#i love the heartfelt bits which are abundant

[mikimeiko]

Mo | Season 2 (2025), Mo Amer and Ramy Yussef

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Like Suki beautifully and confidently said in one of her ratchet interviews “I come from a long line of whores.” I grew up in a family system where most of the women were incredibly sassy and sexual. Later in life I found out that at least 2 were even a bit whorish—which would have been fine if they weren’t so riddled in shame and guilt about their secret lives. The inheritance of sass and a high sexual nature were the reasons my mum fell pregnant with me as a middle-aged woman. It was odd (and still is) for a woman to give birth to a child when she was (is) in her mid-40s. For the first few weeks after her period stopped, she thought that she was going into menopause, Finally. Little did she know that it was just her plump root and sacral energies activated. And now she was pregnant with me. It took me years for me to learn to move this energy throughout my body so that I could stop attracting lovers who just wanted to fuck, but didn't want to adore and love me. Venusian woman, learning to convert your abundance of sacral energy up into your heart, throat, and 3rd eye will probably be your biggest work in this lifetime. I utilized deep diaphragmic breathing. Connection to nature. Lots of forgiveness work —forgiveness makes your heart softer and belly more relaxed and even smaller because toxins are released and your energy starts to flow freely again. You are not holding onto anything or needing anything from anyone. The key with forgiveness is that you must eventually elevate into a spaciousness where there is really nothing to forgive. You have no desire or need to hold grievances or blame or shame yourself or another human soul. When you need nothing, energy blocks dissolve. The debt clears and resistance and tension are lifted. Your heart frees and new narratives sow. Forgiveness that eventually evolves into the spaciousness where there is nothing to forgive sets your body, energy, and memories free. Back in the day when my lover was male, I would suck his dick often by candlelight or in the bright natural light with my heart full of joy and an ocean of tears in my eyes. Time ceased to exist and I would be sucking him like a God with an abundance of water streaming down my legs and face. Open-hearted lingam worship is primally nourishing, expansive, relaxing, and energizing to the female body. Any kind of heartfelt, vulnerable oral sex is an act love and worship—divine energy, especially when you consciously draw the slippery honey and heat sensations up from your sacral into your spine, heart, throat, and 3rd eye/forehead area. I unconsciously started threading my dances with some neck, shoulder, and throat playfulness, similar to the Ethiopian dance "Eskriska" to loosen the tension around shoulders and heart so that energy could flow into my 3rd eye without being blocked. Tight or painful shoulders express for a variety of reasons: pushing yourself too hard, poor posture, experiencing anxiety,worry or fear of heartache therefore you walk around bracing yourself for a blow or impact, or attempting to control life. Learning to give relief to your shoulder relaxes your body and quiet worries and concerns and permits higher consciousness to circulate. Lots of belly work--everything from belly massages to speaking life into my belly, giving it commands and decrees, playing jazz songs to my belly to stimulate the energy to flow upwards towards my heart. Lots of spinal flexion like the “cat cow." Professional pelvic care for 6 months. Too much concentrated sexual energy will always express in shadowy ways. It also makes you too watery and overly-empathic, easily taken advantage of, resulting in tremendous heartaches and heartbreaks. I ascended from a long line of strong medicine people: healers, herbalists, dancers, mystics, housekeepers, educators, lovers, and warriors. One day Aunt Verna had a little bit too much to drink and blurted out in the kitchen that 2 women in the family line were also whores. I pretended not to hear. --India Ame'ye, Author, Venus Energy and Its Management

[maskofthenarcissist]

Hi! I'm so excited that someone out there is giving Vega some more love! May I request headcanons for how Vega would go about trying to start a relationship with an s/o who's shy and more introverted?

Thank you for your ask! 💜 I’m sorry for taking so long to answer 😅

Vega starting a relationship with a shy introverted s/o:

Perhaps the two of them first met when he was on a mission. He scouted the area for his target. Bustling, busy. Among a sea of chatter, he saw someone quite eye-catching, striking despite them seated alone on a bench, on their own instead of in the current of the crowd. He usually hated the city, but, there were some rare flowers that grew there.

Catching their attention was not difficult. He was sure most were unused to having someone as beautiful as himself walk up to them and strike a conversation. Vega is no people person, but he was raised with manners and charisma.

The struggle, to Vega, came with maintaining their attention. He didn’t expect such short and stilted answers coming from the object of his curiosity. Were they perhaps just speechless..? After all, they couldn’t possibly be disinterested. Right?

He was not going to just let you escape. The rose he intended to be his calling card for his next kill was instead brandished to this beautiful stranger. After carrying out his mission, he sought their whereabouts. Vega is no stranger to more unscrupulous actions and probably would go as far as try to find their information through shady means.

This actually was more of a boon than anything. He came to learn that they weren’t exactly the most social or forthcoming, and learning about them through more traditional means was probably going to be very difficult.

When he was ready, he decided to contact them. A text message. An opening line. He really wanted to get to know them… despite knowing much about them already. It was actually to his pleasant surprise that they agreed to meet up again. It’s not that Vega’s confidence could ever falter a bit in the case he got turned down… could it?

Considering the shy little flower’s introversion, Vega decided a little date to a small cafe during the slow hours would be best. He suggested for them to bring along a book they enjoyed and he would do the same. This was out of grace for the other… so that they’d have an excuse to hide behind something if they got too flustered. Which was adorable.

Vega started to feel like getting to know them the natural way was more interesting than all but stalking them earlier. After months of chatting, texting, and little dates, Vega watched his little flower open up.

When they finally were in bloom, Vega decided to ask them out. A large bouquet of roses and quite the unexpectedly heartfelt confession was hopefully enough to charm them. It was to his relief that they accepted.

With the abundance of space and privacy at his mansion, he preferred to take them there to stay the night. There, his flower would have all the comfort in the world.

[osovereign]

❝ ☆ — HAPPINESS / i.

the happiest memory for kratos, by far, was the day that his son, lloyd irving, was born. how befitting that the place in which he and his son would share a heartfelt moment about their short-lived family years later would also be the place from which he was born. in no place nor town specific did kratos watch his wife’s water break in the midst of winter—when freshly snow covered the ground. the time and place nearly reminded him of flanoir, a snowy city of tethe’alla he’d cast aside once kratos descended upon the world in decline, sylverant. hiding from cruxis was taxing at times and meant the pair constantly had to keep moving, but now there would be an additional tiny party member. kratos could still recall how he and anna where still a day or so away from the next town but how a caravan on a pilgrimage as by the teachings or martel had offered them assistance in abundance. when they arrived at the house of salvation ( though nowadays it was just a random dirt patch nearest izoold, the old location having been moved with time ): he and his laboring wife had met the only doctor on staff, a selfish man in medicine whom cared more for lining his own pockets than patient wellbeing.

it was a classic tale, a known over-charger for services whom targeted those without the means for any other measures. while the duo never had much money since anything of value kratos gained from cruxis was never kept for himself, rather used to spread a bit of reprise and goodwill to the people of sylverant plagued by famine and drought ( inadvertently caused by his own hands ): such as the purchase of food and medical gels. kratos loved it because anna was always smiling, glad she could help those in need ( even if she herself had come from a place of suffering ): and give them a bit of hope in a world that gave them very little, if any, hope. due to this good karma, a priest within the house of salvation knew of the couple and recounted to kratos how he had helped ease the pain for her family, so she—name being lucia—wanted to offer the same kindness to his growing one. this memory means a lot ( as all involving his family does ): because it helped him open up his eyes. even if people suffer so much, they’re still kind at heart. it’s what caused him to want a change in himself. sine he was going to be a father soon, kratos wanted to make sure those he cherished more than anything had everything they would ever need. after-all what father doesn't want to do what’s best for his child? 

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes​ for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I  been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood.  A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason.  HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind. 

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before.  The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room.  Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall.  He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

[novelist-becca]

TOH Fanfic recs! Part 1

(All of these people are my inspiration I stg)

Found family

Make my heart your home series by @tiredandjaded

First fic: Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and they both have a crisis over it. Mostly Luz. Second fic: post-YBOS, Luz tells Eda and Lilith of what happened during the rescue mission, and both Luz and Eda give Lilith a shovel talk. Third fic: Luz and Eda are both taking care of each other in the first seven days after coming home. Includes fun sibling bonding!

(Patiently awaiting the next chapter of the third installment!)

Literally anything by @hereforthehurts

The way they write emotions and hurt/comfort is seriously amazing. Never fails to make me cry, especially when it comes to sickfics and fics of Eda and Luz. (I recommend supporting them on Ko-Fi!)

You Are My Sunshine by @liesminelli

One of the first Owl House fics I ever read, and it's SO good! Luz has a night terror and Eda walks in on her freaking out, and it goes from there. The emotions of both characters are very well-written, and the ending is so sweet! I also recommend checking out their other works too!

It's The Least I Could Do by @witchesbeforewizardss

There aren't enough fics of Luz and Lilith bonding, and this is one of the BEST ones. Lilith needs more healthy relationships, and in my opinion, building an aunt-niece relationship with Luz is a great place to start! (next to making amends with Eda) Basically, Luz is feeling homesick, and before dinner, she allows Lilith to help her feel better.

Luz's Not So Great Luck and

A Friendly Beastly Surprise by @animerunner

The first fic has a large abundance of angsty scenarios, mostly AUs, all of which are wonderful to read. My personal favorite is the one where Luz is an orphan and she has a chronic illness, and well, you'll have to read to find out! The second one is canon compliant, and it's about Eda turning into the Owl Beast and treating Luz like an owlet, and Luz is just like "guess this is my life now". It's so cute!

Rainy Day Makeovers by @fallenflowersfromgrace

To summarize, There's boiling rain, and Luz convinces Eda to spend time with her giving each other makeovers. It's very cute, and I love it!

Some Honesty Before Breakfast by @pizzaboat

Eda notices Luz is acting unusual, and gets her to open up. It's in-character, and wonderfully executed.

Thank you for being in my life by @peridot-garcia

Episodes of The Owl House from Eda's perspective, and as of now, also Luz and Lilith's perspective. It's got wonderful found family scenarios, and so far the plot is pretty great!

Lighting up the Dark by The_Quoter

This is a very recent one, and I love it! It's post-Young Blood Old Souls, and Eda comes to terms with how much Luz means to her, while also helping her come out of a nightmare.

The Light Behind Your Eyes by ABirdinFlight

Post-Young Blood. Eda gives Lilith a shovel-talk (harsh but well-deserved) and has a heart-to-heart talk with Luz in her room.

Moonlit Masquerade: Replacement by Rohad

Similar to make my heart your home, Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and both of them have a crisis over it. (As expected!)

Bad Days by @drabbles-of-writing

Part of their Four Years AU, Luz has an episode, and Eda takes her home to help her calm down. It's very bittersweet and heartfelt.

Gratuitous Embellishments of Chicken Noodle Soup by Rulerofthecosmosandsnails

Luz almost drowns at the Knee, but her Owl Mom is there to help her get better, including making her soup! (Yeah, my fic Snow Day was inspired by this)

A Line Crossed by Clevinger

AU in which Luz dies by the spikes at the bridge, in front of Eda, who thankfully resurrects her, and as expected, Luz is having a hard time handling it. There's another work inspired by it called Too Much, Too Late by TheHonestyBird.

A nightmare and a hug by moreteaplease

Reeaaally hard to find since it doesn't have the relationship tag for Luz and Eda, but still, it's very good! Post-YBOS, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort, confessing that she misses her mom.

Sleepless Nights by @snail-watch

Similar to the one before this, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort. I loved the way the author wrote Eda's thoughts about Luz!

Mending Trust by @electricwalkman

Similar to The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and Luz tells her about the portal being destroyed, and gives her the mask piece. Eda comforts her, as well.

Night Owl and

The Bad Dream Club by @thedrunkenwerewolf / @wolfiethewriter

Eda has trouble sleeping, Luz notices, and Eda confessed that she's scared of hurting Luz as the beast. Luz of course, reassures her by telling her it won't happen. The second fic is the other way around, sorta. Luz has a nightmare and gets herself a drink to calm down, and Eda finds her.

Dreams of a Witch by TheDinosaurNerd

Eda talks to her younger self in her mindscape about her life as a wild witch. (In the end it turns out to be Luz in her lap.)

Griffon Flu by @serendipitouslyss

Another great sickfic! Luz gets the flu, or Griffon Flu as it's called in the Boiling Isles, but Eda and King are more than willing to help her get better.

Owlet by spotty8bee

Ah, the cursed AU that started it all. Only 2 chapters, but it's wonderfully heartbreaking and you really feel for Eda in the second half of chapter 1.

Observations of the Witchy Kind by JoLau

If you like platonic cuddling, you'll love this fic! Luz wants to learn about witch biology, but unfortunately Boscha burns the notebook that had her research, so she tries to rewrite her observations, and ends up catching Eda's attention.

I Need You, Please Don't Leave Me by rainbowpotato12

Luz is having bad thoughts, and worries that something bad could happen to Eda again, but Eda reassures her it won't.

This is Home by SpaghettieBabie

Luz has doubts about herself, and opens up to Eda about it, confessing that she likes her as her mother figure.

I Love the Found Family Trope! by @l-egionaire

Takes place after The Intruder. Eda thinks that Luz and King might leave her after knowing about the curse, and they tell her they would never do that.

Nightmare by OneandOnlyOllie

Another nightmare fic! Eda comforts Luz after a nightmare. Lilith hears the two, and wants to make things right with Luz.

It was not, in fact, a day out by @pizzaboat

Post-YBOS. Eda turns into the Owl Beast, tries to cuddle Luz, Lilith and King in her nest, and they have to come up with a working scheme to turn her back. Basically The Intruder if Lilith was there.

A broken brain by @pizzaboat

I can relate to this one a lot (except my adhd is diagnosed). Luz has trouble focusing on homework, and doesn't know why, and tells Eda she thinks she's going crazy, but Eda tells her she's not, and that Lilith had a similar problem.

What big claws (to protect you with my dear) by @ito-itonomen

AU where Luz is 10 and Eda takes her in, and both of them have doubts about themselves. Chapter 2 is especially good.

Unexpected Hope by @sepublic

Luz talks to Lilith about how she had (surprisingly) inspired her.

