#he's doing the queer greeting pose

[veevil]

magneto fart cloud powers 😔

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion but I HATE HIS GAY ASS OUTFIT the purple and red DO NOT look good together!! Ew!!!!!!

[t0ast-ghost]

Star Trek II: Wrath Of Khan thoughts:

For this post if I could simply embed the entire movie and just write the word, ‘queer’ I would. Unfortunately you are all stuck with this, happy pride month!

Spoilers for the entire movie will be featured in this post

Going forth:

- I know what the kobayashi maru is so I know they’re not in danger but that’s some good acting Bones

- “‘Physician heal thyself.’” “Is that all you’ve got to say? What about my performance?” “I’m not a drama critic.” Thinking about this pose thinking about this pose thinking about thi-

- “Galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young, Doctor.” He’s feeling something and projecting

- “Aren’t you dead?” That’s certainly a way to greet your husband

- They’re so cute. And sad. And cute.

- tiny guys hehe. The boots got sluttier somehow

- McCoy got him glasses cause he can’t read the book without it and bring up that post that’s saying how Spock and McCoy’s gifts go together but McCoy got the logical thing and Spock got the emotional one

- Don’t quote me on this but the things I would do to that man… I wouldn’t.. but holy shit that outfit is killing me.

- hi checkov

- Carol Marcus? Doesn’t she have Kirk’s-? okay then I won’t spoil that just yet

- Creature in a jar moving under the sand

- BOTANY BAY????? Oh wait a sec I should’ve seen that coming it’s called wrath of khan

- Did they kill Chekov?

- hello Khan. That’s a very long and dramatic reveal he’s kinda hot tho

- Thinking about genetic engineering and augmentation and how they’re illegal but star trek presents cases where people now exist and it’s not the fault of the person that they are what they are so they have to question if an entire person should be illegal because of the actions of others… anyway I don’t wanna get deep into this right now, back to the movie

- Are they going to kill Chekov? (edit: not sure why I’m so fixated on thinking they’re gonna)

- WOW THAT IS CERTAINLY A SWEAT DROP

- brain worms… this sounds recently familiar

- HES READING HIS BOOK WITH THE GLASSES THEY DIDNT NEED TO SHOW HIM DOING THAT BUT THEY DID AND ITS ADORABLE OMG

- The conversation between Savik and Spock is so precious. And it’s in Vulcan. And she says “He’s more human than I expected” and it’s like that’s her commenting on Spock’s husband

- Kirk does not want to do this inspection

- McCoy does a little bounce

- “For everything there is a first time. Wouldn’t you agree, admiral” “mmhhmm” “Would you like a tranquilizer?” *Kirk shakes his head*

- I think this one has a more solid plot. I’m enjoying so far :)

- Does McCoy serve on this ship or is he just following along?

- (Had to stop watching around here because I left for the weekend so these thoughts are potentially a bit different)

- wowah! Cool ship!

- uh oh. Chekov on the monitor with the brain worm!

- khan is kinda- yeahh

- I LOVE SAAVIK! RAHHH! Also apparently Saavik is canonically half Vulcan half Romulan according to the trivia

- I like how Bones is just there :)

- Putting Spock in black… they knew what they were doing

- They’re husbands your honour. Spock knows Kirk wants to take command and isn’t to proud to get in the way of making his wife happy

- “You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours.” Kissing would have been less romantic

- George Takei’s voice is majestic

- “He tasks me. He tasks me and I shall have him. I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up.” Not obsessive at all.. nope this is something completely and totally normal to say about your nemesis

- “Uhura, have Doctor McCoy join us (Kirk and Spock) in my quarters.” Hmmmmm.. gotta inform the whole polycule about the shady government experiment

- lmao BOTH Spock and McCoy know who Carol Marcus is

- oh so terraforming… NEVERMIND REALLY FAST TERRAFORMING

- “Really, Dr. McCoy, you must learn to govern your passions. They will be your undoing.” Flirting, gentlemen?

- How and why does Starfleet continually put Spock and McCoy together? Like this alert would be sent out 24/7

- Spock and his awesome daughter Saavik

- falling

- Kirk with the breast flap down

- such a good moment… such a great moment (sorry for shitty photos)

- Kirk has to put on his little glasses <3

- Kirk does NOT fuck around

- Poor Scotty. He’s got so much emotion about his dead crew mate and the doctor apologizing to him 🥺🥺🥺

- Saavik making up rules to make sure the admiral is safe. Love her.

- “Jim, be careful.” “We will.” MCCOY IS SO BITTER. Like ‘no wishes of luck for me, Spock? Fuck you!’

- The collar on that uniform is silly

- hehe McCoy got scared by a rat. OH HE ALSO GOT SCARED BY A DEAD BODY

- Kirk’s little disappointed “oh my god” as he finds Chekov in the cupboard

- “Suppose they went nowhere.” “Then this’ll be your big chance to get away from it all.” McCoy’s not leaving Kirk, but he still looks like he wants to strangle him sometimes

- Kirk not afraid to punch a bitch

- WAIT THATS KIRKS SON?!? Isn’t it?? I thought David was Carol’s brother. But nope!

- aww dammnit I knew they were still mind controlled :/

- Saavik saving David. Y’know it would be pretty cool if there was something about Saavik, David, and Johanna meeting and maybe serving on a ship of their own.. idk just thoughts.

- ewwww brain worm.

- OH THE ECHOING “KHANNN”

- mmmm Kirk without the jacket. The white turtleneck with sleeves… also McCoy and Saavik are slaying with their turquoise and orange turtlenecks

- “Food the first order of survival.” I bet the fanfic writers had a field day with this one (cause cause it’s a reference to Tarsus IV)

- Imagine this: you’re stuck underground with your husband, your other husbands adopted daughter, your ex, her son (who’s also your son), and your old Russian navigator who’s unconscious and tried to kill you while being mind controlled by a worm which came out of his ear

- David’s got Kirk’s curls <333

- Kirk has a thing for people who look good in blue. Change my damn mind.

- “I don’t believe in a no win scenario.” He immediately calls Spock afterwards cause he’ll never lose with his husbands around

- “You lied.” “I exaggerated.” Yep, he IS that bitch

- Saavik is learning so much from them

- They still just.. let anyone onto the bridge. Like David is just there now

- oh no Scotty! Well McCoy was miraculously there to catch him

- CHEKOV BACK ON THE BRIDGE!

- Once again. Kirk does not fuck around! He just killed those guys

- “To the last I will grapple with thee.” WOW. Okay. Well.

- Khan’s about to terraform this bitch

- McCoy stopping Spock from going into the chamber..

- “You’re not going in there!” “Perhaps you’re right. What is Mr. Scott’s condition?” SIKE BITCH SPOCK JUST FUCKING NERVE PINCHED HIM. McCoy you should’ve been tipped off by the fact he 1. Said you were right and 2. Gave up trying to self sacrifice so easily

- wait why’d Spock connect to McCoy’s psi points and say remember? Remember what?

- I like there’s just a sign that flashes the word ‘radiation’ in red letters

- McCoy and Scotty BEGGING Spock not to do this. Break my fucking heart why don’t you?

- Kirk’s little run to the engine room <3

- I know he’s dying but those boots are so slutty

- Solely watching Kirk’s face is already like watching 10 puppies get killed

- “Don’t grieve, admiral.” Has me crying already. Your closest and longest friend is watching your slow descent into death and you ask him not to grieve you. You want him to know your death meant something. It meant he’d be safe and that is nothing to grieve. I’m going to be sick

- don’t touch me I’m thinking about this

- SAAVIK IS CRYING OMG GIRL ME TOO

- Kirk’s voice breaking.. god. Shatter my fucking heart why don’t you?

- if they play bagpipes at my funeral I’m rising from the dead (violins would be nice though)

- NOO HIS CUTE LITTLE GLASSES BROKE

- “They’re just words.” “But good words. That’s where ideas begin. Maybe you should listen to them.” POP OFF DAVID ! Good line

- SON REVEAL! NOT CLICKBAIT

- There’s 8 minutes left of this. Did they leave this one with Spock dead?

- “He’s really not dead, as long as we remember him.” Good words McCoy. But perhaps maybe you might have some.. assistance remembering him?

- got distracted and drew Kirk but I love the last little Spock narration. Really brave to end a WHOLE MOVIE with one of the best most well known characters being dead

Well that movie did have its pros and… khans

…

See you next time

Masterpost

[gonzo-rella]

The Queer Best Friends of Steve Harrington | Robin Buckley (ft. Steve Harrington) (pt. 1)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

PART ONE | PART TWO (COMING SOON)

Relationship(s): Robin Buckley x gn!reader (romantic), Steve Harrington x gn!reader (platonic), Steve Harrington x Robin Buckley (platonic)

Summary: Whilst coming out to Steve, Robin reveals something equally shocking to the revelation of her sexuality.

Warnings: Coming out scene. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 1.4k

(A/N: This has been an idea I’ve wanted to write for literal years. I found this as a semi-finished draft of my old plus-size-reader-insert blog from back in the day (by that I mean, a few years ago). I haven’t yet finished Stranger Things season 4 (I’m hoping to rewatch the show in its entirety soon, possibly after I’ve finished Yellowjackets), but I still really wanted to write this. Also, as a nonbinary person, I really want to write more gender neutral reader-inserts for Robin, so let me know if there’s anything you’d like for me to write. Also, ignore the fact that Steve uses gender neutral pronouns for you but fails to immediately comprehend Robin’s queerness.)

Cheating death was sure to bond two people, and that’s how you and Steve- a pair of reluctant babysitters- were able to put your differences aside and keep a group of misfit kids out of harm’s way. He didn’t care that hanging out with you meant he was no longer cool, and you didn’t mind that a few girls were insanely envious of you. If anything, it inflated your ego, even if they did whisper about you behind your back.

Over the summer, you saw Steve as much as possible. After all, you were too broke to go on vacation, you didn’t want to hitchhike around the country and you had no one else to hang out with. So, you decided just to hang out with your best friend as much as possible. And, what are friends for if not for allowing their friends to abuse their friends and family discount at their place of work? After all, he abused your 7/11 discount over the past year, so of course you abused his Scoops Ahoy discount. Every. Single. Shift. Hell, you only ever really showed any interest in his work when you were asking when his next shift was. Then you’d make sure to go and pay him a visit, like the good friend you were.

You were often so busy talking to Steve at the campy ice cream parlour that you didn’t notice the curious, gazing eyes of the beautiful girl behind the counter. You remembered Robin from many of your shared classes. You exchanged the occasional comment in class, earning quiet laughs from one another. Little did you know, she’d found her gaze wandering to you long before she started working with your best friend. In fact, other than the fact that she was in the school marching band, you knew very little about her.

That was until the end of the second week of summer, when Steve was in the back room of Scoops Ahoy.

“Hey, Robin,” you greeted casually, as though you were good friends rather than just barely acquaintances.

“Oh...um...hey, Y/N,” she greeted awkwardly, straightening herself into a nonchalant-looking pose rather than her bored, hunched-over position at the counter. “H-how’s it going?”

“Eh. Could be better, could be worse, y’know?” you shrugged. “What about you?”

“Um... I’m fine, I guess. Well, as fine as you can be when you leave the house dressed like this,” Robin answered with a small gesture to her outfit, earning a laugh and smile from you that made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“Your uniform looks better on you than Steve’s looks on him,” you shrugged, the compliment heating up Robin’s cheeks. “To think he was once the king of Hawkins High.”

Robin smiled a little and chuckled. 

“Speaking of the king of Hawkins High, do you want me to get his highness from the backroom?” she asked. 

Luckily for her, you hadn’t noticed the way she was staring at you, because you had been too busy flicking through and counting dollar bills in your wallet.

You glanced up at her and flashed her a smile.

“Yeah, thanks.”

After that day, you spoke to Robin a lot more often. In fact, you asked her if she wanted to go to your house and watch the copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street that you’d finally been able to rent. Following that, you hung out with one another far more often, be it at the movie theatre, somewhere else in the mall or at one another’s houses. Steve was definitely a little jealous that his best friend was being stolen, something that you and Robin most definitely noticed and most definitely teased him for.

It was shaping up to be a normal summer, but that’s just not what you get in Hawkins. At least after you’ve been roped into the town’s self-appointed team of defenders.

Of course, it wasn’t long before you were in charge of a very drugged-up Steve and Robin, as well as Robin and Erica. You clearly weren’t as good a babysitter as you’d thought when you lost the elder two of the four, who you would later discover were now sat in the bathroom. 

Whilst you were rushing around the mall like a frantic parent in search of their children, they were having a surprisingly emotional conversation.

“Do you remember what I said about you and Y/N always being so close? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, curious to see where this was going.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” Robin confessed and bit her lip gently. “It’s because... they don’t stop laughing at the stuff you say. They look at you like you’re the greatest guy in the world.”

“Huh? Y/N?” he said.

Robin chuckled lowly. 

“Yeah. Y/N.” She paused. “I want them to laugh at the things I said and I want them to look at me as much as they look as you... but they’re always with you, laughing at the stupid things you say and looking at you and your stupid hair. And, I don’t understand because you-you picked on them about everything since you were kids until you guys just suddenly became best friends. And, you’ve always been way stupider than them. And, you’re a douchebag. And-and you don’t even like them like I always did even though they were always the funniest and coolest person and...I’d just go home and just scream into my pillow.”

“But Y/N’s-” Steve responded, confused.

“Steve,” she said softly, tilting her head a little in mild frustration at the fact it hadn’t clicked in his mind quite yet.

“Yeah?” he asked, breathing out a confused laugh.

She looked at him, and then it hit him. His eyes widened a little, but he never looked disgusted, which she’d feared.

“Oh,” is all he could say.

“Oh,” she mimicked softly.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out, leaning back in disbelief.

“Yeah. Holy shit,” Robin repeated half-heartedly, also leaning back as she looked to the ceiling. She then looked down at her thighs, sighing a little at the silence they now found themselves in. Filled with nerves and slight relief, Robin looked up at Steve. 

“Steve...” she said softly. “Did you OD over there?”

“No, I just, uh...” Steve said almost breathlessly. “Just thinking.”

“Okay,” Robin whispered, scratching her neck awkwardly.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve said. “Y/N’s cool and all, but...I mean, they’re a total dork.”

“So what?” Robin asked.

“They’re in the chess club and they watch Star Trek,” Steve answered.

“They have passions. It’s cute,” Robin defended.

“Look, they’re my best friend, but... if you ever wanna be more than that with them, I gotta be sure that you’re prepared to handle all of their nerdy...ness. Like, we saw the Karate Kid 7 times when it came out because ‘it was the coolest movie since Return of the Jedi’. We saw the Breakfast Club 10 times because ‘it’s, like, the best movie made since the Karate Kid’,” he said, imitating you with an unflattering voice.

“They don’t talk like that!” Robin laughed.

“That was a great impersonation,” Steve responded. “Oh, and when they’re listening to music, they try to sing the words and the instruments.”

“I think it’s cute!” Robin exclaimed in protest, laughing even harder when Steve started singing some Rush song you’d sung to yourself several times, whilst also vocalising the guitar, bass and drums in intervals, not unlike someone trying to do all the parts to Bohemian Rhapsody on their own. Steve laughed just as hard as Robin when she joined in, with the both of them knowing it solely from your renditions of it. Eventually, they were just both laughing with one another, making Robin feel accepted by her friend. When the laughter faded away, and they were both smiling.

“For what it’s worth...I think you should ask them out,” Steve told Robin. “They’ve spent so much time with me and they don’t seem interested, so they must be into girls. And, looking back on it I think they have a crush on Princess Leia.”

Robin chuckled and sighed. “I’m not... you. I can’t just go up to them and ask them out.”

“Well, luckily for you, you’ve got a totally awesome wingman.” Steve said.

Robin rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll tell them when we’re not in dange-”

She was interrupted by the door slamming open, and you were standing in front of Dustin and Erica. 

“Okay, I’m really mad at you guys right now, but I’ll be pissed at you when our asses aren’t on the line. Let’s go.”

[talbottoresnick]

Grace Doherty Exhibition Review 20 October 2023

In Quiladelphia, the most recent series presented by Philadelphia native and New York based photographer Quil Lemons, Lemons considers the Black male form from a deeply intimate point of view. This exhibition, shown at Hannah Traore Gallery in the Lower East Side, is Lemons’ first solo show and features roughly twenty works, all dated in the current year of 2023. Lemons’ exhibition is one of two in the relatively small gallery, assuming the majority of the space and immediately greeting the viewer upon entry. Traore’s space feels warm and inviting, despite the stark white walls typical of a contemporary gallery. The works are arranged between curved, organically shaped walled structures, allowing for a sense of intimacy within the space, a feeling that is perfectly appropriate for the subject of Lemons’ displayed series. The works range in size, the smaller ones (8x10” or less in dimensions) often paired in duos, while the larger (24x36” and upward) can be seen in a grandiose singularity. The series in question is composed entirely of portraits, shot on black and white film with the intention of showcasing an introspective and curious representation of Black queerness, masculinity, and sexuality. The images are deeply intimate and vulnerable, featuring a fair amount of nudity and in one photo, an up-close depiction of penetrative sex.

In “Untitled 4,” Lemons artfully features the Black, male physique as its subject, in its most vulnerable and sacred form– completely nude, with his back turned. Lemons has kept the contrast in this image, along with most of the nude images in this series, incredibly low. Rather, he has opted for a sort of haze of shadows to color the image. I would argue that this, in a way, acts as a form of clothing for the subject; though he is completely naked and exposed to the viewer, still not everything can be seen in defined detail. The angles of his posing, with arms raised and placed at the head, and his striking musculature work to juxtapose the softness of the shadows, creating a deeply dynamic form of visual interest.

In “Quiladelphia 1,” Lemons experiments with self portraiture in a style reminiscent of the iconic Robert Mapplethorpe, whom Lemons cites as inspiration for the series, alongside the likes of Peter Hujar and Nan Goldin. “Quiladelphia 1” serves as the core, grounding image of the series, encapsulating all of the circulating themes and ideas into a singular representation of himself. With a sterile, possible warehouse setting serving as the background of the image, Lemons, as the subject, refuses to go unnoticed. Tethered to bondage at every limb, his body assumes a star-like shape. His musculature is taught, and his gaze is direct– it is a stance that demands attention and reclaims authority, a disposition seldom granted to Black, queer people. He is wearing a pair of pants printed with the pattern of the American flag, alluding a subversion of traditional white, heterosexual patriotism, a recurring motif throughout the series.

In his own words, featured on the gallery’s website, Lemons summarized the series as a way “to welcome folks into what it is to live life as a Black gay man,” clarifying that “it was not to make Black nudity and sex into art…this is ME.” Though I cannot argue with Lemons’ intentions, I do think that what has resulted out of this autobiographical pursuit is undoubtedly artful. Unlike the predecessors he has cited as inspiration, Lemons does not benefit from the privilege of whiteness. For the majority of his growing up, he did not see himself reflected in the art world, and in many ways, Quiladelphia seems to exist as a way to correct that absence, on Lemons’ own terms, from his own distinctly individual point of view.

[chaussetteblanche]

stepping on toes

pairing : austin butler x gn!reader summary : after talking about each other without ever meeting, you and austin finally run into each other at the cannes festival

You were at the premiere of your latest movie, lights and camera blinding you as you moved your way along the red carpet. "Y/N ! Y/N !" People were calling your name left and right, hoping you would look their way for a picture or answer a question. You stopped near a woman on your right. "Y/N, how're you feeling tonight ?" she asked quickly. You smiled, running a hand through your hair. "Good, thank you ! I'm exited to finally be here," She asked you a few questions about the movie before asking one last thing. "The movie Elvis is about to come out, do you have anything to say about the lead actor Austin Butler ?" she asked, moving her microphone closer to your lips. "Uh, yeah, I think Austin's an incredible actor. Baz couldn't have picked a better person to play Elvis Presley, I don't think anyone else could do it," you smiled. "Right, thank you so much, Y/N," "Thank you, have a nice evening," You walked off with a wave.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Austin ! Austin ! Have you seen Y/N's new movie ?" a journalist asked over the sound of the crowd. Austin stopped and turned around, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, I've seen it alright. It's spectacular," he complimented, adjusting his suit. "Have you ever thought of working with Y/N ?" "In a movie ? Oh wow, I mean, I'd love to, they're incredibly talented. I think we could do something good together,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, Austin Butler said in an interview a few weeks ago that he would love to work with you in a movie, what do you think about that ?" "He did ? Oh wow, uh, I don't know. I'm very flattered, obviously." Your cheeks turned pink. God, you hoped the cameras wouldn't pick up on it. "I think we could definitely arrange something, I'd love to work with him as well," You held yourself back from saying anything else, knowing the internet was already full of compilations of Austin and you complimenting each other in interviews and such.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stepped out of your car at the Cannes Festival, you brilliant outfit glimmering with the flashes of the cameras surrounding you. Your name was being called from everywhere and you gratefully took the hand of your security guard, Billy, as you stepped out of the car. He helped ground you a bit as you made your way to the famous stairs. He let go before you reached the steps and sent you a reassuring smile. You smiled back, trying to calm your head as you started going up the steps, stopping every once in a while and striking a pose.

