthday!

May 9th: Cincinnati - TB&TB Live

May 10th: Indianapolis - TB&TB Live

June 8th: Salt Lake City - MILK+ Pride

June 14th: Chicago - Roscoe’s

June 21st: Louisville - Play Louisville

June 28th: Royal Oak - Five15RoyalOak

June 30th: Seattle - Queer Pride Festival

July 5th: Nashville - Play Nashville

August 23rd: Trixie’s Birthday!

September 5th: Albuquerque - TB&TB Live*

September 7th: Sacramento - TB&TB Live*

October 31st: Perth - ITD Scream Queen

November 1st: Sydney - ITD Scream Queen

November 2nd: Melbourne - ITD Scream Queen

November 3rd: Brisbane - ITD Scream Queen

2023:

February 16th-March 8th: North America - Last T&K Live Tour

February 24th: Chicago - TB&TB Live

April 8th: Boston - MassArt Alumni Talk

May 1st: Katya’s Birthday!

May 7th: Online - Drag Isn't Dangerous Telethon

June 1st: Online - Trixie & Katya Live Livestream

June 8th: LA - Apocalipst!ck Cabaret - Pride Show

June 13th: New York City - ILTW Live

June 17th: London - Afternoon Tea

June 22nd: New York City - Pier 17 Pride

July 27th: Montreal - JFL TB&TB Live

July 28th: Minneapolis - TB&TB Live

August 11th: Melbourne - Drag Expo Opening Gala*

August 12th-13th: Melbourne - Drag Expo*

August 23rd: Trixie’s Birthday!

August 30th: Milwaukee - This is It Pride*

October 31st: LA - Apocalipst!ck Cabaret - Halloween Show

November 16th: Houston - TB&TB Live

November 17th: New Orleans - TB&TB Live

* = Rescheduled