Lilith and Eda

Mistakes Might Have Been Made by @fallenflowersfromgrace

WARNING: you will definitely cry in the second chapter!

An AU in which Lilith split the curse with Eda the first time she transformed. Of course, by the time she reveals that she cursed her, it doesn't go well. (Eda's reaction hurts, but it's in character) and the pain in chapter 2 is just…AGONY AND ITS SO GOOD!

Walk Through the Storm, I Would by @lilithswxfe

Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal thoughts in this fic.

Lilith tries to hurt herself while in a bad state, but Eda catches her and comforts her.

Source Decay series by @tiredandjaded

Trigger warning for underage drinking in the second fic.

Two pre-canon fics about Lilith and Eda, the first fic portraying Eda as trans and how she's feeling about her name, and how Lilith helps her. The second one is sadder, it's after the curse and Eda isn't taking Lilith coming home late very well, leading to some…not-so-great coping mechanisms.

Rabbit Heart by radiantstaber

It has found family Owl Mom moments, but then it is mostly about Lilith and Eda rebuilding their relationship, with Luz trying her best to encourage both of them. (The description is very funny, describing the Owl House as a get along shirt.)

The Cafeteria Incident by @electricwalkman

Remember that page from Eda's record about Eda summoning abominations because somebody stole Lilith's lunch money? This is based on that, and it's SO GOOD!

Runaway Raven by @witchesbeforewizardss

Trigger warning for graphic injuries

In both Lilith thinks she doesn't belong with her family in the Owl House, and tries to "punish" herself. Eda convinces her that it's not worth it and she just wants her sister back.

The Long Night by @serendipitouslyss

Post-YBOS, just like The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and she and Lilith have a long talk. (Though she's not as harsh.)

A Midnight Talk by @elizabethemerald

Lilith sees Luz having a nightmare, and calms her down for a little bit (via stroking her hair). Eda sees her, and the two have a talk.

I Need a Moment to Quiet This Pain by @come-unhinged

Moments in Eda's life and how she dealt with her curse.

Part 2 might have Lumity idk

[mylifeincinema]

My Best of 2022: Non-2022 Films

My Best of 2022 is a series of annual lists in which I pick the best of the best from 2022, all leading up to my official picks for My Top 10 Films of 2022.

Only a handful of these even belong on any sort of ‘best of’ list. But, as I only saw somewhere like 20 first-time non-2022 films, here we are. Oh well...

1. Drive My Car (Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, 2021)

A staggering cinematic achievement. How not one second of this three-hour film is anything less than enrapturing is a true testament to the power of humanity in film. All aspects work together beautifully, here, to bring a refreshing, heartfelt, emotionally cathartic story of mourning and the connection between life and art. The source material lays a rock-solid foundation upon which Ryûsuke Hamaguchi & Co. build a quietly compelling piece of cinema. With the Academy’s love for this, I really see no logical reason how Hidetoshi Nishijima wasn’t nominated in the Lead Actor category over Javier Bardem, he was magnificent.

2. The Raid: Redemption (Gareth Evans, 2011)

Oh… damn… badass action flick is badass. How the hell did I not see this sooner?!?

3. The Cincinnati Kid (Norman Jewison, 1965)

I’ve long loved Rounders, so its really strange it took me this long to see this one. McQueen is solid, but Robinson steals the show. Jewison’s direction sets a fantastic pace. And then there’s Ann-Margaret… yikes!

4. Cyrano (Joe Wright, 2021) 

That “Wherever I Fall” sequence, though... That scene tore my heart right out of my chest. Wow.

The rest of this is quite phenomenal, as well. Dinklage’s performance was stellar, and despite his singing voice not being the strongest (especially when paired against Haley Bennett’s), his numbers made for emotionally overwhelming pieces. On the technical side, this was an all-around feast, boasting production design, costumes, cinematography - not to mention the abundance of music not singled out - that were nothing short of beautiful.

5. Kodachrome (Mark Raso, 2018)

Holy shit… Elizabeth Olsen is so effortlessly gorgeous, here. Damn. The beginning features a giant, don’t-fucking-do-it move on Sudeikis’ part when he gives the venue security guard attitude for telling him he needs to have his pass on, and that seriously annoyed me, so the fact that I ended up liking his character at all throughout the rest of the film is some solid character work on his part. Ed Harris was unsurprisingly solid. Overall not the best, most original or insightful film of its kind, but the cast is really good and living in both the live music world and the photography world as I do, there was a bunch here for me to like. Especially Elizabeth Olsen, though. Seriously… Damn.

6. The Shop Around the Corner (Ernst Lubitsch, 1940)

James Stewart really is one of my all-time favorite actors. He’s just always so damn good. I also love me some Lubitsch, yet for some reason I have so many blind spots with him. Anyway, I know we live in completely different times, but even looking through the scope of the time, that ending seemed a bit forced. Still a delightful film overall, but she must’ve been really desperate to let the shit he pulled go.

7. Timecrimes (Nacho Vigalondo, 2008)

A cool, little contained time travel thriller. I’d almost rented this dozens of times back when I worked at Blockbuster Video, but never pulled the trigger. It’s weird and twisty and surely ridden in plot-holes, but damn was it an enjoyable ride.

8. Red Rocket (Sean Baker, 2021)

I was surprised by how much I actually ended up liking this despite totally despising our lead character. There’s a white-trash charm to it, I guess? Or, at the very least, a clear sense of authenticity that pulls you into the film effectively. I’m still not a fan of Baker’s tendency to use non-professional actors, though. It’s distracting in the wrong way.

9. Parallel Mothers (Pedro Almodóvar, 2021)

I don’t really have a lot to say about this one. Cruz was magnificent, and more than earned that Oscar nod, but other than that I had trouble getting emotionally invested, and was therefore left cold by the end.

10. The King’s Man (Matthew Vaughn, 2021)

It has its moments, and Ralph Fiennes is awesome, but mostly it left me wanting for more. The first of these movies was so wonderfully over-the-top that the few scenes that come near that level, here, just don’t quite satisfy.

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

Next Up: Assorted (Animated Feature, Foreign Film, Editing, Screenplay, Etc.)

More of My Best of 2022...

[bruh-haikyuu]

@arcangel-wings REQUESTED: Heya! I’m new to your blog and I really like your writing! Can I request Tenma Udai with an s/o who’s a baker while he’s in hs? So like he’s a delinquent and she’s a sweetheart who’s always giving people the stuff she bakes? Everyone thinks it’s weird but they fit together kinda thing 🥺?

A/N: Thanks for requesting!! This is über cute. Fem!Reader as alluded in the request^^

kilig. | udai tenma

word count: 2155

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) the rush or the inexplicable joy one feels after seeing or experiencing something romantic

“Chocolate is the ingredient for love~!” you say after pouring what seems to be an entire bucketful of chocolate chips into your bowl.

Your friend Saeko has seen just about enough of your nonsensical chatter about baking, your boyfriend and your abundant love for both. Already exhausted from a recent scolding by the vice-principal, she decides that it’s better off to smile and nod rather than try to come up with a snarky remark for your innocent mania.

“T-That’s a lot of chocolate,” she blurts out. When she picks up her spatula from the bowl, the girl grumbles at the sight of a liquidy trail drizzling down the utensil. “Ahh geez, it’s not supposed to be like this, isn’t it? Katagiri-sensei’s going to fail me again...”

You smile and hand her a bowl of flour. “Don’t worry, Saeko-chan. Just add a bit more flour and you’re good to go! You can never go wrong with cookies.”

The halo above your head is nearly visible. Saeko swears she can even hear angels singing to her in the background as you mix away on your fragrant bowl of dough. You don’t even seem real—from your angelic grin down to your overwhelmingly flowery aura. It’s tough enough to imagine that you’d ever talk to her of all people, but to imagine you’d go for a guy who’s just as much of a thug...

Unthinkable! Saeko shakes her head. She’d thought you’d pulled a joke on her the first time you announced that you were dating... him. Udai Tenma, star of the Boys’ Volleyball Club, a red-hot beacon of undomesticated temper.

She’d always known you liked him—though which part of him you liked is somewhat still a mystery to her—and as much as Saeko wanted to protect you from those ruffians, that absolutely infatuated look in your eyes was too much to bear. And eventually, she succumbed to your incessant ambitions of high school romance.

“You’re a saint, dude,” she sighs longingly. “I don’t get how you’re still dating that guy. I’m not really one to say anything about this, but don’t you think Udai’s kind of a jerk with the way he treats you?”

You chuckle, like a sweet grandmother about to tell a nostalgic tale to her grandchildren.

“I suppose you can say that Tenma-kun is a bit shy. He likes to act tough and mighty when he’s around people, but he’s actually just a normal boyfriend with a very sweet tooth and a penchant for manga.”

Saeko scowls. “Normal’s normal, but you have to at least let him know that you have your limits too. I really can’t stand leaving the two of you alone, w-what if Udai breaks your heart, or worse—”

“Tanaka-san. If you have time for chatter back there, then surely, you’re finished with your cookies?” at the sound of the grouchy Home Economics teacher at the front of the class, Saeko quickly returns to her bowl in a sorry attempt to look busy.

Deciding to humor her interest, you lean towards her and whisper lowly. “I’ll be fine, Saeko-chan. He may not look like it, but Tenma-kun’s actually very cute.”

In her mind, it’s much easier to simply handcuff herself to you so that you’re under her watch at all times possible. But your gaze is nothing short of genuine—you really love this guy, and the fact that you’re still with him, assures Saeko even just a tiny bit that he might not be so bad after all... with you at least.

You’re already storming away in your little world of baking. It amuses your best friend whenever you’re off making your personal masterpieces (“‘Masterpiece’ is absolutely right!” she’d say while stuffing her mouth full of your mini tarts). Each and every one of your creations are whipped up with the utmost amount of love and care, and for just the right reasons, everyone’s been pestering you to set up a bakery after high school. Your regular patrons just happen to be the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club—with the addition of the lively Coach Ukai who is rather fond of how much filling you put into your red bean buns.

As regular as regular can be, you’ve found yourself visiting the Volleyball Club clubroom after school every Wednesday to hand out your treats to not only your aloof boyfriend, but also to his friends, his coach and the prostrated manager who direfully needs a pick-me-up. And suddenly, you’re ‘Karasuno’s Cookie Goddess’.

“Ah, you’re making another batch, Y/N?” Saeko perks up when you split your dough in half.

“Yep!” you giggle, essentially a high school student drowning in love. “I want to make something special for Tenma-kun today.”

“... What’s the occasion? Is it his birthday or something?”

You shrug, face absolutely alight. “Nope, I just want to give him a surprise~”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tenma isn’t exactly unapproachable. It’s just that people tend to avoid him at all costs. Perhaps you were just bold... or remarkably stupid, but if you hadn’t addressed him that day, life would’ve probably been drabber.

Your parents and your friends (with emphasis towards your overprotective Saeko-chan) had shown their unfiltered concern when the news of your relationship circulated like wildfire. What was the analogy they used, again?

“You’re like a rabid bridge troll and a rabbit! It doesn’t work!”  You could only laugh at their valiant efforts of a correlation... if they were really trying to make one. But after a few more reassuring pushes and awkward family dinners, they’ve come to be more lenient about your little ‘liaison’.

But you never feel like you have to worry when Tenma is around. In fact, when Tenma is around, you feel calm—even when he’s spouting off curses to a taller rival.

There’s a warmth unlike any other when he holds or kisses you. And though you’d have to drive him through hell and waters to say it out loud, you already know that every action he does for you is out of love. Words are material, it’s the action that counts, right?

“Sorry for the intrusion~!” you call out into the open doors of the Boys’ Volleyball Club’s space.

A flash of obnoxious yellow hair flashes before your eyes and suddenly, an imposingly tall  figure appears in front of you out of nowhere. “Cookie Goddess!”

“Good afternoon, Yukimura-kun,” you smile. “Is there only you right now?”

“I’m here too, Y/N-chan,” the lax-faced captain Tokito emerges from the room in the midst of zipping up his jacket. His eyes flicker towards the packages in your hands and a smile cracks on his face. “Ooh, chocolate chip cookies today~”

You quickly raise the fragrant bags of treats into their view, bringing in the remaining swamp of boys from the clubroom. Suddenly, the common hallway is blocked by an influx of starving teenagers who are rampaging on about your existence.

“So good...” Yukimura murmurs dreamily, mouth full of chocolate. “Man, anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife if you were to cook them these everyday.”

A brazen first-year with frosted tips elbow him and sighs. “Too bad you’re taken, huh, Y/N-chan-senpai? If it were me instead of him, I’d always make it a point that ‘Heeey... guess what my girlfriend made for me today~ Isn’t she the best—”

“Oi, brat. Whose girlfriend do you think you’re talking about?”

The gangle of boys freeze up simultaneously at the grouchy voice behind you (aside from Tokito, who’s yawning at the whole ordeal). Whipping around to the dark aura boring holes into your back, you immediately light up at Tenma’s presence.

“Tenma-kun~!” you launch at him with your arms wide open. You’re ready for some sort of swerve from him, so you make sure you protect his bag of cookies with your arm... You’ve learned this counter-attack the hard way, of course.

But what you don’t expect is that your boyfriend makes no move to avoid you at all.

“H-hey! Don’t just lunge at me like that, you idiot! What if you fell down and knocked your head open?” Ah, at least the embarrassed comment is there.

You can only smile at him kindly. From the edge of your eyes, you swear that you can see a light blush dusting his face as your boyfriend gains newfound interest in your shoes.

“Come with me for a while,” he finally grumbles, effectively breaking the silence between the both of you. Grabbing your hand, Tenma leads you down the little aluminium staircase, eliciting small grates from the steps below you and a mass of curious whispers from the group you’d just left behind.

“Hey, Udai-kun~” Tokito calls out, a lilt of roguery in his tone, “Make sure to get back in time for practice, okay? And keep Y/N-chan in one piece, won’t you? We can’t get another Cookie Goddess if you don’t.”

When he turns into a secluded corner away from the prying eyes of his teammates, you can hear him audibly huff and mutter something under his breath. As silence lingers between you, you nearly forget about the reason why you came to visit.

“I made some cookies for you, Tenma-kun,” you say to him, urging the neatly wrapped bundle into his hands. “I hope you like it.”

