#i do look forward to continuing to support them nevertheless

[phantomslink]

well

hopefully when im able to have my own income, ill be able to have a subscription to watcher's streaming service. i feel listened to, which is more than you can say about. A Lot of youtubers over the years.

[whiskeynwriting]

Pure Ecstasy and Delight

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

A/B/O dynamics, Alpha!Simon, degradation, mask kink, breeding kink, some spit, marking, biting, dry humping, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, brief oral sex (f receiving), lmk if I missed anything!

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A/N: First ever A/B/O fic goes to the one and only Simon “Ghost” Riley. I'm sooo so new to this, so pls be kind 🥺❤️

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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It’s not enough, and yet, you don’t do anything to stop it. You’re the one continuing, actually, the one who chose this, the one that shoved him down onto the bed and climbed over him. It was as if you couldn’t think, like you weren’t right in the head. That familiar, hazy cloud was blinding, and Simon loved taking advantage of it. 

Watching you move over him like this isn’t anything new, it’s how most of your cycles started, actually. Being as close as physically possible to him, rubbing your body on him, begging for him. And he was cocky as all hell when seeing you like this. Even now, he’s laying there, one arm curled back to support his head. Every now and then, you hear - feel, a deep chuckle rumble through his chest. He likes this, likes being there for you through this. 

Your rushed and sloppy movements are dizzying, trying to get as much friction as possible while both of you are still fully clothed. Huffing out an exhausted breath, you fall forward onto him, resting over his chest. But you don’t stop moving. If anything, the heat coiling in your belly only burns brighter, hotter, your hips in constant motion. You’ve already cum once like this, and you’re sure you can do it again. Lazily, Simon’s free hand comes to rest on your hips, moving with your body while you thrust yourself onto him. And it’s only when you begin to whimper, that he finally speaks. 

“Look at you…” Ghost grumbles, eyes already half-lidded with want. “My perfect bitch in heat.”

Lifting your head, you rest your cheek against the hard shell of his mask, whining. Opening your mouth, your tongue lays out, licking a small stripe up the side of that alluring mask. The wet muscle roams the curves and divots there, and you end up keeping your mouth open for so long that saliva begins to drip onto him. It’s sloppy, it’s shameful, and he fucking loves it. 

One thing Simon absolutely adored about you, was that you didn’t act like the typical Omega. Upon your first meeting, he’d almost believed you were an Alpha, even a Beta, at least. But the smell you exuded when he was in your presence gave everything away. Nevertheless, you’re a feisty little thing, you fight for what you want; and you impressed him. Upon your first few intimate encounters, Ghost discovered that instead of laying down to submit, like any Omega would, you presented yourself to him. You’d lean forward on your knees, shoving your ass into the air and spreading yourself, fluttering and just waiting for him. You were so eager to have him, eager for him to have you. And clearly, nothing has changed.

Simon’s smell saturated every one of your senses, filling your body with pure ecstasy and delight. His body tensed beneath you, trying to restrain himself, trying to let you do this before he shoved you down and fucked you dumb. That was inevitable, of course, and he knows it’s exactly what you want. But he figures he’ll let you get this out of your system, too. 

By the time he found you, he’d actually felt bad. You were wandering the base, looking for him. He knew when your heat was due and you were shocked to not see him anywhere near you, which usually meant something important was keeping him busy. And when you finally discovered that he was in a meeting with Price, you marched back to his room to sulk. 

Piling up Simon’s dirty clothes, you plopped them onto his bed, nuzzling into them, humping them. You paid no mind to the sound of your own voice, nor how high it was becoming while you whined his name, begging for him to come back. And when he finally did, walking in on you like that… was quite the fucking sight. Sure, you’d made a small nest of his things in the past, but never before has he walked in on you rubbing yourself over them. As soon as Ghost stepped into his room, he could instantly smell the heat on you, and seeing his Omega so needy for him made his pride shine. The decision to walk in and let you do whatever you wanted to him before he laid you down to breed your pliant little body, was both easy and quick. 

“Simon,” Gasping against his faux face, you feel Ghost’s free hand slide up to your back, rubbing it kindly. 

“I’m here, love.” And for the first time tonight, he finally moves, pushing his hips up against you. “Do what you want,” He encourages sweetly, quietly. Turning his head, he rubs his forehead against your own, inhaling deeply. “Please yourself… let me see.” 

Finding the junction of his neck, your teeth come out, digging into his gland. You’ve given each other these bites before, marking the other as your mate. But every time you connect, you can’t help but do it again, claiming the other so physically, so carnally. Simon tilts his head back when you do it, too, displaying his throat for you. And all you do is bite, bite into his skin and suck on it until it’s purple and red, inhaling his scent, wanting to forever wear it. 

“Mouth,” Comes your sudden, soft cry. “I want your mouth.”

Simon grins. “Then find it.” 

As soon as he gives you permission, your hands are scrambling up his chest and to his neck, finding the edge of his covering and lifting it. He allows you to remove it completely, smiling at you in the dimness of his room. But you barely have time to admire his beauty before laying your palms on his face and diving down. In an instant, your lips are on his, mouths opening and swapping spit. Ghost lifts his chin then, meeting your movements. Your kisses were always sloppy, always hungry; and Simon loved it. The feeling of his mouth on your own after not seeing him for so long while you’ve needed him so bad, it sets your skin alight, fire burning beneath your outer layer and shooting right to your very soul. This is your partner, your mate, the one you’re bonded to. 

Simon’s groans echo into your mouth as you slowly devour him, shoving your tongue past his lips while breathing heavily against him. It aroused you both, the way he allowed this, allowed you to act out these aggressive bursts of arousal before he took control again. 

A chuckle rumbles from his throat when you suck his tongue past your lips, pulsing your own around the wet muscle. Your lover grins, voice deep as he says, “You like sucking on my tongue?”

“Yes, baby.” It’s the crack in your voice, the slight whimper that it is… that so easily displays your submissiveness. 

At that moment, Ghost’s hands slide beneath your shirt, touching the skin along your hips. And the sensation forces a shiver through your center, immediately leaning in to shove your face into his neck. 

“When’re you gonna let me take you, huh?” He asks lowly into your ear. “When’re you finally gonna stop with these horny little actions?”

“Now,” Instantly, you’re wanting to please him. “W-Whenever you want.”

With a harsh grunt, Simon is forcing you back and off of him, turning to toss you down onto his bed. Standing, he stares down at you, calming his own breaths while removing his shirt. He’s all too eager for this. And with a single nod and you’re undressing yourself, too, following his movements. You mirror him, doing as he does, removing each piece in the same fashion. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Simon grins, shaking his head. “Doing whatever I do, whatever I want you to do.”

All your response consists of is a slow nod, alongside those sweet, charming, doe-like eyes. And that drives him wild inside. 

Staring up at Simon, at the broad, strong man that he is, all you can feel is an overwhelming sensation of gratefulness. You feel insanely, incredibly, undeniably lucky. Simon is an amazing Alpha - he’s everything you could ever want. Strong, tall and broad, high-ranking and respected. Simon commanded any room he walked into, and it made you nearly fall to your knees the first time you met him. Thank god it didn’t take long for him to catch on to your likeness. But aside from all that, he cared for you, he provided for you. With him, you never had to want for anything. With him, you were safe. 

Tossing his items down on the bed, he makes sure to scatter them, laying them out in your nest. He knows the best smell will come from the most recent clothes he’s worn. His shirt, his pants, even his socks and boxers, all slightly damp from sweat and he knows the scent is sure to drive you mad. 

“God,” Inhaling a sharp breath, Ghost dives down, hovering over you and grabbing onto your jaw. Dark eyes rake over your features, over your naked body. “I fucking love you.” It’s the last thing he says before crushing his mouth to yours, spare hand sliding up to your chest. 

Beneath his fingertips, the ones wrapped around your jaw, he can feel your heartbeat. Oh, how rapid it becomes for him. And he can feel his own picking up speed, as well. The blood beneath his skin runs hot throughout his body, rushing wildly in his ears. The constant, powerful thump in his chest, the thrum of arousal flooding his crotch, it consumes him.

“Baby, ple-please.” With how ravenous his mouth has become, you can barely get a word out, let alone a proper breath. It’s all spit and tongue, your teeth clashing every now and then. He just wants to ravage you, break you apart so he can put you back together again. His passion is also evident in the way that he grabs you, fisting your breast in his hand. 

Before ripping himself away from you, Simon’s mouth slides down to your neck, lips dragging over the delicate skin before he reaches the junction of your shoulder. As soon as he’s there, he’s biting into you, teeth digging into your gland while inhaling the beautiful aroma you exude. The pain fades when your hips cant upwards, just barely able to rub against him. 

“Turn over,” Simon finally decides, forcing himself away from your neck. With heavy breaths, he backs away, giving you the room to move. “Present for me.” Simon always liked having you bent over on your knees.

Quickly, you scramble to satisfy him, turning over with a wild grin crossing your face. The way you arch your back has him groaning, one hand lifting to lazily swat at your ass. And even that light of a hit shows you how much strength his body possesses. You’re more than aware of that, of how powerful Simon’s body is, and still, you choose to be at his mercy. You want to be. Laid out for him to admire, for him to take. This powerful killer, holding everything that you are in the palm of his hand, it’s exhilarating. 

Reaching forward, Simon finds one of your hands, pulling it back until it’s on your ass. His silent gesture is clear as day to you, your fingertips digging into the plump skin to spread yourself open for him. 

“Thaaaaaat’s it,” Shuffling behind you, his breaths are audible, arousal flooding his body once again. “Just like that, wide open for me.”

Grabbing himself, you can hear just how slick he’s become, the squelch of his prespend beneath his moving fist. You’d give anything to see him right now, the redness of his head, veins throbbing throughout his shaft. But you don’t have time for that, not when you’re so visibly in heat. 

Ghost’s tip spreads your lips from behind, his eyes trained on where you’re due to connect. Unlike his normal antics, Simon doesn’t make you wait, he doesn’t tease you or tell you to beg. Right now, his Omega needs him. And so, he slides right in.

“Simon,” Your one hand grasps for the sheets, feeling how heavy he is inside. Turning your head, your cheek rests against his pillow, forcing an overload of Ghost’s scent through your system. It’s now that you smell his dampened clothes, his shirt and boxers laying just beside your face. Eyes closing, an incredibly wanton moan floats from your mouth, simply from experiencing it. 

“Oh… Christ.” Bottoming out, Simon grunts quietly, throbbing against your walls. You’ve taken him so many times that it’s an easy transition, feeling him fill you. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t an incredible stretch, the pleasure burning through your system from it. 

The sigh you exude is one of absolute pleasure and relaxation, your need finally being sated - for now. But at the moment, you’re just focusing on him, how he feels, how he holds you, those broad hands grabbing onto your hips. Forcing his pelvis forward, Simon grinds into you, his own jaw dropping. Almost as if he can’t help himself, he’s falling over you, firm chest pressing into your back. He holds his weight above your own, keeping you safe and surrounding you in his scent. 

“Baby,” Reaching back, you find his hair, fingers tangling into the golden locks sweetly. “My Alpha…”

And that ignites something inside him. Tilting his head downward, he drags his nose up your spine, lips landing on your shoulder blade. His breath tickles your skin, his barely-there stubble. One, strong pulse then resonates through him, feeling your walls hold him tight.

“I’m yours,” Ghost promises in that deep, baritone of a voice. “I am… and you’re mine.”

He continues to move, tilting his chin upward so he can kiss the back of your neck, breathing against you while wrapping his arms around your midsection. 

“Please,” You’d been doing your best to be well behaved for him, to not outwardly beg too much, but you need this. “Please, Simon. You’re here, you’re inside me… I need you.”

A small snarl spills from his lips as he pulls out about halfway before shoving himself back in. And from the start, his pace is brutal, skin hot to the touch as it rubs along your own. His breaths are ragged and deep, eyes watching the way your backside bounces against him. Already, he can hear your panting, slithering a hand down to your clit so he can hear you whine. 

“That easy, huh?” He goads, feeling your body shake after only a few circles around the sensitive bud. “Perfect little slag.” Leaning in, Simon plants a sloppy kiss onto your cheek, urging you on. “Cum on me, love. Feels so good when you do.” 

“S-Simon,” It’s all you need to unravel, your thighs shaking from the pleasure and his brute force. He’s already punching himself against that pleasurable spot deep inside your walls, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. 

He can feel the way you spasm around him, can feel the slickness of your arousal coating his shaft. But he doesn’t stop, he rides you through it, fucking himself into you again and again. 

“Good little Omega,” Ghost purrs against your cheek, lowering his head to bite into your neck. 

Your eyes have rolled back into your head, pleasure reaching every one of your nerve endings. It washes over your body, through your hips, your limbs, up through your chest. It feels explosive, and satisfying, a start to fully satiating the primal need growing in your belly. 