You finally reached the entrance of the building and found a few of your friends. Your latest movie was in competition for the Caméra d'Or and the Queer Palm. Needless to say you were feeling pretty nervous. You happily accepted a glass of champagne when you were offered one. After your first screening, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

Staring at your reflexion in the mirror, you added a touch of lipstick and smiled at yourself. You stepped back out of the bathroom, into the small living room and greeted a few celebrities you knew. As you opened the main door, you were met with a crowd of journalists all aiming their microphones and cameras at you. You were suddenly blinded by flashes of light and deafened by the cries of your names and questions. You stepped backwards out of reflex and were horrified to find another person's foot beneath your own. You immediately retracted your foot and spun around to come face to face or rather face to chest with none other than Austin Butler.

You were caught in the momentum for a second. All you could feel was him. His minty breath on your face. His hand on your ribcage. The smell of his perfume. The warmth of his body. His eyes boring into your own. Your breath caught in your throat as you forgot the world around you. His eyes flitted down to your lips and your heart stopped for a second before reality came crashing back. Screams and flashes crashed upon you like tsunamis. It all felt like a big slap to the face.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, are you alright ?" you asked worriedly, touching his arm. Austin nodded. "I'm fine, no worries, love," he chuckled. He eyes flitted to the paparazzi behind you and he frowned. "Let's get outta here, yeah ?" He leaned down to speak in your ear. You nodded.

You stepped out of the bathroom, shielding your eyes with your hand. You felt the warmth of his hand on the small of your back as you followed the wall, slowly making your way back to the main room, in which the paparazzi weren't allowed. You heard the yells of security as they pushed all the paparazzi back outside and let out a breath.

You turned to Austin and found him already looking at you. You thought back to you stepping on his foot. "I'm so sorry for stepping on you," you winced, looking down at his black shoes. "It's all right, I should've been looking where I was going. And you were caught by surprise," he smiled reassuringly. "I'm Austin, by the way," he stuck his hand out. "Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Butler," you chuckled, shaking his hand. "Y/N," "I know who you are as well, Y/N Y/L/N," he grinned, blue eyes twinkling wonderfully.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, you finally met Y/N Y/L/N last week at the Cannes film festival. A picture of you two staring at each other went viral. What can you say about that ?" the interviewer asked. Austin ran a hand through his hair, trying not to smile to widely at the thought of you. "Uh, yeah, no, it was great to finally meet them. They're a lovely person. Intelligent and kind, as well as beautiful," he grinned. "Do you think you'll ever get the chance to work with them in the future ?" "Oh, I think we'll be able to do more than just work together," he chuckled.

[sixstepsaway]

okay but mary and izzy parallels? i have a hunch about how they're supposed to -- well, be parallels. but no one's talking about it. thoughts? - ripple

hi ripple!! hope you're doing well!

There has been discussion of Mary/Izzy parallels but I haven't found a lot of meta about it. If you'd like to really be agonized, check out this gifset. Izzy and Ed with Mary's quotes over them. Mm. Pain.

But, as for my own thoughts on this:

Izzy and Mary are deeply paralleled throughout the show, both narratively (similar journeys) and contextually (the way the show is edited).

The first time this is really shown, as far as I can tell, is in 1x04. Stede is dreaming of Mary, remembering his highly failed marriage. He's dreaming of when he showed her the model ship of the Revenge, how passionate he was about it, how much he loved the idea of going away to sea. Mary's response is... not great, as she doesn't like the ocean and doesn't hate their lives, at least not as much as Stede does.

She doesn't get it.

The show immediately swaps to Ed rummaging through the Revenge while Izzy trails around after him trying to get him to focus on their lives. Ed produces the model ship and gushes about how cute it is.

Izzy doesn't get it.

The model ship is purposefully used to draw the two scenes together, to show Stede and Ed in their respective relationships (Stede with his rapidly failing and then abandoned marriage, Ed with his rapidly degenerating and soon to be abandoned work marriage (see: Izzy leaving in 1x06 and Ed leaving in 1x09)).

It's a fascinating parallel that I especially enjoy because Ed and Izzy aren't, in canon right now at least, in a sexual or romantic relationship, nor do we think right now they've ever been (I doubt they've ever been, truly. I don't think that's in their past at all), so the framing of Stede's marriage (lacking love and affection) against Izzy and Ed's platonic* relationship (full of love and affection but it's diminishing faster and faster every day) is gorgeous, because it shows that relationships aren't always the standard Person A + Person B in love and married and then they fell out of it and it was Bad because of that.

(*Yes, David Jenkins says Izzy is in love with Ed, and we all agree with him, but for the sake of the framing, the fact they're not doing anything with those feelings makes the relationship itself platonic)

I find in a lot of media, relationships are shown only as participating in the relationship escalator and no other relationships "count", and queer relationships are pushed into that same relationship escalator because enforcing heteronormativity even on queer relationships is essential (blah blah purity culture blah blah making being queer palatable to corporations blah blah sanitizing the queer movement blah blah)

(I remember when Chicago Fire did a storyline where Severide lost his best friend (who I'm pretty sure he was in love with, but she was a lesbian, and i digress) to an accident that took her life and he was absolutely destroyed by it. He ran off for a weekend in Vegas, where he met a woman who had recently lost her husband suddenly. They got drunk, got married, and he brought her home as his new wife and everyone flipped out because it seemed so stupid and she was surely not good and was playing him for a fool or something.

But in the end, they were married for a few months, never in love, but their brief relationship helped them both heal and they ended up going their separate ways. And I loved that, because not all break-ups or divorces have to be "failures", and not all relationships have to march up the endless escalator.)

It's nice to see a relationship posed in a way that isn't just the escalator and isn't just "oh yeah we dated once" or whatever. This is beside the point though lmao.

The contextual framing continues when Ed returns to the Revenge as well. Stede goes back to Mary, Ed goes back to Izzy. They go back to the familiar, the safe, and they're not greeted the way they'd like.

Mary makes sure Stede knows he's unwelcome now, though it's not because he's changed (although he has: drinking, attacking Doug etc) so much as that he left a gap and she filled it with someone else (someone better, in fact, for her, someone who can give her what she wants and needs and love her) in his absence (as she should).

Izzy meanwhile welcomes Ed back with open arms, but can't cope with his changes. Ed is softer, more vulnerable and open, and maybe if that had been how he was when they first met, that might have been okay. Izzy might have wormed his way into that vulnerability and made a nest there, a safe place for himself and a bit of armor for Ed, but as it stands right now he can't do that, because he doesn't know how and nor does Ed, and so instead he wants Ed to go back to how things were in the past.

But you can never go home again, can you?

That's sort of the base message of 1x10 imo: you can never go home again. Stede can't pursue his life of piracy and expect his family to welcome him home with open arms, and Ed can't soften up and abandon his life of piracy and expect Izzy to just adapt overnight and accept that new version of him.

(And it's unreasonable of either of them to expect those things from the other person. Izzy didn't sign up for a life with soft-n-squishy Ed, and Mary didn't sign up to be the woman waiting at port for her wayward husband to come home whenever he chooses.)

Narratively, Mary and Izzy are mirrored throughout the first season, primarily with Izzy and Mary being fully committed to the lives they've signed up for. Mary may be unhappy, but she tells Stede as much: she doesn't hate their lives, not enough to yeet them into the abyss, but they're the only lives they're going to get and this is their lot, so shouldn't they make the best of it?

Izzy might be struggling too, but he clings to Ed like a lifeline at all times, refusing to budge even when Ed's mental state gets so rickety he puts everyone around him in danger.

The difference is that when Stede leaves Mary, she flourishes. She finds someone better for her, she takes up painting, she loves her children without hesitation, she makes friends and extends her social circle. When Izzy is forced to leave Ed, he stagnates and his entire focus is on getting Ed back and keeping that promise he made, even if Ed doesn't want it kept anymore.

Mary and Izzy are on the same path, but Mary is miles ahead of him. Since I don't think we'll get Steddyhands or Blackhands in canon, I hope Izzy gets to reach the end of the path like Mary did, with someone who loves and deserves him, and a social circle that supports him.

Then, you have the main issue with Ed and Stede: lack of real communication, and massive failure whenever they try.

Stede tried when he told Mary he wanted to run away to sea, but she shot him down (fairly so, in my eyes), and so he never tried again.

Ed tries when he tells Izzy how bored he is, but Izzy is focused on the fact Ed's boredom is going to get them killed (fairly so, again), so Ed doesn't talk to him about how he's feeling about Stede in relation to that boredom.

Both of them talk around what they're actually feeling and considering doing, neither of them really talk about the problem and try to find a solution they just wildly yank the other person around like a dog with a toy, because they've always been there, so won't they continue to always be there?

I read Stede as having had a certain level of reliance on Mary. I believe they could be really good friends now their marriage is over, though I don't think they were before lmao. But the way wives were expected to act and be treated in 1717 implies she was likely doing most of the household work, raising the children etc. We don't ever see any servants I don't think, even in the background of the current day scenes in 1x10, and that makes me think Mary does most of it.

Which explains a lot about why Stede is a fucking mess when he first breaks free of that life and it reframes how he is as honestly how well he adapts and changes to fit in his new life! Assuming we go by Ed's, "these last few weeks" and assume the show to be about 10 weeks because of the season length (which I hate, thanks), he managed to stop being a complete mess in about five weeks and that's damn impressive. Kudos and cookies to Stede Bonnet.

I read Stede as autistic with some social deficits, which is why he's so... blunt, I suppose? It's also why he takes everyone around him at face value (if they say something is a way, he believes them, no matter whether they might be lying). I can imagine that during his marriage, Mary - who I do not read as autistic - was the one gingerly keeping him from being scammed or robbed or overtly lied to by people around him, and now he doesn't have her so he just has to learn for himself! And he does really well actually at that.

See also: him believing Pete about his prior time serving under Blackbeard. I too believe Pete, but let's not act like his stories don't sound like utter fabrications. Stede just... believing him, that Blackbeard has a head made of smoke and his eyes glow and that Pete served under him and was dubbed Black Pete for serving so well.

(Also, I know there's a running fandom joke about Pete calling himself Black Pete considering he's pasty white, but you've all realized it's a direct reference to Blackbeard right? He's saying Ed gave him the moniker of Black to echo his own!)

Meanwhile, as we've said before, Izzy has been shackled with being Ed's SSRIs, adderall and bullet journal for god knows how long, frankly, and without him Ed... does struggle. We don't see a lot of it because he has the Revenge crew filling the blanks and his fixation on Stede is also keeping him from sinking back into depression, but it's definitely there. He's supposedly acting as a co-captain in 1x07, but they run out of oranges. Calico Jack shows up and he just attaches to him like a barnacle and doesn't track that maybe he's being insensitive. It takes Lucius giving him a stern talking to twice for him to figure his shit out, and that's without any real dire consequences going on around him.

He also jumps right to running away to China which is objectively not a great plan for him or Stede, and Izzy absolutely would have said, "The fuck? You don't even speak Mandarin, Edward." to it.

He does okay without Izzy, likely because he's had more practice, but he definitely misses something that he's been reliant on Izzy for: a steadying hand and someone who spots the details he misses (like not knowing Mandarin and it being a leap year).

But whereas Mary gets loose of those shackles, Izzy desperately tries to get back into them because he doesn't know how to function without Edward and, frankly, Edward doesn't know how to function without Izzy either, not now his dopamine fix has run away.

When Mary tries to kill Stede when he comes back and ruins her life, Stede and Mary instead come up with a plan together to fix things, to set both of them free. They communicate, which allows them to work together, in a rather perfect harmony actually, and understand each other's needs and learn to care for one another outside of the shackles.

When Izzy tries to 'kill' this new version of Edward that's ruining his life (literally trying to un-pirate them all), Ed strikes out in return. Instead of working together, they break apart and fracture, two forces with differing needs that can't find a middle ground because the communication has broken down.

Like I say: Izzy and Mary are on the same road, but Mary is far further down than Izzy is.

The parallels truly kill me but they also give me some hope for the future when it comes to Izzy.

Currently Mary is 'best case scenario' and Izzy is 'oh my god what the fuck WORST CASE WORST CASE??? PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN EDWARD' but hey, maybe we can get there!

[vaspider]

Another good ask about my cats! Our other cat is dumb. An incredibly stupid baby (affectionate). Thick as a brick. But he does three things that are adorable:

He loves to burrow under the duvets. He will paw you (gently) to ask you to lift the covers for him to engage Burrow Mode™️. He will also burrow of his own accord so sometimes you’ll see a big lump. One of his nicknames is “the Lūmplïng” for this reason.

Whenever my spouse gets home and opens the door, the baby will come tearing out to greet them. Every night. And all during the day when they’re away if the door opens, he gets excited cos Daddy Might Be Home!! And because he is a stupid little baby, he will do his excitement dance when the front door opens even if my spouse is home. Because… what if TWO Daddy???

When my spouse is home, it is the baby’s sole goal in life to sit on Daddy’s lap. My spouse sits in strange poses (can you tell we are queer?), but that is just a Challenge™️ for the baby. He does it effortlessly every time. Should I also mention he gets super excited when we both sit on the couch, cos then he can become Equidistant from both of us?

I swear he imprinted on both of us and our older cat like a baby duck with rubber boots.

Baby. 💗

[tssidesfics]

TSSides Anti-Fairytale AU

I’m not coming for fairytales. They have their place, but as an aromantic person...I do not feel seen. And then I decided to re-watch Enchanted (pirated, of course, because fuck Disney). And then this idea happened. 

Patton was a child-king who married his best friend when forced to, and then she died in childbirth. He’s given Roman everything he could, but he’s lived his life dictated by the advisors who’ve used him as a puppet king his whole rule. He’s miserable because he doesn’t like how the system functions but he thinks he’s chained to tradition.

Roman copes with his complicated relationship with his father by questing and almost dying, like, every other week. Anxious attachment for days. Boy keeps trying very hard to find a princess and can’t seem to figure out why nothing will stick. To which Patton goes “oh. He got it from me. Oops.”

All I know is Remus is aromantic and aplatonic and exactly as chaotic as he should be.

Roman’s birthday. Ball. The classic. He greets all the noble families and he’s seen those losers a bunch before, but this time, he meets a new “girl” with a family he usually hates who intrigues him. He is not a girl and I will not be misgendering him because ew, but, gist: Virgil, transphobic rich parents forcing him to conform to gender roles, absolutely miserable, in Peak Bitch (gender-neutral) form. Roman mistakenly believes he’s cured and talks Virgil up a lot. Convinces himself he’s fallen madly in love.

Problem is, he tells Patton, who’s shocked he found a “girl” but absolutely is on-board, and then goes to the family to ask for Virgil’s hand and there’s no Virgil.

Thus begins the Mulan ripoff but openly trans where Virgil poses as a boy servant at the castle because his parents can’t get into the castle willy-nilly and it’s the safest place to be. Absolutely loathes Roman’s very existence because that dumb bitch flirted with him while he was a girl and therefore VIrgil thinks he is The WorstTM. Then Roman catches him grouching about and decides to solve this by teaching him sword-play, mostly to give him the excuse to beat on a dummy with a sword-shaped stick. 

Meanwhile Roman is just le sigh I did it again. I connected more with a boy than a girl. Why did she have to run away? Now I’m doomed to be weird.

Well then assassins break into the castle and Ever-Paranoid Virgil immediately susses them out as bad news and uses the remnants of the ball to absolutely wreck them when they try to kill Roman and his father while they’re taking a rare opportunity to chat and bond. Patton decides he is Adopting This Child, fuck you, advisors, he’s as thin as a stick, and Virgil now gets to eat with the royal family. 

It’s the first time Patton has ever actually told his advisors to go fuck themselves. It’s the first step toward a positive turnaround and it happened because Patton’s dad instincts took over and nothing in the world is more valid than that, fight me.

Enter genderqueer icon morally neutral witch, Janus, all pronouns, who’s trying to topple the monarchy to enact lasting change and didn’t want to dirty her hands right away, but honestly people are so unreliable. So he gets onto Patton’s crew as a handmaiden and excuse you who gave the king permission to be actually endearing?

Roman feels slightly weird because Patton’s calling Virgil “kiddo” and he’s not calling him his son but he also treats him very similarly as he does to Roman and Remus, which isn’t great but is significantly better than it could be, but Roman’s got a crush. 

Then Janus finds out Virgil’s trans and reveals this. Virgil thinks he’s about to get blackmailed into murdering the only people who have ever cared about him and then Janus just rolls their eyes like “excuse you I’m evil not psychopathic. I can give you a potion to make your body reflect your mind. You in?”

“Great, so my only cure to stop feeling like frozen trash reheated in a forest fire is to accept the highly dangerous bribe of a definitely evil witch! Thanks! I hate it!”

Yes Virgil memes even in a fantasy world where Tumblr doesn’t exist.

Also Virgil and Roman are bonding. A lot. They’re getting very close and Virgil even lets slip that he loves Roman and then tries to fling himself out a window. Roman gets touched, stops him, and tries to kiss him, but Virgil leans away. Roman expresses confusion.

“I...I love you, but I don’t want to kiss you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. But I’ve...never wanted to kiss anyone. For any reason.”

“But...you still love me?”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

Roman...doesn’t feel as rejected as he thinks he maybe should? Honestly, it’s not totally a relief, but it’s just kinda...neutral. It’s not even a disappointment. 

Well, Janus is not evil and actually wants to run a kingdom (instating a committee mixed of educated rich fucks and working class receiving education) a whole lot more than Patton, who thinks she’s just...kinda awesome and very misunderstood. There’s a lot of hissing and grumbling that they’re not misunderstood, they’re evil, they don’t even have a tragic backstory, they just kill people to enact the change they want to see, just because they got ditched in a forest as a baby and was raised by a magic snake means nothing. The snake was a very loving and supportive parent.

Roman talks to Patton and Patton is like “fuck marriage rules. Fuck heteronormativity. Fuck my advisors. My kingdom is a haven for the gays. All the gays. Of every color. Come here and be merry and queer.”

Virgil’s just like “yo no reason but in this new world where it’s okay to love whatever gender is it maybe cool to be a boy when the world says you’re a girl?”

Janus draws a knife and glares at Patton and Patton’s just like “even if my partner wasn’t threatening to kill me I’d say it was fine why?”

“No reason.”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

“Is there something you want to share?”

“No.”

“Is there something you need to share?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re being defensive again, Storm Grouch.”

Virgil sticks his tongue out. “Fine. People used to think I was a girl and I have a stupid body. Happy?”

And Patton learns from Janus the fine art of Validating The Fuck Out Of Gender.

The advisors stage a coop and lock Janus in an anti-magic cage, and then at the same time Virgil’s biological nightmares track him down and steal a spelled green apple from Janus’ shop they give Virgil. You know the drill. Deep sleep like death, yadda yadda.

Well, they immediately claim the body making a big dramatic deal about how they have to bury “her” and they’ll take “her” home to see her off and it’s so tragic, just as they were reunited, when the reality is they have the antidote back home, they’re just looking for control over his life again.

Except Roman goes off. “He is staying here where he--where he will be buried under the name Virgil dressed properly and if you came anywhere near his body I’ll kill you myself.”

Guess what constitutes a totally platonic, non-kiss related act of queerplatonic true love, bitch? Fighting your transphobic partner’s parents over their dead body.

Kingdom’s retaken, sweeping reform while Patton retires to be a stay at home dad to fix his relationship with his kids. Virgil gets formerly adopted. The stepparent is actually a morally neutral genderqueer witch who runs the kingdom fairly and justly, the central love story is trans and aromantic, and my queer ass is something resembling happy.

Logan is probably one of the advisors and the only one with sense who probably starts knocking off his coworkers after the coop because they’re all deeply, deeply stupid. Remus probably spends half the story making friends with a troll he brings in to save the day in the third act.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Odd- Kili Durin x OC

Kili Durin x Rosemary Fairbairn

Description: Gandalf wants to add another Hobbit to the Company, one that was known around the Shire for being odd and unpredictable. 

Word Count: 1.7k

“Gandalf, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bilbo asked unsurely as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield grew closer to the border of the Shire. 

“Yes, I quite am,” the Gray Wizard responded nonchalantly. 

“Rosemary Fairbairn?” The Hobbit repeated incredulously. 

“Yes,” Gandalf repeated as well. “Does that pose a problem to you, Bilbo Baggins?”