You can clearly see the hesitation in his eyes when he takes it in his hands. You can probably guess why.

(“Y/N, your skills with a knife are scary, dude,” Saeko grimaced as she watched you trail over the dough with the gleaming blade of your paring knife.

“Aaand... done!” you proudly wiped the sweat off your forehead. It would’ve been more helpful with a cookie cutter around, but you figured that it would’ve been more heartfelt otherwise.

‘Heartfelt’, you pondered on the word for a moment. Would this be too heartfelt for such a rag-tag person like Tenma? It would probably be better to go for something simpler, just like the other days...

Nah. You shook your head as you chucked the tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven.)

You’re hoping for a shocked response from him, but Tenma only grumbles meekly. You brace yourself for another scolding for acting too chummy with him, or being too affectionate, or—

“You shouldn’t get too close with other guys.”

Wait.

Tenma crosses his arms, the curls of his hair falling gently over his forehead. His pink cheeks darken into a soft maroon. “If they found out you’re giving me this sort of special treatment, they’ll be all over you the next day, asking for it too... I don’t like it.”

The laugh that rises in your throat threatens to burst. What is this, you think. Your stomach hurt from the mere image of this innocent “delinquent” professing his jealousy for you. If he was like this all the time, wouldn’t that be an interesting change... Aah, your boyfriend really is cute, isn’t he?

A giggle escapes you and you watch him jolt in chagrin. “Tenma-kun, you’re so red.”

“I’m not!” he yells rather briskly, then shoots back at you. “You can’t say I’m red when you were all burning up as you were giving me these heart-shaped cookies.”

Touché. “I’m glad you like them, Tenma-kun.”

His gaze visibly softens up as you give him an angelic smile. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

At times like this, you really do see the boy who’d shyly confessed to you under the shade of the summer ginko tree. It wasn’t anything of a distant memory, it was just that Tenma’s usual demeanour and your unrelenting tolerance hindered the both of you from being completely outward with one another. Maybe something like this isn’t so bad after all.

“I-I have to go back to practice. You can go home by yourself, right?” your boyfriend clears his throat, urging you to leave.

Though you wished the moment would last a little longer, you know there are other countless shared opportunities with him. “Mm-hm! You do your best in practice, okay?”

He ruffles your hair and chuckles endearingly.

“Atta girl. Now go home before Tokito catches me getting all touchy-feely with you.”

Bidding him goodbye, you sullenly trudge away from your boyfriend (and his friends waving back at you from the balcony). Then the idea strikes you.

Special cookies ought to have a special flair to them, no?

Cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone, you shout, loud enough for his teammates to hear. “I love you, Tenma-kun~!”

And the crowd goes wild.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

From: Tenma-kun ♡

Subject: Untitled

(15:58) Now Tokito’s all over me thanks to you, making me do extra diving drills. You better make more of those cookies as compensation, idiot. Be prepared for it.

(15:58) Btw, don’t forget to look both ways when you cross the street on the way home. If you get into an accident, you won’t be able to apologize to me properly.

(15:58) ... Hey.

(16:00) I love you too.

[wretchedbitch]

What's your opinion on Rin and Haru? As individual people, I mean!

Haru has easily always been one of my favorite characters. EASY. If there were a character I had to say I was most like, it’d be Haru. Also, his character design alone is my favorite in the entire series. Whenever I’m feeling bad about the reboot, I just see Haru and for just a moment I can forget every which way this reboot has ever harmed me. And, across all adaptations of the series; from the manga, to ‘01, to the reboot, Haru is so dynamic in that he can carry and / or add to a scene where it’s either one of the funniest scenes for me, or the most heartfelt, or the most violent and dramatic. He’s an incredibly fun and well-rounded character to watch, read, and follow. 

Rin, I never thought all that much about during my first read-through. She was a little harsh and abrasive for me as a 11-15 year old while I was reading Fruits Basket initially. But, being involved in fandom and fan discussion and seeing how much Rin love goes around, she’s really grown on me in the past few years. Rin is so beautiful and tragic and headstrong and I really love the wrench she throws into the story in being this zodiac member who aggressively acknowledges and wants a way out of the curse, as opposed to the passivity or indifference that is shown through everyone else. It is a bit of a bummer that that aspect of her character is so centered around freeing Haru in particular, which kind of dictates her arc and development being for the sake of a man (as opposed to Shigure, who wants the curse to break for someone else, too, but is still depicted as self serving to a near vile extent and has a subtly autonomous arc that is still all his own). HOWEVER, that selflessness that Rin has (which is, I think a combination of feeling so little of herself and feeling the abundant love for Haru that she does) is almost a direct mirror of Haru’s own selflessness.  Not to harp on the ship when you specified my thoughts on them as individuals, but when it comes to Haru and Rin there is such a little bubble that exists for them in their relationship. It’s seeing the best in each other when the world around them reduced them to “stupid” and “worthless” or “unnecessary.” They really harbor each other’s whole hearts and extend to each other what the other is missing; they really click like two halves to a whole. 

TL;DR: I just think they’re neat. 

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

[jccham]

❝  my  friend’s  cousin’s  best  friend  used  to  work  as  one  of  his  maids  and  she  said  that  his  step-mom  used  to  pay  him  to  keep  her  affair  with  his  uncle  a  secret  ❞  JORDAN  CHAMBERS  ,  who  resembles  KEITH  POWERS  and  is  the  PRESIDENT  of  BETA  TAU  RHO  ,  is  TWENTY-TWO  years  old  and  responds  to  HE  /  HIM  .  𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥  𝘣𝘺  𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘦  ;  𝘴𝘩𝘦  /  𝘩𝘦𝘳  .

what  up,  i’m  julie,  hailing  from  the  gmt-5  tz  &  i’ve  been  out  all  day  ,  so  i’ve  been  unfortunately  been  a  little  late  to  the  party  buuuut  i  am  here  now  &  i  am  so  excited  to  share  jordan  with  you  all  !  

BASICS  :   full  name  —  jordan  dominic  chambers  .  preferred  —  jordan  .  nickname  —  jd  .  titles  —  captain  and  power  forward  of  the  mens’  kingshill  basketball  team  &&  .  president  of  beta  tau  rho  .  dob  —  august  first  nineteen  ninety  eight  .  astrological  sign  —  leo  .  hometown  —  new  york  city  ,  new  york  .  current  residence  —  kingshill  ,  new  york  .   MAIN  BACKGROUND  :

the  nineties’  basketball  scene  was  dominated  by  the  six  time  nba  champion  chicago  bulls  and  one  of  the  greatest  men  to  ever  play  the  game,  jay  chambers,  led  the  charge.  jordan’s  father  couldn’t  go  anywhere  in  the  country  without  being  flocked  by  fans,  in  awe  of  the  six  nine  legend  in  the  making  .

unfortunately,  this  came  to  a  halting  stop  when  jay  suffered  a  career  ending  neck  injury  that  would  forever  change  his  life  .  coupled  with  an  unwanted  pregnancy  with  darling  socialite  carolina  blair  ,  within  a  year  ,  jay  went  from  basketball  hotshot  to  stiff  businessman  and  father  .  a  shotgun  wedding  meant  financial  stability  in  working  with  the  blairs’  insurance  company,  which  jay  needed  with  no  job  and  years  of  wasting  millions  on  partying  and  luxuries  with  an  expiry  date  .

neither  parent  really  wanted  jordan  and  it  showed  through  the  revolving  cycle  of  nannies  filling  their  roles  .  even  with  hours  on  hand  to  think  about  it  ,  jordan  would  not  be  able  to  share  one  heartfelt  anecdote  from  his  childhood  involving  either  of  them  .

new  york  city  will  always  be  jordan’s  home  ,  his  birth  place  ,  even  through  his  years  of  european  boarding  schools  and  californian  summer  camps  .

basketball  came  naturally  to  jordan  (  no  surprise  )  and  it  was  one  summer  after  returning  from  boarding  school  ,  where  he  had  learned  the  sport  ,  when  he  learned  who  his  father  was  .  he’d  been  bothering  his  father  all  day  to  come  out  of  his  office  to  show  off  his  new  skills  ,  when  he’d  been  barked  at  for  picking  up  a  basketball  at  all  .  

at  first  ,  the  last  thing  jordan  wanted  was  to  upset  anybody  ,  so  he  stayed  away  from  the  sport  at  first  .  however  ,  as  the  years  went  on  ,  his  resentment  towards  his  parents  and  especially  his  father  grew  ,  and  so  ,  continued  playing  basketball  out  of  spite  .  he  was  damn  good  at  it  .

his  mother  paid  for  his  basketball  camps  and  programs  ,  since  she  was  always  so  willing  to  throw  money  at  jordan  to  make  him  go  away  .  he  will  claim  to  this  day  that  he  found  himself  through  the  sport  ,  as  it  taught  him  the  abundant  rewards  of  diligence  and  how  to  be  a  leader.  basketball  made  a  man  out  of  him  ,  something  his  family  never  did  .  

she  left  jordan’s  father  when  he  was  fourteen  and  that  point  ,  he  didn’t  have  any  shits  left  to  give  .  they  barely  had  a  relationship  ,  which  was  honestly  better  than  the  hostility  that  jordan’s  father  showed  him  ,  but  it  wasn’t  enough  for  any  tears  to  be  shed  when  she  declared  she  didn’t  want  custody  .  meanwhile  ,  his  father  accumulated  enough  status  and  wealth  to  branch  off  from  his  ex  wife’s  company  and  form  his  own  .

this  meant  nothing  to  jordan  ,  though  ,  because  as  long  as  he  kept  getting  his  allowance  and  freedom  ,  there  wasn’t  a  change  to  begin  with  .  he  was  used  to  getting  paid  by  his  parents  for  the  little  things  ,  like  a  new  car  when  he  didn’t  bother  his  mother  for  an  entire  month  or  when  his  father  sent  him  on  a  “vacation”  to  the  maldives  with  his  friends  for  christmas  break  .  even  his  new  step  mom  gifted  him  exclusive  sneakers  when  he  put  in  a  good  word  for  her  to  some  tabloid  that  followed  jay  chambers’  new  marriage  .  however  ,  he  drew  the  line  when  his  parents  asked  him  to  attend  kingshill  .  

jordan  dreamed  of  making  it  as  a  professional  basketball  player  .  not  only  that  ,  but  he  was  en  route  to  it  ,  having  scouts  watch  him  since  the  beginning  of  high  school  .  he’d  played  at  the  national  level  and  won  gold  on  endless  occasions  ,  in  addition  to  mvp  trophies  and  other  accolades.  by  senior  year  ,  all  of  the  top  d1  schools  and  agents  came  knocking  on  his  door  .  

despite  his  parents’  divorce  ,  their  two  companies  continued  to  work  closely  together  and  saw  jordan  as  their  sole  heir  .  therefore  ,  they  needed  him  to  be  groomed  by  the  best  school  that  money  could  offer  and  they  saw  kingshill  as  the  perfect  and  only  match  .  

everyone  wonders  why  jordan  has  turned  his  back  on  the  draft  for  three  years  running  .  he  clearly  loves  the  game  of  basketball  and  is  one  of  the  most  hard  working  people  you’d  ever  meet  ,  a  born  star  on  the  court  .  instead  ,  he’s  a  senior  in  his  business  administration  major  and  despite  the  charming  smile  and  affinity  for  partying  ,  is  miserable  .

jordan  chambers  is  a  little  more  than  intimidating  ,  due  to  his  naturally  abrasive  attitude  ,  his  six  seven  stature  and  rumours  that  have  floated  around  his  name  since  freshman  year.  after  all  ,  it’s  safe  to  say  that  he’s  gone  a  little  bit  more  than  wild  since  first  stepping  foot  onto  campus  .  whether  it’s  lashing  out  at  his  parents  or  his  own  development  of  a  coping  mechanism  ,  beta  tau  rho’s  incredible  partying  legacy  has  lived  on  because  of  jordan  .  work  hard  ,  play  hard  ,  and  you’ve  officially  become  a  beta  tau  rho  brother.

PERSONALITY  :  

all  in  all  ,  jordan  is  a  little  bit  too  much  .  his  ego  is  a  little  too  big  ,  cares  more  than  he  should  ,  his  bad  habits  are  a  little  too  intense  ,  and  he  works  harder  than  anyone  else  .  

as  mentioned  before  ,  he  tends  to  be  intimidating  upon  first  impression  and  usually  rubs  people  the  wrong  way  .  he’s  learned  to  become  stoic  and  cold  over  the  years  when  dealing  with  other  people  of  the  same  wealth  ,  afraid  to  be  used  or  manipulated  by  showing  anything  that  could  be  used  against  him  .  

while  jordan  is  a  man  of  few  words,  he  is  quippy  and  sharp  when  he  does  speak  .  his  charm  is  subtle  and  dry  ,  a  blink-and-you’ll-miss  that  part  of  him  type  thing  .  

unsurprisingly  ,  jordan  keeps  a  small  circle  .  he  loves  beta  tau  rho  because  they  all  understand  the  value  of  hard  work  and  constantly  improving  yourself  ,  which  is  why  he  genuinely  cares  deeply  for  his  fraternity  brothers  and  would  probably  do  anything  for  them  ,  even  if  he  doesn’t  seem  like  the  type  .  he  will  always  help  his  friends  ,  no  questions  asked  ,  and  would  do  anything  in  his  power  to  do  so  .  since  he  has  been  mostly  independent  for  as  long  as  he  can  remember  ,  jordan  cherishes  moments  when  he  can  spend  time  with  people  that  he  cares  about  .

though  not  particularly  passionate  about  school  ,  jordan  is  ambitious  .  he  strives  for  greatness  in  everything  he  does  ,  no  matter  how  small  .  he  will  stop  at  nothing  to  achieve  his  goals  ,  sometimes  even  unknowingly  jeopardizing  his  relationships  in  the  process.  

obviously  ,  he  loves  partying  .  jordan  always  cared  about  his  body  and  health  because  of  basketball  ,  but  since  coming  to  kingshill  and  having  his  vision  of  making  it  in  the  nba  tarnished  ,  he’s  loosened  his  old  ‘  no  binge  drinking  ,  no  drugs  rule  ’  up  a  bit  .  he  may  or  may  not  blackout  every  weekend  .  he  may  or  may  not  smoke  a  little  too  much  weed  .  some  things  simply  cannot  be  helped  . 