With your body going relatively limp, Simon lifts himself from you, one hand staying on your hips to hoist you further into the air. And then his other is grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face into the mattress, into the wet clothes he’d added to your nest. The motion is surprisingly rough, igniting a new spark already licking up your spine. 

“Smell it.” Simon demands, pushing your face into the fabric. “Smell me - scent yourself with it.”

He can barely hear your moans, every beautiful sound and deep inhale muffled by the fabric. This is all you want, to be covered in it, in him. There hasn’t been a single day where you haven’t been elated to wear to his scent, to show the world you’re taken. And not just by anyone, but by him. 

“Listen to you,” He’s panting out every breath, pumping himself into your welcoming walls. “So fucking wet. How many times have you cum, love? Two, maybe three?” And then he finds himself overcome with the urge to taste, to lick up the arousal spilling between your legs.

“Baby,” Your whine is high and shrill, feeling empty without him.

“Hush,” Ghost returns firmly, pulling out and bending down. 

Little time goes by before your questions disappear, feeling Simon’s mouth connect with your pink lips.

“Oh…” Slumping down, you sigh, relaxing into his touch. 

Holding your hips, Simon presses his face into you, licking into your hole. He can taste the remnants of your orgasm, can smell your combined scent. The sloppy squelch of his insistent mouth against your sex can be heard throughout the room, forcing a delicious smirk across your lips. But the knot building at the base of his shaft forces him back up, diving between your legs once again. 

“G-Ghost, Simon!” With the combination of his mouth and cock, you’re near overstimulation. 

“It’s so goddamn easy,” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You cum so easy like this.” And when you’re in heat, how can you not? 

“M-More,” Your arms are trembling, feeling absolutely conquered by your mate. But still, you’re hungry, wanting.

“What? Has my sweet Omega not had enough?”

“I need more.” Groaning, you toss your head back, feeling Simon’s chest return. 

“I’ll give you more.” Simon snarls against your ear, biting into it. And then he’s returning to the marks he’s already made, teeth imprinting into your skin, blossoming bruises just beneath the surface. There’s one bite in particular that draws blood and has you shrieking, Simon’s tongue lapping at it shortly after. 

“I can f-feel it.”

“Yeah? You feel it growing?” 

“I want it.”

“I know you do, and I’m gonna give it to you. Fill you, fuck you full and plug you with it.” His promises are spoken through quiet gasps, his own high nearing. “Christ, I need this. Always will… gorgeous, wet fucking hole. I’ll always need you.”

Listening to him say he needs you, that he needs this connection with you, makes your entire head spin. Tears form near the lashes along your eyes, feeling safe and secure with him, wanted by him. 

“Simon, please. Give it to me.” Every vein, every heavy pulse, are all felt along your velvety walls. 

All Simon can smell is you, your sweet aroma. He salivates at the sensation of it, wanting nothing more than to claim it for himself. And he’s glad to do so, over and over again. It’s addictive - you draw him in like some seductive siren, appearing so charming and innocent. And to an extent, you are, until that filthy side comes out.

“Fuck,” Your lover grunts, voice slightly higher as he breathes out the word. 

The knot growing at his base is slowly but surely catching on the thin rim of your lips, the feeling painful but worth it. The heat radiating from your body spills over to him, warming him, telling Simon’s body that it’s safe to release. 

Hard and sharp thrusts burst from his pelvis, forcing his flushed cock into your slick entrance. It’s delicious, the euphoria coursing through him, his jaw dropping, eyes drooping. Now that he’s fulfilled your need, his duty to you during this time, he becomes selfish. Pressing himself flush against your plush backside, Simon stills, body trembling. His base swells, knot plugging your entrance while he floods your insides. Strong hips rock against your own, pumping his spend into you, feeling it rush from his tip. 

“Alpha,” It’s the only thing spilling from your lips, your sex throbbing fiercely around him. 

“G-Give it to you, I’ll give it to you. Keep you full, breed this cunt.” 

“Simon,” Crying out softly for him, you feel his body begin to fully relax, breaths puffing out of his chest. It feels warm, your insides coated in a thick layer of his arousal. 

“Mine, always mine. Always, love.”

“I know,” Nodding, you sigh out, feeling his lips kiss along your back. “Always.” 

At this point, you expect to rest, feeling his weight crush you comfortably until the swelling at his base subsides. But to your surprise, he pulls you back, maneuvering the two of you down onto the bed. Simon keeps your back against his chest, holding you from behind and finally allowing you to relax. 

Ghost knows you’ll need more, and he’ll give it to you when he can. But for now, he holds you, face dipping down to find the marks he’s left on your skin. With long, slow movements, he licks them, showing the slightest bit of remorse. 

“Was I too hard on you?”

“No, no, not at all.” A bright smile forms on your lips, admiring his gentler side. “You know I love it, Si.” 

“Mm,” Humming quietly, Ghost closes his eyes, keeping himself between your legs while mending the indentations he’s left in your skin. 

If anyone were to walk into the room right now, it’d wreak of arousal and sweat, of adoration and commitment. But neither of you have to worry about that, few people on base would dare to interrupt this. One of your most intimate moments, shared just between the two of you. Once again, you feel lucky, covered completely by your Alpha and his scent, filled with everything he has to give. 

“I’ll be here when you wake,” Ghost promises, kissing your neck, your cheek. “I’ll take care of you.” 

[louisupdates]

The Habit He Can’t Break 4/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

If I Could Fly

With the production traveling to Australia, in early 2024, before shifting to Latin America, Andy Lovell at Freight Minds is gearing up to become involved with Tomlinson once again.

“We did the Central and South America dates on the tour last year, and onto Mexico,” says Lovell. “It was very challenging back then as we were still coming back from Covid, and various systems and infrastructure were in pieces. But it all went well in the end, as we kept an eye on things and worked on it every day to make sure we had solutions to everything that was thrown our way.”

Lovell continues, “Things on this tour kick in early next year for us. Historically, Australian services were quite reliable, as we could use any number of airlines. But post-pandemic, the number of long-haul flights still aren’t as frequent as they were. As a result, the production is being reverse engineered with the budget being worked out before we can see what we can afford to take as freight, and then we try to plan accordingly.”

“Similarly, in Central and South America there are still just a fraction of the flights operating, compared to pre-Covid, so that makes it very challenging. If there aren’t the flights to handle the gear, then you have to start looking at chartering aircraft, or alter your schedule, and that can become very expensive, very fast.”

With everyone working on the artist’s behalf to make sure the tour remains on track, being able to call on such experienced production experts is paying off on a daily basis.

Sherwood notes, “There are a few back-to-back shows over long distances that occasionally mean we don’t arrive at the next venue until 11 AM, rather than 6 AM. But we’ve never failed anywhere to open the doors on time, so we know we’re capable of getting things done, even if we have a late start at mid-day.”

Such dilemmas are not lost on agent Rowland. “It’s not so much the routing, it’s more like the timings, because Louis does have two support acts, so the shows start at 7 o’clock, and then when we’re done, we need to load out to get to the next show in good time for loading in the next morning and soundchecks, etc.”

Nevertheless, Sherwood admits that he loves the trickier venues and schedules. “Because I’m a dinosaur, I relish anything that makes things difficult or awkward for us on the production side of things,” he says. “I think everyone on the crew looks forward to challenges in finding the solutions to problems.”

Common People

Having amassed millions of fans through his association with One Direction, Tomlinson very much has a ‘pay it forward’ attitude to music and is building a reputation as a champion for emerging talent, wherever he performs.

“He’s a great advocate for alternative music,” says manager Vines. “Louis realizes he’s in an incredibly privileged position in terms of what he can create in terms of awareness. He loves alternative music and indie music, and he understands how hard it is for that music to be heard. But we have this amazing platform where we can put these bands in front of these audiences as a showcase that allows them to build these authentic new audiences. It’s a huge part of his love of music, wanting to help younger bands.”

Rowland agrees. “He took an act called Andrew Cushin - a very new artist – on the road in America with him as a support, and he’s doing the same for Europe. Louis is a fan and is championing his career.”

Indeed, Tomlinson’s A&R skills have knock-on effects for his agent, too. “He asked me to confirm the Australian band Pacific Avenue as support for his Australian tour last year. The music was great, and they didn’t have an agent, so now I’m representing them,” says Rowland.

Perfect Now

As the European tour speeds towards its conclusion, agent Rowland is enjoying every minute of it.

“It’s incredible – they’ve really stepped things up,” she says, fresh from seeing the show in Athens and Paris. “They’ve got six hanging LED screens on the stage, and the whole production just looks polished and professional.”

And Rowland is especially excited about next year’s Latin America dates, which will deliver her first stadium shows as an agent. 

“The return to Latin America is going to be huge – Louis is playing arenas and stadiums in South America and Mexico 15 shows across 11 countries,” she says. 

Vines is similarly enthused. Harking back to the Covid situation, when the show would go on sale, sell out, be postponed, and then re-scheduled in a bigger venue, Vines says, “For example, in Chile, originally the show was scheduled at a 5,000-cap, half-capacity arena in Santiago. And what we ended up doing with three nights at 10,000-cap in that same venue.”

Vines contends that Tomlinson’s work ethic is outstanding. “He loves his fans, and he loves performing for them, it’s as simple as that,” he says. “He just loves being on the road and seeing how the songs connect live. In fact, the second album was very much written with the tour and live shows in mind – ‘This song could work live,’ ‘This one will open the set,’ ‘This is the one we can do for the encore.’”

Fearless

Another element to Tomlinson’s psyche has been his decision to visit places off the usual tour circuit.

“Louis has a real desire to perform to fans in markets that are often overlooked,” says Rowland.

Manager Vines explains that while the Covid-delayed first tour allowed them to upgrade venues pretty much everywhere, “On this tour, we are a bit more competent on venue sizes, but we still speculate a little bit in different territories. In Europe, for example, we’ve gone into the Baltics in a number of different places to test the markets there, while in America, we’re looking at A and B markets, but also tertiary market as well – we go to places where people just don’t tour in America, just to see what the reaction is. That was something that very much interested Louis - to play in front of people who don’t normally have gigs in their town. So there’s been a lot of experimentation on the tour in terms of where we go and what room to play.”

That concept is something that Vines has employed before. “I manage a band called Hurts, who were pretty much overlooked by the British radio system, and we have spent 15 years building a business outside of the UK. And that was built on going to play at those places where people didn’t normally go. They built to multiple arena level in Russia, for instance.”

“If you can build fanbases in lots of different places, you have festivals that you can play every summer, as well as touring those places. It allows you to have more consistency over a number of years, by having more opportunities.”

Such a strategy found a convert in Tomlinson. Vines tells IQ, “Louis also is extremely fan-focused in everything that he does. He comes at it from a perspective of ‘I want to take the show to them,’ meaning he’s always more willing to take the risky option to try something out.”

And the result? “It’s a combination,” concludes Vines. “There have been a couple of places where we now understand why tours don’t go there. But there are more places where it’s worked incredibly well. For example, we enjoyed incredibly good sales in Budapest. And overall, it’s allowing us to get a clearer idea, globally, of where the demand is, which will help us when we go into the next tour cycle.”

1/4, 2/4, 3/4

[nochuelinha]

Chapter 3: Marathon

Connor made a genuine effort to establish a connection with Hank, seeking common ground and trying to find ways to bond. Even when it came to trivial matters like musical preferences, Connor showed sincere interest, aiming to foster a friendlier relationship between them. However, Hank remained a challenge, with his explosive temper and distrust of androids. One moment everything seemed calm, with the two sitting at their desks, and the next moment, Hank was grabbing Connor by the collar, ready to unleash his anger.

I quickly stood up, trying to intervene and calm things down before the situation spiraled out of control. It was challenging to be caught in the middle of them, but I knew it was important to try to prevent any physical confrontation between the two, especially considering the importance of the mission we had ahead.

"Hank, let him go, he's just trying to be nice," if looks could kill, Connor would have a hole in his face, but Chris arrived informing us that there was a case of a deviant, apparently an android kidnapped a child and was in the Ravendale area. "Let's go, no fighting okay?"

The three of us got into Hank's car and arrived at the location in silence. It was a motel with an old appearance; we got the information through a few bucks. I stayed outside the motel while the two went to check the room; I noticed some movement to my left, a woman holding a girl's hand, walking quickly.

"Excuse me, can I talk to you?" she looked at me and ran away pulling the girl. Damn.

I yelled for Connor and Hank, but I didn't wait for them and ran after the two fugitives. They ran at an impressive speed, even with the limitation of having a child with them. I pushed my lungs to the max and continued to pursue them, determined to catch up. I noticed Connor was a few steps behind us, but that didn't stop me from running.