“Well, no,” Bilbo started, then was cut off by the old man. 

“Then it’s settled.” A smile appeared on his face as he ignored the quiet huff that the Hobbit let out. 

“Is there a reason you’re so against her joining the quest? Is there something wrong with her?” Fili asked, saying what everyone else was thinking. An awkward blush appeared on Bilbo’s face and he cleared his throat. 

“Well she’s uh… she doesn’t get out much, I’m pretty sure I’ve only ever seen her a few times in my life,” he explained. “And she’s a rather odd person. And even when she does come to town, her behavior is queer and unpredictable. It’s very disconcerting. I believe that’s why she’s basically become a hermit over the years.” 

“She’s not that bad,” Bellarose suddenly cut in defensively. “She’s just…different from everyone else.” 

“And why is that?” Asked Bofur. This time Gandalf was the one to answer again. 

“Well, Miss Fairbairn was born with magical powers. Ones similar to that of a Witch or even a Fairy,” he explained. “No one knows how - some say she was blessed by the gods because her mother always made offerings to them, but no one can say for sure. Nevertheless, it is that oddity that made her an outcast amongst Hobbits.”

“Despite all of that, however, she is a rather nice person and an enjoyable presence to be in,” Bellarose added quickly. “I’ve stopped by for tea when I’m near Farmer Maggot’s farm and she’s never once been rude or hateful.” 

“Not to mention the fact that she is exceptionally skilled with her powers in both defensive and offensive magic,” the Wizard concluded. Kili had to admit that this girl had piqued his interest. He didn’t know much about Hobbits, but he had learned in the short time that he’d been in the Shire that there’s more to them than it may seem. 

They reached the border of the Shire before they knew it and were met with a quaint looking cottage. It was relatively small compared to Bag End, but of course that’s because Bagginses come from money while this Rosemary Fairbairn didn’t. Upon arriving at the small redwood fence that surrounded the house Gandalf dismounted his horse then looked around, trying to decide who would go with him to her front door. Only Thorin, Fili, Kili and Bellarose ended up going, the rest opting to stay behind so Rosemary didn’t get overwhelmed. 

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Bilbo asked hesitantly, trying one last time to make them just move on. 

“Without a doubt,” the Wizard answered before leaning down a bit and knocking on the door with his staff. It took a minute before the door opened, but when it did Kili had to stop himself from gasping aloud. The Hobbit that stood in front of them was quite possibly one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Her light blonde hair almost looked like a halo that surrounded her gorgeous face and her blue eyes were both bright and brilliant, reminding him of a clear ocean or cloudless sky. Those beautiful blue eyes widened upon realizing the rather odd looking group that stood in front of her, though she couldn’t say anything before Gandalf spoke. 

“Good morning, Miss Fairbairn,” he greeted with a polite smile. At first the girl could only stand there in surprise, but she eventually managed to respond.

“Uh, good morning Gandalf,” she returned slowly, eyes on the three Dwarves that stood beside him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Well, I - we have come to ask you a question,” Gandalf answered. Rosemary nodded, albeit in confusion. 

“Alright then. Uh, please, come in,” she opened the door wider and allowed them inside, offering them a courteous smile as they passed her. 

“We cannot stay here long,” the one who seemed to be the leader muttered to Gandalf, earning a nod from the Wizard before he faced the girl. 

“I’m afraid introductions must be quick as we are in a time crunch. So, allow me to introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, and his nephews  Fili and Kili Durin. Of course you are already acquainted with Miss Baggins.” Rosemary nodded, smiling at Bellarose for a moment before looking at the three Dwarves. 

“It is wonderful to meet you all,” she said with a genuine smile, which made Kili grin absentmindedly at her. The sight made her blush and avert her gaze. 

“We have come here with a proposition, Miss Fairbairn,” Gandalf spoke for everyone, which visibly piqued her interest. 

“What sort of proposition?” She asked curiously. 

“We are looking for someone who works with magic to help us complete a quest,” Kili spoke up, which made her head tilt in confusion. 

“Is that not why Gandalf is with you?” 

“Yes, but I may not always be with them, so we need someone to fill in the position when that happens. I believe that you would be right for the job.” 

“What sort of quest is it?” 

It took them no more than ten minutes to explain what was going on (though they didn’t disclose too much information on the chance that she said no). Rosemary stayed silent throughout the exposition, making sure she heard everything they said. She wanted to fully understand what she would possibly be getting into. When they were finished, they allowed her a moment to think over everything she’d just heard before she said anything. 

“I-I don’t know Gandalf… I doubt any of you would want to be in the presence of a weird and unpredictable person,” she said hesitantly, almost as if she’d heard the words a thousand times. No one missed the way Bilbo looked away shamefully. No one said anything at first, not exactly knowing what to say. 

“On the contrary, I believe you will do quite well amongst our Company,” Kili suddenly spoke, which made all eyes turn to him. 

“Really?” Rosemary asked, surprised. 

“Of course. Gandalf says that you’re a skilled magic user in any situation, which could be of more use than any of us may think. Even if not, doesn’t an adventure sound amazing? It could give you a new perspective on everything.Don’t you want to get out of the place that’s scorned you since you were young, even if for a little while?” Bellarose looked like she was ready to throttle Kili for his nonchalant rudeness based on her glare in his direction, but Rosemary didn’t notice it as she thought over his words. She still looked hesitant, so Kili took a step closer to her and met her eyes.

“Miss Fairbairn, you won’t have to worry about being odd or an outcast with us,” he continued in a much softer tone. “There will be no one to judge you harshly or otherwise because no one has room to.” That seemed to finally push her to make up her mind because she offered him a small smile. 

“Alright. I’ll go.” Her response caused the others to smile in unison. 

“I suggest you get to packing because we are leaving as soon as you join us,” Gandalf said jovially. “We will be waiting outside for you.” The others nodded in agreement and with that, everyone walked out of the house one by one - well, everyone but Kili. Rosemary shot him a confused look, only to be met with his (admittedly) charming smile. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this. I promise you won’t regret it,” he said. A small laugh left her lips as she headed for her bedroom. 

“Well for your sake, I hope I won’t. You’re very persuasive,” she spoke as she pulled a luggage bag out and began packing. 

“Well thank you, I’ve had seventy-seven years to perfect the craft,” he answered smoothly, leaning against the doorway with a small smile. The mention of his age momentarily made her pause before she continued on. 

“Is that how you managed to find a place in the Company,” she joked lightly. 

“Amongst other things,” he played along. “Such as my good looks.” That earned a giggle from the girl and she shook her head at him. Rosemary quite liked how easy it was to talk to Kili. She didn’t get conversations like that with other Hobbits. The only exception was Bellarose, but even then they were few and far between. 

“You definitely have those,” she spoke before thinking. Upon realizing what she said she froze in the middle of folding a shirt, a deep blush coating the apples of her cheeks. At first she dared not to look at the Dwarf in embarrassment, but then she spared a glance at him out of the corner of her eye as she continued to pack. She was surprised to see that he was now sporting a toothy grin on his face. 

“You think so?” Rosemary could hear the hopefulness in his tone despite how hard he tried to hide it. At that moment she remembered Bellarose telling her about how sacred a Dwarf’s beard is. It wasn’t difficult to come to the conclusion that Kili’s beard (or lack thereof) made him a bit insecure, which made her sad for him because he was rather handsome. 

“Of course,” she answered immediately as she closed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I usually prefer a man with no beard.” Kili said nothing but instead nodded with a giddy smile on his face. 

“Well, are you ready?” He asked. 

“Yep,” Rosemary answered with a nod. She began to walk out of the room but stopped when Kili carefully grabbed her bag and opted to carry it for her. A smile formed on the girl’s face as she followed him out of the house to the biggest adventure of her life. She desperately hoped that Kili would be right, but she had a feeling that he wasn’t the type to deceive her. That was why she’d decided to go, and she would come to realize that the youngest Dwarf was in fact right.

[ashren]

Music ask 12 & 40

ooo ty!! (sorry i wrote a novel for two asks LOL)

12. Who's the most obscure artist you listen to?

HMMM probably a local to maine musician named Toby McAllister! He was (is???) also in Sparks the Rescue, and i actually saw their reunion show in November :3 but he recently recently his own EP called Daydreamin' y'all should give a listen!!!

(my fav of the album, and also Toby is a SWEETHEART ive known him for like, god 13 years now 💀)

40. Which was the best concert you've ever been to?

So i'm a bit of a concert crazy person LOL, back in HS I saw so many shows, went to warped and stuff, i was one of Those Pop Punk kids so my answer will probably change depending on the day bc i'm fickle idk

as of right now it's the first time i saw Orville Peck! I flew out to arizona and spent a week with my brother JUST to have an excuse to see OP bc he wasn't coming to the east coast on that tour. I got the vip tickets and it was like justtttt as OP was getting real big so i got do to a meet and greet with with for like, an insanely good price haha

BUT the best part was being around so many other queer adults who were just happily being themselves. Real gay cowboys dancing with their partners and laughing and being carefreely queer just made me SO happy

plus OP is fucking FANTASTIC live, his voice is so good

((also i was the last in like to get my picture with him and he was so apologetic for making me wait the whole time as if it was his fault, and got really excited to suggested we do a second pose and jumped onto like the charlie's angles finger gun and started giggling and i almost died it was so cute))

[queerchoicesblog]

Epilogue: Underwater (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

As promised, here the epilogue of the Zetta x Adele Series, folks. 

This is the very end of a project that meant me quite a lot to me and got me through the last terrible year. Thanks to all those who supported it: hope you enjoyed it and will enjoy this ending.

In case you were wondering, this song inspired the whole series, particularly the last chapters:

I will skip the tag list for once since it’s pointless anyway. 

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16, Ch. 17

_________________________

Almost a century after the sinking of the RMS Titanic and to celebrate Canada becoming the first country outside Europe to legalise same-sex marriage, the Canadian Film Institute decided to work side by side with several LGBTQ+ organisations across the world to put together an exhibition focused on the early queer cinema and the many queer stars who were forced to hide their true selves in the Golden Age of cinematography, spanning from 1890s till the aftermath of Second World War. "A testament to the role the LGBTQ+ community played in the history of cinema and that we have always been here, even if people hardly saw us" as a journalist wrote on a queer magazine. After the recent discovery of some private documents, the curators were overjoyed to include an icon of the 1900s - 1910s cinema like Zetta Serda into the retrospective and cast a new light on her extraordinary career sadly soon forgotten after the advent of the sound era. Yet, the silent picture star was mentioned as a model and 'endless source of inspiration" by many queer movie stars like Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo all part of the retrospective. Rumor has it that as soon as she landed in America, Marlene Dietrich demanded his agent a meeting with Mrs King.

A curator drove all the way to Montreal to meet the last known heir, a certain Mrs. Julia Nowak, who greeted him on the threshold of a cosy downtown apartment. She offered him a coffee and a slice of a Polish sweet bread: the recipe was a family heirloom, she explained, beaming. She was in her late fifties, a therapist, she said. Her hazel eyes gleamed when she added, in a pleasantly soothing voice that betrayed a hint of excitement: "I must confess I am so incredibly happy that you contacted me about the retrospective. I adore the idea and I will make sure to attend it. Also" she nodded to a wedding picture hung to the wall "did you know that my wife is in politics? She campaigned for the legalisation...yes, Madeleine Fournier: see, you know her! We got married right after the law passed. If anything, your call and project made me twice as happy". She took a pause, smiling over her coffee in remembrance. "Anyway, back to the matter of your visit...yes, as far as I know, I am Zetta's last heir. As you probably know, my family wasn't officially related to her but she stated otherwise in her will". She moved to the couch and gestured the curator to follow her as she opened up one of the boxes and chests piled into the living room and picked out an old album, the leather cover worn at the edges. Dust waltzed in the air as she opened it with caution and gentle care. She showed him a slightly discoloured black and white picture of a young couple kissing for the camera in front of a church. Another wedding picture, from a different era. "Nana Hileni and Papa Maciej's wedding picture. I still remember them even if they both died when I was barely a teen...as if one couldn't bear to live without the other. Or so I like to think. She would help me with the homework, mathematics particularly, and he baked this bread for me till he was too weak to do so. He always claimed that he won Nana's heart with his pastries but she always denied it laughing". She passed another picture of the same couple proudly standing in front of the Nowak family bakery in Hoboken. "Frankly, I believe that Papa's broad shoulders and Marlon Brando smile are more likely to blame for this coup de foudre" she laughed. "And he knew how to deal with her no-nonsense attitude and vice versa. They...balanced each other, if you wish". She picked another picture and handed it to him. A woman was looking down in tender adoration and awe to a baby nestled in her arms looking up at her, outstretching a tiny arm in an attempt to touch her face. "There! This is Dad" she pointed at the baby before turning the picture where someone wrote 'Alex meets Auntie Adele'. Turning it again, she pointed at the woman. "This is Adele Carrem. Or Auntie Adele as I've always heard calling her. Nana's sister and Zetta's publicist and companion" Putting it back into the album, she carefully picked a bunch of other old pictures. "You surely know who this one is" she smiled, handing out the one on top. The photo was rather grainy but you could still recognise the same kid, slightly older, around two, sucking his thumb, cuddled up in Zetta's lap. The actress had aged a little but her features were unmistakable and it was endearing to see her sitting by the fireplace to read that kid with the sleepy face a bedtime story. "Sadly, I have never met them. I wish I did, oh you have no idea...but stories of them lived through in our family" Julia continued. "My Dad loved his Aunties - as he called them - dearly and by what I've heard and read, they loved him in manner as if he was their own. He knew little of them or Zetta's career back then...to him they were just the sweet ladies who would buy him ice-cream in Central Park or take him to see his favourite pictures over and over again at the movie theater. He said he will never forget the afternoons he used to spend with them in a Manhattan cafe that no longer exists around Christmas: Nana and Papa worked like crazy as the festive season approached and the glorious cup of hot chocolate with an elegant puff of cream on top with the Aunties became a tradition to him. He kept it alive somehow as he did the same with me". She handed the curator a bunch of other pictures: Zetta cleaning up Alex's face smeared with jam, the both of them laughing; Zetta posing with Maciej and her Dad at a table in the Hoboken bakery. He eventually mirrored her smile seeing a five years old Alex at the beach all engrossed in building a sandcastle with Hileni and Adele, and he standing at the water edge hand in hand with Miss Carrem, looking out into the distance. "These are family pictures. I'll show you the Zetta's private memorabilia we cherished". Julia searched a little, opening an old chest and handling every item inside with tender care. When she found what she was looking for, she showed the curator an elegant set of smaller boxes containing letters, dried flowers and photos. "I have already received an offer to get these published. I'm still pondering it. Before agreeing, I want to consider throughly if this is a thing they would have wanted, even if they're no longer here" The curator nodded as she kept searching. He skimmed a few letters and smiled as his eyes fall on the photos hidden away in those boxes: the two women sitting together and chatting at Hileni's wedding, Zetta's reading a script, lazily sprawled on a chaise long in her apartment. Some had short lines handwritten on the back, like a promotional picture with "Missing you" written by Zetta herself. The curator showed another to Mrs Nowak: a visibly excited Miss Carrem proudly showing to the camera a document announcing her voter registration. On the back, in Zetta's penmanship: "On the way to vote...my sweet Adele won!". "Oh you didn't know? Auntie Adele was a suffragette! I couldn't believe it when I first heard it! Nana told me that she was in and out jail when they lived in London because of protests. You know, like those suffragettes you read about in history books but less famous. Yet she fought for women's rights and kept fighting for them even in America. She was quite disappointed though by some major decisions of some feminist movements and eventually joined a socialist Union 'more rightfully welcoming working class individuals, immigrants and black brothers and sisters'. It's all in those letters but yeah, you couldn't possibly know. So little is known about her outside family". A little smile drew on her face as she put back the photo. "That photo was taken the day of the first election open to women. I checked the date. I suppose Zetta wanted to immortalise the moment...it was sweet of her, huh? Auntie Adele must have been so proud and overjoyed that day! You know, my Dad was born in 1920 when women's right to vote was legalised nationally and Nana once told me that Auntie commented the lucky coincidence saying she was incredibly happy her nephew would get to live in a fairer world. She was a true force of nature...she never talked much of the sinking of the Titanic just like Zetta and Nana actually but when one day Dad asked...he was barely a child and probably found an old article about the tragedy...Auntie Adele minimised but Nana assured him that her sister saved her life that night, risking her own to go down to the belly of the sinking ship to bring her to safety. Auntie simply shrugged, saying that it was what sisters do and that they made it to the lifeboats only thanks to Zetta, who shouted protests to stubborn officers and eventually found them a spot on a boat. I cannot even bring myself to imagine how scary that must have been: I cried so much when Madeleine took me to see Leo and Kate...to think they were there and it was all real!" She picked a few other objects out the box: a Shakespeare Sonnets book in a leather cover with golden engravings, with a little handwritten dedication 'To Adele, my sonnet 116. Happy birthday! With all my love, Zetta'; old scripts with annotations, a framed photograph of Adele and Zetta slow dancing barefoot in the living room of a gorgeous Long Island mansion. "These have a sentimental value" Mrs Nowak noted, her voice betraying the flicker of emotions as she picked it up. She took a deep sigh and continued. "I remember the day I told Dad I was gay as it was yesterday. We had always been quite close so it came natural to tell him first. We were in his car, he had come straight from college to pick me up at ice-skating practice. I..I dropped it in the middle of a conversation, bracing myself for the worst. I heard so many bad stories about coming out to your parents I was terrified of the consequences but I couldn't hide it anymore. I mean, yes, in public: bullies get even nastier if they know and I didn't want people shouting me "dyke" at school. But I needed to get it out of my chest...with someone at least. He kept quiet for a moment and I felt like drowning in shame. But then he spoke". A nostalgic tender smile formed Julia's lips. "He said he had two amazing Aunties that contributed to make his life a wondrous adventure. It was thanks to them that he, the son of a baker, could attend a prestigious college, for instance: they offered to pay for it without asking a penny back. They also helped him write his first romantic letter to his childhood sweetheart and consoled him when the little girl turned him down. But his Aunties had a secret, he added. He said: to my kid eyes they were no less a couple than Mom and Dad and at home we all treated them in manner but one day Mom made me promise to behave differently when we were in public. In public I would refer to her sister as 'Auntie Adele' but call Zetta by her name. He didn't get it and it took some getting used to. He soon noticed that even the Aunties behaved a bit differently out in the sun: they wouldn't hold hands or use endearing words in the street or when other people were around. They simply behaved like good friends did. He understood it later when he, as stubborn as a mule, asked them directly". Julia gently grazed her fingers on the glass of the framed photograph, caressing it. "And they told me everything, he said. That they were in love, just like mom and dad were, but people out there could be uncomfortable and extremely rude to women loving other women and men loving other men. That they kept their companionship a secret in public because those people had no problems with women being friends and they didn't want to have bad words or worse happening to them. I remember asking him what he thought about it. He smiled. 'I cried. Since Auntie Zetta mentioned people claiming that women like them were sick and would burn in hell, I actually started crying. I sobbed desperately in her arms, crying that I didn't want them to burn in hell, I loved my Aunties and I was happy they loved each other. Eventually they explained me it was just a vile lie spread my malignant people. But I got quite a scare and kept staring at them with puffy red eyes and my face wet with tears for a while. It required lots of cuddling to bring a smile back on my face'. He shook his head, laughing of his endearing naivety. Then he pulled over and looked at me. He continued: 'I still don't get why people keep spreading those mean lies but I know for sure that my Aunties weren't sick and didn't end up in hell and so won't you. Don't believe bullshits like that for a split second, okay? And I also want you to remember that it doesn't change a thing for me and mom too. You will always be my little girl, our little girl and we love you'. We shared a long hug before driving back home. On the way back he insisted to buy my favourite chicken and waffles for dinner, saying mom's veggie soup could wait. For my birthday, a month later or so, he asked me to follow him to the attic and showed me this chest. To meet the Aunties that 'would have surely been there for me'". She tipped away a tear. "I told you I married Madeleine right after the legalisation of same-sex marriages. My wedding was also the last public event Mom and Dad attended together before his health worsened irremediably. He passed away last year". For a moment she looked on the verge of tears but she recovered quickly. "Sorry...anyway, that day Dad insisted on walking me down the aisle even if he was getting weak. He beamed with pride when a friend fixed a rainbow ribbon to his jacket. Later at the lunch he read a speech he had written for the day, his hand shaking. He shared the story of his Aunties. He said that despite the hardships their situation forced upon them, they had quite a happy life together, a happiness carefully hidden from the world. He wished us to find something similar to what they shared without needing to hide anymore. He said Adele and Zetta would have been so happy and proud to celebrate with all of us that day" Mrs. Nowak picked the Shakespeare Sonnet book and gave him a fond look. "He brought this to the wedding. And he read for us the sonnet 116, the one Zetta mentioned in her dedication. You know, the one that starts with 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." ----------------------- A few months later the exhibition on old Hollywood queer cinema and artists opened. Each artist had a room that soon filled with a crowd of enthusiastic visitors. In the first half, in a room arranged as a turn of the century nickelodeon with velvet chairs, all the memorabilia of Zetta Serda's public life: panels explaining the various stages of her career and the birth of her myth, promotional pictures of her performances, articles about her and a copy of a gazette announcing her wedding with the director Richard King. On the wall, on a screen her entire filmography rolled up in loop, bewitching spectators after a century. In display cases: the gorgeous sapphire necklace she wore on her last night on the Ship of Dreams and at the movie party of Surviving the Titanic, and a replica of her Cleopatra costume. The aging Queen of Egypt with a tragic love and destiny immortalised by Shakespeare was her last role back on the theater stage before retiring from the scenes. Old scripts with her personal annotation were displayed with photographs taken on sets and mundane events. The wall hosting the motion-picture screen cut the room in half. On the other side, the hidden half of her life. Her life with Adele no one suspected back then. A life kept secret that now unveiled in front of the eyes of the visitors. The curators discovered that finding public pictures of Miss Carrem was nearly impossible, true to the nickname she acquired as time went by: The Shadow. She stayed at Zetta's side until and even after she stopped acting, showing rare loyalty and devotion, but ever surrounded by this mystery allure. No one, even the most stubborn reporters managed to know anything about her and she was soon dismissed as a Titanic survivor, possibly a fan, who worked as Zetta's secretary and somehow gained her respect. Little they knew about the depth of their relationship and what stacks of secret letters and family memories revealed of the life of Miss Carrem. A panel finally told her story and her secret achievements: Adele, or better Adal, kept fighting for a fairer world and society her whole life and marched for women's right to vote on the famous parade in 1915. She also passed the teaching of Edith Garrud to her American sisters. The only pictures of her came from the Nowak family, except for one. The only photograph of a public appearance of Miss Carrem as well as the only known public appearance of Zetta and Adele. An old grainy photo accurately framed showed Adele shaking hands with The Unsinkable Molly Brown on a podium. In her free hand a shiny medal and a few steps behind the mayor of New York. According to the panel, the survivors' committee founded by Mrs. Brown decided to award Miss Carrem a medal for bravery and a generous check "to help her and her sister starting a new life in America". With great surprise, Miss Carrem received the medal and the check, thanked the board but refused the honors. Instead, she asked to deliver them both to the family of a certain Charlie Stoke, a stewart that lost his life in the sinking to save her life and those of many passengers. She added that her friend expressed the desire to study naval engineering one day and she wished that the money kindly offered to her would be enough to establish a scholarship for boys like him across the ocean. In another picture, Miss Carrem and her sister chatted with Moll Brown in company of Zetta. Eventually, other philanthropists and wealthy socialites signed checks for her cause so that the Stoke family received a generous contribution too. And today, as another picture confirmed, the faculty of naval engineering of the University of Newcastle hosts a marble engraving of Charlie Stoke: to his memory a scholarship had been instituted one year after on the anniversary of the sinking. Since 1913 it has been helping students of poor background to get an education and improve their life. Zetta herself became a philanthropist during her Renaissance and ever since. The first act of her new phase of her life was joining the Moll Brown survivors committee to provide help to the second and third class passengers families and survivors. Some said that the tragedy she witnessed touched her heart, other claimed that it was to be attributed to the influence of her publicist. Jokingly, she used to say that after all, she had too much money yet all she could have wished for in her life, so why not doing some good with it? A considerable donation under her and Mr King was received by the main hospital during the Spanish flu pandemic; she was particularly active in providing financial help to struggling neighbourhoods and female education institutions. In the middle of the room, a long glass display hosted the Shakespeare Sonnets opened at sonnet 116 and a selection of the private correspondence between Zetta and Adele. My darling, You will receive this letter tomorrow morning when I'll be already off to Chicago. The suitcases are ready and packed, this is a goodnight note scribbled the night before leaving you to remind you how much I love you and care about you. How much I'm going to miss you even if - thank God! - we won't be parted for long... Do not forget you promised me to write every day! Write to me, Adele, write to me whatever thought crosses that gorgeous mind of you: you know I could you rambling for hours without getting tired of the sound of your voice, of your sparkling wisdom. I wanna know everything. So don't be shy: I'll be waiting your letters with tender impatience. Can't wait to be in your arms once more. Adoringly yours, Zetta - Dear, dearest Zetta, I went to Central Park today with Hileni. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny, a gentle breeze blowing: 'simply too beautiful to be wasted inside' as my sister put it. Did I tell you that she's still exchanging letters with the delivery boy from the hat shop? I thought they were over but apparently he invited her to the nickelodeon next week. Anyway, walking in the park with her I suddenly realised how I wanted to share that spring wonder with you. When are you coming back to New York? Tell me soon, please. And even 'soon' won't be soon enough: you're always on my mind since you left. But yes, tell me soon so I can make you promise we will go for a walk before the weather becomes too hot. Do you think I can wrap my arm with yours? Is it professional enough for a publicist? Even just for a few steps: oh you have no idea how I would love that! Or maybe you have? I hope so: it'd mean you miss me as much as I miss you when we are apart. Oh, I almost forgot: all settled with that magazine you mentioned before your departure! I negotiated a two pages long interview, plus pictures. And a cover mention. Hope I did well: you have already fired me as your secretary, I must prove you I am just what you're looking for in a publicist... Can't wait to see you again! Loving you always, Adele Only one letter was copied on a panel of its own on the main wall side by side with a blow-up of the picture of Adele and Zetta slow-dancing barefoot and free, for a blessed moment immortalised in a discreet shot. Adele pressing a tender kiss on Zetta's forehead, drawing a soft smile on the acrtress' lips. Many visitors commented it was heartwarming to see such a photograph that conveyed the intimacy and the warmth of affection radiating from the dancing couple. Some said that Zetta was even more beautiful like that: free, hair slightly askew and genuinely happy, loved. What stole their hearts away though was the letter attached to it. It was no surprise that the curators decided to name the retrospective Underwater. Dearest Adele, Forgive me for the tone of this letter. I am writing it down in bed while I cannot sleep and my mind runs back to you as if we could meet halfway between the miles separating us, in a world of fantasy of our own. It's ridiculous how much I miss you! I want you near, I need you near all the time. Take tonight: if you were here with me, I would be heavenly sleeping in your loving embrace. Most unfortunately, you are not and I'm lying here, insomniac, thinking of you. And about my life. No, don't frown. I am not getting all sad again. It's...bittersweet. And - I'll spoil you the ending so you will stop worrying, hopefully - it gets better the more you proceed. Have you ever felt trapped underwater? I did, my whole life. Always hiding, always measuring words, gestures, gazes not to let them see, not to let them know...so little time to go up and break the surface. Drop the mask and breathe. In, out. Once, twice. In my lowest moments I repeated to my myself: how are you gonna survive? One day an acquaintance with a remarkable passion for the sea explained me and the other bored commensals that you can keep someone alive by breathing oxygen into their mouth underwater. Pretty much like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation helps an unconscious person to regain consciousness. I found it interesting but doubted his words. Then I met you, Adele. My dearest, wondrous Adele. And I learnt that yes, you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater...but you won't drown if you have the right person swimming by your side in those deep waters. Put your lips on me, Adele. Touch me, hold me in your arms. And I can live underwater. With your love, I can live underwater. We can live underwater. I love you. I want to cover a full page of these three simple words: I love you. I want to cry them out and entrust them to the winds, to the night. But what for? Who cares if the world knows or not? I'll whisper them over your lips when we will be reunited. So you can breathe underwater. Counting down the hours separating us, my love. Eternally yours, Zetta