WANTED  CONNECTIONS  :

i  have  this  page  up  ,  but  i'm  always  down  to  brainstorm  !  especially  since  my  wc  page  is  hella  under  construction  whoops  but  yes  throw  your  ideas  at  me  omg  like  this  post  and  i'll  come  to  u!  

[veryimportantsparkles]

Here’s my other completed Mycena Cave profile.  I only started developing these recently even though I’ve been on the site for years.  So I only have two complete so far.

Meet Chihiro! TL;DR she was about to graduate college with a degree in Zoo Tycoon, but then the apocalypse happened, and now she’s helping rebuild the college using her Zoo Tycoon skills.

Side note: The pre-disaster college is called Relonkokosh, which means ‘Royal Library’ in the Dwarven language from Dwarf Fortress.  The new college my characters are building is called Avalistbar, which means ‘Love(ly) Rose’ in Dwarven.  It took me forever to settle on names and I might still change them!

History Chihiro’s chosen career path would have taken her to a huge zoo that was partnered with the prestigious Relonkokosh University.  Her engineering focus was on animal habitats, and she was excited to start her internship as part of the small carnivore pen expansion project.  But when winter came, the project was halted.  And as winter refused to leave, the wildlife dwindled away.  Chihiro fell alseep at her desk, while penning a heartfelt plea to the local officials.  When the world seemed to be dying, the zoo’s mission of preservation was more important than ever before.  She wasn’t official zoo staff, but surely she had to do her part to keep the zoo’s funding from being cut entirely.  Hungry and cold, she dozed off before the letter was finished.  She awoke in the cave.

Altamira and Chihiro were dorm mates at Relonkokosh.  Chihiro awoke to Altamira’s face a bit too close, a bit too worried.  “It worked!” Altamira gasped, “You’re alive!”  And Chihiro found herself gripped in a sweaty, desperate hug.  Soon enough Altamira gave her the news about their fate, and the world, and the cave.  Altamira had been alone for weeks, wandering through perilous twisting passages with no purpose and no hope, when she had found herself drawn to the familiar essence of Chihiro’s stone.  The carving process was terrifying, but somehow her hands knew what to do.  And now Chihiro was alive once more.

If one friend could be found, maybe others were waiting to be discovered.  Chihiro and Altamira set out to find the other students of their old university and re-establish a place of learning in the cave.  Altamira is the primary builder of Avalistbar Institute, their new home, but Chihiro’s input has been invaluable for creating a real living space.  She drafted the plans for their greenhouse, dining hall, and common areas.  As the head of Avalistbar’ zoology department, she also has begun planning out habitats in which she can study the native wildlife of the cave.

Personality Chihiro is practical and analytical, but also compassionate to a fault.  She feels a strong sense of duty to any living thing that seems to need her, sometimes at the expense of her own well-being.  Around her friends, she is very quiet and often offers to hold things, open doors, and provide food.  Those who are close to her usually turn down her little silent favors, knowing that she won’t consider her own needs if you let her go at it.  However, she is quick to correct when she hears a false statement.  If you argue with her about something she believes to be true, she remains politely firm.

Although she is quiet with other Mycenians, Chihiro is very chatty with animals.  She will talk for hours to some unresponsive, sleeping beast while she gives it an examination and jots down notes on its habitat.  Talking is a strategy to keep her mind busy and stop her from showing fear, when she knows full well that she could be bitten or scratched or trampled.  When a creature becomes truly dangerous, Chihiro is more athletic than she looks, and will escape at an impressive speed.

While the cave offers a multitude of wildlife to research, Chihiro has a lingering anxiety about conditions in the world outside the cave.  The ecosystem may have been greatly changed by the great winter, and perhaps there is nobody out there studying it.  She often spends her nights awake in bed, running scenarios in her head to determine which endangered species might now be extinct, or which abundant species may have become rare after the change in climate.  Occasionally she thinks about escaping the cave, but she’s not confident in her ability to survive in the new outside.  And in any case, she has important duties to attend to in the cave.

Chihiro’s favorite food is pickled plum, and she greatly dislikes the smell of mildew.

Home Avalistbar is a system of highly civilized tunnels carved deeply into the natural cavern walls.  Far from the initial entrance point, the halls open up into one of many smaller pockets of cave life.  This little cave, about ten meters across and roughly as high, flourishes with natural moss and mushrooms and houses a large colony of bats.  Tiny natural tunnels in the cavern ceiling presumably lead out to the surface, letting the bats in and out at ease.  Chihiro has been making small alterations to this miniature ecosystem to keep it sustained and well-manicured, creating a sort of zoo exhibit for the native bats.  Her personal living quarters are carved into the rock wall where the halls of Avalistbar meet the natural cave.

Chihiro shares her suite with Kiki, a hand-raised orphan bat, and Sophie, a pomeranian.  The caverns beyond the bat habitat are still largely unexplored, so Chihiro purchased Sophie from the nearest big town to act as a guard.  If some unknown beast makes its way to Avalistbar, Sophie will hopefully alert the Myceneans to the threat.  Both Sophie and Kiki are free to come and go from Chihiro’s rooms via open windows and dog doors.  The other bats occasionally make their way into the room for treats, but only Kiki chooses to sleep there.

Due to the comings and goings of animals, Chihiro keeps her living quarters plain, with no carpets or decorations that could be stained or chewed.  Pretty possessions are kept safe in a locked box.  Chihiro’s one luxury is the bath, where the animals are not allowed.  So much time is spent out in the wilderness, working with animals, that Chihiro often ends her days covered in dirt, bugs, and spittle.  She has a huge bathtub, and a wide collection of soaps and salts, so that at night she can completely clean herself and relax.

[dreamscapefics]

Imagine Geralt being too scared to pursue a relationship with Ciri since she's his child surprise, but Jaskier going right for her as soon as she's of age. Jas knows Geralt wants her so he makes a point to get a room next to his in every inn and fuck her up against the wall, growling against her neck and calling her his good girl, making her squeal on his cock and Geralt can hear every single noise, every moan and whimper and kiss

Anon! Thank you so much for sending this prompt. I loved it and honestly went crazy with it, so I hope you like it. It’s 7.4k (I know, I have a problem with length, oops?) of jealous pining!Geralt and Ciriskier getting it on. Please enjoy!

Tags: cunnilingus, cocksucking, overstimulation, incest/pseudo-incest, accidental voyeurism, consensual voyeurism, age difference, cum inflation kink, cock-dumb, aggressiveness/possessiveness, daddy kink, under-negotiated poly

~*~

Geralt

Geralt has known since he first laid eyes on his Child Surprise that he wants to make her his. In every sense of the word. But considering that they met under unfortunate and traumatizing circumstances, Geralt had to set his desires aside first because bringing Ciri somewhere safe took precedence.

Nonetheless, he can’t help but admire her ethereal beauty. Emerald eyes hardened by her recent experiences since fleeing Cintra soften every time she looks at Geralt when the witcher comforts her from a nightmare or cuddles her when it’s especially cold at night. Ash-blonde hair, which he had to cut shoulder-length to avoid being recognized, makes her look more mature than her thirteen years of age. Her built is slim, the top of her head barely reaching Geralt’s chest, and yet it doesn’t fail to send heat pooling low in his gut every time Ciri hugs him or huddles closer to him. For warmth or for comfort, it doesn’t matter, since he appreciates it all the same.

The walls that Geralt built around his heart for decades seemed to crumble to dust whenever he lays eyes on Ciri. Something primal, almost possessive, curls in him at the thought of his Child Surprise being so comfortable and pliant around him.

If Geralt hadn’t thought of himself as a monster before, he would do so now at the depraved thoughts and images that constantly permeate his mind about his ward. A part of him feels guilty, sure, but a bigger part of Geralt appreciates the lack of fear and disgust whenever he takes a subtle whiff of Ciri. There’s nothing but the smell of melancholy (which makes sense), safety, and affection. Affection for Geralt, which Ciri freely offers in abundance.

“How far along are we to Kaer Morhen?” Ciri asks him one night.

They’re camped in the middle of the woods, and the young teen is curled around Geralt to fight off the chill despite the roaring fire next to them and the furs Ciri is buried in.

Geralt hums and curls his arm tighter around Ciri’s frame, hand resting almost possessively on the girl’s hip. He doesn’t hide the small smirk that graces his lips when he feels Ciri shudder against a gust of wind and buries her angelic face on the crook of his neck.

“At least another month,” Geralt rumbles, his other hand rubbing soothingly along the thin arm wrapped around his torso. He chuckles and can’t help but kiss the top of his Child Surprise’s head when Ciri groans, his leather pants tightening a fraction when the girl breathes out against his neck. “Sorry, pup. We’re taking the longer route to keep Nilfgaard off our backs.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Ciri whispers. “Thank you for keeping me safe, Geralt.”

Affection blooms in Geralt’s chest, and he tightens his hold around her before pressing another kiss to her head. He seems to be doing that a lot lately. Being openly affectionate.

Hmm.

“Always, pup,” Geralt whispers back, chest rumbling in pleasure when he feels Ciri huddle closer. The weight of her growing tits pressed against his side sends another bolt of possessiveness to run through him.

He wants, so fucking much, but he knows he can’t.

~

They accidentally bump into Jaskier at one of the backwater villages they’re passing through.

After giving a heartfelt but stilted apology to what happened at the mountain almost a year ago, in which the bard milked every word Geralt uttered through gritted teeth like a cat that got the canary for a few seconds longer than necessary before accepting it with an over-the-top bow, Geralt introduces his friend to Ciri.

Ciri, who giggles behind her hand at Jaskier’s theatrical display, smiles and curtsies at the man dressed in bright colors.

“Lovely Ciri,” Jaskier says after he straightens himself. “What an absolute pleasure to meet you at last, my dear.”

“Likewise, Jaskier,” the young teen says. “Geralt has told me so much about you.”

Geralt arches a brow at her. He’s quite certain that he didn’t talk that much about Jaskier. Maybe once or twice. In passing.

Probably.

“Hm, has he now?” Jaskier directs a curious look at Geralt, who grunts in response. The bard grins at that. “Ah, I’ve definitely missed that.” Then he claps his hands. “So where are we off to next?”

“We’re going to Kaer Morhen,” Ciri pipes up before Geralt can answer.

He glances at his Child Surprise, only to feel dread settle in his stomach when he sees a sparkle in her eye as she continues to look up at their latest companion. That familiar sparkle has only ever been directed at Geralt before, and he’s not sure if he likes the way Ciri is staring at his friend.

When Geralt turns away to look at Jaskier, he doesn’t miss the calculating look in the bard’s eye as he meets Geralt’s gaze with an impish smile.

“Well, to the Witcher’s keep, it is!” Jaskier says with a grin, but not before winking at Ciri, who giggles again.

Geralt rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, although deep down a part of him doesn’t look forward to sharing Ciri’s affections with him.

~

Like everything in his life, Geralt learns to deal with it.

Yennefer, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, and Jaskier. Hell, even Triss.

They all become a part of Ciri’s life, and Geralt is so proud of her for having such a huge capacity for love. He’s secretly thankful to have the others’ support. Should anything happen to him, at least Ciri has other people to rely on.

“You’ll always be my number one,” Ciri tells him on her sixteenth birthday.

Geralt gifted her a customized dagger, emerald and topaz stones decorating the hilt. Upon seeing it, Ciri thanked him profusely with a kiss on his cheek and a tight hug, which Geralt returned just as tightly, lifting her petite form from the ground.

“Love you, pup,” Geralt whispers in her ear.

He feels Ciri shiver, her arms tightening around his neck. His slow heartbeat stutters when he feels moist lips press on the curve of his jaw, Ciri’s breath warm in his ear as she lovingly utters--

“I love you, too.”

Fuck.

~

The years pass by, and Geralt’s affections for Ciri deepen the older his Child Surprise gets. He, Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir train her to be a Witcher minus the mutations, while Yennefer and Triss teach and train her to control her Chaos. In-between that, Jaskier educates Ciri in literature and history, geography and maths, and even poetry and politics.

She grows from a sweet-faced, cautious girl to a beautiful, powerful, and courageous woman. Ciri also developed a mischievous streak, thanks to Lambert, but it only made Geralt’s heart soften further every time he sees his ward’s beatific smile or hears her peals of laughter.

He knows he’ll always want her, always lust and crave for Ciri the way a man who’s responsible for raising his daughter isn’t supposed to. But Geralt has long accepted that it can never be, so if all he can ever have of Ciri is this, then it should be enough.

But it can’t be helped the way his heart cracks every time he sees Ciri, now eighteen and ready to walk the Path, flirt back with Jaskier.

He witnesses Jaskier flirt, shameless in his affections as he bestows a kiss on Ciri’s knuckles. On Ciri’s cheek, her forehead. And one time, the curve of her jaw from when she hugged the bard in greeting after not seeing one another for nearly a year.

This is enough, he thinks, even as he stands to the side and witnesses the two people he loves most fall for each other.

It has to be, he thinks again, even if it’s the furthest thing from what he desires.

~

Jaskier

Jaskier has always known Geralt has feelings for Ciri. Well, not always, perhaps. But he’s suspected. Ever since that first time Geralt introduced them to each other, Jaskier saw that glint in Geralt’s expression when the witcher thought he wasn’t looking. In the years they’ve been friends, Jaskier has studied and memorized every grunt and expression, and the face Geralt made that time when he was looking at Ciri was one of longing and desire.

And Jaskier, well. He’s also not blind to Ciri’s less-than-innocent affections, bestowed upon both him and Geralt.

Oh, yes. As much as Geralt claims to understand humans, he sure doesn’t see just how much Ciri wants him back. Granted, the child is more subtle about it, and it’s only thanks to Jaskier’s very good observational skills that he managed to detect it at all. It only worsened (improved? Eh, technicalities) over the years, as they trained her to be a Witcher and sorceress. The hopeless romantic in Jaskier yearns for these two to get their heads out of their asses, but to no avail.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Jaskier’s flirting pays off. Though Jaskier has known earlier that she’s always had a bit of a crush on him, when Ciri started flirting back with him it still took Jaskier by surprise, if only briefly.

Can’t blame her, really, he is quite a catch, after all.