The race seemed endless, but I knew I couldn't give up. However, my muscles began to burn, and the air became scarce in my lungs. Nevertheless, I kept my pace, focused on catching the fugitives. Suddenly, they jumped over a fence leading to a busy avenue, and my mind immediately went on alert. Damn.

Without hesitation, I resumed my run, determined to stop them. I saw Connor trying to jump the fence too, but I acted on instinct and pulled him by his jacket, preventing him from moving forward.

"Are you crazy? If you try to cross this avenue, you'll die," my voice came out panting, and I was out of breath, my heart beating irregularly. Hank arrived at our side, also panting from the run. Connor put his hand on my back, offering support, and looked at me with evident concern in his eyes. "I'm fine, just need some air," I muttered, trying to catch my breath as I watched the two fugitives, who miraculously managed to reach the other side of the avenue safely. Lucky, I thought to myself, relieved that they were out of immediate danger. I don't know why, but I felt like the two were together, not that the girl was being kidnapped. We returned to the department; it was still 11:45; the day was going to be long.

Hank stopped to eat at Chicken Feed, where he also used to bet on horse races. I ordered a snack for myself and waited with the two while Hank dove into the menu with his usual enthusiasm. Connor, on the other hand, made a remark about the illegality of gambling and the cholesterol content of our snack, but couldn't resist the delicious taste of the sandwich.

"So, Connor, what do you think of working with us?" I asked casually, while Hank rolled his eyes in his typical sarcastic attitude.

"Working with humans can be challenging due to their different personalities," Connor responded diplomatically, avoiding any conflict. I held back my laughter, knowing full well that Hank was known for his strong and sometimes explosive personality. "But it's gratifying to know that we're combining our skills to solve deviant cases."

Hank grumbled something inaudible while chewing his sandwich, but I noticed a slight nod of approval in his expression. It seemed that, slowly but surely, Connor was managing to earn his trust, even if Hank never openly admitted it. Connor's LED blinked yellow, and he informed us that there was another case to investigate.

We went to a set of apartments; apparently, a neighbor heard strange noises. In the elevator, Connor started doing an interesting trick with a coin; he seemed even distracted. Connor knocked on the apartment door firmly, waiting for a response. Meanwhile, Hank started getting impatient and, without ceremony, kicked the door. To the surprise of both, the door gave way easily, revealing a completely unexpected interior.

The apartment seemed to be inhabited by a large number of pigeons, flying in all directions at the sound of the knock and the kick on the door. The scene was chaotic and unusual, and both Connor and Hank exchanged incredulous looks at the situation. It seemed that the mystery of the apartment had just become even stranger and more peculiar.

We investigated the place, looked everywhere; I saw a string on the ceiling, grabbed a chair and pulled it, the deviant fell from there and ran away, Connor helped me up and then ran after the suspect, and off we go running again. The chase continued on an urban farm day; Connor was very fast and was close to catching up with the deviant; Hank and I took a shortcut.

Arriving there, I pointed my gun at the deviant, but he pushed me aside from the side of the building; I closed my eyes and waited to feel the impact, but it didn't come. Connor was holding me; I've never been so grateful to look at him. Hank had continued the chase and managed to apprehend the deviant, handcuffing him. The tension of the moment of danger gradually dissipated, replaced by a feeling of victory and relief for having managed to apprehend the suspect. But then the suspect got out of Hank's grip and threw himself off the building, but not before saying "save me rA9."

I sat on the ground exhausted, what a wonderful day, first, we lost the kidnapper, and now the weirdo who likes pigeons. Connor came over to me; the exchange of glances between you revealed a deep connection, a mutual understanding that went beyond words. Even in the face of defeat, there was a comforting comfort in knowing that you were not alone.

"Thank you for saving me," I looked into his beautiful eyes, gave him a sad smile, once again we failed the mission.

"That's what partners do," he smiled at me, "You've had a lot of emotions today, your stress levels are high, I'll take you home," Connor's offer to take her home was more than a kindness; it was a gesture of genuine care and concern.

Looking at Hank for approval, you found confirmation that it was time to retreat and take care of yourself after such a turbulent day. He understood the importance of recharging and being ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Confident in the decision, you stood up with Connor's help, and together you left, leaving behind the frustrations of the day. Even in defeat, there was a sense of companionship and mutual support that strengthened the bond between you.

[skibidihan]

HATEFUL MELODIES …

004. who? ur ego? smau + written ( in 3rd person. )

it was 11am when yn was running through the halls of their school, trying to get to the meeting on time. (he was already late)

making it to the music club room, yn slammed the door open and ran to his band’s side, sitting down in their open chair. the music club president and teacher were there, almost glaring at yn for being late. i mean, it was only his 5th time being late!

“as i was saying..” the teacher shook her head, looking at both bands. “this first competition wont define anything other than which drummer your band gets. there’s two as you know, seunghan and sungchan.”

both bands nodded their head, looking to the left where the two drummers were standing awkwardly. even for being professionals, they seemed nervous and anxious for the results.

“it will be different this time. our drummers here will be the judges of your performances. as they are the ones joining the bands, they get to pick which band they want and feel best with.” the teacher continued, her palm outwords to point to them.

“bands will not be able to talk any performance things with the drummers, as we want it to be fair to both. do you understand?”

all band members nodded their head, bowing to the teacher as she left the room. the drummers made their way up to the front, and took a bow. “i’m sungchan and this is seunghan, we are truly looking forward to working with you guys and pushing you guys to the nationals. we hope we can all get along!” sungchan said with a big smile.

yn and wonbin rolled their eyes at the last part, but nevertheless, bowed back to the drummers and smiled.

“so… are we good? can i go?” yn asked, leaning on his back heels as he waited for an answer from jay.

“why are you in such a rush? busy being lazy?” wonbin provoked, grinning ear to ear as he turned his back on them. yn walked up to the male and pushed him gently, but enough to make him step forward.

“whats your deal?” wonbin asked angrily, stepping closer to yn, both in each others faces.

“my deal is you. why do you keep calling me lazy?” yn said, his band members trying to pull him back so theres no fight.

“well, whenever my band comes to practice, i always just see you sitting there on your phone, or sleeping. you never do any work, your band does it for you.” wonbin continued, he didnt know why, but wonbin loved making yn angry, it was fun seeing the other male so upset.

sungchan ran up and put his arms between the two males, pushing them back. “calm down, theres no need to fight. we’re all doing this together.”

“yeah right.” yn scoffed, rolling his eyes at wonbin before he turned to the drummers and wonbin’s band. he bowed with an apology, before he left the room.

“why are you always so mean to him, dude?” eunseok asked, bumping his shoulder as he packed up his equipment.

“he’s the one who’s always mean!!” wonbin whined, trying to get his band’s support, but anton shook his head. “you started this one, bin.”

wonbin rolled his eyes and that was the end of the meeting, both bands excusing themselves as the two drummers looked confused.

— synopsis !! top 1 & top 2 band rivals. yn and wonbin’s bands are known for being the best in the school, every event they are competing and being compared. what could happen when the school makes them both pair up for the biggest event of the year?

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taglist. ( OPEN !! ) : @enhaas @wnyngz @starchasing-cryptid @lavendersloane @academiq @addorations

[thebusytypewriter]

Okay Salem my beloved two options for my req you do whichever scritches the brainrot best 💕

—Reader-insert/Kamukura Despair-era shenanigans (shippy? chaotic? hurt/comfort? angsty? up to you!) (Bonus points for bullying Servant/Nagito /hj)

—A oneshot for any OC you haven’t gotten to talk about (enough) on here :> I know you have an FMAB and a non-Rosalind fangan kiddo in particular; maybe one of those!

ily Salem thank youuuu :D

Jonnie my beloved you give me options but this is for YOU and I know you love Kamukura so I offer Despair-era shenanigans :> It's a rather..... specific idea but I hope it suffices nonetheless! 💕

Towa City—the most fucked-up city in this new fucked-up world.

So why, exactly, are you—a former investigator before everything went to shit—finding yourself heading into this fucked-up city? Easy. You’re chasing a phantom.

Not a literal phantom, of course; you’re tracking an individual who’s popped into and out of your radar for months now, showing up without fail at the preferred locations of every Remnant of Despair. You have a couple of buddies in what remains of the civilian-formed safety corps, and they had the misfortune of running into this phantom while on patrol once.

Their number of squadron members was cut in half that day, and the bastard apparently never lifted more than a finger.

You’re intrigued, of course, but you want to make sure this odd man never causes any more disasters.

And so, you’ve found your way to the newest circle of hell: Towa City.

Based on reports, the bridges connecting it to the mainland have since been destroyed, but that doesn’t stop you from commandeering one of the small motorboats remaining at the docks. Ripples in the water nearby alert you to the fact that your target had the same train of thought. You quickly check your supplies before absolutely hauling ass across the water.

As you approach, you’re greeted by a surprising lack of robotic killing machines. They had been the staple danger of Towa City, and you’d prepared several countermeasures against those beasts, but there’s nothing; not even so much as a single ball-sized bot. It doesn’t sit right with you.

(You don’t notice the long-haired man staring down at you from the bridge’s remaining supports, taking in your confusion.)

Nevertheless, you continue on your way, handgun at the ready just in case. As per your training, you follow every turned stone, every shifted pile of dirt, and every open door to track your target. You can’t help but feel pride at your skill and luck to make it this far, to get so close to this strange person.

(He’s moving too fast ahead of you for you to see him laying out the path.)

You climb flight after flight in this one building, all stones gone, all dirt replaced with concrete. The only thing that guides you now is the echoing footsteps above you, growing ever so steadily fainter.

(He takes care to make noisy steps for a change.)

The sound of a door alerts you to the phantom’s exit. Tenth floor—a penthouse suite, you think. You pursue, ready for another chase… or maybe a fight. After all, no one really knows anything about this person; you could be dealing with the former Ultimate Taekwondo Master for all you know.

(You are. Among other things.)

You’re surprised to see your target standing perfectly still within the living area, back to you as they look out of the window toward the skyline. There’s no indication of hearing your entrance, and it unsettles you once more. Now significantly closer, you can reasonably identify them as male, or at least male-presenting. His long black hair drapes over his back and partially obscures his pristine suit from your view, and it’s almost annoyingly perfect and smooth. He stands tall, posture simultaneously relaxed and proper in an effortless manner.

He’s a bit of a vision, you catch yourself thinking.

Focus.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you take careful steps forward. One hand holds your gun, which is loaded in case of the worst, and the other delicately pulls your singular remaining pair of handcuffs from your belt.

Thirty feet from him. Twenty. Ten. He makes no move to run, no move at all, so you hesitantly holster the gun so you can have both hands at your disposal.

Just as you step within reach, he turns, and you manage to block a knifehand strike with your forearms. It catches you by surprise, but what combat training remains in your head took action just in time to save your ass from being knocked unconscious.

You have only that brief moment to take in his face—chiseled, neutral, objectively handsome. Intense red eyes stare you down, but they’re not angry. They’re not anything.

His head tilts, and after a beat, he opens his mouth to say something.

He doesn’t get the chance.

You manage to grab hold of the hand he’d used to attack you, and one side of the handcuffs is shoved on.

Click.

That’s when he moves, tugging the caught wrist back and attempting to shove you back by the chest, but you’ve got a vice grip on the other cuff.

“Come on,” you growl, keeping still the hand you just caught as you fumble to grab and get the other under control. “Don’t make me use my fucking taser—”

Click.

“AHA! Oh…” You move back just a hair, staring in disbelief at your target’s wrist… and yours.

In the confusion, you’d gotten it half-correct. You’d handcuffed him, all right. Just… to yourself.

Well, shit.

“This is awkward.”

He stares, thoroughly unimpressed. But he makes no move to escape.

“What, can’t you just get out of it?”

Red eyes blink back at you.

“…Thanks for the input.” You sigh. “Dammit, why couldn’t this have just gone the way I’d planned? Fine, let’s just… save both of our prides. I’ve got the key.”

Using your free hand—the right one—you reach into your small utility bag attached to your belt and grab the single steel key from within. Even as you hold it up to show him, your target continues to just stare. It’s unnerving, but at least he isn’t trying to kill you. That’s a first, and a welcome one at that.

However, despite your training and ability to lock and unlock handcuffs blindfolded, the edge of the key catches on a ridge it shouldn’t, and the dumb thing slides out of your hand and onto the floor. You ignore the burning in your cheeks and squat to retrieve it.

Just as you reach for the key, he swiftly kicks it with the toe of his shoe, sending it flying an impressive distance across the floor and under the penthouse’s oven.

You stare in disbelief at where it disappeared. Then you look up at him.

How the fuck is he able to look so smug while still remaining expressionless?

“The hell is your deal?” You push yourself up and waggle your cuffed wrists in front of him. “Unless you know how to get out of handcuffs without a key—which I don’t—then we’re stuck. Is that what you want?”