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (5/6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  (@geraskier-trashh​ @negativenuggetz​)

A/N: oh lord this wasn’t supposed to be 3k words long XD Hope you like it tho!

***

It was a bad idea to tell Geralt not to wear all black. Well, the scarf is grey and the coat and the shoes are black, but they don’t matter. Geralt’s just taken them off to reveal a three-piece suit and a shirt with two top buttons undone, the clothing in a deep, navy blue colour. His eyes stand out beautifully against it. Geralt in navy blue makes Jaskier want to weep and it’s only half-past noon. To add to Jaskier’s tragic swoon, Geralt’s hair is braided away from his face into a lovely plait at the back of his head (which Jaskier suspects is Ciri’s doing). It just shouldn’t look as good as it does. Geralt is so stunning today that words other than what the fuck do not begin to cover it.

Not to blurt out that in lieu of a greeting, Jaskier spreads his arms wide and exclaims, “Ahoy, captain!”

Geralt snorts with disgust. “Never say that again.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Come in, come in,” he says as he ushers Geralt into the living room, “make yourself at home. Are you hungry? It’s last chance for a snack before I put on some eyeliner and we’re off!”

“Eyeliner?” Geralt repeats with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, to finish off this look!” he replies as he gestures at the floral Gucci suit he’s wearing. The outfit’s actually demure considering his usual fashion choices. Bright colours and ridiculous patterns are his go-to but today is the first day of his life when he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. Much. “Help yourself with something from the kitchen if you want,” he says over his shoulder, already leaving for the bathroom.

The makeup takes just a minute or two – eyeliner application has become much less of dark magic with practice. He decides to put on some pretty pink lip gloss as well because, although he’s going to spare his family today and won’t flaunt his queerness at them, he still has to do something. It’s not at all because he hopes his fiancé might like it.

(Geralt’s suit)

(Jaskier’s suit)

When he strides into the living room, he poses like a model and asks, “How do I look?”

Geralt, who sits on the couch, stares him up and down. His gaze almost makes Jaskier blush, so does his smirk. Both border on appreciative. “Really good,” he says.

Since Jaskier expected some mean comment, he almost topples over in shock at the compliment. He sputters, definitely flushing a bit, but quickly re-establishes a working link between his mouth and his brain. “Of course I do, darling,” he replies with a wink. Geralt smirks in that sexy way again. Jaskier has to give himself a good mental shake to stop staring. Clearing his throat, he starts thinking out loud, “So! Have I got everything for the party? I’ve got Geralt, and then the present, and then... Ah! The rings!”

Jaskier sits down next to Geralt and pulls the box out of the pocket of his jacket. Raising the lid, he reveals two rings seated within, one silver and one gold. “Should I kneel?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier laughs with delight, then takes out the silver ring and passes it to Geralt. It’a simple but chunky band with tiny engravings. Jaskier figured Geralt wouldn’t appreciate anything too showy. Geralt takes it and inspects what’s engraved on it. “What kind of flowers are those?” he asks.

“Buttercups,” Jaskier explains, “That’s what my name means. My grandma always told me I’m a jaskier.”

Pretty but poisonous. It’s extremely fitting.                                    

Geralt only hmms and slides the ring on his finger. It’s a perfect fit but it’s no thanks to Jaskier’s genius deduction or anything; he simply knew Geralt’s ring size because Geralt told him. After their phone conversation regarding ring preferences, family drama and other things, they kept talking. Geralt even began starting conversations by himself – he’d send some texts about Ciri like “Ciri says hi” or “Ciri’s playing that song again”. It made Jaskier melt every time.

“Look what you bought me in return, darling,” he says, smiling excitedly, and puts on the gold ring. It’s much more flashy than Geralt’s – a signet with a three-dimensional head of a wolf. “White Wolf” is apparently Geralt’s nickname and a pseudonym of sorts. Wolves are his favourite animals, too.

Jaskier holds out his hand, putting it next to Geralt’s on the couch, and admires the rings on their fingers. “They suit us,” he says quietly

Geralt hmms. “They do.”

The drive is two hours long. Geralt insisted on driving even though it’s Jaskier’s car. Jaskier has a suspicion that driving is an excuse not to listen to him as he’s going over the essential family drama, but it’s mostly for his own sake anyway. He just wants to delude himself that Geralt will be well-prepared for everything and all will go smoothly. They will be fine. They must.

When they pull up in front of Jaskier family’s mansion, panic and second thoughts wash over him alternately in cold and hot waves. As they walk out of the car and Geralt hands him the keys, Jaskier hides within himself and observes the reality unravel a sense of detachment. He doesn’t want to be a part of the upcoming disaster.

“Ready?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier only looks at him helplessly. Geralt offers him his arm and Jaskier takes it like a lifeline. He clutches on it, the touch grounding him, as they walk towards the front door silently.

“Should’ve guessed you were rich,” Geralt remarks as he takes in the mansion looming before them.

“My success in music is all my own,” Jaskier replies feistily, “it took me ten years.”

Geralt wisely doesn’t say anything else and Jaskier settles down, letting out a shaky breath. He always gets very defensive of his achievements. Sis parents paid for nothing; he never asked them to. He hates that people assume differently.

The entrance hall is empty when they invite themselves in, but not for long. Just as they manage to take off their coats, they hear someone coming down the stairs. Jaskier looks up to see Rozalia, his older sister. She’s only one year older than him but doesn’t look a day over thirty. In appearance, she’s all mum: luxuriant dark locks, cat-green eyes, tan skin, and regal features.

“Julek!” she exclaims with a smile and rushes down the stairs into Jaskier’s open arms. They laugh when their bodies collide.

“Hey, horror sister!” Jaskier says, the words their special greeting.

“Hey, wild brother!” Rozalia replies, as tradition commands.

When Jaskier releases her from his embrace, he goes on to introduce Rozalia and Geralt to each other.

“So this is your fiancé,” Rozalia drawls after she and Geralt shake hands, clearly amused, and looks Geralt up and down. “Holy shit. I can see why you kept him a secret.”

Jaskier purses his lips, putting a possessive arm around Geralt’s waist. “Roza, you’re married.”

Rozalia only smirks, then turns on her heel and starts walking down the corridor towards the living room. “Everyone! Julek’s here!” she announces loudly.

“Julek?” Geralt mutters to Jaskier as they start following Rozalia.

“Diminutive of Julian,” Jaskier explains quietly.  

“Sweet.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Jaskier snorts under his breath but doesn’t reply. The sensation of detachment from the reality is there again and Jaskier doesn’t fight it – the distance between him and everything else wards off the impending panic attack.

Like in a dream, he sees his other sister Amelia, who’s five years younger than him, marching towards them, her mop of short golden curls bouncing up and down as she walks. With her sweet face and wide blue eyes (just like Jaskier’s, which they both got from their dad), she looks like an angel. (Spoiler alert: she’s not. She can be the worst. That’s kind of the youngest’s privilege, though).

When Amelia hugs him and Jaskier introduces her and Geralt to each other, he’s still in a daze. Amelia walks on his side as they all enter the living room, chatting about something to him, but he doesn’t really hear it due to the ringing sound in his ears.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles.

Jaskier looks into the sun-like, concerned eyes. The warmth calms him down. 

He takes in everyone in the room: his parents, Alfred and Wanda. Amelia, Rozalia and her husband Silvio. Dad’s brother, uncle Konrad, with his wife and son Ferrant. Mum’s sisters, aunts Maria, Hanna and Anna with their husbands. All watching Jaskier and Geralt expectantly.  

Jaskier puts on his best smile and lays a hand on the small of Geralt’s back. “Everyone, this is Geralt Rivia. A Royal Navy commander,” he says and observes, delighting in the array of shocked reactions his family display. “My fiancé,” he adds with pride that he doesn’t even have fake.

A round of introductions follows. Geralt shakes everyone’s hands and says nice things like “honoured to meet you finally”, “Jaskier told me so much about you” and “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you earlier”. It’s actually pretty convincing, Jaskier has to give him that. Still, it doesn’t stop one of the questions Jaskier dreads the most.

“But why didn’t you tell us anything, darling?” his mum asks as everyone sits down at the table in the dining room.

This is it, Jaskier thinks mournfully, this is when it all goes to hell. At least Geralt sits next to him. It would be a quick departure – Jaskier will just grab his fiancé and run out of the house.

“Exactly,” Amelia seconds, her slender arms crossed before her chest, “it isn’t like you. You would tell the whole world about your engagement in some wild Twitter thread.”

Shit. She got him there. “W-well, I...”

“I asked him not to,” Geralt comes to the rescue. At the confused looks from everyone around, he goes on, “Not until I go on at least one more deployment and Jaskier’s absolutely sure he wants this. He should have it easier in case he changes his mind. Fewer people know about it, less painful it is to announce.”

Jaskier’s dad frowns. “But why do you assume he’d do that?” he inquires, regarding Geralt with suspicion.

“Being in a relationship with a marine officer is hard,” Geralt replies with a heavy sigh and makes a dramatic pause. Jaskier’s family looks at him with almost bated breath but he takes his time, the bastard. He already has them hanging off his every word. “My deployments are rarely shorter than nine months long,” he confesses ruefully.

A stunned silence falls over the room. Jaskier’s family stare at him with disbelief – they all know Jaskier wouldn’t be able to survive a relationship like that, not with how needy he can be.

Of bloody course Geralt would take it too far at the very start.

“But I’m stubborn!” Jaskier exclaims as cheerfully as he can, “Won’t have anyone else but Geralt.”

“Well, that’s all you,” Amelia says, and Jaskier heaves a sigh of relief.

It’s not that Jaskier doesn’t appreciate Amelia’s inquisitive mind. She’s always had the tendency to analyze and look into everything until every fact and detail adds up. Her character makes her the perfect heir to the family business, which she’s agreed to gladly. Ever since she made that decision, Jaskier choosing music is much less of a painful topic for their family. And so, Jaskier certainly values his younger sister’s nature of constant question-asking, but not in moments like this.

Amelia appears to already know what is going on here and Jaskier only prays she’ll be nice enough not to delve into it too much. Maybe some warning glances from Rozalia and begging ones from Jaskier will stop her. Maybe.

Food is served, alcohol starts flowing. Jaskier’s family begin asking Geralt about himself but Jaskier always tries to twist the conversation so that questions about their relationship don’t come. Until they do.

After they sang dad happy birthday, told him their wishes and gave him the gifts, it’s time to eat the birthday cake. Just when Jaskier puts half of his slice on Geralt’s plate (he doesn’t even like cake), Silvio asks, “When did you two meet?”

Geralt and Jaskier share a look. Jaskier opens his mouth to answer but it’s Geralt who says, “It was two years ago. I walked into a bar where Jaskier was playing. He asked me for a review of his songs after his performance.”

Geralt has the audacity to smirk at him so Jaskier, just to be a little shit, adds, “In three words or less!”

Geralt doesn’t appreciate this contribution judging by how he narrows his eyes at him. Jaskier knows they’re treading a dangerous ground – in their stupidity, they didn’t discuss the details of their “first meeting”. Geralt started it, though.

“And what did you say?” Silvio questions.

“That they don’t exist,” Geralt replies without a beat, still staring Jaskier in the eye.

“Whaaat don’t exist?” Jaskier’s father says what Jaskier himself almost blurts out.

“The creatures in his songs,” Geralt explains.

The affronted noise that leaves Jaskier's mouth is beyond his control. “It’s folk! The genre allows for fantastical elements like that!” He huffs. “But you know, Geralt with his commander mind always wants the facts and only facts.”

“So you don’t like Julek’s singing?” Rozalia asks Geralt.

Geralt denies this with a shake of his head. “Jaskier sings beautifully,” he replies, “Like a siren.” He lays his hand on Jaskier’s and looks into Jaskier’s eyes. “My siren,” he adds quietly.

Jaskier has to gape a little. He barely restrains himself from mouthing are fucking serious? because, really, Geralt can’t just say things like that. When he regains his composure, he decides to be mean. “I told you not to call me that, dear heart,” he says, “Not exactly flattering. Sirens lured sailors to their demise.”

Geralt does that lethally adorable head tilt and answers, “Still would go for you.”

He can hear aunt Maria cooing in the background, bless her heart, but Jaskier almost doesn’t register it. His attention is fully on Geralt – there’s something new in his gaze, beneath the teasing glint. Something guarded, tentative and true. Jaskier cocks his head to the side just a little bit. Geralt notices the question in the gesture (they’re really getting good at reading each other, aren’t they?) and answers by raising an eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Jaskier experiences the feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach when he understands – it’s an invitation. He accepts.

Geralt’s lips stretch into a small smile and he squeezes Jaskier’s hand on the table, intertwining their fingers together. Jaskier’s heart almost gives out and he grins, giddy like a teenager who’s just found out their crush is reciprocated. It’s not that far off from the truth anyway.

Uncle Konrad asks Geralt about the Navy. The two of them start discussing working in the army but Jaskier only half-listens, too focused on cherishing the feel of Geralt’s palm engulfing his. Until Geralt takes his hand away, that is.