Besides, there’s nothing wrong with it anyway, given the fact that Ciri is eighteen and a grown woman. And Melitele, how she’s grown. As much as he wants Geralt to have the happiness he so deserves, a part of Jaskier - the selfish part, that is - can’t help but cave in to his own desires.

Ciri has grown so beautifully, her ash-blonde hair framing her high cheekbones and striking emerald eyes. She’s grown in height as well, but Jaskier is still taller, the top of the young woman’s head reaching his chin, which is perfect because he only has to dip his head a fraction to kiss Ciri’s forehead. As for her body - gods, she’s curvy in all the right places, her breasts big and ripe and so tantalizing to look at, the globes of her ass plump and firm.

Surprisingly, nobody was against the blossoming romance between him and Ciri, and Jaskier thanks his lucky stars for that. He surmises that he’s probably the lesser evil, that it’s better that Ciri ends up with him - a humble bard and a trusted friend and companion of the White Wolf - than with some random person who may or may not have ulterior motives for bedding the princess. Some part of Jaskier thinks that he should feel guilty for pursuing his best friend’s daughter, but Geralt has remained tight-lipped about it, save for that time he nodded at Jaskier when Jaskier was whispering sweet nothings in Ciri’s ear after dinner.

While a part of him feels guilty, another part feels sorry. Sorry that Geralt is unable to make a move, to stake his claim or whatever. No, Ciri is not some animal or a property to be claimed - she’s a person meant to be loved and cherished and treated well. And Jaskier does. While a part of Jaskier feels sorry for Geralt, he also can’t help but be smug about it. He’s not going to shove it in his friend’s face, no, Jaskier is not that cruel. But he can’t help but feel pride at the fact that Ciri chose him.

And not only just choose Jaskier, but also lose her virginity to him.

~

“Jask,” Ciri moans, head thrown back in pleasure against the pillows and thick furs beneath her. “Fuck, just like that- fuck!”

Jaskier moans from where his mouth is sucking on her clit, hands grasping the backs of her thighs as he forces them further apart. They’re in Ciri’s room in Kaer Morhen, halfway through the last winter before his love sets out on the Path come spring.

He settles one leg over his shoulder before bringing his hand to Ciri’s pink folds, already slick with her juices after having come twice on Jaskier’s mouth, tongue, and fingers. Jaskier loves her like this, laid out naked on the bed, skin sweaty and flushed with arousal as he inserts two fingers inside her.

“Ah!” Ciri cries out, one hand moving to grab Jaskier’s head while the other remains by her side, tightly gripping the sheets. “Fuck, Jaskier, just fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you, my love,” Jaskier answers impishly, licking a stripe between her folds before swirling his tongue around her swollen clit.

Ciri makes a noise between a growl and a whine.

“D-don’t be an ass,” she gasps out when Jaskier’s fingers start to piston in and out of her, his tongue unrelenting on her clit. “I want your cock in me, Jask!”

Jaskier hums. “Just one more, Ciri. One more for me, my good girl.”

Ciri sobs as Jaskier inserts a third finger inside her, lips closing around the little nub as he starts to suckle on it greedily. They’ve been having sex for weeks now and Jaskier easily got used to the fact no matter how quiet they try to be in their lovemaking, the other Wolf Witchers will still hear them. So, really, there’s no need for them to hold back.

Which is why Jaskier loves it when he goes down on Ciri, the young woman so sensitive and receptive to his touches that she turns to putty every time Jaskier eats her out. He knows she loves it, loves how overstimulated she can get by Jaskire’s mouth and fingers before he eventually slides home into her. Her moans and whimpers, cries and demands for more and please and harder, Jaskier, never fails to send a thrill of pleasure and desire up his spine.

Jaskier lets go of her thigh as he lets his hand travel up his lover’s hips, abs, and then to her breasts. He pinches and rolls Ciri’s pebbled nipples, and she shouts and rolls her hips against Jaskier’s mouth and fingers, eagerly chasing after her third orgasm. It’s after a simultaneous pinch of her nipple and a suckle of her clit that Jaskier feels Ciri’s body shudder, inner walls clenching tight as she comes with a loud, broken moan of Jaskier’s name.

Pulling out his slick fingers, Jaskier sucks the digits into his mouth while he climbs up and on top of Ciri. Grinning blissfully, Ciri meets Jaskier’s lips with a pleased hum, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. She pulls her long, muscular legs up to wrap around Jaskier, her feet resting on the small of his back as Jaskier guides his cock to Ciri’s wet cunt. They moan in unison, mouths still gliding against one another, when Jaskier finally enters her.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Ciri moans breathily. She wraps her arms around Jaskier’s broad shoulders, fingers curling on the back of his head in a light grasp. Jaskier moans as she bites his lower lip, and he snaps his hips roughly into her in response. “Jask. Fuck, baby, just like that.”

Jaskier shudders. He fucking loves it when Ciri uses that endearment on him, and he knows Ciri is aware of it, too. His arms move to wrap around Ciri’s body, their sweaty chests flushed together now. He adjusts his position, legs spreading a bit wider and planting his feet on the flush bed before deepening his thrusts, the wet squelch of skin slapping on skin drowned out by Jaskier’s grunts and groans and Ciri’s wanton moans.

They’re no longer kissing but their mouths are pressed together, open and panting. Jaskier angles his hips and thrusts in roughly, making Ciri gasp and grasp his hair tighter. Jaskier groans then traces the seam of Ciri’s lip with his tongue before diving into the hot, wet cavern of his lover, who reciprocates by tilting her head for a better angle. The kiss is hot and messy and filthy, and Jaskier’s chest blooms with love for the woman underneath him.

“I love you,” Jaskier murmurs against her mouth. He smiles back when he feels Ciri smile.

“I love you too,” she murmurs back.

“Are you okay, darling?” he whispers next as he starts to kiss a trail from Ciri’s mouth to her cheek and jaw. “What else do you need?”

Ciri cranes her head to give Jaskier more access to lavish kisses and bruises down the side of her neck, legs adjusting to wrap tighter around him.

“S’perfect,” she whispers back, sounding wrecked and fucked out, which was Jaskier’s plan for tonight. “You’re perfect, Jask. B-but please - ah! - please, baby, fuck me harder. I want to feel you when I train tomorrow.”

Fuck. “As you wish, darling.”

And Jaskier delivers, plowing hard and rough into Ciri until it’s probably bordering on painful for his beloved, but Ciri’s moans become higher pitched until she’s screaming her pleasure from the intense fucking Jaskier is giving her. He hisses when he feels blunt nails scrape down his back to grasp his asscheeks. But the brief pain only spurned Jaskier to look down at Ciri’s lust-filled eyes, sweat trailing down his forehead and lashes as his hips begin to falter when he felt his balls draw tighter, his orgasm drawing closer.

He unwraps one arm around Ciri, only to bring it to his lover’s engorged clit. It only takes a few strokes before Ciri comes, her walls clenching around his cock that it makes Jaskier see stars when he comes half a dozen thrusts later. And he comes so hard inside her he nearly passes out, but fortunately he was able to fall beside her rather than on top, their chests heaving as they come down from one of the most intense climaxes they shared.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasps out. Ciri snorts in laughter beside her, and he can’t help but chuckle in return. “What are the chances they’re on the other side of the keep?”

“Zero.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeats, but it’s more amused than worried.

Ciri snorts again before turning to curl herself around Jaskier. Despite the sweat and come sticking to their heated skins, Jaskier doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her, fingers trailing soothingly from waist to hip as they bask in the afterglow.

“I can’t wait ‘till we’re on the Path together,” Ciri murmurs from the crook on Jaskier’s neck. “Hunting monsters, earning coin, and getting fucked silly by my lover.”

Jaskier is too old to blush, but here he is, flushing pink at being referred to as Ciri’s lover. Because he is. He’s Ciri’s. And Ciri is his.

“I can’t wait for that, too,” Jaskier murmurs back, pressing his lips to her sweaty forehead. “Oh, the songs I will write and sing of you, my love.”

Ciri giggles, and Jaskier’s heart skips a beat at the familiar sound he’s grown to cherish so much.

“Me, too.” Then she adds thoughtfully, “Hope dad doesn’t complain much, though.”

Jaskier’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, didn’t dad tell you? He’s traveling with us for a few months. Didn’t want him to at first because I’m a grown woman, but he said he just wants to ease me into the Path now that I’m officially a Witcher-slash-Sorceress.”

Huh. Now that’s interesting, Jaskier thinks. Geralt never mentioned anything about traveling with them come spring, but then again it sort of makes sense. Firstly, Geralt is nothing but an overprotective dad, which Jaskier doesn’t blame him for in the least bit. And secondly, Jaskier isn’t an idiot. He’s seen the looks Geralt keeps giving him since he and Ciri consummated their relationship. The longing and want is a sight to behold on the witcher’s face, but jealousy is not a suitable look on him.

Jaskier isn’t sure what Ciri’s feelings are for Geralt, now that they’re romantically involved. Maybe it was just a passing crush, maybe it’s more. But knowing that Geralt’s affections for his beloved has not waned in the slightest over the years, Jaskier supposes that it won’t hurt if he carries out a few tests of his own. Just to see if the attraction still goes both ways.

And he knows the perfect thing to do.

~

Geralt

Spring finally arrives, and Geralt sets out on the Path once more. But this time, he leaves with Ciri and Jaskier, the former beside herself with excitement at the prospect of finally leaving the Witcher’s keep to find her place in the Continent.

Once they reach the bottom of the Blue Mountains, they set on the path and continue traveling for several days, camping in the forest and bathing in rivers, until they reach a village. After stabling their horses and paying the stableboy to tend to them, they first go to the inn to rent a room for the night.

“Make that two rooms, please,” Jaskier interjects at once after Geralt grunts at the innkeeper for a room with two beds. Geralt and Ciri exchange a look before Geralt turns suspicious eyes on the bard. “Single beds would do. And two baths as well, lovely madame.”

Ciri purses her lips to hide a smile but Geralt’s frown deepens at the wink Jaskier throws at his… at Ciri. He’s spent most of winter listening to them go at it like rabid animals, and Geralt is not in the fucking mood for whatever the bard is planning. It’s one thing to hear Ciri’s moans and whimpers in the safety of Kaer Morhen’s walls, and it’s another out here on the Path. Where other people can hear. And that’s something Geralt isn’t sure he’s comfortable with.

“Two rooms are too expensive,” Geralt grumbles to Jaskier as they take the stairs to the second floor. “And unnecessary.”

Jaskier waves him off with a smile and a pat on his shoulder.

“Come now, Geralt,” he says. “Ciri’s a grown woman. Surely you want to give her some privacy when she’s bathing.”

Jaskier gives him an arched look while Ciri blushes prettily beside him.

The image of Ciri - wet and naked and bathing herself, touching herself - is brought to the forefront of Geralt’s mind, and it takes a moment longer for him to think of an appropriate reply.

“Don’t be crass,” he grunts with a scowl, swallowing inaudibly past the dryness in his throat. “I’m just being practical.”

“It’s fine, dad,” Ciri soothes him with a hand on his arm. Geralt turns and his heart melts at his daughter’s soft smile. Then it broadens until she’s grinning cheekily at him. “But Jask is right. I’m a grown woman now.”

Geralt rolls his eyes but nods his head in understanding.

“Great! Let’s meet at the tavern for dinner, then? Our baths will be arriving soon.”

And just his luck, Geralt’s room is right next to theirs. Geralt just grunts in agreement before unlocking his door and stepping inside. He can hear their muffled voices next door, interspersed with giggling and wet smacks that can only be them kissing. Geralt tries his best to tamp down the jealousy that’s been simmering lately, taking deep breaths instead to keep his emotions under control.

He’s happy for Ciri, of course he is. And he’s happy for Jaskier, too. His daughter and best friend finding love in each other was shocking at first, yes, but Geralt has grown to accept it. But it doesn’t mean he’s not immune to fits of jealousy every now and then. Hearing Ciri’s sounds of pleasure has brought Geralt to completion a handful of times, yet it’s a torture of its own kind because he knows why Ciri is making such beautiful, shameless noises. The fact that it’s Jaskier who is giving her such pleasure somehow makes Geralt ache for her more, makes him crave to get a touch, a taste, of his little girl.

A thud breaks Geralt out of his musings, and he looks up in confusion from arranging his packs in the corner. Realizing it’s coming from next door, Geralt is about to yank his door open when he hears another thud, followed by moaning.

Geralt blinks and then exhales through his nose. Fuck.

“Jask, please,” he hears Ciri moan. Geralt’s leather pants become tighter at the sound of her breathy gasps. “Please, please, I want your cock.”

Fuck, Geralt repeats as he gulps and staggers to the end of the bed where he lands on gracelessly.

“Begging so prettily, my love,” he hears Jaskier praise, then it’s followed by the sound of sucking and slurping and-- shit, Geralt thinks. The bard’s mouth is likely buried on Ciri’s cunt. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Ciri lets out a whimper that makes Geralt’s cock throb, the huge bulge on his leather pants bordering on painful, but Geralt grits his teeth.

“Yes yes, please, I’ll be your good girl.”

“Fuck,” Geralt whispers under his breath. He closes his eyes, imagines Ciri saying those words but to him instead. “Fuck.”

What follows is what Geralt can only describe as a quick and dirty fuck. He listens, enraptured, as Jaskier gets off Ciri twice, his daughter obviously holding back on her moans and whimpers. Geralt wets his dry lips when he hears the rustle of clothes being shed and thrown carelessly, the sounds of flesh pressing against flesh as two bodies land gracelessly on the straw mattress bed. Geralt grits his teeth when he hears Ciri beg for Jaskier’s cock, her voice breathy and dripping with lust and love and desire. And Jaskier eagerly replies back, just as breathily, that Ciri’s being such a good girl, his good girl, as he tells her to turn around and go on her hands and knees.

At this point, Geralt finally gives in and unlaces his pants. He only shoves it down past his thighs before he grasps his throbbing cock with a hiss. Precome dribbles down from the tip and Geralt smears it around his thick length, spitting on his hand to add more slick. He lets out a gasp when he focuses back on the two people fucking next door, the sounds of Jaskier rutting into Ciri mixed with their moans of pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he hears Jaskier growl.

“Yes!” Ciri moans, and Geralt can tell she’s moving her hips back to meet Jaskier’s thrusts. “You always fuck me so well.”