Blink.

“Or you could just not talk to me. That works.”

God, you wish you still had a team.

“You’re a detective,” he finally says, tone as flat as his expression. “You don’t appear to be related by blood to the Kirigiri line, and the lack of a ring on your hand implies that you are not married.”

The analysis throws you for a loop momentarily as you process it. “The Kirigiris? I mean, I know of them, but no, we’re not related. I’m just a private investigator from Tokyo. I came here to—”

“To track and apprehend me,” your target finishes, “someone you could not figure out. Someone who remained just out of reach. Now you have time to do so, and I will be able to do the same.”

“You make it sound like you planned this.”

He doesn’t refute it.

The sound of approaching vehicle engines alerts you to the presence of someone else outside. It’s faint, given your height at the tenth floor, but you’re still able to classify them as military-grade. Probably those Future Foundation people. You wonder what they’re doing in this city.

…You wonder if they can get you out of the cuffs.

Your target narrows his eyes at you, as if reading your thoughts. “That would be a terrible idea.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“If you surrender to the Future Foundation, it is quite likely that they will consider you an accomplice of mine.”

“Oh please, I’m a licensed detective, they have no reason to distrust me—” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Wait, did you say accomplice of yours? Who does that make you, then?”

For once, he hesitates, appearing to mull something over in that strange head of his. Then, he finally says, “I am called Izuru Kamukura, and I am considered to be a part of the Ultimate Despair, who are now the Remnants of Despair with the death of Junko Enoshima.”

It processes for a moment, then you huff a half-laugh. “A lot of uncertainty there.”

“They are facts.”

“Right, right. So the Future Foundation…?”

“Wishes to kill me.”

“Gotcha. And me showing up, handcuffed to you—”

“Would likely end in your own death, or at least imprisonment with suspicion of cooperation with a terrorist.”

“Son of a bitch.” You glare at Kamukura, gesturing vaguely toward the stove. “Then why make me lose the key? Are you just that sadistic?”

That smug little twinkle in his eye comes back. “No. I knew it would be interesting, being locked to the person who’s been following me for two months.” He leans forward into your personal space, dark hair falling to curtain the both of you. “Checkmate, detective.”

Heat rushes over your face once more.

Guess you have no choice but to follow his lead.

‘Interesting,’ without a doubt.

[aemonds-wifey]

Warrior Queen & Holy King

Chapter 2

Summary: You are reunited with your dear Sweet Osferth.

{Authors Note: Bold = Flashback}

Your fingers traced down the torn tapestries down the narrow hallway, they were once a focal point but now a ruined reminder of a once glorious court. You continued down the hallway, leading to the throne roomWhich you had scarcely recognized - under Haestens illegitimate rule he had altered the decor tone more insulting to your parents memory. Only one chair sat in the centre, where once there stood two- one of the king and one for the queen. Nevertheless as you approached the lone wooden throne you remembered the last conversation you had with your parents in this room- It conceded your status as heir and who should rule with you as King.

“Is this what you want my girl? Truly?”

You nodded “Yes Father, Majesty.”

Your father briefly looked at your mother who stood by his side, both embodying the perfect image of a harmonious king and queen. You father was imposing to strangers, a strong build with a thick grey beard - but you knew his gentle demeanor from childhood- he was a just ruler and a formidable fighter. Your mother cast the very essence of elegance, golden hair that stretched to her lower back, eyes as bountiful as the rarest jewels and a humble gracious lady to all who knew her.

As they smiled your stomach did a back flip, your father got to his feet and approached you slowly . Holding his hands out , you nervously took them.

He chuckled “My dear…I could not be more delighted at this…Osferth is a good man.”

You beamed “You support this? Mother you too?”

Your mother nodded “My dear you and Osferth are meant to be….” She smiled “Like two sides of a coin my dear…you need each other.”

You heart was racing . Soaring with happiness - words seemed to have failed you.

“We will formally announce the betrothal tomorrow and you will both wed next spring. A great feast tomorrow evening…it will be wonderful!”

You embraced your father, as his heir you expected him to be more strict in your choice of future consort. But who could deny you Osferth?

He let go of you and kissed your forehead “Go find him…tell him and the four of us will dine in the morrow. But Y/N” he warned as you looked up at him “Back here by supper…”

You nodded “Of course father.” You dipped a curtesy to them and left the throne room practically skipping.

Your mothers brows frowned a moment , you father caught this sight

“Haesten will not like this Harald” She whispered

“Haesten be dammed My love….it’s not his throne.” Harald said

Her worry did not leave, Harald stood in front of her “Cecily….all will be well.” He said reassuringly .

“Do you think she will be happy Harald?” She asked

Harald embraced his doting Queen “Aye…As happy as we are god willing.” He said with a smile .

You closed your eyes briefly as the memory fades from your mind, you noticed your squire hovering around “Henry?” You asked

He stepped forward “Yes my queen?”

“Will you ask the builder of the keep come to me later? I wish to discuss something with him of great importance.” You asked politely .

He nodded “At once majesty.” He said before leaving you alone.

You turned to the door by the grand spiral staircase

opening the small door and finding yourself to the maze garden , practically sheltered by the skeletons of the trees draped in snow , you wrapped your cloak over your shoulders as the cool air hit your skin.

You turned quickly around, following the snow capped hedges until you stopped to approach the cold pillars, suddenly you froze- you were nervous. The memory of your last encounter with Osferth was overwhelming, five years was a long time to go without the sweetest man you had known.

“What is it?” Osferth asked watching you pace around the circular room you both sat in.you had both met in the princes tower of the castle, it was the tallest and the place you often met with Osferth.

“I do not know…I’m just out of sorts…” you sighed

He smiled “How adorable you are when your nervous…”

You looked at him , his cheeky teenage smile Was too much for you. You and Osferth had grown up together, often getting into mischief as children, at first it annoyed your father- he would claim Osferth was a bad influence , yet it was quite the opposite However you remained inseparable and both were so devoted to each other.

“Your not helping Osferth…”

He rested his hands on his knees as he watched you “Forgive me…I’m just surprised your father accepted…he still blames me for that apple orchid incident …that was your fault .” He said with a slight smirk

You managed a small smile “ As I recall we managed to abscond with the apples and the dog did not mangle or maim us.”

He nodded “True…but the time you stole jam from the cook that was your own sin.” He grinned again.

You chuckled, how often you both got up to mischief and you did not regret one episode of it.

“Having second thoughts?” He asked

You stopped and resumed to looked into his eyes “My dear no…never…I am so ecstatic that my parents said yes.”

“They will announce our betrothal formally tomorrow …?” he asked

You nodded “They will yes…and we will be betrothed for a year and marry next spring…” you smiled “They want us …you and me to have food in the morn so we can talk…” you said with hope.

He inhaled slightly with a slightly nervous look “My lady you are …”

You sat opposite him “What is it…?”

He looked incredibly uneasy, afraid almost . He looked up at you nervously

“You are the heir….princes and lords would throw themselves at you and are …more equipped to rule…” he said softly

You leaned forward “Your point Osferth?”

He paused, pouting for a moment “You picked me…a bastard and a monk…..”

You leaned forward closer and clasped his hands in yours. Osferth May yes be the discarded bastard of a king from the south and did grow up taught by the church under your fathers patronage , but he was much more than the labels he just expressed. Your parents could see how much you were to each other and they encouraged you to spend more time together. “My sweet monk…I would not wish for anybody else to be by my side….”

He looked at you gentle “Why though….?”

“You know why….I lo-“

You were cut off by the alarming sound of the horn ringing through the castle, you both looked up at the window . Osferth got to his feet, breaking his hands away and looked out the window to see the danger approaching “dear lord….” He gasped

You also rose to your feet “What is it?”

He looked at you with fear “An Army…it’s Haesten…”

You gasped “No…I must get to mother and father.”

Osferth held your arms in his hands “My lady stay here….you are too precious to go and fight …we loose and all is lost…”

You held onto his arm looking deep into his blue eyes “I loose you and I will be lost…” you whispered

He leant in and kissed you , before pulling you into him tightly against his chest and kissing your forehead quickly “I will return….I promise…” he said kissing you softly one more time. He paused before picking up his sword, removing his silver chain that had a silver cross hanging from it. He placed it in your trembling hands

Your eyes widened in shock “Osferth you need this!” You said , before going to the door he looked at you “You can return it to me when we have won my lady.”

He smiled lightly before leaving the room, closing the door firmly as you stood there with the chain laced between your fingers.

That was the last time you saw him, five years ago on the night everything changed for your lives.

Now you were going to see him again, what if he had become someone so different you reunited with a stranger? Or he had grown to love another? Your heart flushed with a nervous beat as you turned another corner. There he stood. Facing the broken stone wall, his cloak sheltering him from the cold snow that began to fall, you only moved your foot an inch - snapping a fragile twig in the process, he turned around slowly and you gasped.

He was so similar to when you first met, his hair more ruffled yet still that shade of dirty blonde that was recognizable. His sharp jawline and fine features had grown, a few minor cuts sat on his cheekbone and a bruise had formed on his- his bottom lip with a deep cut starting to heal. His sea blue eyes met with yours and he only exhaled in relief “Y/N….”

You could not hold back the flood of emotions that had gripped you for so long, you both practically leapt at each other - embracing so tightly and so fiercely you were sure bones would break. He felt yourself

starting to sob against his chest, he shuffled slightly so his cloak was now enveloping you both closer together. You looked up at him , eyes running with tears

“I’m so sorry …I am so very sorry Osferth I did not -“ he held you tighter against him, quietly he whispered

“Shhh….all is well.” He learned his head against your head, you felt immediately reassured when he lifted your chin with his finger and smiled at you. He had grown even more handsome in the last five years, his hair very messy but roguish on him.

“You are so beautiful….look at you…” he said - brushing the snow away from your hair and his thumb gently stroked aside the tears that were stuck at the base of your jaw.

Your own hands moved up to hold his face in your hands , he was so handsome and remarkably , still had that affectionate glimmer dance in his eyes when he looked at you now- the same one he had when you were teens …when you were forced apart.

“Oh my sweet girl…what you have you endured these past five years…” he began

You shook your head and looked at him

“Osferth were you hurt at all? Uhtred said he found you in a prison by the coast…”

He nodded “Haesten intended to ship me off as a thrall to Norway. Cannot tell you how pleased I was to see Uhtred release us…even more pleased when he told me you were alive and had taken back this castle .”

“I would have come after you Osferth…to the end of this world.” You said

He traced his finger along the side of your face “Does this mean….you still…?” He whispered

You nodded with a tear escaping your eye “More than anything…” your hand left his face and he watched you as you fiddled in your tunic, you held the necklace with the cross pendant on it

He looked surprised, also like a man who’s breath had been taken away he smiled “You kept it…”

“Of course I did….” You answered.

He tilted your head back a little and within precious seconds his lips met yours, gods the feeling was so warming and so familiar- you had waited five years for this moment and you savored every second- you returned the kiss with a hunger that kept you going all those years away from him- he was a driving force that motivated you and

Now you were reunited .

He lightly kissed your chin “You still want us to wed?” He asked grinning

“I do….my parents wished it….they allowed it …the announcement was ….” You trailed off, that night should have ended in happy excitement but instead turned to tragedy-Osferth could see the pain as your head bowed and your eyes closed remembering the screams and the flames. He gently lifted your chin searching your eyes once they opened

“You still would not prefer a Prince or a Lord?” He asked shyly .

You shook your head “I want to marry my baby monk.” You smiled. The nickname you bestowed on him when you first met still made him smile warmly.

He relented his thoughts with a smirk that makes your heart flip, he leant in to you- wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you into the sweetest of kisses. The snow began to heavily fall around you, showering you both but you both did not cae- the beautiful yet harsh winter weather would not dampen or end this reunion.

TAGS

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[kanerallels]

Today for @monthly-challenge's Spring Fling we have day 13: Earth! I wrote another Wingfeather Saga fan fic-- hope you guys like it! It's kind of a follow up to the one I wrote a couple days back, I'll link that here! (I'd also like to put these up on AO3 but I so do not have the motivation and energy for it right now. Perhaps later!)

(TW for mentions of death)

From the earth we come, and to the earth we are returned…

Esben stared straight forward as the priest continued speaking. He knew Artham was standing at his side, but his brother had his arm around their mother as she wept. And in this moment, Esben felt terribly, terribly alone.

His father, Jru Wingfeather, was dead. And he was High King of the Shining Isle.

It hadn’t been expected. Not really. His father had been older, yes, but healthy and hale. Mere days earlier he’d been joking around with the two of them, eyes sparkling with joy.

And then, two days ago, he passed in his sleep, a smile on his face. The doctor guessed that his heart had given out, which Esben still didn’t fully understand. How could one’s heart give out if it was so full of so many things? And his father had loved his family, and Anniera, with all his heart.