With a displeased grunt, Geralt takes his phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket. The screen displays an incoming call. “I should take this,” he says apologetically and quickly walks out of the dining room.   

The moment Geralt leaves, the assault is unleashed upon Jaskier. His family bombard him with so many questions and remarks at once that he only hears what Rozalia sitting next to him says. “Didn’t know you were into older men,” she comments, swirling the wine in her glass innocently.

“He’s forty!”

She frowns. “Then what’s the deal with the hair?”

Jaskier freezes in panic. Fucking hell, what is the deal with the hair? He has no idea. Geralt refused to answer his questions. “W-well,” he stutters out, “it’s really... uhh...” He clears his throat. “Not my story to tell. Geralt doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Rozalia hums, an amused twinkle in her eyes. “How mysterious.”

“He sure does seem mysterious,” uncle Konrad chimes in, “And...”

“Quiet?” Ferrant suggests.

“Taciturn?” Silvio supplies.

“Closed off?” aunt Hanna adds.

“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?” Jaskier cuts in, interrupting this merry-go-round offering of adjectives before it spirals into everyone calling Geralt a brute.

“It’s not,” aunt Anna reassures, “It’s just that... I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering how on earth the relationship is even working with him being like this and you being, well...” she trails off and gestures at Jaskier with her fork. “You.”

“Frist off, I’ll take this as a compliment –”

“Of course, dear.”

“ – and secondly, even though we’re different, our differences only keep things... interesting, if you get my meaning.” Jaskier throws in a telling wink, and his uncles chuckle.

“Julian!” both his parents cry out, scandalised.

“Honestly,” Jaskeir goes on, unmoved, “deep down, he and I are quite the same.”

“Indeed?” Amelia asks, “Is he also a bastard at heart?”

“Yesss!” he hisses out, wildly pleased. Sometimes he loves Amelia’s analytic mind.

“He actually seems like a sweetheart,” his mum says, warming Jaskier to his very heart. He loves his mum so much – she always sees the best in people.  

“He’s both, really,” he replies, “He’s certainly a sweetheart to his daughter.” Jaskier delights in shocking his family once again. Then, an idea pops up in his mind, “If you ask him about her, he’ll open right up.”

Before anyone can ask anything else, Geralt returns. After taking one look at him, Jaskier knows something is wrong. There’s tension about him but his face is a blank mask. 

“Something wrong, love?” Jaskier whispers, barely realising that he even said the endearment.

“Work,” Geralt grunts.  

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s father says, “Julian tells us you have a daughter?”

Geralt face lights up immediately. It’s such a charming sight. Jaskier’s chest constricts with how everything in him screams and begs don’t ever go. 

“Yes,” he answers and launches into talking about Cirilla – how old she is, where she goes to school, what she likes doing. How she loved to paint her little hands on the walls when she was six. Soon after that, everyone shares funny stories about children, either their own or themselves as kids.

Jaskier zones out a bit, too busy wondering why Geralt took his hand away when he reach for it.

Later, Jaskier’s parents invite Geralt to stay for the night, which makes the fake-fiance scheme a success; they wouldn’t allow someone who they thought to be a stranger to sleep in their house.

Geralt doesn’t take them up on their offer.

TBC

Part 6

***

A/N: Rozalia is the Horror while Jaskier is the Wild 💕 (Amelia is the nasty angel baby. They adore her for it. Must protecc).

(Also, I love making up OCs, can you tell? XD)

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Divine

Req:  would you mind writing a Sub!Ten smut where reader gives them a handjob and it goes from there? The scenario can be whatever you feel is best but the switch (dom+) in me has been quaking +  something with a really dom reader + any whiny subby nct or exo member that first comes to mind? + pegging

Summary: art student!Ten gets assigned a project with you for your Photography class and although his ideas for the concept initially make you wary, you eventually see the silver lining once he invites you back to his place

Pairing: sub!Ten x dom!reader (both are bi/queer/sexually fluid)

Genre: smut (m)

Words: 6015

Tags: nudity, cursing, handjob, edging, pegging

A/N: I combined quite a few repeated reqs I’ve been getting for sub!nct and pegging in specific so sorry if this took way too long! I haven’t gone full feral dom in this the way I like to (because wbk im a hardcore dom) since i’ve noticed many on here have boundaries with it/not used to it so since this is my first proper sub!member fic, I’m just easing into it ok--i’ll go harder or less next time depending on the response this gets

You raise your hand to knock on the burgundy door, hesitation creeping up your mind and effectively stopping you. Your fist hovers mid-air as you straighten your dress with your free hand and pull out your phone to check your makeup again.

When Ten approached you at the library yesterday, you certainly hadn’t expected him to call you back to his apartment.

Well, then again, you hadn’t expected a lot of what Ten had said at the library when he sat across from you while you were working on your assignment.

Chittaphon Ten is nothing less of popular at your university—with a double major in Art and Dance, a minor in Photography, it’s no surprise that both students and faculty were always constantly in awe of how he seemed to always have his shit together, scoring impressive grades, being extremely sociable and generally was the most well-rounded person that you’d ever seen.

His crazy attractive features weren’t a drawback either.

Like most girls, you admired him from afar without ever making a move. Not because you were too shy to do anything—Lord knows you weren’t, and so did a good majority of the students who you’d been with—but because he was always surrounded by people, the life of every party he went to, the one who never had a problem getting laid and the one whose attention required too much effort.

Which is why you were extremely surprised when Ten sought you out at the library yesterday. He’d called your name, which you didn’t even know he knew until then. It made you recall the first time he’d said it—one of the many faces that you’d been introduced to at the freshmen’s party during your first year at university.

He’d been the cool friendly popular sophomore, a beacon to all the lost freshmen and you’d been one of them as you exchanged names, later drinks and then, you were pretty sure, a tipsy dance together towards the end of the night.

That was the extent of your interaction—with the exception of the friendly smiles and casual ‘Hey’s as you passed each other in the hallway. What’s even sadder is that most of the memories from that night aren’t even clear to you due to all the shots you had downed—it’s only when you saw all the blurry pictures on Instagram the next day that you realised he’d danced with his hands around you but you couldn’t remember even feeling them, nevertheless the dance.  

Needless to say, Ten was probably the only guy to ever make you reconsider the decision to drink at parties.

Regardless of all this, you hadn’t expected to be paired with him in your Photography class that you two happened to share this semester. You never thought he’d attend much since it was only an elective—moreover, attendance wasn’t even compulsory—but you should have known better, of course perfect Ten was there.

And of course, on the one day that you’d skipped classes, you and Ten had gotten a paired assignment.

“The concept,” Ten said in a hushed voice as he leaned over the table at the library, making your gaze unknowingly rivet to his mouth. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his as he continued, “The concept for the assignment is Biblical influence on art.”

Still, you’d nodded. You’d shrugged it off in stride.

At least, you did until Ten said the following words:

“I have an idea. Everyone else is going to be at churches and cemeteries and cathedrals and basilicas. For the architecture and lightings. I was thinking, since we both are studying Art, we could paint on you to make you look like a Michelangelo sculpture.”

You’d blinked at him, wondering if you had misheard because he was whispering so lowly. You’d opened your mouth and closed it again, gaping like a fish. When he’d seen your obvious confusion, he repeated the last part, making your eyebrows furrow and then inhale sharply as you realised he was serious.

“Just hear me out,” Ten started before you could start yelling in the middle of the university library. “Think about it. No one would do such a unique concept.”

“Yeah, because it’s crazy?”

“Its art, Y/N. Crazy is kind of what gets you recognition.”

“This is an assignment that isn’t even accounted for twenty percent, Ten. It’s not even going to get published. Make it make sense,” you said in a flat voice.

“Imagine if it does, though, because it’s that good,” he muttered, widening his eyes at you to further emphasise his point.

You didn’t agree. You didn’t disagree either but the way you’d shaken your head and quickly stormed out of the library with an excuse that you needed to get to class let him know that you weren’t exactly in favour of the whole idea.

Then he’d called that night. It was later than you’d expect anyone to call—especially to discuss an assignment—but for some reason, it had worked.

You’re not sure why you agreed. Maybe it was because he’d actually made some good points over the call.

Or maybe because his voice had sounded so lulling over the phone, you’d found yourself nodding along without even paying attention to what he’d been suggesting. You agreed to meet him after your last evening class the next day at his apartment to ‘get it over with as soon as possible’.

Right now, you stood outside his door and tried to recall what all he had said last night. You were wearing a wrap-around dress that dropped only till your knees—the easiest thing to get in and out of—and had washed your hair so that it hung around your face. You’d scrubbed and shaved every surface of your skin until you were polished and squeaky clean, smelling like fresh soap and your mildly-scented lavender perfume.

You took a breath and checked your reflection for the millionth time in just half an hour on your phone’s screen before sighing and knocking on his door.

There was a shuffle of steps and then the door opened, Ten poking his head out and smiling at you.

“Hey,” he greeted softly and held the door open. “Come on in.”

You slowly entered, your mind racing with multiple thoughts as you closed the door behind you. You heard him mumble that he’ll be right back and to make yourself comfortable as he headed to a room at the end of the hallway.

You entered the first room to your left that he’d gestured at, your eyes quickly scanning the place. You immediately notice how he’d drawn all the curtains open and can’t help but smile at the very obvious attempt to have cleaned up—everything had been pushed to the corners of the room and things were thrown haphazardly to a side to clear the floor.

Biting back a smile, you turn right as he enters and hold your hands up to stop him before he starts speaking.

“Before anything,” you start, lowering your raised hands when you notice he’s listening. “Explain to me entirely what your plan is for the project. All of it.”

He nods and grabs his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You listen attentively as Ten explains how he thought it would be cool if he painted your entire body like a marble sculpture with a sheet draped over your body—painting over the sheet as well for a hyper-realistic effect while you posed like a statue.

You bit down on your lip at the idea of getting naked in his apartment with only a slinky garment to cover you, eyes moving from his phone’s screen to meet his. You can see the question in them and he even gives you a polite smile as if to tell you that you can always refuse if you’re uncomfortable with it.

But beneath that, you can see the challenging glint: he is daring you to back down because he knows you’re on unfamiliar grounds with him. He’d surely been naked many times in his apartment with several mutual friends of yours and so had you back in your own place but never with each other.

And maybe it was that or maybe this exciting air of ‘what if this went somewhere?’ and ‘what if one of us leaned in closer?’—but you didn’t want to back down.

So you gave him a firm nod, relishing in the way his eyes slightly widened at your affirmation as you turned to head for the bathroom that you’d seen when walking in. You turn at the last second, right as you’re near the door to see Ten staring at you as if baffled that you’re actually agreeing to this and you ask as nonchalantly as possible, “Ten? The sheet?”    

“What?” He blinks before realising. “Oh, right, right, sorry.”

He grabs an ivory-coloured sheet that laid neatly over the back of a chair and hands it over to you. You still as your eyes fall on the silky satin material you held in your hands, the fabric almost slipping from your fingers because of how smooth it was.

You slowly raise your eyes from the sheet to ask him what exactly you were supposed to do with it and stop when you notice that his eyebrow is raised, expression apprehensive as if to wait for you to drop the sheet and leave his apartment.

Plastering on an overly sweet smile, you nod in thanks and turn to the bathroom.

Once inside, you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you give yourself a pep-talk.

You weren’t backing down. There was just no way—especially when there was a good chance that this was all in your head and you were just making it into a bigger deal than what it actually is. It could just be about the project and Ten’s perfectionistic tendency wanting the highest grade.

So you slowly disrobed from your floral wraparound dress, hanging it over the hook on the back of the bathroom door. You hadn’t put much makeup on except for some gloss on your lips and some mascara—not wanting to be completely barefaced but at the same time, not going fully out.

Taking a deep breath, you take the satin sheet and stare at it as you contemplate how to wrap it around yourself.

You settle for wrapping it around your body, under the arm similar to how you usually do with a towel. You try to wrap it twice but the material is hardly enough to envelop more than once fully around your frame.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and have to force yourself to not get back into your comfy dress and jump out the bathroom window. The material clings to your body like a second skin and despite being layered twice around your front, your nipples still poke through due to how thin and supple the satin is.

Sighing and straightening your back, you turn to make sure that the knot at the back is fastened tightly and feel glad that you’d had the sense to shave your entire body spotless earlier today before coming here.

You meet your gaze in the mirror one last time, narrowing your eyes slightly as you take a deep breath and get your game face on. You walk to the door and step out, immediately feeling goosebumps rise on your skin at the sudden change in temperature from the cool bathroom.

You re-enter the hall and immediately notice Ten fight every instinct in his body to react at your appearance as his eyes swiftly rake over your entire form before quickly flitting back to your eyes.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you stand in front of him and he hesitates before finally saying, “Uh. You. That’s not actually how I thought you’d wear it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting against the urge to cross your arms over your chest defensively because you knew that would only draw more attention towards your breasts.

“What did you think then?” You ask in a deadpan tone and Ten grabs his phone from the table, showing you an image of a marbled woman sculpture that had a similarly thin cloth adorning her body except it fell over one shoulder and was held tight by pressing down the other arm. Moreover, she was postured by leaning her hips against a short pedestal and arching her back with her head raised upwards.

The garment covered her chest and stopped short at the very top of her thighs—barely covering anything but exposing her curvy hips, thighs and sides in their full glory.

You unknowingly release a loud sigh of frustration before nodding. Determined, you reach back to unknot the cloth but Ten stops you with his hand, saying, “Wait, its fine.”

Your hand is caught underneath his, and you look at him with confusion. “What?”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, lowering his hand from your shoulder. “This is better cause I have to paint your shoulders anyway and they’re both revealed this way. We’ll paint your entire body first before putting the satin over it and paint that last.”

“Um,” you say softly, nodding as he gestures for you to sit on the chair. You slowly sit down and contemplate crossing your legs but decide against it as that would cause the material to hike up further than it already is. “Okay.”

Ten stands above you, dipping a brush with thick bristles into a palette. You keep your eyes on his face, watching him carefully and don’t fail to see the way his breath slightly catches when he notices your intense gaze on him. You try to bite back a smirk as he leans over you and presses the cool brush against your shoulder, lightly stroking it over the skin in an experimental brushstroke.

“Could you lean your head back?” He asks you, his voice considerably lower.

“Mhm, sure,” you softly hum in agreement as you arch your neck back, noticing the way his grip falters on the brush as he presses the brush more firmly against your shoulder. The contact with your skin mixed with the air that had suddenly grown thick around the two of you made slight bumps rise along your arms and you feel Ten’s gaze dart to your face, having noticed the effect.

Yeah. This wasn’t about the project. Your senses were tingling and even if you knew nothing else, you could smell sexual tension from miles away.

You deliberately sigh softly, your chest heaving with the release of air and feel the brush still against your skin again. You sneak a look at Ten and notice that he’s completely stopped faking it, watching your face carefully.

You lower your head and turn it in his direction, feeling both your breaths intermingle from how close your faces are. You’re just about to lean in when he says, “It’s not working.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “What?”

“The paint.” You glance down at your shoulder to see that the colour was slightly faded and almost runny, not in the thick layers that they should be with the amount of strokes Ten had just made.

“Your skin,” he said, thinking as he leaned back slightly, promptly breaking the moment that you just had. “There’s something that’s not allowing the paint to settle. Did you put something before you came here?”

You think for a moment before answering, “Uh, yeah, moisturiser. Lotion. Is that it?”

Ten swallowed thickly, nodding at your words as he stepped back. “Do you think you can remove it with body wash or soap? I can’t paint your skin otherwise and it needs to be layered thickly for the marble effect.”

You stare at Ten, eyes narrowed as you tried to figure what game he was playing here. You’re almost tempted to just stand up and grab him, press him against the desk and kiss him hungrily.

Did he just want you to shower here? Was he going to walk in? Or was this to just have you smelling like the same sweet-scented soap that he always smelled like?

Or was this really because he was concerned with the project and didn’t want your Vaseline bodycream to stand in the way of a perfect grade?

Did he even want to sleep with you in the first place?

You stand up abruptly, unable to take the million thoughts flooding into your head. Turning around, you made a beeline for the bathroom again while mentally cursing him.

If he was playing hard-to-get, this was the longest you’d ever held out for someone you were interested in sleeping with, despite how much you loved the game.

You’re Y/N. Sure, Ten had a reputation as the campus heartthrob with nights of guaranteed fun and pleasure but so did you—you had entire groups of people who would attest to your skills in the bedroom.

Except you didn’t know right now. The signals you’d been receiving all night were mixed and you couldn’t tell reality anymore from your own fantasies of taking Ten and having him in your own way.

You wished you were right—that he was really interested in sleeping with you. Because you couldn’t get the pretty images of Ten whining and mewling softly out of your head, reminiscing the way his Adam’s apple had bobbed nervously every time he swallowed when he noticed your gaze, loving the way he’d slightly faltered as you’d breathed softly.

You wanted to ruin him so bad—you could feel your core clenching with desire just from the thought of it.

You don’t realise you hadn’t closed the door behind you and it’s only when you turn around, catching Ten standing at the door that you realise.

You stare at him, feeling a slight tingle run through you as you gazed at him. You could see your own reflection on the mirror from your peripheral as Ten leaned on the wall beside it, his eyes transfixed on you.

“How is it that we’ve never ran in the same circles?” He asks, cocking his head.

Is he finally taking the bait?

You smile at his words, crossing your arms on purpose this time. “What do you mean?”

He falters slightly and you know it’s to fight the urge to lower his gaze from your face. He clears his throat, saying slowly, “I mean, we're both...”

“Hoes?” You offer, raising an eyebrow.

Ten blinks, surprised at your word choice. “I was going to say ‘the same’ but uh, sure, I guess that applies too.”

You chuckle, leaning your hip against the sink as you grin at him. “It’s cause we run in different circles that rarely interact with each other and the ones that do are comparatively lesser.”

Ten frowned at that, throwing your earlier question back at you. “What do you mean?”

“You fuck more guys and I fuck more girls.”

Ten’s eyes shot open, a light brush creeping up his cheeks at your bluntness and making you smirk slightly.

You think for a second, remembering all the times you’d spent with girls who were switches or leaned more towards dom. “You’ve slept with Amber, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “Taeyong?”

You nod. “Hwasa?”

“Of course. Mark?”

“Duh. Dahyun?”

“Obviously.”

You smile, glancing at the mirror as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “All right, then. I’ll shower now.”

You start to close the door but his hand is quick to grab your arm, stopping you effectively. You lift your head quickly to meet his gaze, able to smell the paint that was lingering on his clothes and unable to think with the need to just kiss him.

But you had to think, you had to control. He’d toyed with you enough so it’s only fair that you return the favour.

He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, unable to say the words that he’s thinking.

“You’re…” He pauses before hesitantly asking, “That’s it? You’re just going to shower?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, playing genuinely confused. “... Yeah? I asked all that cause I was curious and I never knew you were such a power bottom. So are both Mark and Taeyong so I’m guessing that didn’t work well for you. Unlike the girls you slept with, who are all switches.”

He nods, his fingers still wrapped around your forearm. “I know. But they never... they never...”

He trails off and your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to say. “Whoa. What? Really?”

“What’s that expression supposed to mean?” Ten demands, narrowing his eyes at you. “You dommed Mark and Taeyong?”

“No,” you scowled before reluctantly explaining, “I mean I did. But not as much as I wanted to. They chickened out in the last second and we just fucked in missionary.”

Ten hesitates, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip nervously. “How... how much do you want to?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you feel your heart skip a beat, a sense of excitement suddenly rushing through your blood. Your eyes are transfixed on his lips, now glistening with his saliva and you can’t help but imagine them parted wide open, gasping and moaning.

“Why?” You ask, your voice husky with arousal as you lower your lashes at him. “How far do you want me to go?”

“How far can you go?”

You raise your eyebrow challengingly. “Farther than Dahyun or the others would ever dare going.”

He grabs your waist then and your hands are already on his shoulders, slamming him back onto the door.

Your mouths meet heatedly and he moans as you press your body completely up against him.

Ten’s hands are gripping your hips tightly as you trail your one hand down his chest, between the two of you. Your hand passes over the waistband of his sweatpants and you palm his growing erection roughly. Ten gasps aloud and the sound is music to your ears as you take the opportunity to slip your tongue inside his parted lips.

Your fingers grip his length over the soft material of his pants and he’s twitching even with the minimal contact. Ten’s hand grabs your neck and pulls you away enough to breathe heavily, “Bedroom.”

“Yes, let’s go,” you mutter hurriedly and you grab his hand, pulling him in the direction of what you assumed to be the bedroom—the only other room in the small apartment.

You sit on the edge of the bed and yank him to you, loving the way a soft gasp leaves his mouth as he almost stumbles into your lap. Hesitantly he sits on your thighs and you shake your head, noticing that he still had his sweatpants on.