“Of course I do, darling. You’re such a good girl. You’re my good girl.”

“Yours,” Ciri affirms with a broken sob. “Always yours.”

Geralt tightens his grasp around his length, one hand stripping his cock while the other fondles his heavy sac. He’s only a room away, but it’s like he can hear Ciri’s voice in his ear, the squelch of her dripping cunt being plowed roughly by another man’s cock audible from where he’s perched. His nostrils flare, and Geralt swears he can smell her sweet and musky scent from here as well, and it’s that thought that sends him over the edge.

Geralt comes hard, thick ropes of hot cum painting his chest and throat. He opens his eyes in shock when he hears Ciri make a high keening sound, and he’s heard it dozens of times before that he knows she reached her climax as well. A minute later and Jaskier follows, hips stilling as he cums inside Ciri with a drawn out groan.

Everything is silent aside from their heavy breathing. Geralt’s heart is beating like a normal human’s against his ribs, and he blinks several times at the realization that he just masturbated to Ciri and Jaskier having sex. Next door.

Fuck, Geralt thinks.

“That was incredible,” he hears Ciri comment with a breathy giggle. Geralt’s heart twinges at the sound.

Jaskier returns it with a throaty chuckle of his own. Then it’s followed by a smacking of lips and tongue.

“Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart,” Jaskier replies, and even Geralt can hear the smugness in his tone. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

Ciri giggles again. “So that’s why you got a second room, hm?” There’s no reply, but Ciri’s laughter is bright as she says, “Brilliant idea there, love. But next time, maybe don’t get a room next to dad’s?”

Geralt stiffens, and he hears Jaskier hum before the bard replies, “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that, hm?”

What?

“You’re awful!” Ciri laughs while a light smack to Jaskier.

“I’m really not,” Jaskier disagrees smoothly, and Geralt is confused. “Now come on, darling, our bath’s arriving soon.”

As they get up to dress once more, Geralt remains seated on the bed, pants unlaced and soft, wet cock hanging out. And all he feels is confusion and longing.

~

It happens again at the next village they pass through.

Geralt has been soaking in the steaming bathtub for the better part of an hour and a half when he hears Jaskier and Ciri stumble into their room next door. He hears them clumsily shed their clothes in-between heated kisses and muttered praises, Ciri’s whimpers turning to moans at the telltale sound of Jaskier sucking bruises on her collarbones where it can be hidden by her shirt. Geralt’s cock swells until it’s stiff under the water, and he bites his lower lip to fight off the groan that rumbles in his throat when he guiltily takes himself in hand.

He can hear their heartbeats pick up, which is quickly followed by a loud thud of someone’s back hitting the wall. Geralt nearly jumps when he the sound reverberates on the wall next to him, and he realizes how small the distance is from his position in the tub to where Jaskier and Ciri are.

What follows next nearly short circuits Geralt’s brain. There’s the thud of someone going on their knees, then he hears Jaskier swear before he chokes off into a moan. Ciri’s moan joins his before it’s interrupted by the sound of suckling.

“F-fuck, Ciri,” Jaskier gasps.

Ciri hums, then she takes a deep breath, her voice muffled around a mouthful of -- of cock. Fuck, she’s on her knees and deepthroating Jaskier, whose head is thumping against the wall. The wall that’s the only godsdamn thing that serves as a barrier between Geralt and the coupling that’s happening next door. He continues stroking his cock - long, languid strokes as he closes his eyes and listens to Jaskier’s filthy praises of Ciri’s cocksucking skills, how she’s a good girl taking his cock so well and how Jaskier is going to reward her for being the best lover he’s ever had.

Geralt’s chest rumbles, jealousy and desire and longing warring within him as he listens to Jaskier talk while Ciri hums and mutters, “you taste so good, baby” before diving back in to swallow the precome with a slurp before taking Jaskier’s cock to the hilt. This goes on for several minutes until Geralt can smell how close Jaskier is, and then the bard forces Ciri off his cock. Ciri’s moan of protest is immediately cut off when Geralt discerns the shuffling sound as Jaskier pulling his daughter up from the floor, only to turn her around as Ciri’s back hits the wall.

“Jask-- oh.”

Geralt’s breath hitches when he hears Jaskier’s huff of breath, accompanied by him lifting Ciri off the ground.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, and he grips his cock at the base when he perceives Ciri’s legs wrap around Jaskier’s waist.

“Going to take you like this, love,” he catches Jaskier mutter, his voice muffled from where it’s likely pressed against Ciri’s long, pale neck. “Going to you make you mine like this.”

There’s a faint sound followed by Ciri whining.

“Jask, please, baby, please,” she pleads, and fuck if that doesn’t make Geralt’s cock pulse with want. His baby girl sounds fucking stunning like this.

Jaskier tuts and then murmurs, “No, darling. I want you to come on my cock. Just my cock. Be a good girl for me, please?”

Ciri lets out a sob but Geralt thinks she nods her head.

“Okay.”

“Lovely. So beautiful, Cirilla. So good for me. My love, my princess.”

Jaskier continues to whisper pretty names and erotic praises, and Geralt makes out the sound of his cock entering Ciri’s wet, tight cunt. The bard groans while Ciri lets out the filthiest moan Geralt has heard so far. It’s a high keening sound that breaks into a drawn out “fuck”.

Geralt holds his breath and his patience is rewarded as Jaskier proceeds to plow into Ciri. The thuds against the wall become a steady, crude beat as Ciri tightens her hold around Jaskier, whom Geralt guesses is clutching her plump cheeks while relentlessly driving his cock in and out her. Geralt finds himself matching Jaskier’s thrusts to his strokes, distantly impressed by the bard’s stamina.

“So fucking good, darling,” Jaskier says in-between grunts. “You love having me inside you, don’t you? Can’t get enough of my cock keeping you warm and full.”

“Yesyesyesyes fuck.” Ciri chokes off a moan when Jaskier’s next thrust comes rougher. “Just like that. Jask - ah! - fuck, I love your cock. Love how f-full I feel. L-love it especially w-when you - ah, ah - cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groans. Somehow, Geralt thinks he changes the angle because Ciri squeals and whimpers, the squelch of skin slapping on skin lewd and obscene to Geralt’s ears. “Ciri. Darling, sweetheart. Oh, my good girl. So good for me. I’m close. So fucking--”

“Yes yes yes,” Ciri moans wantonly. “Fucking cum in me, daddy!”

Holy shit.

Geralt does. He bites his knuckles hard to stop himself from moaning. He distantly hears Jaskier groan out loud, the bard going still as he spills his seed inside Ciri, who in turn comes with a cry.

“Daddy, huh?”

Geralt’s fucked out brain registers Jaskier’s voice, a teasing lilt in his tone. Ciri’s answer comes a beat later, embarrassment clear in her voice.

“Yeah, well,” she clears her throat before she tries again. “You keep calling me your good girl, so. Calling you ‘daddy’ sounds fair.”

There’s silence for a while. Geralt’s heart rate returns to normal when he hears Jaskier hum thoughtfully along with a light smack of lips.

“I prefer it when you call me ‘baby’, though. Are you sure it’s me you want to be calling that, hm?”

And Geralt’s heart picks up again.

“Jask…”

“Yes, love?”

“Come on. You know I…” she trails off again. Geralt takes a whiff, and his brows furrow when he detects the scent of embarrassment, lust, and… and guilt.

Guilt?

Before he can ponder further, Jaskier’s soothing voice filters through again.

“I know,” he says reassuringly. “And you know I’m fine with it. In fact, I encourage it.”

There’s doubt in Ciri’s voice when she replies, “I know, but what if… I don’t think--”

“There’s no harm in trying, right?” Jaskier interjects gently. “Besides, you know I’m perfectly okay with it.”

“Okay, but not right now. Soon.”

“Okay. Soon, then.”

“I love you, you know that, right?” Ciri says when they break apart for air. Geralt blinks, and his heart twinges at the clear affection in her voice.

He hears Jaskier kiss her deeply before pulling away again to say, “Yes I do, and I love you too. Nothing is going to change that, my love.”

They start kissing again, and this time it’s accompanied by the shuffling of their feet as they make their way towards the bed. As Geralt listens - eavesdrops - on such an intimate moment, he wonders to himself what Jaskier is encouraging his daughter in.

~

“Hope you enjoyed last night.”

Geralt stiffens in shock from where he’s saddling Roach, and he slowly turns his head in time to see Jaskier’s knowing smirk. He couldn’t breathe for a second, fear gripping his heart as he meets his friend’s steady gaze. Jaskier’s smirk softens into a look of understanding, then he pats Geralt’s shoulder.

“It’s quite alright, my friend,” he murmurs as he walks past Geralt. Fortunately, Ciri can’t see Geralt’s stoic face, or hear what Jaskier says next. “Our girl loves to put on a show for you.”

Then he walks away humming a familiar tune, and Geralt is left standing beside Roach, mouth agape in shock as his brain processes Jaskier’s words.

~

So that’s what they do. Every time they stop by a village and rent a room for the night, Geralt is treated to a “show”.

Ciri bouncing on Jaskier’s cock as Jaskier fondles her breasts and narrates to her all the filthiest things he wants to do to her when they return to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

Jaskier going down on Ciri and getting her off three times with his hands and mouth before flipping her over and plowing into her from behind until Ciri is sobbing and begging for Jaskier to ruin her, to fuck her so hard she won’t be able to ride her horse for the next week.

Ciri choking on Jaskier’s cock as Jaskier grasps her hair and fucks her throat before pulling out to paint her face and chest with his cum, Ciri moaning and suckling on the tip of Jaskier’s cock to milk him dry.

There’s that time they were slightly tipsy and Geralt fisted his cock to the sounds of Jaskier bending Ciri over the desk, lifting one of her legs to rest on top of it, and then taking her from behind. Ciri’s whimpers and pleas for more, harder, please, baby, was so lascivious that Geralt came twice before either of the two reached their own climax.

Geralt also notices that they have a thing for fucking against the wall. Ciri especially loves it when Jaskier lifts her up, the only thing supporting her the wall she’s pressed against and Jaskier’s strong arms. Jaskier drives his cock into her at a punishing pace every time, and that never fails to make Ciri squeal and cry out like a whore, and then come with that high keening moan that breaks halfway and makes Geralt’s cock throb that he comes so fucking hard.

And then there’s last night, when Geralt is in bed and stroking himself for what’s probably the hundredth time as he listens to Jaskier pound Ciri through the mattress, their moans salacious and loud to his enhanced hearing. The heavy thumping of the headboard hitting the wall can also be heard, and Geralt half wonders, not for the first time, just where Jaskier gets his stamina because not once has the bard failed to keep up with Ciri.

“Gods, just like that.”

“I love it when your cunt quivers around me, darling.”

“Harder, ah, harder, fuck!”

“I’m gonna cum again, love. Do you want it?”

A broken sob. “Yes, Jask, yes. Please. Want it so much. Want to be full of your cum.”

Jaskier only lasts for another minute until Geralt picks up his change in breathing before Jaskier stills and lets out a deep, satisfied groan. The image of his friend, face slack in pleasure as he spills his seed inside Geralt’s ward sends him to the edge, back arching and hips bucking as he strokes once, twice, thrice before angling his cock and painting his chest and abs with thick ropes of cum.

Fuck.

Geralt lets out a slow exhale, his body limp on the lumpy mattress as he regains his breath after listening to the coupling next door for nearly an hour. He doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. They’ve been doing this for three months, and Geralt should’ve parted ways with them a month and a half ago, but something compelled him to stay and continue… whatever this is.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding? He knows the reason why he hasn’t left yet. He knows who, and though Geralt is still confused at what exactly they’re up to, he remembers Jaskier’s words to him.

“Our girl loves to put on a show for you.”

And Geralt has every intention to see it through the end.

~

The end, Geralt finds out a few weeks later, is far from what he expected. Given the fact that he’s been actively listening in and masturbating to his best friend and daughter’s coupling for the past several months, Geralt was expecting something explosive or… hell, even dramatic.

But that wasn’t the case.

Nonetheless, the sight still left Geralt breathless.

He’s just returned to the inn from being at the market, having spent a few hours haggling with the blacksmith for repairs on his armor, restocking his potion supplies, and looking for a new bridle for Roach. Geralt climbs up the stairs, and he’s almost at the end of the hall where their rooms are when he hears an odd noise coming from his room. Senses on high alert, Geralt unsheathes a dagger from his side and quickly pushes the door open, only to be greeted with an unlikely sight.

It’s Jaskier. And Ciri. Naked.

On Geralt’s bed.

Geralt distantly feels his hand let go of the dagger, his weapon clattering to the floor as his mouth hangs open in shock, amber eyes wide at the salacious view before him. Jaskier is leaning against the headboard, chestnut locks slightly damp and curling on the edges as he stares at Geralt with a pleased, knowing smirk as he trails his hands up and down Ciri’s curves.

Ciri. She’s leaning against Jaskier, her back pressed to the bard’s broad and hairy chest, and it’s this particular view that has Geralt clenching his jaw and gulping inaudibly.

Ciri, whose ash-blonde locks are put up in a messy bun, her neck and chest glistening with perspiration. Her legs, lean and long that go on for miles, are tangled with Jaskier on the sheets below, but at the sight of Geralt she shamelessly bends her knees and spreads them. Eyes wandering from her perky breasts to her abs, and then the curve of her hips, Geralt’s nostrils flare when he gets a whiff of her sweet, musky scent - a fragrance Geralt has become intimately familiar with in recent months. His mouth salivates when his eyes finally land on Ciri’s cunt. Her pubic hair is trimmed, exposing the pink folds moist with her juices and arousal, the little nub looking swollen and so fucking inviting.

Geralt’s leather pants are tighter now, his cock swelling at the sinful beauty in front of him.

“Ciri,” Geralt rasps out, eyes feasting on the image of one of Ciri’s hands going down to her cunt, fingers trailing between her southern lips as she starts to play with herself. “What…”

“We thought you might want to be an active participant for the encore,” Ciri purrs, emerald eyes hooded with lust as she bites her lower lip to fight off a moan when she flicks her thumb against her clit.

Geralt’s breath hitches and he looks from her to Jaskier, who’s still smirking at Geralt.