Nevertheless, he was gone now. Which meant Esben was the High King, and that was a little terrifying in a way that Esben preferred not to contemplate more than he had to.

Sure, he’d been training his whole life for this. But he was nineteen years old, and felt horribly unprepared and unready, and his heart still ached whenever he thought about taking up the crown his father had worn not even a full week ago.

They were going to have to have a coronation. Esben almost groaned out loud at the thought. He couldn’t imagine pretending to be kingly and majestic in front of a crowd right now. If he tried, he’d probably start to laugh. Or cry, and neither option was particularly appealing.

Artham’s nudge in the ribs startled him out of his thoughts. For a wild moment, he worried he’d voiced his thoughts out loud and his brother was going to scold him. But there was no reprimand in Artham’s gaze as he tilted his head silently at the priest, who’d finished speaking and was watching him expectantly.

Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten his own part in the ceremony. Stepping forward, Esben forced himself to look at it— the grave, the coffin that held his father. The mound of fresh earth next to it loomed darkly as Esben approached.

Reaching out, he took a handful of the earth and dropped it on top of the coffin. “May the Maker receive you with all joy, even as we mourn you here,” he recited, loud enough that the crowd could hear. Hesitating, he stared down at the coffin and added, only loud enough for him to hear, “I’ll try to make you proud, Papa. I’ll be a good king.” I hope.

He stepped back, and everything was suddenly moving faster than he could process. Before Esben knew it, the gaping hole was filled in, leaving a dark patch to mark the grave. Artham stepped forward with a tiny sapling, the roots encased in a ball of dirt. Together, as was the tradition, the two brothers dug a hole in the mound of dirt covering the grave and planted the sapling. As Artham shored it up with dirt, Esben stared at the small tree. Out of death, new life. Somehow, that thought didn’t bring him much comfort yet.

They got to their feet together, Artham’s hand on his shoulder lending Esben a little comfort. In turn, he put his arm around his mother’s shoulder when they moved to stand next to her. She pressed her hand against his, and Esben could see her blinking back tears.

And then the funeral was over, and they were heading into the main hall of Castle Rysen, where food had been set out and they could visit with the guests who came to express their condolences and support. 

Esben had expected to hate this part. But as guests stopped by, their words lent him strength. They spoke about his father, telling stories— of the king and the man, stories that were funny and stories that made both brothers and their mother cry. It was a bittersweet way to spend the day, mourning the High King, but celebrating him, too.

“It’s how Jru would have wanted it,” their mother said quietly. “He would have loved this, so many friends together here.” She gazed across the room, at the groups of people talking. 

“Sorrow, yet joy,” Artham said. “Loss, yet healing.”

Nala laughed softly. “Exactly.”

It was enough to bring a smile to Esben’s face, but only briefly. As another guest approached his mother, he murmured an excuse and slipped away. He needed a minute to himself, just one.

There was a small door in the right hand wall of the hall that led out to a balcony set in the side of the hill. A set of stairs led down to the green below, but Esben didn’t take them now. He just leaned against the railing and took a long, deep breath. Finally, he had a moment to himself, to think.

The sun was shining, which seemed a little wrong. Most funerals he’d read about had rain. When his aunt died, it was raining. But the sun was shining, the light glimmering on the sea. The breeze streamed through the nearby trees, the hush of leaves reaching his ears even from a distance.

It would have been a nice day for sailing, and Esben almost snorted at the thought. At the fact that he could think about those things when… when he was the High King now.

Every time he thought about it, the idea seemed to weigh a little heavier on his shoulders, and he closed his eyes. Oh, Maker. How am I supposed to do this on my own?

He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been there when he heard the door behind him open, then close, and soft footsteps sounded. Artham? It didn’t really sound like him, which meant it was probably a guest. Esben straightened up, turning to face— Nia Helmer?

His eyes widened as she said, “I’m sorry to disturb you. I thought you’d probably want some time on your own, but Artham— well, he disagreed. I can leave, if you—”

“No,” Esben said immediately. “Stay. Please?”

The small smile she gave him sent a flash of warmth through him, and she came to stand next to him, hands resting on the railing as she stared out at the view.

Esben, however, wasn’t watching the view anymore. He was watching her— dressed in dark, somber clothing, her dark hair braided and twisted back, not a strand loose.

Artham had been right to send her. Anyone else, he would have been impatient or short with, but Nia… he didn’t think he could bring himself to snap at her. They’d been writing back and forth for three years now, with the odd meeting in person when he came to the Green Hollows with his family. 

Every time Esben got a letter, he read it again and again, tucking it into his shirt and carrying it close to his heart. He had one with him even now, although he probably shouldn’t admit that. Nor should he admit that just seeing her again seemed to lift some of the weight from his shoulders, to bring him peace he desperately needed.

He looked at her again, at the way she was gazing at the trees and the ocean before them, the sunlight highlighting her skin. Then again, maybe he should tell her. 

But not now. Not when he’d just lost his father. A twinge of guilt went through Esben. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now.

“I’d guess you’re tired of being asked how you are,” Nia said, breaking through his thoughts.

Letting out a low chuckle, Esben admitted, “I’ve gotten a lot of it, yes.”

“I thought so. So then… what do you need?”

Esben glanced at her, surprised, as she continued, “I can leave you be, or we can talk, or I can just keep you company, or I can get Artham out here. And if you need a hug, I’m here.”

A laugh slipped out, despite himself. “You are… incredible.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do,” Nia said, turning slightly pink.

“No. You’re incredible. Trust me.”

She smiled. “Well, then, are you going to help me in my incredibleness and tell me what you need?”

“Yes, ma’am. I…” Esben hesitated, then said, “I’d take a hug.”

Without hesitating, before he could think better of his words, Nia pulled him gently into a hug. She was warm and smelled like something sweet, and Esben could feel the strain of the day melting away.

“How am I supposed to do this?” he whispered into her hair.

“Take it one day at a time,” she said quietly. “And remember you’re not alone, Esben. You have people who love you, who will support you. Artham, and your mother, and—”

“And you?” he asked, pulling back a little, his heart stuttering a little as he looked at her. It was something else he shouldn’t have said, maybe. But with Nia in his arms, it felt a little like he could topple the world if he needed to.

She smiled at him like the sun rising over the Shining Isle. “And me,” she told him. “Though… I cannot stay long. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Esben said, taking her hands. “Just hearing your voice for now is enough. I’ll be here at home for a while after the funeral, but… could I come see you, sometime soon? And your family?”

“Please do,” Nia said, and he knew that she understood exactly what he was thinking.Sorrow, he thought, and yet joy. Finally, he thought he understood it.

[koijikido]

🌓 solar eclipse (past)

"Fannar."

A female voice rang out in the young Viera's ears. They twitched a little. Their white fur was striking and easily recognizable at times when there was no snow. But when the snowstorms swept over the mountains and forests in the winter months, it was difficult if not impossible to spot him.  Nevertheless, he knew that one day he would be trained not to be seen in the green of the forest. Somehow he felt that it would be this way and he would not stay here.

"Hm?" came the soft young voice. The young Viera stood up and turned to the woman who had called for him.

“Come on now, don’t hang behind. We all gather in the center. It’s almost time,” she explained.

Fannar looked up and nodded before following her. Her tone had been very stern but not abusive. Still, there was this hardness in it. It was nothing new. He was used to it. For as long as he could remember, the others had talked and behaved like that. Things weren't so easy for them as children. Some found it more difficult than others, but ultimately it was something they had to get used to over time. But Fannar was someone who found it more difficult. He understood that life could be hard and difficult. Surviving and protecting yourself from the dangers required seriousness. But just that? Was it really just that? And then only when the men returned to their village did the women behave different. Why only then? Why weren't they always a little warmer to each other? He briefly let out a sigh, which earned him a stern look from the woman next to him.

Avoiding her gaze, he looked ahead and at the others who had already gathered.

“What are we doing here today?” he asked.

She pointed up. "Do you see that? The moon. It will soon obscure the sun. That rarely happens. But it is a big event. Then the light of the sun is taken away from us for a time, and a fight breaks out between them.”

Fannar blinked for a moment. “A fight?” His gaze went up to the sky, where the moon was already getting closer to the sun.

“Yes, a fight. We believe that the darkness opens a world beyond our own, where our ancestors live. They fight against the evil shadows that threaten our world. They protect us. When the moon covers the sun, the gate to our ancestors will be open for a moment. And we will offer them our strength and our pride with our prayers to strengthen them and show our support and gratitude,” she continued.

“Hooh...” Fennar said in surprise. Was it really like that? He wondered.

“Come on now. Sit with the others.” Fennar ran forward to the other younger Viera and sat down with them. In front of them there were a few offerings in some bowls, nicely arranged. They looked really tasty.

“I guess those are the offerings?” he thought. Somehow he was glad that it wouldn't be any of their own who would be sacrificed. That thought occurred to him for a moment. He would hardly be surprised given the way they treated each other...  so he was all the more relieved now.

"The time has come...!" a strong voice spoke calmly yet seriously.

One of the women told everyone to look up at the sky. The moon had advanced and was slowly but visibly moving in front of the sun. More and more of the light around the sun disappeared. It became darker, shadows moved across the land and the trees began to rustle. Fannar almost felt like a cold wind was blowing through their village as they watched the spectacle. Was it the wind of the ancestors? Was she right?

He looked at the scene before him in astonishment. Goosebumps rose across his skin, making the soft, fluffy fur stand up against his skin, barely visible and yet there. He heard the prayers and words of the women of their village as the children looked up. Soon the moon completely covered the sun.

Fannar's eyes grew big as he watched this. The uncertain expression gave way to one of amazement. He blinked a few times while his big blue eyes saw the fiery ring in the sky that presented itself to them like a burning black hole that had opened up. While the other children remained somewhat unsettled, he was fascinated and couldn't look away.

“It looks so beautiful,” he whispered now. One of the children next to him looked up.

"Huh?" Fannar nodded. “Don’t you think? I mean look. It's the sun and it's the moon. We know that from the women right?” The child next to him nodded.

"But we should be quiet..." the child whispered to him. But Fannar would not be dissuaded. He was completely mesmerized and continued to stare at the spectacle.

“I believe... well I believe that the moon has come to visit the sun. Day in and day out they only see each other from a distance. And only from a distance does the light of the sun shine on the moon. He feels the warmth, but he can never be close to her. And now, now they are finally together. Very close. And can hug each other. Look at the flaming bright ring. Isn't it beautiful? So warm and glowing. Their feelings for each other must be wonderful if they produce something like that.”

Fannar whispered his thoughts quietly. He couldn't help but say what was going through his head. The other child looked at him quite fascinated, and yet also skeptical.

“Such nonsense, we know what that is. You said yourself earlier that they told us.”

After a while, the moon slowly moved further away from the sun and the light came back to them. It was warm and bright. Fannar smiled.

"Don't you think the sun is warmer now than before?"

His gaze went to the other child next to him before he felt a hand grabbing his ear and pull him up.

“Agh!”

“Fannar Gahjewesfv! This was an important ritual... and you disrupted it with your whispers. Whatever you were thinking, it wasn't appropriate! Come on, as punishment you will now take care of everyone else here. And don't dawdle...!" said the female Viera angrily and pushed Fannar towards the bowls of offerings that had to be distributed.

[shipcestuous]

Introduction

58M; USA

Wow. And here I thought doing an intelligent search on IMDB gave me all of the shipcest I wanted. Then I discovered shipcestuous about a year ago and your curated lists across all mediums is, hands down, fantastic. Thank you, shipcestuous, for having the courage to put this blog into action and maintain it for all of us. I hope everyone appreciates you as much as I do.

I've been a lurker for about a year but finally decided to sign up and post in order to support the blog. I feel like shipcestuous is my brother from a different mother.

My story began in college, when I dated a 21yo woman who was in a consensual, thriving (but secret) relationship with her still very healthy and virile grandfather. Looking back, I realize now he had become her Sugar Daddy, but they really cared for her. She and I are still friends and she is a very successful attorney, so proof that not every shipcest is doomed to disaster or evidence of mentally unstable people. With her, I realized that real, emotionally involving shipcests among consenting adults can exist... maybe even thrive.

That experience set me on a path of seeking out shipcests - whether IRL or in the arts - that still continues after 4 decades. It's impacted every aspect of my life, and maintaining its secrecy has become a bit of a burden. I am an emotionally healthy adult with 2 amazing and successfully grown children. I have been divorced for nearly 2 decades, but my divorce was not related to my obsession/hobby/fantasy (my ex-wife did know about it but chose not to partake in it). Now, nearing 60 years of age, I have no interest in meeting anyone if I can't share my love of the fantasy/hobby with her. And THAT is easier said than done as I'm sure many of you have discovered. I spend most of my days watching films with shipcest themes and logging them so that I can return to my favorites. And I'm perfectly okay with that.