“Take the clothes off, sweetheart,” you say sweetly but with enough firmness to immediately make him get off your lap and peel his shirt off. You lean back with your hands on the bed to support you as you stare at him, watching him as he stripped.

You stand up when he’s bare in front of you, taking his hand and pushing him onto the bed before crawling on top of him.

Ten sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap and you place your knees on either side of his thighs. You grab the hair on the back of his head, gripping the locks tightly in your fingers to yank his head back roughly and quickly move your mouth around his slender throat.

It doesn’t take long to find the sweet spot that has him moaning, his chest jerking up with his gasps at your relentless lips. You lick a stripe from his ear to his clavicle, sucking on the soft flesh where his shoulder and neck meets.

Ten's whimpers are the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard, his fingers having bunched up the satin sheet around you as he grips it tightly. The material gives away easily and next thing you know, cool air is hitting your skin as the satin is now fisted in his grip. Your legs are splayed over his, feeling his warm skin against yours as you kiss around his neck. You lower your mouth to his clavicle, sucking on the skin enough to leave bruises that you’re sure will darken by tomorrow as you mark him. Ten’s head is thrown back in pleasure as you leave hickeys all over his throat and you use the distraction to slowly roll your hips, rubbing your core over his growing erection. Ten gasps at the sudden sensation and you smirk against his skin, pulling him back hurriedly by his shoulders.

“Y/N,” his voice is a shaky whisper as they leave his lips and you hum in response, kissing him again deeply in a way that let him know you were going to absolutely devour him. Your hands find his hair again and you hold him firmly to you, moving your lips against his and letting your tongue explore the warmth of his mouth in a way that left him dazed and breathless when you finally pulled away.

You settled on his knees, leaving enough space between your bodies for your hands to quickly reach down and wrap your fingers around his length. Ten is deliciously responsive—bucking into your touch, hands reflexively reaching out to grip the sheets behind him tightly and moaning softly.

You’re certain that he can see how lust-crazed you are with the way he looks underneath you, his eyes all big and pleading as he waits patiently for you to move your hand, to go faster, to do anything.

So you do.

You’re gentle at first, barely doing much as you swipe your thumb over the pink head. You take your time, admiring the smoothness and length of his dick, swallowing the urge to just take him into your mouth already as you move the pads of your fingers lightly over his length and stroke him leisurely. You watch his face as you do so, loving how Ten’s eyes dilate with the frustration or pleasure or both, you weren’t sure. As his breaths quicken, you remove your hand and smirk while lazily using just your finger to stroke up and down, loving the way he was twitching even with just a single digit on him.

His whines grow louder and you finally give in, wrapping your hand fully around him, suddenly moving it up and down so quickly that it had him breathing harder as your pace suddenly transitioned. Ten’s hands gently came up to hold your hips and he raised his torso from the bed to lean his head into your neck, warm heavy breaths hitting your skin. He whimpered as you lowered your other hand to his balls, fondling them while stroking his erection. His chest started heaving and you could tell he was close from the soft “ah’s” that were leaving his lips, almost in a way that made you think he didn't know he was making them. His eyes were closed tightly, head now leaned back and fingers clenching the sheets so hard that his knuckles were white and you can’t recall when he took his hands away from your waist and pulled his head back from your neck.

You watched him carefully, feeling yourself grow wetter as he came closer to his high and right when he twitched in your hand and his chest jerked up, his entire skin flushing as he panted, you immediately stopped and pulled your hand away completely, disengaging contact.

Ten’s eyes shoot open and you have to bite back a smile at the way he looks utterly breathless and crestfallen at the stolen orgasm.

You take a breath as you crawl over his body, pushing him back by his shoulders and resuming the kisses on his throat and neck. You let your hand tease up his stomach and chest, feeling the way his slender body shivers beneath your fingers at even the slightest feather-touch as you mutter lowly into his ear, “Where are your toys?”

“Bedside drawer,” he whispers breathily and you pull your mouth away from the reddening skin of his neck as you move across the bed to the small wooden drawers.

You grab the strap-on that you found and the bottle of flavoured-lube next to it, closing the drawers shut as you keep them on the bed. Your eyes fall on the beige satin lying at the foot of the bed where it had slipped from Ten’s fingers and you reach across the bed for the material.

Ten watches you with his chest still heaving slightly as he tries to steady his irregular breathing and you grab his wrists, pulling them above his head and binding them together with the same satin that had been around you only an hour earlier.

You adjust on his lap so that your slit is perfectly aligned with his dripping member, enjoying the way he breathed harder as he felt your heat. You moved your hips in torturously slow circles over his length, sliding it up and down as you watched it glisten beneath you with both your fluids while you busied your hands by rubbing the lube in between them and over the strap-on.

“Fuck,” Ten moans aloud and you almost moan in response at how glorious he sounds—his angelic voice cursing, all soft and desperate for you.

You slid down his body and Ten hissed as your hands that were now cool because of the lube made contact with his cock. The head was flushed an angry red and you almost felt sorry at how sensitive he was already despite not even having gone as hard as you usually do.

Ten’s hands are fisted tightly, fingernails digging into his palms as you support yourself above him with both your hands on his shoulders while you kept rotating your hips over him. His eyes close as you grinded slightly against the tip, spreading your thighs and pushing a bit harder so that the head of his erection would slip inside your slick walls just the briefest fraction before you moved again.

Ten whispers curses again and you finally lower your hand again to wrap your fingers around him.

“Ah!” Ten groans as he bucks reflexively into your hand and you don’t give him a second as you start moving your hand over his length at an almost merciless speed, stroking him quickly and roughly. Ten’s eyes blow wide open at your sudden intense stimulations and lower your other hand down further, feeling his pink hole.

The lube in your fingers helps you to easily stick your finger inside and you feel your own arousal grow as he clenches tightly around your single digit while your hand still strokes him to another orgasm. Hearing his breaths grow quicker as he nears his high, you gradually decrease the speed of your hand while still fucking him open with two fingers now.

Ten is mewling and whining on the sheets now, arms slightly squirming to touch himself for relief when you denied him yet another orgasm. His thighs move under you and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Keep moving and I’ll never let you cum,” you warn and he immediately stills at your words, his entire body going still beneath you. You smile slightly in approval at his compliance and lean down to pepper his chest with kisses.

Ten’s breath echoes softly around his cosy bedroom as your mouth finds his nipple, your tongue darting out to circle the nub in quick motions timed with the pace of your one hand moving on his member and the other fucking him open. You look up to see Ten’s eyes roll back in his head at the overstimulation, back arching off the mattress and you immediately stop your ministrations on his cock, sitting up properly to not miss the reaction.

And its priceless.

Ten’s face is redder than you’d ever seen it, a delicious blush spreading over his entire cheeks, neck and down to his chest and you notice how his eyes are slightly teary and unfocused.

You lower your face to his then, pressing a reassuring kiss to his parted lips as you remove your fingers from inside his ready hole.

“Get on top of me, baby,” you mutter as you pull away and Ten nods, disoriented and dazed.

You fall to his side on the bed, grabbing the strap on and putting it around you as you rub the lube, spreading it over the surface of the cock. The thought that Ten probably fucked himself on this after a night that was less that pleasurable and satisfactory with a girl who didn’t want to fuck him the way he wanted to enticed you immeasurably.

Ten’s hands are shaky as he throws his leg over your body lying back on his bed, knees pressed against your sides. Slowly, he lowers himself down on the length of the dildo, eyes closing and lips parting with a loud moan that he couldn’t suppress as he feels it fill him up.

He opens his eyes, gaze shifting to your face and you watch the surprise that falls across his delicate features as you cross your arms behind your head, not touching him.

Understanding that you wanted him to fuck himself on top of you, Ten leaned back and you felt his hands on your lower legs as he used it to support himself up while he starting moving up and down.

Arching his back, you watched the dancer’s slender and beautiful body manifest into the most breathtaking art that you’d ever seen, more beautiful than any marble sculpture as he bounced and fucked himself on you, mouth open as he sang the most sweet-sounding curses and mewls while his angry-red cock slapped against your stomach with every bounce, dripping pre-cum onto your skin.

You raised your hand to his face then, shoving two of your fingers into his parted lips and he immediately closed his lips around your digits, choking slightly. Your own eyes grew hazy with lust as Ten fucked himself faster, thoroughly wetting your fingers with his tongue as he moaned around them while moving faster.

His grunts grew louder and hoarser—you could tell he was close so you grabbed his hip with your free hand and raised your own hips, bucking up into him. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you lowered them dripping with his saliva to his chest and tweaked his nipples that you’d kisses sensitive earlier.

Ten’s body jerks and he groans loudly as his dick twitches, shooting spurts of thick heavy cum over the length of your torso. He keeps cumming continuously, covering your belly, the valley of your breasts and even shoots all the way to your hair with his sticky white fluids.

You drag your finger over your stomach, collecting the cum and stick your finger in your mouth, humming with pleasure at the taste of Ten’s slightly salty essence mixed with his saliva from when you’d been choking him earlier.

Ten collapses down onto your body heavily, unable to hold himself up anymore and you smile as you wrap an arm around his back.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you start, unable to keep the smugness from your tone, “but did I just ruin sex with a girl for you?”

“Yes,” Ten replied, leaning up to kiss your lips and you smile in surprise at the sudden tenderness in the gesture.

He smiles tiredly, eyes still unfocused as he says, “Yes, you did.”

“We should change our concept, by the way,” you suggested. Ten blinks in confusion and you explain, “For the project. The way you looked on top of me with your back arched like that was pretty fucking divine.”

Ten let out a short laugh. “I don’t know, Y/N, a photograph of being pegged might raise some eyebrows since the concept for the project is Biblical.”

“I repeat: divine.”

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 10 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Slumber party madness.

TW: Mild homophobia/biphobia based in ignorance

Chapter 10: Sleepover

Adore was determined to seal the deal on Violet and Pearl’s friendship. Her mom was out of town for the weekend, visiting her aunt, so Adore decided it was no better time than now. So, she invited Fame, Trinity, Willam, Violet and Pearl over to have a sleepover at her place. The two had been getting along better; Violet hadn’t been as harsh with Pearl as she had been during her first few days. Her snarky remarks and eye rolls whenever Pearl was near had declined immensely.

Pearl was the first to arrive, and helped Adore get her living room ready, pushing the couch and coffee table aside so that there was enough room for everyone and their sleeping bags, lining the floor with cushions and blankets, and setting out snack food.

“So, I never really understood what I did?” Pearl said as she popped a cashew into her mouth.

“Huh?” Adore looked at Pearl, confused.

“I mean, Violet…like did she ever tell you why she didn’t like me? It had to be a reason, other than just existing, right?” Pearl asked. She knew that Violet didn’t hate her like she did during their first few meetings, but Pearl also knew she was far from Violet’s favorite person, and it was driving her a bit mad.

“Look, Violet just has this thing with people,” Adore started shifting in her spot on the palate.

“A thing?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t really like people,” Adore tried to explain.

“You always say that, but she likes you and Fame and Trinity and Willam,” Pearl raised an eyebrow hoping that Adore would spill the secret to winning over Violet.

“Mhmm,” Adore nodded in agreement.

“So, you should probably tell me how to, like, win her over.”

“Oh, no. I having no fucking idea how to do that. I just figured that if I force you two to be in the same proximity enough, that she’ll eventually warm up to you,” Adore said, shoving a handful of chips in her mouth.

“I really hope you’re right, but I don’t know if-“ But Pearl’s thought was cut off by the doorbell ringing.  

“Party!” Adore smiled, hopping off the ground to answer the door, Willam and Trinity stood in the doorway, their pajamas already on, per Adore’s request.

“New girl!” Willam eyes lit up, pushing past Adore to sit next to Pearl.

“You know, it’s been like weeks. I don’t think I qualify for the ‘new girl’ nickname anymore,” Pearl drawled blinking slowly at Willam.

“Whatever,” Willam rolled his eyes.

“Willam, you can put your bag over by the couch,” Adore informed Willam, who had just dropped his bag at the door.

“Cuz can do it,” he said looking down at his fun.

“Do I look like a fucking maid?” Trinity shot back and when Willam turned, his mouth ready to say something smart, she added, “Don’t you say shit.”

“I got it,” Adore offered kindly, picking Willam’s bag up and then hurling it into the living room.

“Hey!” Willam exclaimed, and all three girls began to laugh at him.

-

Courtney arrived at Alyssa’s house, a little apprehensive about spending the whole night with these girls. It was one thing to eat lunch with them, but a sleepover without Adore there? She sighed. It wasn’t that she begrudged Adore her new friends - except maybe for Violet, who was a bitter little monster with some kind of weird ax to grind - but she just missed her. She missed having someone around who would always have her back. And sure, she had Roy, but it wasn’t the same thing. And sure, she had Roy, but it wasn’t the same thing. And it certainly wouldn't protect her tonight.

There were some girls who were just inclined to these types of groups. Alyssa, for example, was a Queen Bee. She always had a gaggle of followers. She was a girl’s girl. Same with Shangie, and Gia, and Laganja. And even Darienne, to some extent (although Darienne could hang with the boys too, but she was equally comfortable with this slumber party sorority stuff). Courtney liked being a cheerleader. She liked being part of a team. She liked fitting in. But there was no doubt that she’d never really belonged to a group of girls, not the way the others had. She and Adore had always just been a pair, perfectly happy to be all on their own.

“Courtney!” Alyssa snapped, waking her up from her thoughts.

“What?” Courtney blinked.

“I said, what do you want on your pizza? God, you are a bigger airhead than Gia sometimes. It’s exhausting.”

“Oh, uh...veggies? I guess? I’m a vegetarian, so plain cheese would be okay too.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Shangela put an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. “Come on, babe, don’t mind her. Sit over here with me and tell me all about that fine boyfriend of yours…”

Courtney looked at Shangie gratefully, not noticing the death glare Alyssa was shooting at the back of her head.

-

Fame and Violet arrived together, looking as beautiful as always. Fame wore a light pink nightgown, red roses decorating the bottom with matching thigh high socks, her blonde hair pulled on top of her head into a bun. Violet wore all black, satin shorts and top, her hair down for once.

As the girls settled in with the group, Fame greeted Pearl with a kiss to her cheek and compliments on her skin, which earned Pearl a glare from Violet.

“I have such bad skin sometimes, the past couple of days have been pretty good to me. And I’m like thank the deities,” Fame laughed.

“I’m sure you’re still just as gorgeous as always,” Pearl complimented her and Fame posed, hands framing her face.

“Why, thank you. Especially coming from someone as beautiful as yourself,” Fame giggled, squeezing Pearl’s thigh.

“Okay,” Adore groaned out, interrupting the two. “This is so gay and not the kind of gay I like.”

“Seriously,” Willam agreed, pulling out his phone.  

“What do you guys want to do first?” Adore asked excitedly , plopping down on the cushions beside Violet.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had a sleepover like this. Probably junior high or something, back when she and Courtney used to hang out at Dela’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“We can watch some movies, play some board games, or do all that other girly shit that we’re supposed to do at sleepovers. Like paint each other’s nails, braid each other’s hair, have a pillow fight...” Adore trailed off with a light giggle.

Pearl humped her shoulders. Willam was busily texting on his phone, Fame looked deep in thought, Violet looked annoyed, and Trinity was prowling around the room in search of a liquor cabinet.

“Okay, so I think we should paint each other’s nails. I only have like three colors, but my mom has a shit ton of colors,” Adore said, trying to not let the others’ attitudes get to her. “Come on Vies, help me grab the polishes.”

Adore smacked Violet on the thigh before rising up, pulling Violet along with her. As they made their way to Bonnie’s bathroom, Adore decided to make sure that Violet was on her very best behavior.

“Violet, can you please just be nice tonight? Or like, at least try?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice?”

“Violet,” Adore said, giving her a look.

“Fine, I just don’t like how she’s always all over Fame,” Violet said.

“Don’t act like Fame isn’t one of the touchiest, most flirtatious people there is,” Adore eyed Violet, who only rolled her eyes in response.

-

“Hold your hand still,” Willam growled out in frustration, fixing Fame’s hand on his thigh.

“I didn’t even move.”

“Then why is there nail polish on your finger instead of the nail?” He held Fame’s hand up to her face.

“Because you can’t paint,” Fame snatched her hand from Willam and crawled over to where Violet was getting her nails painted by Trinity.

“Where the fuck is the pizza? Has it been thirty minutes already?” Adore huffed out, moving slightly, earning a pinch from Pearl who was only doing slightly better than Willam.

“Halfbreed, get your ass back over here, so I can finish.”

“No, they already look horrible. Adore, where’s the polish remover?” Fame asked from her place behind Violet her chin on the girl’s shoulder.

“Don’t wipe my art off, halfbreed.”

“Shut up.”

Then the doorbell rang.

-

“Hold still, Gia, or I swear, your lashes are gonna come out even wonkier than usual!” April lectured as she glued Gia’s lashes down.

Alyssa cackled.

“Shangie, can you show me how you do that smoky eye thing?” Courtney asked.

“Sure! But do you even wear makeup?”

“I do! I don’t know why people always say that. I think my face just like, absorbs it,” Courtney laughed. “Adore once tried doing winged liner on me and it literally looked exactly the same as my regular face.”

“Speaking of Adore, I’m very proud that you’re branching out, Courtney,” Laganja said. “I mean, she was totally holding you back.”

“We’re still best friends, so watch it,” Courtney said sharply.

“Are you really?” Alyssa asked, one eyebrow raised, applying some pink lip gloss.

“Because she’s been eating lunch with those weirdo queer kids for weeks,” Gia added.

Courtney could feel her cheeks heating up. “It doesn’t matter who she eats lunch with. We will always be best friends.”

Alyssa yawned. “I mean, if you say so. Because it seems to me that she’s choosing to be friends with someone who insulted you and talks shit about you all the time. But what do I know?”

“She’s not responsible for Violet.”

Alyssa smiled deviously. “Of course not. But if someone treated my best friend the way Violet treated you...I’d probably murder them. But of course...Violet is doing other things for Adore that I’m probably not taking into consideration. And Adore isn’t me. Obviously.”

Courtney pressed her lips together, determined not to let Alyssa get to her.

-

“So, you think if Easy-E was still alive, that he would be as successful as Ice Cube and Dr. Dre are right now?” Adore asked Trinity, biting into her pizza.

“Yeah,” Trinity nodded.

Music was playing through the house on the speaker Bonnie had bought a few weeks ago as the gang all sat around trying not to burn their mouths on the freshly delivered pizza.

“Really?”

“It’ll be like Destiny’s Child. One would be the Beyonce, one would be Kelly successful and known, but not as good as Beyonce, then someone would be Michelle.”

Adore through her head back in laughter, “Don’t count Michelle out yet. She could still surprise us.”

“We’ll see,” Trinity shrugged.

“I think that if Left-eye was still alive, that TLC would be top of the charts.”

“Maybe, same thing with Aaliyah,” Trinity nodded.

“Rest in Peace,” Adore said crossing her chest then biting into her pizza.

-

“No, no, it’s like this…” Laganja demonstrated the dance move again. “Scoop your shoulder more…”

“You guys couldn’t find an accent beat if it bit you on the ass,” Alyssa snarked, shaking her head.

“Well...fuck…” Gia giggled, collapsing onto the couch.

“I mean, we dance in sneakers. If you had to put on heels and learn a real routine, you’d all probably end up with broken ankles and concussions.”

“Tell us how you really feel, Alyssa,” said Shangela.

Alyssa shrugged. “Whatever.”

Laganja laughed. “She’s right, though.” She pointed at Courtney. “You especially have no rhythm.”

“None at all,” Alyssa echoed. “Good thing you’re flexible.”

“I’m sure Roy appreciates it, too,” April giggled, covering her mouth.

“Gross,” said Alyssa.

-

“Draw two, Draw two!” Fame yelled at Trinity.

“Wait, is that on me? I thought somebody reversed it,” Trinity asked not wanting to accept the extra cards.

“Bitch,” Fame said grabbing the cards from the pull pile and trying to put them in Trinity’s hand.

“No, fuck that. I can draw my own cards,” Trinity knocked the cards out of Fame’s hand.

“Can you just pull the cards already?” Pearl spoke up.

“Shut up. Somebody, pull a draw four on this bitch, new girl only has three cards left,” Willam said leaning over in an attempt to look at Pearl’s card.

“Why are you trying to look at my cards,” Pearl whined playfully, leaning against Adore, hiding her cards in her lap.

“Willam is always trying to cheat,” Violet piped up. She was so concentrated on winning she had barely spoken a word throughout the game.