“You heard our girl, Geralt,” Jaskier agrees with a cock of his head. “Well? Are you going to shut the door or not? We’d really prefer not to have an audience for this.”

Geralt moves to close and lock the door behind him, but not once did he look away.

“Are you…” Crazy? Joking? Serious? Sure?

It’s Ciri who answers this time.

“Yes,” she says with a sigh as she buries her middle finger inside her stretched hole, emerald eyes dark with want as she meets Geralt’s hungry gaze. He growls low in his throat when Jaskier moves his hands to fondle Ciri’s breasts, fingers pinching and rolling her pink nipples as Ciri moans and starts to roll her hips against the two fingers now buried inside her. “Please, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts, and it’s like his body is moving of its own volition as he quickly divests himself of his boots and clothes in record time. Naked, he kneels at the foot of the bed, right between Ciri’s spread legs. He inhales their arousal - his, Ciri’s, and Jaskier’s - and something unfurls in Geralt. “What do you want, little girl?”

Ciri shudders, but her voice is strong when she says, “I want you to fuck me, daddy, and I want you to cum in me.”

“Such a good girl,” Jaskier praises, mouth sucking bruises on the side of her neck as he lightly squeezes her tits. “Telling daddy exactly what she wants.” Then he looks up and meets Geralt’s gaze, and Geralt feels something like understanding pass between them. Jaskier’s smile is lazy but seductive when he tells him, “Go on, then, love. Feast on our girl. She’s all yours.”

“Yours,” Ciri agrees with a moan.

Well, who is Geralt to say no or deny their desires, right?

So he leans forward and finally, he feasts. Once he’s sated, he goes for seconds. And thirds, and fourths.

And so on.

~*~

A/N: I didn’t know how to insert it in the fic, but Ciri drinks some birth control potion to prevent her from getting pregnant ‘cos she’s a cockslut and really loves it when Jask, and now Geralt, cums in her. ;) Also, I know I ended it in a cliffhanger, but I intended it like that. Thank you for reading!

[animepopheart]

Review: Weathering with You

Hodaka and Hina lead complicated lives. He’s run away from his rural home to Tokyo, where he starts a job researching paranormal events for Keisuke, an irresponsible freelancer. She’s desperate to make money to support her and her younger brother, who live by themselves. But the pair are brought together by an extraordinary phenomenon, a rain imbued with magical, ancient elements over which Hina seems to have sway, a possession for the two in a world where they have little else and no control—though the question arises, are the powers at work here even more oppressive than the human ones that have shaped their traumatic lives?

Makoto Shinkai’s follow up to his smash hit, Your Name, has made its way to U.S. theaters, and fans of its predecessor will enjoy this one as well. The prime hallmarks of the director’s films—unrelenting love set against epic obstacles and his unmatched skills as an animator—are as present as ever (as is a bit of self-referential fanservice that, if you’re anything like the audience I watched with, will make you gasp). Shinkai is perhaps best in the west known for his animation of food, clouds, and rain, and a film about a weather maiden who can bring sunshine and clear the skies is a perfect the showcase for the latter two (though he still finds opportunities to animate the first as well). The film demonstrates that he remains the master of animation, and also that he’s constantly innovating: While aerial shots downward are nothing new for Shinkai (think Garden of Words), he moves the “camera” even higher in Weathering with You, at the top of the Tokyo skyline and then even higher into the clouds over which Hina has authority. The most wondrous parts of the film are those spent in the sky.

But how does Weathering with You do down below, focusing on its characters in the streets of Tokyo? If there’s one criticism I’ve had with Shinkai’s films over the years, it’s his inability to craft dramas that carry authenticity into their final acts. There’s something artificially cold and mechanical about many of his films, points as which the screenplays seems to move in a direction willed by a director who wants to emphasize a theme, but can’t carry them there naturally. And many of the themes to which he’s married are again present here: the clash between new and old, the powerful force that is distance, and the barrier of time. For his earlier movies, these themes naturally created a sense of pessimism, once which he’s trended away from with his more recent films, which in itself presents a challenge. Starting with Your Name, his style has drastically evolved, and Weathering with You proves it by featuring the same new qualities in abundance: musical montages (often set to RADWIMPS’ music, which once again delivers), a balance between scenes that are mystical and serious and those that are humorous and childish, and a sense of optimism. The challenge is, how can he combine his favorite themes with this new, consumer friendly style, creating something that feels right on both a heart and head level?

He attacks this problem with the heart of the story—his characters. While Taki and Mitsuha were dealing with their own issues (and the latter’s conflict between familial expectations and her teenage desires was a significant part of Your Name), it’s on a whole new level with Hodaka and Hina. They are runaways. They’re dealing with family death and probably abandonment. And they break the law multiple times, including in violent ways. This is not Bonnie and Clyde because our characters still display an innocence we expect out of anime drawn in such a style, but their innocence isn’t complete—the pains of life have left marks on them, and the choices they make and the feelings they feel are quite in line with the improbable events and quizzical decisions of the story. With a connection to Japanese myth and a crossing into the genre of disaster film, the meaning of the movie’s name carries an epic slant, but it’s mostly posited in something simpler—the relationship between a boy and girl that are hurting dearly and need each other to navigate life, even if doing so from a teenage perspective, with suspect adult role models around them, creates more problems than solutions.

Shinkai, though, mostly succeeds. The movie isn’t as emotionally powerful as Your Name due to a screenplay that plays too loose (and lazy) to earn its huge moments, but it’s still heartfelt. At the end of the day, I still believed. I believed in the world Shinkai created, and I believed in the ending he carved out, something I couldn’t say about some of his earlier films. The English dub, which I viewed, was also strong: Lee Pace was a nice selection as Keisuke, Hodoka’s new guardian who is himself trying to recover from trauma, and Ashley Boettcher (Hina) and Brandon Engman (Hodoka) give nuanced performances. I couldn’t help but think that Engman sounded very much like Michael J. Fox: the youthful and often confused tone of his voice was a great fit for Hodoka.

The director also emphasizes an additional theme, one present in other works but most fully evolved in this one, the idea that life is both temporary and on-going, and because of that we should have a sense of relief, not worry. In movies like Voices of a Distant Star and 5 cm per Second, change was a chief antagonist, a divider of people, stronger even than fate. But as repeated by more than one character in this movie, time will move on, but the heart of things—of the earth, of people—can adjust and stay strong. It’s a beautiful sentiment, and I think a sign of maturity in Shinkai’s work rather than an indication that he’s become soft, as I imagine some will contend. Weathering with You is not Your Name, either in the emotion it evokes or the story it gives, but it is a symbol that Shinkai is no longer trying to become a great director—he has found a voice, one that as the aforementioned theme states, will be conveyed differently as the years and topics of his films change, but that will remain strong, beautiful, and brilliant. Weathering with You tell us this: the magic of Shinkai is here, and it will go on and on.

Rating: A-

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[odanurr87]

My thoughts on... The King: Eternal Monarch

Lee Min-ho as Lee Gon, and Kim Go-eun as Jeong Tae-eul.

Release date: April 17 - June 12, 2020

Episodes: 16

Available on: Netflix

Plot synopsis: On one fateful night of December 1994, the king of the Kingdom of Corea was brutally murdered by his illegitimate brother, Lee Lim. The king’s son, Lee Gon, was spared a similar fate thanks to the timely intervention of a mysterious saviour, who only left behind an identity card belonging to one Lieutenant Jeong Tae-eul. 15 years later, King Lee Gon finds himself transported to the parallel world of the Republic of Korea where he meets Lieutenant Jeong Tae-eul and together they work to uncover a conspiracy across their two worlds.

Rewatch meter: Medium to High

Introduction

The King: Eternal Monarch is the latest work by writer Kim Eun-sook and, since I enjoyed two of her previous works (Descendants of the Sun and Goblin), I was quite looking forward to it. I didn't know actor Lee Min-ho at the time but I recalled Kim Go-eun from Goblin so I was relatively excited to see her in another main role. The pilot episode of the show was great, deftly introducing us to a host of characters and setting up several plot threads in a total runtime of 70 minutes, already incorporating the concepts of time travel and parallel worlds, not an easy task and a much welcome departure from most kdramas on air. Since I am a fan of sci-fi and modern fantasy however, that meant I'd put this show under the microscope so how did it fare?

Related reviews: Goblin

Characters

From left to right: Lee Jung-jin as Lee Lim, Jung Eun-chae as Goo Seo-rung, Lee Min-ho as Lee Gon, Kim Go-eun as Jeong Tae-eul, Woo Do-hwan as Jo Yeong, and Kim Kyung-nam as Kang Shin-jae.

The show enjoys, and suffers from, a host of characters on both worlds, with many actors playing dual roles because of the concept of parallel worlds. This (over)abundance of characters results in most having to play second fiddle to the two leads. In hindsight, a tighter cast would've worked better. A fair few of the characters (e.g. the detective hiding something from his wife, the pregnant lady, the mother of Lee Gon's doppelganger, god kid, and many more) did not ultimately justify their presence other than to set up (underwhelmingly resolved) mysteries to keep the audience engaged. More important characters, like Prime Minister Koo and Lee Lim, sadly never reached their full potential to my mind, being relegated to play more stereotypical antagonist roles in the end. While I can understand this decision with Lee Lim to an extent, it was a shame Prime Minister Koo’s character wasn’t more nuanced. While Lee Min-ho's characterization of Lee Gon has taken some flak I found him to act more or less in line with how a (fictional) king would, one excited at the prospect of having found the woman he's been searching for for most of his life. Kim Go-eun as Jeong Tae-eul was the one who truly delivered on the emotional end of the spectrum, as we all knew she would. Sadly, the character of Luna was more undercooked, and the show could probably have done without her.

Pacing

The all-out battle at the end of Episode 11, with Lee Gon showing off his skill with the sword, is one of the highlights of the show.

While the pacing of the show ramped up considerably towards the end it actually started rather slowly. Lee Gon discovers the Republic of Korea at the end of the first episode, yes, but it is not until the end of Episode 4 that he returns to his kingdom, with a skeptical Jeong Tae-eul in tow. Then, it is at the end of Episode 9 that Lee Gon and Lee Lim have their first encounter, with an all-out battle with Lee Lim's henchmen at the end of Episode 11, and the reveal of the identity of the savior at the end of Episode 13. I was quite satisfied with the show's pacing up until that point but a little worried about how they would tie everything up with 3 episodes left, worries that proved to be justified, as many plot threads were left unresolved or rushed to conclusion without living up to the expectations built up after several episodes. Considering the last episode of the show solves the main conflict in the first 20 minutes, I don't think this faster pacing was justified.

Execution

It is difficult not to conclude the execution of the plot wasn't nearly as tight as it could've been. The show continuously introduced new questions, new mysteries, and new characters, to keep us guessing, to keep us engaged, sometimes to the detriment of the overall storytelling quality. Who is this new character? How does s/he factor in Lee Lim's plan? Who's sending this stuff to PM Koo? What is the significance of the scars? There is no doubt these questions succeeded in keeping us engaged and I have to give it props for that. However, the execution was dragged down from indulging in superfluous characters and plot threads. Park Moon-sik's nightly escapades from his wife are a perfect example, a plot whose resolution was needlessly postponed till the final episode. Removing such plots could've open up time better served to further develop characters, like PM Koo, or explore Lee Lim's plans more thoroughly, an aspect where I feel the show dropped the ball, as these turned out to be contradictory and contrived, helping out the writer more than Lee Lim himself.

Time Travel

Sadly, the execution of time travel is a direct casualty of continuously trying to surprise the audience with new twists or for the sake of pulling at our heart strings. Up until Episode 13, its depiction of time travel lined up perfectly with the concept of a causal loop (e.g. Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban), but then Episode 14 had characters remember new past events in real-time (think of the movie Frequency, with Jim Caviezel and Dennis Quaid), and Episode 15 resurrected a character who should've been dead, among potentially more problematic issues. Time travel is a fictional concept, but even fiction is guided by certain rules and, sadly, the depiction of time travel in The King: Eternal Monarch does not hold up under further scrutiny, what deflated my engagement somewhat. Here I was, trying to understand how the writer had put together the puzzle only to realize some of the pieces didn't line up or were from different puzzles altogether. This was not entirely unexpected, as few stories have used time travel consistently in the past, but I was mildly disappointed, particularly given the writer’s excellent work and attention to detail in Goblin.

Romance

Another highlight of the show, especially if you understand exactly what is going on in this scene.

While I can believe Lee Gon could’ve developed feelings for Jeong Tae-eul after searching for her for 20+years (fans of The Expanse will recall Miller also developed feelings for Julie while searching for her), the beginning of their romance in Episode 5 felt a bit forced. It also struck me as odd when Jeong Tae-eul was the one to declare her feelings of love for Lee Gon in Episode 7 instead of the other way around. In fact, it isn't until Episode 10 that Lee Gon admits his feelings for her in one of the most emotional scenes of the show. Perhaps if the two had switched around their declarations it would’ve made more sense.

In any case, their romantic relationship was cemented from Episode 10 onwards for me, although they had cute couple moments in earlier episodes, with Episode 6 featuring the most heartfelt conversations and interactions. For my part, watching their relationship continue to unfold was one of the highlights of the show, and it certainly delivered in the following episodes. Lee Gon's unyielding quest across time and space to find Jeong Tae-eul again and again was moving, though more powerful in Episode 14 than 16 to my mind, perhaps because of the music, editing, and added emotional impact of Jeong Tae-eul knowing Lee Gon is on his way. Perhaps if Episode 16 had dedicated more than 5 minutes (count them) of its runtime to show Lee Gon constantly leaving the palace to search for and meet different versions of Jeong Tae-eul throughout the years it would've been a lot more impactful, and potentially heartbreaking. Tying it to his appearance at the end of Episode 10 would've made it perfect.

Music

I hesitate slightly to say the soundtrack for The King: Eternal Monarch is on the same level as that of Goblin (time will tell), but if it's not, it certainly isn't far behind. Songs like "Gravity," "Orbit," and "Maze," or instrumental tracks like "One Day," "My Love and...," "Into the Fantasy," and "The Fantasia of Another Dimension," are a sample of this album's best. Sadly, not all tracks featured in the show are included in the album, such as the variant of “The King” that plays at the end of Episode 15 when Lee Gon bids farewell to Lady Noh. If you're a soundtrack aficionado like I am, I'd suggest you keep this album in your Spotify library or equivalent.