Moving forward, I hope to contribute by adding to your lists, but honestly, it seems like you have captured already every shipcest in the film and arts that I'm encountering. Nevertheless, if I run into something new, I'll post and you can add it to the list.

Keep on, keep on, shipcestuous. And thanks again.

This was such a wonderful message to receive. I'm so pleased that you de-lurked to say something!

That's really fascinating about your friend and her relationship with her grandfather. So glad everything ended fine for everyone! Like you said, there it is, proof.

I understand so much how the secrecy can be a burden. I really hope you find someone who can enjoy it as much as you do. That's the dream for all of us!

If you've been chasing tags on IMDB then I'm sure you'll come across something that isn't on my lists. As long as some of the lists are, they're far from complete. Happy hunting!

Thanks, again!

[lightcreators]

@aetherboxnd continue from here

Valeria’s gaze softened as she looked at Nico, sensing the weight behind their words. “It’s never easy, is it? The spaces people leave behind tend to linger, like echoes,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steady. “Sometimes, all we can do is carry those memories forward, keep them close.”

She paused, giving them a small, understanding nod. “I’m not sure that feeling ever really goes away. But perhaps…it can remind us of what they meant to us, even if they’re not here.”

His  mere  presence  within  his  modern  times,  when  he  usually  recalled  reminded  himself  mentally,  turned  him  like  old  ruins  coming  from  history  books  ---  what  has  been  his  present,  a  long  time  ago,  inside  his  country,  belonged  to  an  past  in  which  he  wouldn't  find  any  marks  of  his  previous  existence  within  that  landscape  ;  and  what  representating  the  future  remained  various  memories  associating  themselves.  Nevertheless,  as  much  he  seemed  single  survivor  of  an  old  building  in  which  effort  had  been  imposed  for  protecting  it  of  the  time  threat,  he  was  carrying  inside  him  literal  ruins  of  someone  he  knew.  Something  in  which  even  an  invisible  protector  would  vibrating  with  him  ---  not  tame  down  anything  of  the  rage  he  was  feeling  even  since  he  never  happened,  not  tame  down  anchoring  grief  would  settle  down  within  his  chest,  not  tame  down  that  spark  of  vengefulness,  not  tame  down  the  indecent  grudge  he  was  sensing,  not  tame  down  that  feeling  of  abandonment  … 

As  circle  of  an  tragedy  repeated  itself  dramatically  and  tragically,  and  how  many  how  many  prayers  could  be  pulled  towards  an  difference,  there  was  only  fatality  of  the  truth  yet.  Whatever  if  he  could  stopping  living  to  the  point  to  becoming  an  walking  ghost  having  no  real  attachement   …  his  sister  wouldn't  coming  back.

❝  ---  she  had  moved  away  from  me  before.  ❞   Something  he  didn't  remember  her  had  done  even  since  they  were  kids.  He  remembered  always  has  been  at  his  side  inside  the  Lotus  Casino.  He  remembered  how,  no  matter  what,  they  always  managed  to  be  together.  For  obvious  reasons,  he  refused  to  digging  once  more  the  opned  wound  about  how.  How  she  decided  to  pick  another  path  of  herself.  How  she  wanted  to  stay  away  of  whatever  men  including  HIM.  How  she  decided  to  throw  herself  on  an  mission  ---  Nevertheless,  as  her  following  sentence,  that  expression  lingered  with  horrible  sadness  and  empitness.  ❝  Memories  don't  resist  time  in  same  clarity  as  it  passes  …  memories  of  her  face  and  her  voice,  I  am  the  only  one  who  can  truly  remember  them,  truly  recognize  them,  truly  give  them  importance.  One  day  the  sound  of  her  voice  will  disappear,  and  I  will  have  only  a  blurred  face  as  a  memory,  where  the  emptiness  in  my  heart  will  remain  unchanged.  Even  if  forgetting  does  me  good  one  day,  this  emptiness  will  continue  to  grow,  and  it  would  be  frightening  to  no  longer  remember  the  reason  why  this  weight  exists  …  ❞   He  was  aware  of  a  reflection  offered  by  his  particular  voice.  The  grief  he  felt,  honest  as  it  was,  echoed  that  of  his  invisible  supporter,  and  he  felt  it,  of  a  situation.  He  tried  not  to  sound  too  dramatic  in  such  a  conversation,  but  he  never  actually  allowed  himself  to  talk  about  it.  Ghosts  understood  without  need  to  receive  a  word,  and  strangers  usually  weren't  welcomed  by  it.  ❝  I  don't  think  it's  going  to  go  away.  I  don't  have  the  desire  to  replace  her  with  someone  else  either.  There's  no  one  else  who  can  replace  my  sister.  I  just  don't  know  how  to  live   …  I refuse to forget her someday …  ❞ 

[unreadpoppy]

song as old as rhyme - chapter 16

{Beauty and the Beast AU - Raphael x OC (Elize)}

chapter 15

Read on AO3

A/N: This is the first time i've written smut, so please, bear with me.

Warnings: 18+ only, please, this is just smut. Penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), tits get slapped and dicks are rode, so that's that.

Taglist: @littlemoondarling

@desenhosdebolso

@shyminnie07

@lemonandhoneytea

Raphael had teleported the two of them back to his room in the House of Hope, and as soon as they arrived, his mouth was on hers again, this time more hungrily. Elize opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

They let go, momentarily, for Elize to catch her breath, and Raphael moved his attention towards her neck, removing the necklace she was wearing, allowing him to kiss and suck on the exposed skin. Her hand reached the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. 

When Raphael sucked on a particular sweet spot in her neck, Elize tugged on his hair and let out a small noise. She felt him smirking against her skin and his hands moved to remove her dress. 

Suddenly, Elize stopped him. “Wait.” He looked at her frowning. “I…I’ve done this before.” She confessed. 

“If you want, we can stop.” 

“No!” She replied. “I want to continue. I just thought you should know.” 

Raphael smirked, placing a hand on her cheek. “Don’t worry. You are in good hands.” And he kissed her again. With all the times Haarlep complained about Raphael’s ineptitude in bed, she had a small doubt about what he said, but she didn’t say anything, as up until now, the experience had been pleasant. 

Nevertheless, Raphael then returned to his task of removing Elize’s clothes, now going slower and with her help.

After some time, all the layers were removed and Elize stood naked, and Raphael was quick to snap his clothes away. 

He stared at her up and down, like a predator hunting its prey. She blushed, trying not to cover herself with her arms. “You’re beautiful.” He breathed out. 

Elize looked down at him. “And you’re…big.” She bit her lip. “And veiny.” Although she had been around Haarlep a lot, and the incubus barely concealed anything, looking at the actual Raphael naked was different. It was as if she was really looking at all the details in his body - how tall and broad he was, all the veins going around his chest and abdomen,

And it was the first time she saw his penis. She got even redder than before, wondering how that would fit. 

Before Elize could say anything, Raphael had stepped forward and once again, attacked her neck, but now, one of his hands trailed down to her breasts and began toying with one of her nipples. The feeling was electrifying, and Elize struggled to not make noise.

Raphael let go of her neck and looked down. “It seems I have neglected someone. Let me rectify that.” He attached his mouth to her other breast, licking and sucking on the nipple, while still playing with the other. 

Elize bit her lip, trying not to moan, until Raphael stopped his ministrations, looked and said. “Ah-ah. I want to hear you.” He proceeded by lightly smacking one of her breasts, making her let out a whimper. “Did you like that?”

She paused and then said “Yes.”  He did the same thing to the other breast, and Elize made another noise. Raphael continued his previous ministrations, until both of her nipples were perked up. Then, he trailed one finger down her abdomen and to her vagina, spreading her folds and feeling the slick there.

“Looks like someone got excited.” Raphael smirked and got on his knees, head facing Elize’s private parts and began doing the same thing he did to her breasts - licking and sucking. 

Elize had never felt anything like this before. She felt her heart beat increase, her moaning got louder and louder, and when her feet buckled, she grabbed onto Raphael’s horns for support, and in a way, pushing his head even further. She felt a tightness grow and grow in her belly, and when she was about to let it all go, Raphael stopped and moved away from her, teletransporting himself onto the bed. 

He laid on his back, looking at her, cock hard. “You’ll get what you want after I do.” Raphael beckoned her forward with a finger. “I want you to ride me.”

On shaky feet, Elize walked towards the massive bed, getting close to him and mentally preparing herself. She kneeled just above his dick, and sensing her nervousness, Raphael placed his hands on her hips and said “Relax. Take your time” Then, she began lowering herself, hissing and adjusting at every inch she covered. 

Raphael kept praising her. “Yes, good girl. You take me better than Haarlep ever has.” Eventually, she was fully seated on top of him, feeling very full. Raphael’s hands moved up and down, from her hips, to her waist, and even grabbed her butt at one point. After a moment passed, Elize began to move, at first slowly, but then she picked up her pace, putting her hands on Raphael’s chest for support. 

Raphael began moaning, and saying ‘yes’ repeatedly, holding onto her hips. Both of them were rapidly arriving at their peak, and Raphael moved his finger toward her clit, making that tightness come back even stronger. 

Elize threw her head back, closing her eyes and letting out a loud moan, as she felt the tightness being released. A few seconds after, Raphael gave her a few more hard thrusts, his grip on her hips bruising, and released himself inside of her. 

Elize got herself off of him and laid on her back next to him. Both of them were breathless. They didn’t say anything, just waiting for the minutes to pass by. Elize knew she wasn’t sated just yet, and by looking at Raphael’s still hardened penis, so wasn’t him. 

After approximately ten minutes passed by, Raphael moved, getting on top of Elize. He grabbed his cock, moving it up and down a bit in her entrance and buried himself inside of her. He began at a slower pace, placing one hand beside her head while the other grabbed her boob. As he increased the speed, Raphael once again put his mouth on her neck, and his hand moved from her breast to one of her legs, taking the calf and putting it over his shoulder. 

At the new angle, he hit a certain spot that made Elize see stars, throat growing raspy from moaning, she threw her arms around him, scratching her nails on his back and she quickly reached her peak again. He continued a bit longer until he finally finished. 

Both of them were spent, knowing they would not do a round three. Raphael moved himself out of her and dropped on the back. He dragged her towards him, until Elize’s ear was above his heart. She put a hand in his chest, closing her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and put the covers over the two of them. 

[cilil]

Day 6 Melkor ⋆⛧⋆ Mairon

Synopsis: At the end of the War of Wrath, Melkor decides there is one thing in this world that he wishes to save.

Warnings: Hurt without comfort, angst, tragedy

Author's Note: Today's prompts will be on the angsty side, so proceed with caution. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy!♡

The earth rumbled and quaked when Ancalagon fell, as if Arda itself had suffered a grievous wound. Melkor didn't need to watch the battlefield to know what had happened, he could feel the death of his beloved creations, a surge of sharp pain tearing through his fëa. No matter how often his father and his peers told him he was unable to create, it didn't change what he felt; the dragons had been his pride and joy, his children, and his last remnants of strength died with them, like a flame snuffed out. 

This was the end, and he knew it. 

Mairon had fallen to his knees in front of the throne, holding on to his husband for support. Tears were glistening on his cheeks, and it broke Melkor's heart to see him like this, to know he had failed him and brought him into such peril with him. 

"What are we going to do? They will be here soon," Mairon whispered. Despite his efforts to stay strong, the terror in his eyes was too obvious, and his song faltered time and time again. 

Melkor was silent for a while, looking down at his husband's shivering form. For the first time in centuries, he forgot about armies and battles, conquering Arda, defying his father's will; even the heavy crown on his head and the gleaming jewels set within no longer mattered. The only thing he could think about now was his favourite Ainu in the world, his proud and beautiful little flame who had now been brought to his knees alongside him. 

And he knew he couldn't bear the thought of their enemies getting their hands on him. 

Charred, blackened hands cupped soft, flawless cheeks, gently caressing the Maia. 

"You must flee." 

Mairon blinked a couple of times, then nodded as plans swiftly began to form in his mind. 

"Yes, we should. Worry not, my love, the tunnels should still be intact, so we could–"

"No." 

"W-what?"

"Not we, little flame. You. I shall remain here and await them." Melkor's voice nearly broke, but he forced himself to say what needed to be said. 

"Why?!" Panic flashed in Mairon's eyes and he rose to his feet. 

"They will pursue us until they have me; and I am injured, tired and can no longer change my form." 

It hurt to admit, but for once Melkor ignored his wounded pride. There was no more time to play pretend. 

"And this is why you must leave me here and save yourself."

"B-but–"

"I will come back to you, my love," he promised, "one day, I–"

"They won't let you go again!" Mairon interrupted, his voice shrill. 