The girls had pulled down Bonnie’s wine and decided that a game of UNO would be better than watching a movie. It was only the first round and the game had already gotten intense. Willam had hid half his cards under his leg after being forced to draw six cards, thanks to Pearl putting down a draw four, Fame reversing the rotation and Trinity putting down a draw two card; which had lead to an argument about if they should start over or not.

“Fuck this,” Adore groaned, “Do we still have some pizza left?”

-

“Dare,” Gia said.

“Okay…” said April. “I dare you to...go upstairs and find something good from Alyssa’s parents’ medicine cabinet and bring it back down here…”

“Okay, fine!” Gia got up and sauntered up the steps of the rec room.

“Real mature, guys,” said Alyssa.

“Afraid of what she’ll find? Like your dad’s viagra?” Shangela dissolved into giggles.

“Please. My parents are so boring. I bet all they have up there is baby aspirin.”

The girls all looked up as knocking sounded at the sliding glass door. Alyssa jumped up and let Darienne in with her duffel bag. “It’s about time, girl!”

Darienne slipped inside, smirking. “Sorry. Thanks for covering for me. My mom didn’t call, did she?”

“No.”

“Darienne, you’re just in time for truth or dare. I think you need to choose truth,” said April, laughing.

“Okay, fine,” Darienne flopped down onto the sofa, grabbing a root beer. “Hit me.”

“What’s Jamin like in bed?” Shangela asked quickly, jumping in.

“I mean, I think he’s pretty good, but it’s not like I have a lot to compare it to,” Darienne answered thoughtfully.

“Okay, but how big is his dick?” asked Laganja.

“I thought you only ask one question at a time for this game…”

“No one cares about the game,” Laganja laughed.

Darienne rolled her eyes. “It’s big enough, trust me.”

“Why are you bothering Darienne about big dicks when Courtney is right there?” Shangela asked.  

All of the girls turned towards Courtney, who started blushing furiously.

“W-what?” she stammered.

Gia skipped down the stairs, shaking a bottle of pills. “Who wants Xanax?!”

“Shut up, Gia, Courtney was about to tell us about Roy’s dick!” April exclaimed.

“I...you guys...I don’t know what...we like, just started going out a few months ago…” Courtney said, embarrassed.

“You haven’t slept together?” Laganja asked.

“No!”

“Okay, but like, you must have at least blown him,” Gia stated.

“N-no…” Courtney looked around at their judgmental faces.

“What are you, like, some kind of born again Christian?” asked Gia.

“No, I just, I mean...we just…”

Darienne put a hand on her shoulder. “Guys, relax. There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said quietly.

“I think people are just surprised, because you guys seem so...physical. I mean you practically get to third base at lunchtime,” Darienne tried to explain without piling on the judgment train.

Gia laughed. “Yeah, like you obviously don’t need to sleep with him. I’m just kind of shocked that you haven’t sucked his dick yet. You should probably do that before he gets bored and breaks up with you.”

“Yeah, listen to Gia. She totally knows what she’s talking about from her zero relationships,” Alyssa deadpanned, hitting Gia with a pillow.

-

“He’s gay?” Violet’s eyes were wide as she looked over her glass at Willam.

“Well, I sucked his dick,” Willam shrugged.

“But does that count?” Pearl asked, and Violet tried her hardest not to roll her eyes.

“Of fucking course it counts.”

“I mean, he could have just wanted to get his dick sucked,” Pearl shrugged.

“That’s some gay shit,” Trinity commented. Fame’s head was resting in her lap, and she was absentmindedly braiding her hair.

“We could say, that’s some gay shit,” Pearl gestured to Trinity and Fame’s position.

“I’m braiding her hair,” Trinity rolled her eyes.

“But, her head’s in your lap,” Pearl shot back, “Real close to the pussy.”

Trinity’s face scrunched up as form of disagreement, but she continued to play with Fame’s locks.

“That is kind of some gay shit,” Adore agreed, looking at the two.

“Plus, straight girls always hook up with lesbians just to make out, and because they know we eat better pussy. So it could be the same with guys. Well maybe not the making out part,” Pearl said, sitting back on her elbows.

“Look who’s the gay specialist,” Adore joked from her spot beside Fame and Trinity, “But really, if a girl hooks up with a girl and enjoys it, is she really ‘straight’ and same with a guy?” Adore looked around the circle.

“But aren’t all girl a bit bi-curious, so technically not into girls, but not not into girls?” Violet offered. “And this is a dude, which seems different.”

“Well, by the way he was fucking my face-”

“Woah!” Pearl held her hand up to stop Willam, “Too much information.”

“He could be bisexual,” Fame offered.

“Shut up, halfbreed. I told you that doesn’t exist,” Willam reached out, tapping Fame on the leg.

“Well, what do you call me? Because I love my boyfriend, but I also like girls-” Fame tried to sit up, but was motioned back down by Trinity.

“Greedy. You’re fucking greedy.”

“Will, you’re an ass and I don’t know why I still hang around you,” Fame rolled her eyes.

“Because us queers gotta stick together. Plus, I need to be there to console your boyfriend when you leave him for a girl,” Willam laughed, making a dick sucking motion.

“Whatever,” she huffed.

“Okay, but let’s talk about those girls that like to hook up with girls, but don’t actually want to be with them,” Violet said, her eyes flicking to Adore for the quickest second.

“Well, there’s variations,” Pearl said looking at Violet.

“Variations?”

“Yeah, girls who only want to make out with girls for a laugh or because some jock thinks it’s hot. Girls who like girls, but want to marry a man and have babies and shit. And closet cases,” Pearl wiggled her three fingers.

“Closet cases?” Trinity asked.

“Oh, shit, Pearl’s right,” Violet nodded in agreement shocked at herself for agreeing with the blonde. Pearl’s eyes lit up a bit, but she kept the smile off her face.

“A closet case. Is, well there could be different kinds, but basically someone who is in denial of their sexual attraction to other girls, for whatever reason, but totally likes girls,” Fame explained.

“But the most important rule to remember about this is never fall for a ‘straight’ girl,” Pearl said looking around at the group, before downing the rest of her drink.

“EVER,” Violet added, looking at Adore.

Adore looked down at her fingers, avoiding eye contact with Violet; ignoring the small voice in her head that was telling her otherwise.

-

Courtney shifted in her sleeping bag. She wasn’t used to this—being in a room with a bunch of girls, but feeling so alone. She wished that Adore was here. Adore wouldn’t make her feel like an idiot for waiting with Roy; Adore would probably make her laugh by calling the other girls a bunch of sluts.

“Darienne?” Courtney asked, turning to the older girl in the dark.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think...do you think Roy is gonna get bored of me if I don’t...I mean if we don’t start...doing more…?”

Darienne smiled sleepily at her. “Courtney, you should just do what you want. You know how much he likes you, right? The real question is, do you want to take things farther with him? Like, sexually?”

Courtney considered this. She hadn’t really thought about it. The truth was, she really liked things the way they were. She liked making out with Roy, she loved kissing him and being held and touched and cuddled. She was aware that he wanted to take things farther, but she assumed that was just because he was a boy, and boys always wanted to have sex. She hadn’t really been worried about him being bored or frustrated, until tonight. She’d been so utterly happy when he said that he loved her, but now these girls had her second-guessing everything. What if he had ulterior motives for saying it?

The one thing that she knew for sure was that she wasn’t ready to have sex. Her mother had sat her down a few weeks earlier to try and discuss birth control, and it made her head spin and her stomach hurt. She’d promised Karen that she wasn’t sexually active or thinking about being sexually active, but that she would come back and talk to her if and when it applied.

So what if, for now, she wanted to keep things above the waist? Or at least, their pants on? That was her right. Wasn’t that, like, feminism? She closed her eyes, sighing.

-

Adore had woken up in the middle of the night, hungry for pizza. She carefully stepped over everyone, making sure not to wake them. Once she reached the kitchen, she was slightly surprised to find Violet at the table, a bag of chips open in front of her.

“You’re the last person I thought to find in my kitchen at 4 in the morning with the junk food,” Adore said keeping her voice low as to not disturb the others.

“Which is why you should have guessed that I would be that person,” Violet countered.

Adore grabbed a slice of pizza cold pizza from the box, sitting down beside her.

“Question…” Violet said.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you invite Courtney tonight?” Violet’s pointed tone caught Adore off guard.

“Uhm, because I wanted it to just be us; and I think she had plans anyway,” Adore shrugged.

“It’s just that you’ve been real persistent on hanging with us and not them--not that I mind, actually I like it better this way--but it basically started the day she got together with Roy.”

Adore took another bite of her pizza, shrugging and avoiding Violet’s gaze.

“Do you hate him?” Violet asked suddenly.

“No, no, where did you get that from?” Adore shook her head, confused.

“You said that he tortured you when you were kids...”

“No, I said we used to fight when we were kids, because he was bossy and a know-it-all. Like how you fight with your siblings but you still love them,” Adore said with a smile.

“But he’s not your brother,” Violet countered. “He’s the dude who’s fucking your little bae. You’d totally skin him alive if you could.”

Adore bristled. Why did Violet always have to needle her like that?

“He’s not fucking her, Violet, and--”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it a month,” Violet said, brushing the crumbs from her hands and getting up from the table.

As Adore finished her pizza, she tried to convince herself that she didn’t care. She told herself that she wasn’t in love with Courtney and that it didn’t matter if she were because Courtney was with Roy, who she for sure didn’t hate. And she was very happy for both of them.

[hms-chill]

Today’s @rwrb-social-isolation prompt is to talk about something from history we love, so I did a deep, deep dive into a near-utopian colony headed by a man who was, truly, an icon. A Byronic hero two hundred years before Byron himself. It got rambly, but at this point, who’s surprised. Please enjoy.

All us good little American drones know the story of how white people came to America. They settled at Plymouth, and they struggled and struggled for years, but with the help of friendly natives, they finally succeeded and murdered millions with biowarfare and also guns built the great country we live in today.

Were there other, non-Plymouth colonies? Jamestown, of course, the Macho Dream that men who are really into WWII love to talk about. Boring. Let’s talk about a fun colony. 

Let’s talk about Merrymount, a town founded on a distrust of Christian Puritanism, the abolition of slavery, popular revolt, equality with natives, a pagan beliefs. Sound fake? See attached bibliography.

History, huh? Let’s get into it.

To talk about Merrymount, we have to talk about Thomas Morton, the Lord of Misrule. He was born in 1579 in Devon, England, a region despised by the more religious parts of the country for still hanging onto some of England’s traditional pagan practices. It was particularly known for celebrating the land and its guiding principles of neighborliness and quietness (the belief that keeping peace was more important than nearly anything else). We don’t know much about his family, but we’re pretty sure he was the second son to a middle-class family, largely because he went to law school in London (something that wouldn’t have been affordable for lower class folks, but that an older son wouldn’t have had to do under the laws of primogeniture). 

The London Morton arrived in was overcrowded, and bouts of plague were not uncommon. The population was booming, and tensions were rising between the deeply Christian Reform movement and the more Pagan Renaissance. In particular, we saw the rise of Puritanism and Separatism, both of which were extreme versions of Christianity (a la those pilgrims we all cosplayed every Thanksgiving in elementary school), and both of which Morton hated. From what we can tell, he was first an observer, and his coursework would have taught him to question what he was told and to argue his own points and beliefs.

Following his time in school and his general disillusionment with established Christian society, he became a traveling lawyer for a time. In his late 30s, Morton began working for Sir Ferdinando Gorges, a major investor in Plymouth, founder of Maine, and “Father of English Colonization in North America”. He first traveled to America in 1622, and in his book, he declared “The more I looked, the more I liked it. And when I had more seriously considered of the beauty of the place, with all her fair endowments, I did not think that in all the known world it could be paralleled”. However, he was back in England in 1623, complaining of Puritan intolerance. 

Following a dissolved engagement, Morton once again set sail for America in 1624, aboard the ship Unity under command of his friend Captain Richard Wollaston and accompanied by 30 indentured servants. They eventually were given land by and began trading with the Algonquin tribes, who were native to the region and whom Morton found more civilized than the Puritans in Plymouth. They named their town, which is now Quincy, MA, “Mount Wollaston”. 

From Morton’s book, we can see that he got to know native culture relatively well. He attended Algonquin dinners and funerals. He learned at least some of the language, and he celebrated their respect for their elders and general family structure. During this time he also had his first interaction with Plymouth, which went much less well than his interactions with Algonquin tribes. He declared that he “found the Massachusetts Indians more full of humanity than the Christians”, and it is after this meeting that he began to furnish native tribes with powder and shot for their guns, often when English colonists couldn’t get any. Needless to say, he doesn’t come off particularly well in Plymouth’s writing about him.

By 1626, Mount Wollaston was booming. Colonists tired of Plymouth’s harsh rules were flocking to the more liberal town when Morton found out that Wollaston had been selling indentured servants as slaves. Outraged, he encouraged them to rebel, and Wollaston fled, leaving Morton the sole leader (or “host”, the term he prefered) of the newly renamed Merrymount (or “Ma-re Mount, which is a pun on the Latin for “ocean”).

(That’s right, this man got control of a town, declared himself just a host, and then renamed it based on a nerdy pun. an icon.)

Merrymount was, generally, from most sources I can find, a pretty chill place to be. People were declared equal, and there was a pretty high degree of integration with Algonquin tribes. Though Morton did do what he could to encourage the Algonquin peoples to settle into a more English lifestyle, he did so not by force, but by providing them with free salt to use in preserving food, therefore negating the need for a nomadic lifestyle. Which... pressuring people to give up their way of life isn’t great. But doing it this way is a lot better than the way that pretty much every other colonizer was doing it. 

The real pinacle of the integration of English and Algonquin peoples was a May Day Celebration. Pretty much everyone celebrated the start of spring, as it meant that you’d survived the winter and life in general would likely start to improve with the warmer weather. May Day was both a celebration of springtime and a unifying holiday, a time when the different cultures came together and often a time when English men would begin to woo Algonquin women. The Puritans of Plymouth called it Bacchic and evil, so I can only assume it was a generally good time. 

However, by 1628, it was all too much for Plymouth. Morton’s general chill vibe, his trading with natives (and the threat it posed to Plymouth’s monopoly), Merrymount’s integration with Algonquin tribes, and just generally the disregard for Puritan ways all exploded when, in celebration of May Day, Merrymount erected an eighty-foot maypole. 

Now, I know eighty feet is hard to visualize. Especially if you’re from somewhere that uses the metric system. But an average story of a building is about ten feet. So just... think of an eight story building. This thing was MASSIVE. It’s as tall as my freshman year dorm. It was clearly visible from Plymouth, and it was the final straw. Morton was arrested and left to die on a rock that could only generously be called an island.

He was back by fall of 1629, but found Merrymount in ruins and a particularly harsh winter greeted him that year, and he was shipped back to England in 1630, a voyage that almost killed him. 

By 1631, he was back in the game suing the Massachusetts Bay Company, the political and financial backers of the Plymouth Puritans. He won in 1635, cutting off much of Plymouth’s English support and causing many to leave it for settlements in Connecticut. 

His book, New English Canaan published in 1637, launched him into celebrity. In 1643, he tried to return to Massachusetts, but was turned away upon arrival. He was exiled to Maine, where he passed away at the age of 71.

And that’s Thomas Morton! I first heard about his story in A Queer History of the United States by Michael Bronski, but I couldn’t remember enough/didn’t find anything in other sources to establish the queer context for Merrymount other than its rejection of Puritanism. 

Attached bibliography (not formatted correctly, because fuck the MLA and the APA).

General overview of his life

Morton’s book, New English Canaan

Spunky bio largely focused on Merrymount/the maypole

Spunky bio two: Maypole boogaloo

His wikipedia, which is just nice and readable

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (38)

Keep it together

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: around 5,000 (oops) (I am on the app right now on my iPad and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to add a ‘keep reading’! If anyone knows, that would be super helpful, if not, I’ll add it when I’m on my desktop :))

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, the day of the Decision Ball, starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

Drake watches Amara as she frantically tries different pairs of shoes to go with her red gown. She looks so beautiful in this color, her dark hair down on her shoulders, curls everywhere. He can’t help but smile.

‘What?’ she asks, grinning too.

Drake shrugs. ‘You’re beautiful. Can’t help it.’

She smiles a little wider. ‘You’re beautiful too. I can’t believe you got ready so fast. I’m already a record breaker, but you have me beat!’

He runs his hand through his hair, his smile stuck on his face. He wishes he could stop time, right now. Just be with her now, and for always.

But she’s right. They have to face the world. She has to show them that she won’t be broken. How could she be, she’s Amara Suarez! Detective Badass.

A knock on the door pulls Drake away from his thoughts. As Amara applies her lipstick, he walks towards the door and unlocks it.

‘Hey guys,’ Maxwell says with exaggerated caution, his hand on top of his eyes and a smiley Michael behind him. ‘Just checking in to see if you’re doing alright. Are you decent?’

Drake rolls his eyes and gives Michael a shrug as if to say Sorry man, he’s always like that, gotta get used to it. Michael laughs. Drake says, ‘Max, uncover your eyes, I wouldn’t open the door if we weren’t decent.’

Max obliges and comes into the room. Upon seeing Amara in her red gown, he gasps. ‘OMG babe. You’re gorgeous! And that hair… As Bertrand would say, Yass Kween!’

Michael chuckles. Maxwell looks at him in all seriousness. Michael’s eyes widen. ‘Wait, you’re serious? Bertrand says Yass Kween? Your brother Bertrand, with the long swimming shorts?’

Amara lets out a throaty laugh that makes Drake’s heart flutter. She says, ‘He saw the light when he discovered Queer Eye, but his closet didn’t get the memo.’ She turns to Michael. ‘You look amazing, Michael. Max’s tux suits you!’

Maxwell beams. ‘Right? I told him he can keep this one. He pulls it off better than I ever did. He gives out some James Bond vibes.’

Michael blushes. ‘Oh please. You all look great, by the way. I feel so intimidated right now, you’re all so comfortable with all this fancy stuff…’

Drake leaps in right away, ‘Oh, don’t be fooled, Mike. I’ve been at court basically my whole life and I’m still super uncomfortable in any fancy setting. It’s just a lot better when you have loved ones around you, to help you through it.’ He glances at Amara. ‘Hey guys, maybe I could take a picture of you to send Amara’s dad? He’d probably love seeing his daughter look so regal and happy, and of course, seeing you two together.’

Maxwell’s face lights up. ‘OMG how have we not thought about it?? Let’s show Jorge how hot his daughter is.’

Amara grimaces uncomfortably. ‘Not sure it’s the point, Max. Plus, it’s a little gross, when you say it like that. But it’s a great idea, Drake. Michael, what do you say?’

Michael’s grin can’t lie. ‘Let’s do it.’ He places himself right next to Amara while Drake takes out his phone. ‘Let’s do the prom pose,’ Michael says. ‘Plus, it’s a nice callback to your actual prom date, who was also a gay man.’

Amara gasps in mock shock and nudges Michael’s elbow. ‘How dare you talk about Adrian?’ She says in an exaggerated manner. They both laugh. ‘Well,’ Amara adds, ‘at least I look less like a cream puff than I did on my quinceañera…’

Drake glances at Maxwell and they share a knowing look, both happy and relieved to see Amara and Michael reunited, and acting like siblings. ‘Alright guys,’ Drake says, ‘smile!’

*****

Jorge is busy painting with his granddaughter, and he barely hears the ping of his phone. Callie is growing up so fast, and she looks so much like her father, that Jorge wants to soak up every second with her. The little girl is not one for staying inside the lines, but Jorge is a patient grandpa. He shows her how to follow the curve of the puppy drawing with her crayon, again and again, until she’s happy with what she’s colored.

‘Jorge!’ Nancy cries out. ‘Your phone is beeping!’

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, making Callie laugh. ‘Grampie, your eyes are crazy,’ she says through giggles.

He sighs and gets up, his back bothering him slightly. ‘Alright, let me go see what’s going on, sweetheart!’

He meets Nancy halfway and she hands him his phone. ‘I think it’s Amara,’ she says with a wide grin.

Jorge puts on his reading glasses, forced to admit that they do help him see better. He opens his texts.

Papi, Michael surprised me in Cordonia! All is well, we talked, we love and miss you. Give our love to Callie and Nancy. Attached is a picture of us, getting ready for a ball! Xo Amara and Michael.

Before he knows it, a light sob escapes his body. He didn’t mean for it to come out, he really didn’t. Now Nancy is looking at him worriedly. Fat tears are forming in his eyes as he stares at the picture of his kids who have forgiven each other. Unable to say anything yet, he gestures for Nancy to come look at the picture too. She gasps.

‘Honey, they look adorable. This is so great!’ she says, tears in her eyes.

Jorge takes a deep breath and kisses his wife on the cheek. How blessed is he? His Sergio must be so happy, watching over them. ‘Callie, sweetie,’ Jorge finally says. ‘Wanna see a picture of Daddy and Auntie?’