Conclusions

The King: Eternal Monarch is, by no means, a perfect show. It is technically not as good as writer Kim Eun-sook's previous Goblin, which overall covered the topics previously discussed better than The King did. However, that is not to say The King: Eternal Monarch isn't an overall good show as it is, one that boldly incorporates interesting concepts like time travel and parallel worlds to its narrative with ultimately mixed results. The music is great, production values are top notch, and all of the actors’ performances were on point, though a tighter cast would’ve benefited some of their performances. While the romance between Lee Min-ho’s and Kim Go-eun’s characters may be a hard sell for some, at least initially, it ultimately worked for me.

If you haven't watched the show yet and are reading this review now, then I'm sorry that you've missed out on the experience of watching the show week to week, discussing and dissecting it with other viewers, and rewatching episodes scouring for clues, a process it easily lends itself to as opposed to other kdramas. If you're into sci-fi and modern fantasy, then I'd encourage you to give it a watch, bearing in mind the previously discussed caveats. If you're into romance kdramas, set your expectations accordingly. If you're looking for more recommendations on modern fantasy+romance and have already watched Goblin, then allow me to recommend the excellent Hotel del Luna (which I’m currently in the process of reviewing after watching it, what, four times now?). For my part, I'm looking forward to Kim Eun-sook, Lee Min-ho, and Kim Go-eun's next projects.

[independentartistbuzz]

7 FROM THE WOMEN: RED FLOWER LAKE

Red Flower Lake is lush, heady electro-pop. Aloe vera for our dried-out hearts. Sweeping melodies and understated yet complex soundscapes. These songs are open doors to a relationship: two people who know each other about as well as two humans can, singing to the other, about each other, offering a brave and heartfelt depiction of the territories they have survived and navigated together. It’s all here: intimacy and distance, heartbreak and ecstasy. Vulnerability, insecurity and courage.

1. What have you been working to promote lately?

It feels like I have been working on promoting a lot lately (internally and externally). Things like honesty, clear communication, empathy, patience, naming emotions, opening my heart, peace in my family, etc, etc.

But that’s not quite what we are talking about. ;)

I have been working alongside my husband to promote our EP Three Truths as well as an exhibit of our multi-media work at the Torosiete museum of contemporary art - a virtual museum unlike any other. Our exhibit just opened at the end of October and will be open for all of time - as long as there is internet.

Our EP Three Truths consists of three songs, Heart is Breaking, Baby Don’t Go, and Brave. The first two were written when we had super young kids (about 8 years ago).

When we were first considering releasing some songs this past May, we weren’t sure which songs to begin with. We were pretty tired of Heart is Breaking and Baby Don’t Go but also felt like they were worth something, belonged together, and like they might be the beginning of a story. We figured we would see what mixing one of them would do and take it from there. We sent out Baby Don’t Go and after trying a couple different mixers, we landed on Mike Pepe through a family friend named Kelly Musgrave at Linear Management. He did his thing and we actually got inspired enough to completely redo the vocals which was pretty satisfying. I had started voice lessons several months earlier and felt like I had more to offer the song. Once the energy was back in Baby Don’t Go it was pretty exciting to see what some mixing would do to Heart is Breaking. Deciding to release those particular songs really felt like the end of a pretty challenging time. It has been nice to have them out in the world where people might be able to relate to them giving voice to an experience that is painful but also real. I don’t know how many emotions we get away with leaving unturned but I appreciate a song that can help me reflect on a feeling.

Heart is Breaking was the kind of song that was so of a moment, it didn’t feel worth it to try and enunciate the words better or change what I was unsatisfied with after hearing it mixed. I am curious whether that choice will actually impact my satisfaction long term but, so far, I have found it both surprising and amusing that putting something out into the world that is a little bit vocally unfinished doesn’t bother me at all.

As for Abel’s vocals though, they are straight from the heart. They are also his original vocals. I remember when I first heard them I felt a lot less significant as part of our musical duo. He just put it all out there and it sounds so good. Heart is Breaking speaks to the experience of wanting love even though it seems to always end in heart break. An experience that, as a young parent, felt very prevalent.

Brave to me is all in the title. My setup is such that if I want to play around on the keyboard with a feeling I’m having, I still need to pull up ProTools and title the session - even though I don’t know what I am going to play which is the case a lot. Often when I am sitting down to play music, it is to explore something in my mind and on my heart and in this case I wanted to be brave about that exploration so I titled the song Brave. Brave is about sticking around and being present to see what is true even if it is scary.

All of the songs I write are deeply personal. In the past, it has sometimes surprised me that Abel would even touch the material, considering how blatant it is but I’ve learned that I’m not the only one in the relationship that sometimes feels paradoxical and complex feelings.

Having made music together for such a long time now without releasing any of it, we are both really excited to share more of the story and more of our music. It feels like an epic tale that is still revealing itself in real time. Three Truths feels like the beginning of a bigger message - this first message being “Damn this is hard but relationship is sort of like that sometimes”.

2. Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you.

Sade’s Smooth Operator. There are a lot of songs and a lot of reasons why to pick them but this one pulls me right back to a time in my life when not a lot of things were easy but at that moment, the house was warm, the whole family seemed happy and there was an abundance of food. I was maybe 5, my family was living with my great aunt and her daughters who were at least ten years older than us. We were all still getting used to living together and my family was still getting used to living in Va after moving from New Mexico. When Smooth Operator came into my awareness, it was the day after Thanksgiving and there was a bounty of leftover mashed potatoes, peas and onions in cream sauce, and stuffing that needed to be eaten. While we formed those leftovers into little balls and baked them, we were introduced to that song. I think we may have listened to the whole album a couple times through but we named our food creation after Smooth Operator and it is one of the special happy memories I have from an amazing but also pretty heavy childhood. Throughout my childhood from then on, Sade was a voice I leaned into. I remember one night my twin sister and I lay down in the dark of her empty room in middle school and listened in consecutive order through Diamond Life, Promise, Stronger Than Pride, and Love Deluxe on our tape player to the light of a big moon. One of my all time favorite nights.

Smooth Operator felt like a warning. Like watch out girls, they’re everywhere. The first song of their first album. Her voice was always my reference. I wanted my voice to sound like hers. I wanted to make songs like hers - with a point, with heart, and with a voice you want to listen to. Smooth Operator is our family anthem, made so by a moment we all recall fondly - an odd anthem perhaps but my family is as odd and as amazing as they get.

3. What does it mean to you to be a woman making music / in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music?

Having an opportunity to use my voice as a woman at this time feels very special and important and I hope that I am doing my part in honoring the power of the feminine, and the important work of keeping it real in all my relationships at all levels.

I work to be authentic and express as clearly from my heart as I can. Making music - making art,  is a way for me to connect with my emotions, my inner wisdom, a way to express those feelings, ultimately it is a way to communicate something that means something to me. I recognize that this is a potentially self indulgent process and I pray that my purpose of honoring the human experience and reminding us of our power is conveying.

It is important for me to be super honest because there are so many feelings I have felt ashamed of and wouldn’t even admit to in the past that I am now realizing are actually just part of a human experience. Honoring and expressing my truth thus far has been a thousand times more empowering than the results have been of hiding from my truth as a result of believing I should be ashamed of my feelings and for believing in my worth - what I know is true in my heart. Denial of my truth has wreaked havoc in my life and it isn’t worth another moment of time to feed or encourage such disempowering paradigms.

I recognize that we all have a lot to heal from and a lot of healing work to do individually and collectively. I think a large part of that healing work is around being brave enough to honor our feelings, identifying their source, and getting empowered to speak/know/honor our truth - a truth that is both unique and valid.

Perhaps if we are able to honor ourselves in this way, we will be able to hear each others’ truths with compassion, recognizing ourselves in each other's struggles.

A big step for me in my healing journey has been accepting and being willing to hear and honor my own truth. No more wars - internal or external. When I am not fighting myself, I am one less person who is fighting themselves and that is extremely motivating. I think all of my fighting ultimately comes from internal conflicts so I might as well start with that and find some way to work that stuff out. I have been working on not making other people the bad guy but, if I see ‘bad guy’ out there in the world, to note that I see a reflection of parts of myself I still am in a healing process with.  

I am not sure what the depths of our world’s healing will entail but I know my responsibility is to my own healing and it is empowering to own that responsibility. I pray we all honor ourselves like the magnificent and unique creations we are and honor ourselves like we are somebody’s child who adores us. Even if we can argue that our parents did not or do not love us, there is still and always will be immense love for each of us in the vast universe and from our mama earth. We are worthy of our best life. In fact. I think it is the only sustainable future.

My responsibility is to honor and stay true to my truth.

4. What is the most personal thing you have shared in your music or in your artist brand as it relates to being female?

All of the songs I write are extremely personal and expose my deep internal struggles. But I am okay with being a voice and a sound. Being an image has not been easy. Learning to embrace my face, my body, my movement, my inner style, etc, feels much more exposing and personally challenging. The entire world of what is sexy, what is beautiful, what is inspiring, what is useful, etc. has been out of reach for me since forever. I find that the more I turn toward my spiritual truth, my spiritual purpose, toward awe and gratitude for the children in my life, the more permission I have and the more energy I have for exposing my physical person on a true and personal level. What feels beautiful, what feels empowering, what feels good and right?

I have in the past, been absolutely disempowered around beauty and sex that I feel like only now am I getting access to any answers internally about what is beautiful, empowering and what feels good for me. I am a mother and it is important to me that the children in my life have examples of real women and men in their lives who are empowered and strong and honest- not because of our physical form but because of our clarity in purpose and our open hearts.

I know the sexiest thing a person can do in my heart/ mind is their inner work, get straight with themselves about what they are doing here and live and breathe their purpose.

On the level of the eye, I think playing with what my spiritual guides have to say to me at any given moment feels the most appropriate and fun. I’d rather be in a conversation with them about physical expression than with old paradigms of sex appeal and survival on this physical plain.

5. What female artists have inspired you and influenced you?

Oh my goodness, So many. I really believe that the unapologetic art of all women throughout time has molded me as part of the collective creative conscience. Art begets art.

I come from a family of bohemian artists and I would be remiss in not honoring them particularly and their absolute influence in my life. Their authentic expressions have absolutely shaped and inspired me and I am so grateful to each of my family members for their conscious participation in living their best lives.

My highschool teacher and friend Zap McConnel reinforced and added to what my family already inspires in me. She was my first real mentor and example outside of my family in living a life of integrity and breaking the molds of our boxed beliefs.  

And Beatrice Ost. She has been part of my family for a long time but it really wasn’t until her grandchildren connected with our kids that we became better acquainted and, just as kids tend to do, through our children we have been led into a most beautiful and inspiring relationship of collaboration and inspiration. We wouldn’t be where we are now without her and really everyone in the world. The ripples are real.

6. Do you consider yourself a feminist? If so why and if not why?

I consider myself a feminist because I believe in the unique and essential wisdom of the feminine and its absolute importance in the balance of life. I could also consider myself a divine masculinist but that movement is really in conjunction with the healing of the divine feminine. It is for all of us to heal from this woundedness - not just women.

There is no denying that women have been oppressed for millenia - longer than any other human group except children - and it feels important to me to keep raising the collective awareness to the long lasting effects of oppression that continue to weigh on the lives of everyone. If mama is oppressed, everyone is oppressed because if mama is oppressed she does not have the power she needs to stand up for what she knows in the depths of her heart - to care for the hearts of her family and that kind of pain and injury is passed down a long way.

I have been considering the narrative of our media history around witches - how they have been conveyed so terribly in our social history. I am interested in those stories from the witches’ perspectives. I’d love to hear the backstory of Ursula the deep sea witch in The Little Mermaid. It seems to me that she may have wanted to say something to someone… An easily identifiable sentiment for most human beings at this point. There can be no more pretending how much we have all suffered because of fear and domination. I don’t think we need to gender specify suffering generally but just like with race, it is true that there are some significant stereo types that have been disempowering for a long time.

We are still living in the antiquated world of shame about menstrual cycles for God’s sake! It’s bonkers. I can attest that this particular gift has felt like a burden in this worn out world of 9-5 schedules and limited sick days and - if any - and our basic needs for survival are not cared for enough so that we don't even know this immense gift as an honor. But as we each recognize our person as an immense gift and when we honor ourselves and each  other as such, we change the world.

I am a feminist and a masculinist because I strongly believe that each of us as individuals needs to feel empowered as part of something larger than just our individual egos. Each of us is essential and honoring our unique gifts will and does heal our world in deep and profound ways. Each of us knows something, has a purpose here that needs to be respected by everyone. Men and women both would benefit from honoring the feminine in all that is and vice versa. It is a balance and as long as the balance is off there will be a need for feminism. And just as much there is a need for honoring the divine masculine. It truly is a matter of balance - one that needs support internally and externally as individuals and as a collective.

7. What was the most challenging thing you have had to face as a female Artist?

The most challenging thing I have had to face as a creative being is myself. My own pride and jealousy, self doubt, and a need for external approval have kept me from taking risks, whether it is going into action or taking a nap. Everything I did or didn’t do was based on what I thought somebody else might think which gave me very little room for actual self expression. Giving myself permission to exist independently of other people’s approval and trusting the creative flow has been a matter of challenging oppressive systems - both external and the ones and the ones in my head that I have defended as part of a fear based world. As I continue to grow wiser and my body becomes more of an ally for my heart rather than a sculpture project, I find myself in battle with old paradigms around self image.

It is an interesting time to be alive and I have lots of hope for us as a collective as I continue to break my own belief systems because if I can do it, it can be done. Breaking out of old and limiting beliefs, considering new paradigms, recognizing my inner/outer calling and prioritizing that calling beyond all else has been liberating and empowering. My dream is that all our dreams come true. I know my heart is based in love and that all the struggle has been for learning. This knowledge has helped me come to terms with trauma but I would say I think oppression is systemic and the more we can break free of our own excuses and reasoning to defend oppressive systems, the more swiftly and easily we will transition to a new world. I am more than happy to be inviting in a paradigm of inclusivity, kindness, inquiry, compassion, and honesty. An undeniable breath of fresh air from so many oppressive paradigms past and present.

Listen to “Three Truths”

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