"I will find a way. No one and nothing can hold me forever," Melkor said. He knew he was greatly weakened compared to his younger self, yet deep down in his mind he felt a small inkling of certainty that there was truth to his words–and for now it would have to suffice as solace for both of them. 

"I cannot leave you here!" Mairon insisted, fists clenching and fire returning to his gaze. "I will fight for you, I will -" 

"Yes, you can leave me here. Just this once, I will order you to do so if I must." 

They were silent for a moment, Mairon breathing heavily from increasing agitation and panic as he began to realise that he couldn't change his husband's mind, Melkor gazing upon him with a mixture of grief and love, until he leaned forward to gently kiss his lips. 

"I am sorry, little flame." 

Never before in his long life had he felt more pain than in this moment. All the promises he couldn't keep, all the sacrifices they had made that were now null and void. 

"I will continue our work. And I will be waiting for you, always," were Mairon's parting words to him, and all Melkor could do was nod, his voice no longer serving him. 

He waited until he couldn't feel the Maia's presence anymore, then sent one final, mighty note of dissonance through the fabric of Arda, causing the tunnels to collapse so no one could follow. His beloved's song slowly faded in the distance, and just like he had been at the beginning of days, Melkor was alone.

taglist: @angbangweek @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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[moviewarfare]

A Review of “A Quiet Place: Day One (2024)”

A Quiet Place has been one of the few great horror movies in modern cinema. However, the first 2 movies were set over a year after the apocalyptic event that caused everyone to be quiet. So to no one's surprise, a prequel was bound to happen. Does it live up to the previous movies in the franchise?

Firstly, Lupita Nyong'o is amazing as the main lead. She plays a terminally ill cancer patient who is just so sick and tired of being near death all the time. Due to this, her character can come off as quite mean. However, Lupita's great performance manages to make her still come off as very likeable and a character that you will still root for. Joseph Quinn plays the other main character who is quite the opposite, he is absolutely frightened of death. Praise to the director/writer as his character could easily be annoying but due to how he is written and Joseph's confident performance, he ends up being a very enjoyable character. Both the actors have great chemistry and the bonding of both characters is incredibly heartfelt.

The supporting characters are also pretty good. Djimon Hounsou returns as the unnamed character from part 2 but this time has a name! He continues to deliver a terrific performance, no matter how small his screen time. Likewise, I also like Alex Wolff's character and his fun interactions with Lupita's character. The best supporting character though is the Cat and yes you will want this Cat to live no matter what. I also appreciate that they used a real Cat and rarely ever used CGI for it. The set pieces are also incredibly tense and very exciting to watch. There are some great ones such as dozens of aliens chasing our characters into a building which is seen in the trailers or the subway one. It also helps that the music composed for the movie is utilised effectively and never feels like it is too much. The movie is also visually great. Nevertheless, the best moments are the downtime moments where characters are just interacting with one another. It has a very strong final act as well.

However, I do have some gripes. For some reason, this entry has a fair amount of jump scares. I would be fine with it if it was done in a way that it is built up but there are some very cheap and even one nonsensical jump scare. I am also a little disappointed that the prequel concept is not utilised in a meaningful way. We don't get much information on how the government is fighting back against the aliens or how they are figuring out anything about the aliens. It also annoys me that we don't have the characters naturally discover things about the aliens. For example, the characters realise that the aliens can't swim, not because they saw an Alien fail to do it but because military Helicopters told them so. I am also annoyed at Djimon Honsou again having a small role. Apart from getting his name now, we still barely know anything about his character. It is also weird how the Cat doesn't ever make any noise. It also gets weirdly forced into set pieces. There are also some cool scenes in the trailers that are not in the movie for some reason.

Overall, if you liked the first two movies then Day One is more or less the same as that. It being a prequel doesn't feel that relevant but it is still a fun time and I look forward to more in this franchise.

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[thunderheadfred]

It’s my birthday so as a gift to myself I’m listing all my personal growth from the last few months

Lost 50+ pounds, well on my way to shedding 100+. Did this very simply with zero self-hatred or shame. Intermittent fasting and sugar elimination were pretty much the only requirements. Took time to adjust and a willingness to cook more, but that was the only struggle. In addition to the weight loss, my inflammatory and immune problems have been greatly improved. Chronic fatigue is still with me, but isn’t dictating every second of my day, and I hope CFS continues to diminish as I get healthier. Resources I used are now helping my dad reverse pre-diabetes, which is the cherry on top.

Went through perhaps the worst existential crisis of my entire life (and boy howdy, I’m well-rehearsed) and didn’t die. Didn’t die so hard I actually woke up from decades of numbness and changed my entire life almost overnight. This “instant” change was enabled by several years of work via intensive outpatient, group therapy, 1-on-1 therapy, medication, and deep interior work I’ve done on my neurochemistry and mental health. It feels like foundations were laid for me to finally take a huge forward step into hope and change. I finally let God back in, and have felt vulnerable, humbled, and vibrantly alive in a way I haven’t experienced since childhood.

Started re-exploring my own spiritual health, perhaps the most difficult and intense part of this transformation. Deeply personal, difficult to find words. No labels for it. See re-enrolling in college, below. Much to learn. Adjacent to this, have encouraged Catholic husband to join an inter-faith climate group, which he did. His parish church now looks likely to form their own climate support group in addition.

Re-enrolled in college for fall 2023. Built a 3-year interdisciplinary plan to graduate with a major in Dakota Language and American Indian studies, with minors in sustainable agriculture, art history, and art.

Became involved in local politics; I’ve personally met my senator and congressperson and thanked them for their work. They know me by name and I will continue to keep up with legislation on local and federal levels, vote in every election, and advocate for policies I believe in.

Started educating myself on the policies that have shaped our current situation. This is often overwhelming, and I remind myself constantly to do it in stages, to not burn myself out or get lost in anger and hopelessness. Nevertheless, it must be done. In particular, I’m finding Robert Reich’s free YouTube course invaluable for this, though it has made me cry several times. Labor movements are taking off across the country and this gives me immense hope that I’m far from the only one sharing in this experience. Millions of us are waking up to our own democratic power, and we can change things together, one step at a time.

Also started researching absolutely everything about reducing my personal carbon footprint, increasing self-sufficiency, and having at least some baseline readiness for disaster scenarios, a process that continues. Immediately stopped eating beef and pork (and most meat, actually), stopped purchasing things online and from big box stores (whenever feasible) and started walking to our local grocery co-op several times a week.

Encouraged husband to get involved in our HOA, a goal he’s had since we moved but was unable to make good on because of his work schedule (now blessedly changed) - we will soon be making a concentrated effort to meet all of our neighbors, initiate neighborhood gatherings, and encourage green initiatives in our immediate community.

Joined the local arm of 350.org. Have already done tabling and multiple advocacy campaigns. Husband is on the clean transportation team, focused on bringing electric school buses to schools. I’m on the food systems team, currently working on expanding our state’s farmer’s market SNAP program so more people have access to affordable local produce.

Expanded my patio garden to several raised planters full of herbs that I’ve been regularly using. A few things didn’t work out, but I’m learning what thrives in that location and have grown the most delicious tomatoes I’ve ever eaten, with basically zero effort. Working on a plan to build a small deer-proof Three Sisters food garden in our limited backyard space.

Started my basement cannabis grow tent, have two plants thriving and bringing me joy when I talk to them every day and tell them what lovely ladies they are.

Converted all our household power draw to sustainable wind (this took all of one phone call to our utility provider) and in a few days we will have meters installed on both our hot water tank and our air conditioner, so those are cycled during peak hours for even less energy consumption.

Started fishing together with one of my oldest childhood friends and my dad. Went from zero outdoors experience to learning how to hook minnows without flinching and hold a beautiful emerald-green bass in my hands. An amazing experience that will continue through the season.

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (28/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 28

Upon Beverly’s departure, there’s a parade of people through Picard’s ready room, beginning with Worf.

He stands at attention, stares unblinkingly at the wall over Picard’s head, and offers to have Alexander meet Louis in the same tone of voice Picard’s heard him use when volunteering to die in battle.

“Did Counselor Troi put you up to this?” Picard asks.

Worf hesitates. “She…suggested that Alexander might be able to help Louis adjust to life aboard the Enterprise.”

There’s an age difference, but not so significant that two young boys with energy can’t find some common ground upon which to enjoy each other’s company.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Picard says. “I’d be delighted for Louis and Alexander to become friends. Perhaps in a few days we can discuss arranging a playdate.”

“Understood.” Worf nods, still standing formally, both his posture and expression rigid.

Picard frowns. “That wasn’t an order, Mr. Worf. If you don’t want Alexander to meet Louis you’re free to say so. I won’t hold it against you.”

Louis has experienced things that most children haven’t—that no child ever should; Picard would understand if Worf didn’t want his son—his several years younger son—exposed to that, especially given that Alexander has a trauma of his own.

“It’s not that, sir,” Worf insists quickly, finally meeting Picard’s eyes. “It’s just that—” He hesitates again— “It’s Alexander. He…has a mind of his own.”

“Most children do.” Picard leans back, tugs his shirt straight—he looks forward to the day Starfleet designs a uniform that doesn’t ride up in one area or another—and regards Worf seriously. “Are you concerned that Alexander may say or do something that would reflect poorly upon you?”

“No, Captain. I’m worried that Alexander may say or do something that would diminish his own honor.”

It’s a surprisingly caring admission from a Klingon, and Picard softens his delivery accordingly. “Lieutenant, from what I’ve heard, Alexander is a polite child with a bright, curious mind—but he is, nevertheless, a child.”

As Kamin, he observed how his children struggled to make sense of the world based upon the many and oftentimes conflicting truths presented to them. Even with his and Eline’s guidance, support, and understanding, they erred—but it was because of that same guidance, support, and understanding that they were motivated to grow and change.

“All children make mistakes from time to time,” he continues. “There’s no disgrace in that.”

Furthermore, he cannot imagine Worf’s son engaging in any purposeful, malicious wrongdoing and therefore cannot fathom a situation in which he would judge Alexander’s behavior to be truly dishonorable.

Worf, unaware of Picard’s “experience” as a father, has no reason to regard Picard’s statement as anything more substantial than one man’s ignorant opinion—but he seems to do so anyway.

“You’re right, Captain. I apologize. I, too, would be happy for our sons to become friends.”

Picard smiles, genuinely pleased by the idea of Louis making a connection with Alexander—who is by all accounts a charming, lively boy. “Let’s revisit this discussion in a few days, then.”

“I look forward to it.”

Picard dismisses Worf, but as Worf’s walking away, he remembers something.

“Oh. Lieutenant?”

Worf turns back. “Sir?”

“I quite recently came to the realization that I may have been…misguided when I decreed that children were not allowed on the bridge.” He pauses, Worf waits. “If you wanted to bring Alexander for a tour—perhaps show him your station—that would be…acceptable.”

Worf smiles, always a strikingly intense expression on a Klingon. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

The door has barely slid shut behind Worf when it opens again and Will strides through. He sits across from Picard and in booming tones volunteers his babysitting services.

Picard finds himself repeating the same question he posed to Worf.

“Did Deanna put you up to this?”

Will grins. “No, sir. This is all me. I’d be happy to watch him for you whenever you need me to.”

Picard recalls that Deanna claimed Will loves children. Indeed, Will volunteered to oversee Wesley’s studies when he decided to remain aboard the Enterprise while Beverly was at Starfleet Medical, and he also watched over Jake and Willie Potts while their parents were on sabbatical.

“I’d be very happy for Louis to spend time with you, Commander,” Picard says. “I suspect there’s much you can teach him that I can’t.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir,” Will demurs.

“Nonsense, Will. You and I both know every person has their unique strengths and weaknesses.” Picard’s gaze drops abruptly, and he hears his own voice grow distant. “As much as I am able to offer Louis, I fear I can’t provide for all of his needs. A boy shouldn’t have only his father to set an example for him. Sometimes his father may not be…sufficient.”

“I don’t think you’re insufficient, sir,” Will murmurs. “But I think I know what you mean.”

They lock eyes, an understanding passing between them that doesn’t require words. They both suffered at the hands of their fathers—in different ways, but the result is much the same.

Picard takes a deep breath. “Will, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, sir.”

 “Do you want children of your own some day?”

Will’s solemnity thaws and his grin returns. “I do, sir.”

“A piece of advice?”

Will nods.

“Don’t let your career stand in the way of starting a family.”

Picard doesn’t elaborate; he doesn’t need to. Will stares at him for a long moment, brows raised, then he says, quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“See that you do.”

Picard’s extremely fortunate that, only months after discovering what a horrible blunder he made believing that he didn’t need children to complete his life, he was granted a second chance with Louis; he doesn’t want Will to make the same mistake, to discover one day that something vital is missing from his life but that it’s far too late to change things.