*****

Amara is sitting in the back of Bertrand’s car, with Drake next to her, and Hana in the front. Olivia is riding with Maxwell and Michael.

‘Is everyone doing ok?’ Bertrand asks, probably perturbed by the silence.

Hana responds first. ‘I’m fine, thank you Bertrand. Just anxious to see the end of tonight!’

Amara is too. She nods and turns to Drake, who offers her a smile. They agreed to stick around Ramsford and possibly the cabin in Portavira once the evening is over, for a few more days, while Michael is still in Cordonia. Then, they’ll keep a low profile and travel around Europe, away from the spotlight, the time for everyone to forget all about her and any impact she ever had on Liam. They will try to find Savannah. Then, when things have calmed down, they will resurface and tell Liam about their relationship. Drake told her earlier that he’s not sure there’s anything to salvage in terms of his friendship with Liam, but Amara doesn’t want to jeopardize it. After all, they have been friends for a long time, there’s always something to salvage.

After all, she didn’t think there was anything to salvage between Michael and herself. Look at them today.

Amara silently hopes Hana will stick around, too, although she’s pretty sure her friend will be headed to London to see a certain someone again.

As much as Amara is happy that the competition is almost over, a bittersweet feeling invades her. What if it’s the last time they’re all together, here, bitching about the court and its politics?

She shakes her head. No, this isn’t helpful. Her eyes meet Drake’s again, and he gives her a reassuring smile, as if he’d been in her head, reading her thoughts. She takes his hand, briefly, and squeezes it.

‘Here we are!’ Bertrand proudly announces.

Amara takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, after one last longing look shared with Drake.

*****

‘Holy shit,’ Michael whispers. ‘It’s even more opulent than yesterday.’

Maxwell smiles. ‘Yeah, they really went all out for the Decision Ball. Hey, have some champagne!’ He hands a flute to Michael, and one to Amara, before swiping one for himself.

Amara drinks hers nervously. She should mingle, but her heart’s not in it.

‘Hello, Maxwell,’ she hears an unknown voice behind her. ‘Long time no see, you old bitch!’

Maxwell’s eyes widen. ‘Leo! Hi! I had no idea you were here!’ The two men hug. Amara has heard so much about Leo, Liam’s older brother, that she feels like she should have recognized him solely from the way he greeted Max. Also from his looks - Leo seems to be chiseled from bronze, from head to toe. Wavy golden hair, sort of like a young Hercules, and a smile that has probably made a lot of panties drop.

Leo pats Maxwell on the back. ‘I heard about your coming out. It was really badass, man, congrats!’

Maxwell smiles. ‘Thanks, Leo. I appreciate it. Hey, let me introduce you--’

‘Amara Suarez, right?’ Leo interrupts, offering her his hand to shake. She complies.

‘Um, yes, nice to meet you.’

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it. Amara has to stop herself from grimacing. ‘VERY nice to meet you,’ he says in a voice that is supposed to be sexy. ‘My brother did not lie about your beauty. You’re stunning.’

‘Hi, I’m Michael,’ Michael says, holding out his hand. Leo takes it.

Amara grins. Michael is obviously nervous and overwhelmed by the Palace and the whole thing, but he’s in big brother mode right now, sensing that Amara needed rescuing from a creep. The three men exchange pleasantries that Amara does not pay attention to, until Leo changes the subject. ‘Where’s Walker?’ he asks.

Maxwell stops in his tracks for a split second, and responds, ‘He’s over there with Rashad. Why do you ask?’

Leo smiles broadly. ‘I haven’t seen the son of a bitch in a while, so I want to say hi. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.’ He turns to Amara and winks at her. ‘And lovely lady. I hope to see more of you later.’

He walks away. Amara frowns. ‘More of me? What does he mean, more of me?’

Maxwell grimaces. ‘Ew. He has become even sleazier, and I didn’t think it was possible. Little Blossom, I have some Purell for your hand if you want. He almost licked it.’

Michael snorts, ‘So I’m not crazy, right? For a second, I thought it was a local custom and I wondered, should I have kissed that woman’s hand when you introduced me? Then I thought, no, he’s just a creep.’

Amara shakes her head. ‘I guess Liam doesn’t seem so bad now...Why do you think he wants to see Drake?’

Maxwell puts a reassuring hand on Amara’s arm. ‘Honey, it’s fine. He just wants to say hi. Besides, Drake can hold his own.’

*****

‘Father, can we talk?’ Liam whispers to Constantine, who is helping himself to a seltzer water.

Constantine sighs. ‘Sure, son. What is it?’

Liam smiles nervously. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve made my decision. I’d like to run something by you, now. Can we go outside?’

Constantine reluctantly agrees. He tries to limit his amount of walking in public, to avoid being perceived as sickly. He can’t control his movements as well as he could, just a few weeks ago. He can feel himself become weaker physically, and he can’t stand it. He certainly doesn’t want his subjects to see him as weak. But his son insisted, so now he’s wobbling around, trying to keep it together until they’re out of the ballroom.

‘So?’ he asks Liam impatiently.

Liam clears his throat. Constantine has always hated when he does that. ‘Father, you’ll be pleased to know that I’m going with your suggestion.’

Constantine can feel his whole body relax. Finally, his son has heard the voice of reason. Maybe he can even cancel what he had planned for later. Maybe it’s no longer necessary. ‘Good,’ he says, remaining completely calm and trying not to appear too excited. ‘I’m happy you changed your mind, Liam. This is the right decision.’

Liam gives him a weak smile. ‘That’s not all, Father. I have a non-negotiable condition to this.’

The King has to make a superhuman effort not to roll his eyes. What, now? And to think he was this close to being proud of his son’s decision. Now he’s about to ask for something. As if it wasn’t enough to have to watch his other son running around the ballroom, winking his way through all the ladies present. King Constantine loves his sons, but he wishes he could punch them sometimes. He sighs. ‘What is your condition, Liam?’

Liam adjusts his ascot. ‘Father, I am making this decision for Cordonia, because I am aware that I can’t follow my heart on this one. But I don’t want to give up on true love.’

True love. Constantine can’t believe his ears. But he has to keep listening, after all, Liam is meeting him halfway by making the right decision. ‘What do you propose we do, Liam?’

He continues. ‘I want to give Valtoria to Amara.’

Constantine’s face falls. Valtoria? To a Mexican whore? Over his dead body. Which, for the record, might happen sooner rather than later. ‘That’s preposterous,’ he whispers, outraged.

Liam stands his ground. ‘Well, whatever you may call it, it’s non-negotiable. I have feelings for her, Father, and I know she doesn’t...yet. But if she can’t stay close, she’ll leave without having given us a chance. At least, if she stays in Valtoria, she’ll be able to get to know me. It will be a lot less scandalous if I have a Cordonian arrangement with a noblewoman. Plus, she has made a great impression on the press, she has made a lot of effort to learn about Cordonia and our history, and let’s not forget that a lot of the nobles have already taken a liking to her, even Olivia—‘

‘Oh, you mean the woman who fornicates with her servants? What a great endorsement.’ Constantine spits out.

‘Father,’ Liam says calmly, ‘I’m not asking for the moon. I’m asking for your approval. The duchy is unclaimed, it would just mean that I have to make her a Duchess. It’s been done before.’

Constantine remains silent. It’s worse than he thought. And to think he was about to call off what he’d planned for after the ceremony… No way he’s doing that now. Not a chance in hell. His son needs to see for himself what he really wants to bring to court. He shakes his head vigorously. ‘Liam, this is ridiculous. Everyone will see through this, everyone will see it’s a whim.’

‘Valtoria needs a Duke or Duchess, and I found you one,’ Liam says firmly. ‘I don’t think it’s that much to ask for you to just say yes. Once you pass over the crown to me, once I choose a spouse, we can work through the details. Like I said, it’s non-negotiable.’

Constantine snorts. If he says no, Liam might not honor his end of the deal. So, for now, he has to make it seem like he’s open to it. ‘If you say it’s non-negotiable, then let’s leave it on the table. We’ll talk about it again after the ceremony.’

Liam beams. ‘Thank you, Father. I can give you more compelling arguments later, too.’

Oh, so can he. He smiles and walks away from his son, slowly but surely. Bastien is standing near the door, waiting for Constantine to make his way back to the ballroom. As he passes his bodyguard, the King whispers to him, ‘Please make sure that what we planned happens after Liam has chosen his spouse. I want it out there for everyone to see.’

Bastien nods curtly. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Constantine gets back to his original spot, silently seething. Yes, he will show his son how terrible his judgment is.

*****

Drake sips his whiskey slowly, next to Leo. Sure, it’s nice to see him again, but he can’t help but think that Leo’s excitement over spending alone time with him rings a bit false. Like he’s trying to milk him for information on behalf of Liam.

Leo’s known for a lot of things, and subtlety is not one of them.

‘So,’ Drake risks, ‘How was your trip?’

Leo gives him a dashing smile. ‘It was awesome! I went all around Europe on a cruise, and since it’s ended, I’ve been in Morocco, and then Brazil… Just having a lot of fun.’

Drake nods and takes another sip. ‘That’s awesome. It’s nice of you to come back for your brother’s ball.’

Leo’s smile falters. ‘Yeah, I gotta say, I’m a bit worried about this little bastard.’

Here it is, Drake thinks. This is a lecture on friendship. Oh well, he’s not all innocent in this whole thing, so the least he can do is stick around and listen. ‘Oh, really?’ Drake asks in a falsely nonchalant tone.

Leo nods. ‘Yeah. You know he’s completely fooled by Madeleine’s newly found niceness, and he feels very isolated from everyone. The pressure of being King is getting to him, and believe me when I say I understand why.’

Drake bites his lip, trying not to say what he wants to say, along the lines of Leo, you are the very reason why Liam has to go through this pressure. But this wouldn’t help anybody right now, so he just nods. ‘I get it. But you gotta know that he’s been hard to support, these days. The Liam we both knew is difficult to see, through the mask of Courtly Liam.’

‘Drake, can you blame him? He has new responsibilities, and for God’s sake, our father is sick! Liam needs friends and support right now, not the cold shoulder.’

Drake takes a deep breath. ‘So, I take it you’ve heard that Liam and I have had tough times, huh?’

Leo shrugs. ‘Yeah. He told me that you didn’t like the way he acted with this woman, Amara.’

Drake has to try really hard to remain expressionless. ‘Yes, well, Amara is a friend, and I don’t like to see women being preyed on by entitled men. That’s all. If you had seen the whole thing, you’d understand.’ Maybe, he thinks. He would probably not understand, but it was worth saying it.

Leo raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re telling me you’re picking sides, and you’re choosing a chick you barely know, over your best friend?’

Drake sighs. Of course he didn’t get it. ‘No, Leo, that’s not what I’m telling you. It was just the starting point of our differences, but there’s more to it than that.’ He stares into his glass. ‘Plus, I don’t think you understand the whole ‘picking a side’ thing. If I see someone doing something wrong, I’m gonna call them out on it, whether they’re my best friend or a complete stranger.’

Leo nods. ‘I guess. But Liam needs you. Now more than ever. Think of all he’s done for you.’

Drake’s heart sinks. Of course he thinks about it, all the time. Of course it kills him. Of course he owes Liam so much… But is it a reason to close his eyes on the different person he’s become? Is it a reason to let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to him? Once again, he can’t count on Leo to understand. ‘I know,’ he says sadly. ‘I owe him everything.’

Leo’s stare hardens. ‘Yes, you do. He took you in, Drake. He includes you in everything. Hell, he considers you as more of a brother than me. Don’t forget that.’ He pauses. ‘He needs a brother.’

Drake frowns. ‘Got it. Good talk, Leo.’ He walks away, a knot in his throat.

*****

‘Hey guys,’ Drake says as he approaches Max and Michael.

They both smile, and Maxwell greets him warmly. ‘Hey Drake, where did you disappear to? We’ve been looking for you! Come have some of these amuse bouches, you’re gonna love them.’ He hands Drake a tray of little canapés.

Drake smiles. ‘Did you swipe that from a staff member?’

Maxwell nods enthusiastically, his mouth full of puff pastry.

Drake and Michael chuckle. ‘I just had a chat with Leo,’ Drake says. ‘He came on really strong. Told me I need to be there for Liam. It messed with my head.’

Maxwell sighs and smiles. ‘Don’t let him get to you. He basically licked Amara’s hand like a cartoon wolf, earlier, right, Michael? You can’t trust a guy like that. Don’t humor him.’

Drake nods. He’s still painfully uncomfortable, but he did the right thing coming to Max. The guy’s crazy, but he has a way of supporting his friend like Drake has never seen before. Even the way he immediately took Michael under his wing is remarkable. ‘Thanks, Max,’ he says as he pats his friend on the back.

‘Oh shit,’ Maxwell says, ‘speak of the devil, here comes Liam, everyone smile!’

Drake turns around, and sure enough, Liam is coming towards them, his fake smile plastered on his face.

Michael whispers, ‘Should I bow? What should I do?’

Maxwell whispers back, ‘Relax. Follow our lead, I’ll introduce you.’

‘Hello, gentlemen,’ Liam says enthusiastically. ‘How is everyone doing on this fine afternoon?’

Drake has to force himself not to roll his eyes. ‘Good to see you, Liam,’ he manages.

Maxwell chimes in, ‘You probably remember Michael Hansen-Suarez. Michael, this is Prince Liam of Cordonia!’

Michael awkwardly curtsies, which he probably has seen on The Crown or some other show. ‘Pleasure, Your Highness,’ he says, his head bowed down.

Liam holds out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Michael. I’m happy to see you back here again, I feel terribly about the way that you were introduced last night! Please accept my most sincere apologies.’ He does not even wait for Michael to respond, and turns to Drake. ‘Drake, do you have a second? I want to talk to you about something.’

Drake nods, looks at Max and Michael and excuses himself.

Once the two men are out of earshot, Liam’s smile drops. ‘Jeez, this is stressful,’ he says.

Drake nods understandingly. ‘I can imagine. How are you holding up?’

Liam nods. ‘I’m ok. Not completely happy about my decision, but it’s the best I can do, with what I’m given at the moment.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me—‘

Liam shrugs. ‘What am I supposed to do, Drake? Father is dying. It’s his wish.’

Drake remembers Leo’s words. He needs to be supportive right now, especially since he may disappear after the ceremony and not be there when Constantine actually dies. ‘I understand, Liam. I just hope you can find happiness in any way you can. Honestly.’

Liam gives him a sad smile. ‘Leo talked to you, huh?’

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah. He made me feel like shit, which I probably deserve. I—I didn’t mean to abandon you. At all. I was just really put off by some things. You know me, I don’t change my mind easily. I should have supported you more.’

Liam sighs. ‘It means a lot, Drake. Thank you. For the record, I didn’t ask Leo to come to you. He told me he might, and I told him not to.’ He snorts. ‘Ironic, huh? My notoriously flaky brother, giving you shit for not being there? It’s fucked up.’

Drake chuckles earnestly. ‘I guess. But you know you can count on me, right? Even if we’ve had our differences…’

Liam smiles. ‘I know. Plus, I’ve come to realize that you were truly right about how I behaved with Amara. And this whole thing with her brother-in-law...how is she doing, by the way?’

Drake nods, stunned that Liam is asking him that when he hasn’t checked on her once since last night. ‘She and Michael talked, she’s doing ok.’

Liam smiles. ‘Good. Let me tell you, something wasn’t right with that speech I was given. I need to look into it. Between this and the way I’ve behaved with her...I owe her, now.’ He clears his throat. ‘Which is why I negotiated with Father, and I’m going to offer her Valtoria.’

Drake tries to speak, but the words are stuck in his throat. ‘Wh—what?’

Liam gestures to stay quiet. ‘Shh, no one knows yet, and no one will until after this is all over. But she’s been a great person through and through, she has made a lot of connections here, and I just thought as a symbolic gesture—‘

‘You are giving her a duchy?’ Drake’s head spins. What’s Liam’s angle? Does he simply want to keep her close? Is that his way of apologizing for trying to fucking grab her?

Liam nods excitedly. ‘Yes. Well, if she accepts. But, from what I gather, she doesn’t have much to tie her to her life in New York. So… Fingers crossed.’

*****

Amara has been hanging out with Hana and Liv, safely away from all the drama around. The three women are enjoying light chit chat and beverages, all three of them choosing to remain blissfully ignorant about the rest of the world, and the rest of the evening.

‘What do you mean you’ve never been skinny dipping?’ Olivia says, a frown on her face.

Hana shrugs. ‘No I haven’t. I’m not saying I’m opposed to ever trying, but I have to say, I don’t see the point.’

Liv snorts. ‘True. Unless there’s someone in the crowd you’re trying to see naked, there’s no point at all.’

Amara is looking at her two friends, a goofy grin on her face.

‘What?’ Liv spits out.

Amara laughs. ‘Nothing. I’m just enjoying the banter. You guys are the best.’

Hana squeals. ‘Aww, you’re the best, honey!’

Liv chugs her drink. ‘You girls are gross.’ She turns her head towards Drake, who is walking towards them. ‘Walker, long time no see! Where did you put Domvallier? Wasn’t he with you?’

Drake gives her a faint smile. ‘He had to take a phone call, but he’ll be back. He said he wants you to save him a dance.’

Amara smiles broadly at the thought, and is about to tease Olivia about her budding romance, when she notices Drake’s pale face. ‘Drake, are you okay?’ She says worriedly.

He nods. ‘I’m fine. I’m just—thrown for a loop. Can I tell you guys something and we all remain calm? I don’t want to attract attention by going outside—‘

Hana puts a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Of course. Tell us, Drake, don’t worry.’

*****

Drake feels slightly better after telling the ladies about what Liam just announced. He had asked him to keep it to himself, but it’s impossible. The thought of Amara being stuck at court because Liam wants her close… he doesn’t know what to think, how to react, but his gut instinct is sadness. Court always had made him feel inferior. It’s full of sharks. Of people like Madeleine, like the new version of Liam, like the Duke of Karlington, and so many more people who thought commoners were lesser than. Of course, on the flip side, there’s good people like Maxwell. Bertrand. Even Liv. Rashad. But would that life make Amara happy? He’s too afraid of studying her face to see the answer. He stares at his feet instead.

Olivia is the first to speak. ‘Okay,’ she says softly, but firmly. ‘It’s obvious that Liam is doing that to keep her at hand, huh? So the intention is already...not fucking great. But…’ she trails off. ‘I mean… that would give you an opportunity to stick around, and it could be your out,’ she says to Amara. ‘You manage the duchy for a while, you’ll be near Drake and near...us.’

Hana chimes in, ‘You don’t have to accept, though. If you want your freedom over the title and the rest, you can absolutely say no, and I’m sure Maxwell and Bertrand will find a way to have you stay in Cordonia, if that’s what you want. Amara?’ She asks her friend, who is still silent.

Drake finally raises his eyes to her level. God, she’s so beautiful. Her face looks just as lost as his own, which somehow reassures him. They’re on the same page. He wants to take her hand so badly, and out of habit he almost does, but stops himself.

‘This is nuts,’ she says, a nervous smile on her lips. ‘I do love being here, I love you all, but doing it this way…’ she chuckles. ‘It’s fucking crazy. I’m not a noble, I’m a cop, and I’m a bartender.’

Olivia laughs. ‘There’s a first for everything.’

Amara shakes her head. ‘No, if he really does offer it to me, I’ll have to turn it down. Let’s stick to the plan.’

Drake can breathe again.

*****

‘Shit, look at these flowers,’ Michael whispers. ‘And these picture frames. And do you think the sword over there is real?’ He asks Maxwell.

Max laughs and nods. ‘Yeah, it is. I opened a bottle of champagne with it once. I can vouch for its sharpness.’

Michael smiles. He has to make a true effort in order to keep his shit together and not squeal. He wonders how Amara does it. He’s been observing her all day, and she is right in her element, she looks like she was made to mingle with nobles.

He smiles wistfully as he thinks back of the young woman Amara was when he met her, ten years ago, when she was just graduating high school, ready to go to college and take on the world.

Nope, not the best way to keep it together.

‘You okay?’ Maxwell asks, concerned.

Michael takes a deep breath and tries to will the tears to go back to where they came from. ‘Yeah, just overwhelmed.’

Maxwell smiles. ‘I get it. You have your sister back, and you’re in a foreign court, it’s a lot to process.’ He pats his back. ‘Take your time.’

He’s about to open his mouth and thank Maxwell yet again for understanding him so well, but he’s interrupted by a change in the music. There is, all of a sudden, a violin solo coming from the orchestra, which silences everyone, until the King is the center of the attention.

‘People of Cordonia,’ he says, ‘The time has come for my son, Prince Liam of Cordonia, to make his decision.’

*****

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