From there, they discuss work; Will wants to run some of the less experienced junior officers through bridge operations, and stage several drills to prepare the newer crew for several possible emergency situations. Picard grants him leeway to do as he sees fit. Will’s standing to leave when the door chimes and, at Picard’s call, Geordi enters.

“Commander,” Picard greets.

“Captain.” Geordi stops beside Will. “I think I know how to prove that Louis is from a different quantum reality.”

He explains that all matter in the universe resonates on a quantum level with a unique quantum signature. That signature is constant and cannot be changed.

“However, Louis isn’t from this universe,” Geordi says. “His quantum signature would be asynchronous with ours—with that of all matter.”

“How do we confirm this?” Picard asks. Under other circumstances, he might find this fascinating. As it is, he feels only steadily increasing dread.

“We just need to analyze his RNA,” Geordi replies. “It’s a simple procedure. Completely noninvasive. Dr. Crusher could perform it no problem.”

“Very well. Arrange with Dr. Crusher to execute the analysis tomorrow afternoon.” That gives him time to prepare Louis. He leans back in his chair, suddenly uneasy; something’s nagging at him, anxiety wriggling in his belly like worms. Slowly, he asks, “Could anyone…use this information in any way? Aside from determining that Louis is not from this reality, that is.”

Geordi hums thoughtfully. “In theory, you could use it to identify which reality Louis came from by matching his quantum signature to any form of matter from that universe. That’s if we ever came across another quantum rift.”

“Could Louis be used in any way to—" Picard flounders for a second— “Create a quantum rift?”

“I don’t see how,” Geordi says, shaking his head doubtfully. Then he sighs. “But then again, multiple quantum realities was just a theory up until a few days ago. Now that Louis proves it isn’t, entirely new lanes of research will open up. In the future, someone may discover that they could use Louis in some way to open a quantum rift.”

An uneasy silence descends.

How far in the future? Picard wants to ask—but he knows Geordi couldn’t possibly provide an answer.

After a moment, Will says quietly, “I can’t help but think of Bruce Maddox, how he saw Data as an object—something to probe and dissect. Not a person.”

Picard replies, equally quietly, “I find myself thinking the exact same thing.”

That’s what worries him, that Louis could be classified as a scientific anomaly, that Starfleet would attempt to detain him for…study.

“In any case,” Geordi says, “I expect Starfleet will want to examine the site of the quantum rift where Louis came through, even though it collapsed.”

Suddenly, Picard’s weary and wants to be alone with his thoughts. He thanks Geordi and dismisses him and Will.

At the door, Will turns. “Sir?”

Picard looks up from the PADD he picked up just to scowl at. “Yes, Number One?”

“Sir, I was thinking that maybe you and Louis would like to join our weekly poker game this Friday.”

Picard raises a brow. “You want me to bring a child to your poker game?”

“Just for a few hands, before things get serious.” Will smiles winningly. “Could be fun.”

Gruffly, Picard says, “We’ll see,” and pointedly resumes glowering at the blank PADD.

Will, undeterred, flashes another grin that bursts in Picard’s peripheral like lightning, and leaves Picard to reevaluate his assumption that Data was the one who taught Louis to play poker.

-/-

At the conclusion of his shift, Picard practically runs to Data’s quarters to retrieve Louis, and nearly barges in without permission before remembering himself.

He’s not worried how the boy fared in Data’s care, Picard just…misses him.

Upon being granted access, Picard steps into Data’s quarters to find the two of them sitting cross-legged on the floor with Data’s cat, Spot, between them. Spot is lying on her back, batting playfully at a toy mouse Louis is dangling above her by its long tail.

“Spot seems to like you,” Data comments.

Louis grins.

With dismay, Picard laments that he may have to get the boy a cat now.

“Can I play with her again tomorrow?” Louis asks.

“You may play with her anytime you wish.” Data glances at Picard. “As long as your father gives you permission, you may come to my quarters whenever you want, even if I am not here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Just be careful not to let Spot escape.”

“I’ll be careful,” Louis replies dutifully, then looks up. “Papa, are we leaving?”

“Yes. Es-tu prêt?”

Are you ready?

Picard’s French has improved drastically over the past few days. At first it was difficult and took effort to remember words and phrases and the correct conjugations, so buried was the language in his mind from sheer disuse. Last time he visited Labarre, Robert chastised him for his poor French. This time, Picard doesn’t think Robert will be able to find fault with it—which reminds him, he needs to talk to Louis about their upcoming visit.

(He needs to inform Robert and Marie of it as well. He needs to inform them of Louis.)

Louis leaps up and trots around the corner to “get something”, while Data joins Picard by the door.

“I very much enjoyed spending time with Louis today, Captain,” he says.

“I’m glad to hear it, Data.”

“If you would allow it, I would like to spend more time with him in the future. As you may or may not be aware, as I experience certain sensory input patterns, my mental pathways become accustomed to them. The inputs eventually are anticipated and even missed when absent.”

Picard has in fact heard Deanna’s impersonation of Data describing his experience of friendship, but he keeps that fact to himself.

“I have found,” Data continues, “that even though I myself have spent very little time with Louis, due to the incorporation of my counterpart’s memories into my neural network, I have…missed him.”

Louis reappears holding some papers. “I missed you too,” he says. Picard extends an arm and Louis ducks beneath it to tuck himself against Picard’s side. Picard settles his hand on Louis’s shoulder and squeezes it.

“I could use your help again tomorrow,” he says to Data. “That is, if you’re not otherwise engaged.”

“I am available,” Data confirms. To Louis, he says, “See you tomorrow.”

“À demain, Data.”

Picard has never believed Data’s claim that he doesn’t possess emotions, only that Data’s experience of emotions is much more subtle than a human’s. So subtle, in fact, that Data himself seems completely unaware of them. Picard’s seen Data express confusion, for example, as well as interest and curiosity and pure wonder; he’s expressed appreciation, disappointment, concern for the wellbeing of his friends and comrades, and he’s already shown that he cares about Louis—or that his counterpart did, but to Picard it’s the same thing.

Though the facial expressions Data occasionally displays are imitations, learned from observation and applied when desired or required, he does have several gestures that are completely natural reactions—his head jerks now in surprise.

“À demain, Louis,” Data returns, and Picard would describe his tone—another thing that changes as subtly as his emotions—as delighted.

In the corridor, Picard steers Louis towards the Turbolift. “Tell me about your day,” he prompts.

Louis informs him that Data showed him around Engineering before taking him to Ten Forward for lunch, where they saw Deanna and Beverly—and oh, he knows Beverly is coming over again tonight for dessert and he’s very excited about it—and then they played chess and Data won because Data always wins but Louis learned a new defensive strategy because Data also always tries to teach Louis how to play better; finally, they returned to Data’s quarters and Louis drew two pictures, both of which he’s still cradling protectively, and then they played with Spot.

He says all of this in one long, incredibly unbroken sentence without a pause for breath, alternating between hopping and skipping in perfect time with Picard’s footsteps.

Picard halts, forcing Louis to halt as well. The boy is practically vibrating with energy, and Picard realizes that if he doesn’t take him somewhere to release that energy, the boy’s going to release it in their quarters, likely at the expense of their furniture.

“Let’s go put those drawings somewhere safe—” He was informed that one was made for him, and the other for Guinan— “And then let’s go climbing.”

His days of lounging on the couch with a book and a cup of earl grey after work are over, it seems.

At least it won’t be difficult to stay in shape, he thinks. This boy’s going to keep him on his toes.

-/-

They climb until Louis is exhausted and flings himself from the top of a climb onto the mats with a grunt and a giggle. Picard, who reached his limit several climbs earlier, stands with relief, helps the boy to his feet, and leads him from the holodeck, meticulously avoiding eye contact as they trudge back to their quarters dripping sweat in their skintight jumpsuits.

(He’ll need to remember to replicate a robe next time.)

After they clean themselves up, Louis shows Picard his drawings. The first is an illustration of a pirate ship. It’s quite accurate and meticulously detailed, just like the boy’s starship illustrations.

“It’s The Jolly Roger,” Louis says. “Captain Hook’s ship.”

The boy had been more intrigued by the pirates in Peter and Wendy than by Peter Pan himself; Picard can hardly blame him, though he assumed his discomfort with the character was purely his adult perspective. They’ll have to read Treasure Island together next.

“May I put this in my ready room?”

Louis’s smile is instantaneous and blindingly bright. “Oui!”

The second drawing is a full-body portrait of Guinan. She’s centered on the paper in orange robes, surrounded by the tools of her trade—glasses and decanters in various shapes and sizes, all with multicolored liquids inside. It’s scientific in nature, reminiscent of the illustrations from the anatomy book Beverly gave him. They replicate a simple, slim black frame for the drawing, and present it to Guinan at Ten Forward.

She gasps when she sees it. “How did you know orange is my favorite color?”

“I didn’t.”

Picard certainly didn’t know that either. His guess would have been purple.

“What made you choose orange then?” Guinan asks.

Louis shrugs, grins. “Warm colors make you glow.”

Will Riker slides into the empty seat beside them at the bar. “Glow,” he repeats, eyebrows raised as he glances between Louis and Guinan. “It looks like I have some competition.”

And thus begins one of the most bewildering experiences of Picard’s life. While he watches, Will and Guinan trade the most outrageous flirts he’s ever bore witness to. It seems to be their habit, a routine they act out and take great pleasure in.

After several minutes of Louis’s eyes ping-ponging back and forth between Will and Guinan, eyebrows permanently attached to his hairline, he leans across the bar to whisper, “Guinan, l'aimes-tu?”

Do you like him?

Guinan laughs. “Not like that, no. We’re friends. I just enjoy receiving attention from attractive men.”

“And I enjoy showering you with my attention,” Will returns. Then, “I didn’t know you speak French, Guinan. They say it’s the language of romance; maybe you should be saying all those nice things about me.”

Guinan lifts a brow and smirks. “I know a few phrases that would make even you blush. But there are young, impressionable ears here.”

Louis blushes. He turns to Picard, asks in French, “What does ‘language of romance’ mean?”

Guinan responds before Picard can, probably guessing that Picard’s going to deflect and give Louis the technical answer and not the…romantic one.

“It means French is a very romantic sounding language,” she says.

“Oh.” Louis thinks for a moment. “My papa used to speak French to maman sometimes. When they were alone and thought I couldn’t hear them. He was being romantic?”

“I think that all depends on what he was saying.”

“He would say—”

“Let’s—” Picard pauses, takes a breath, gentles his tone. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Things said between husbands and wives should remain between husbands and wives.”

Will’s hiding a grin behind his glass but his grin is too large and the glass far too small. Picard considers revoking his permission to babysit Louis.

“We’re teaching Doctor Beverly French,” Louis volunteers.

Picard wishes he could die. He wishes he could sink through the floor. Or float through the ceiling. Or turn to dust. Anything. What would happen if he just…walked out?

“That’s very interesting,” Guinan says, propping her chin on her fist and adopting an expression of intense curiosity. “Tell me more about that.”

“We started teaching her last night!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Picard sees Will mouth, “Last night?” to Guinan.

“Are you teaching her?” Guinan asks. “Or is your father?”

“We’re doing it together.” He turns to Picard, asks in French, “You’re not teaching her without me, are you?”

Picard responds in French, too embarrassed by this entire subject to care that it’s rude. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

There’s a gleam in Guinan’s eyes that he doesn’t particularly enjoy. Irritably, he says, “Remind me when exactly it was that you learned French.”

“I told you, I spent some time in Paris.” She shrugs. “It gave me something to do while I was waiting around to meet you again.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was French when we first met.”

“Your name is Jean-Luc. It didn’t take much detective work.”

Picard sucks in a slow breath through his nose, then lets it out before saying, “So, you learned French, and then just…” He waves a hand. “Waited for the right time to reveal it?”

“Yes,” she replies archly. “I’m a very patient person. And as you can see, my patience paid off.”

It seems far too many people live to tease him. Is it his own fault, for being too serious? Too reserved?

He contemplates this later as they walk back to their quarters. On the one hand, it felt…good to socialize with Will, to interact as something other than Captain and First Officer; but on the other hand, he’s so unused to socializing that whenever he does, he fears he revealed too much. Will has an easiness with his subordinates that Picard has never been able to master.

“Will you still teach me to play the flute tonight?” Louis asks.

Picard blinks down at him. He has no clue how the boy has any energy left. “Yes, of course.”

He wonders how he’ll be able to stay awake for Beverly’s visit—but at the thought of Beverly, the way she said dessert, what it implied, his body sizzles with renewed vigor. He’s been repressing it all day in an effort to focus—in an effort to not be driven completely mad by it. He tries to rein it in again now. He needs to focus on Louis, be mentally present for their flute lesson, for the bedtime routine he’s trying to establish. And then…

And then, dessert.