#i might go make some tea that actually sounds delightful

[jaysavex]

JAIME JAIME HAJEMM HAIEM HAPPY VALENTINES DAY (NKT LATE) HI HIG IGIIHIII!!! HOW ARE YIU!!? YOU OKAY? THRLUWING SO MANY GUMMIE AND SILLY FUNNY CANDYIES AT YOU AUAUAUAU!! LOVE YOU SILLY SKRINGLE I HOPE YOUR DAY SLASH BIGHT IS GREAT!!! I LOVE YOU SPOINKLE! !! I promies I'm not trying to ne incomprehensible bte I just literally am frying righ nkw ANYWYA I LOVE YOU SILLY JESTIE!!! MAUAWAA MWUAH MWUA!! DRINKLH WATEYR AND EATID GOOD FOODS!! 🫀🫀🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀💥🫀🫀💥🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🍒

cheRRYYYYY my lil guy u are literally such a darling how do u do it

I am so sorry for not responding to u sooner silly I got sick again like an idiot and have been deceased for the past 2 days o(-( HOWEVER

HAPPY VALENTINES TO U AS WELL!!!! Silly lil scrunkle I hope u had an excellent vday and got lotsa chocolate n snacks yesyesyes, I would love to get u some snackies as well but alas,, 😔 maybe someday I'll figure it out

Anyways a lil doodlie for u since I can't get u any chocolates 😔 ily u silly lil guy u I hope you're doing well!! 💖💖✨🫂🫂💖✨💖💖💖🫂✨✨💖🫂💖✨

[moonstruckme]

HII I LOVE YOUR WORK SM!! I literally can't stop reading them 😭 I love you so much for making all of them !!

May I ask if we could get more of shy Remus?? As soon as I read the first one I immediately fell in love !

Thank you so much!! 🫶🏽

Hi lovely, thank you! Sorry this took me so long, I've wanted to write it ever since it came into my inbox but it took me forever to come up with an idea </3

cw: very vague implication of smut

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus looks surprised when he opens the door, and immediately after that embarrassed. For what, you never know. 

“Hi,” he says, lips curving into a smile as if of their own volition. “Um, I haven’t missed anything, have I?” 

You laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was just nearby and thought I might return your jumper.” 

It’s a half-truth. You’re ambushing him and you know it, but Remus’ reticent disposition means you know next to nothing about his life and after weeks of dating you’re really itching for a peek behind the curtain. You’ve brought chocolate muffins to make up for it. 

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Remus’ voice is soft as always, that adorable smile still playing on his lips until you both hear footsteps bounding down the stairs inside. He glances behind him, moving a bit more in front of the door. “While you’re here, maybe we could go have coffee or—” 

“Who’s that?” 

The voice seems like a sound of much dread for Remus, if his expression is anything to go off of. He ignores it, speaking only to you. 

“Or there’s a park just down the way—”

“Remus.” It’s a different voice this time, yet the effect upon Remus’ countenance is the same. “Who do you have there?” 

“Hi!” you say over his head, mutinous. 

“A girl?” Remus’ entire body seems to sag in resignation. “Remus Lupin, stop hiding her from us immediately.” 

“Sod off.” He says over his shoulder, as brash as you’ve ever heard him. It’s a bit thrilling. 

“I will not. Reveal your secrets, you dirty dog.” 

You actually do feel quite bad for Remus, a blush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he lets go of the doorframe, letting himself be wrestled out of the way. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired boy weasels his way into Remus’ place, giving you a salacious up-down. You raise your eyebrows at him, delighted. So this is who Remus associates with when he’s not with you. “My, you’re a pretty thing. And you’re here to see Remus?” 

“I am,” you confirm. “I’m here to bring back his jumper.” 

“Which would lead one to believe, “a second boy appears behind the first, both of them keeping Remus from reclaiming his spot at the door, “that you’ve seen him before.” 

You laugh. “I have. We’ve been dating a few weeks now.” 

“Remus!” The second bellows, eyes blowing comically wide behind his glasses. “Weeks? Weeks, and you haven’t said a word. How could you?” 

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time on your hands,” the first boy says smoothly. 

“I’ve…” You check the time. “I do, actually.” 

He grins, wolflike. You’re not sure who the prey is. You worry it’s your date. 

“Yes!” The one with the glasses is effervescent, brimming with eagerness. It’s contagious, you find; you’re smiling too. “You have to come in, please.” 

You’re dying to, but you peer past them, locking eyes with Remus. He looks to be wishing for a swift and painless death, but he gives you a soft smile anyways. Nods. 

“Sure,” you say, “I could join you for a bit.” 

Some of the boisterous energy settles as they usher you inside, the need for urgency vanquished now that they’ve got you in their clutches. Begrudgingly, Remus introduces you, and the other two hassle him about taking off your coat and showing you where to put your shoes before he gets a chance to do either. Soon you’re settled comfortably in the armchair they tell you is Remus’ favorite. 

“Can I make you a cuppa?” Remus asks, and James and Sirius both oooh as he rolls his eyes. You nod at him, eyeing the other two amusedly. 

“He must really like you,” James says, “if he’s offering to make you tea.” 

“Hence why you’re not getting any,” Remus says over his shoulder as he stalks for the kitchen. 

“Prick,” Sirius calls after him. “We didn’t want any anyways.” But he crosses his arms, sulking back against the couch cushions. James, on the other hand, leans towards you. 

“So,” he says severely, “what are your intentions with our Remus?” 

A quiet sound of distress comes from the kitchen, but you all ignore it. “Your Remus?” you ask. 

James nods self-assuredly. “We’ve known him since primary school. If you two get married, I’ll be the one giving him away.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Remus’ head pops out of the kitchen, glaring daggers in a way you didn’t know he knew how. “You will not.” 

“What?” James looks gutted. 

“That’s not the point.” Sirius waves both of his friends off, though James looks like he would very much like to continue on the topic. “Tell us about you two, gorgeous. Where did you meet, how long have you been dating, has Remus told you where he hides his chocolates?” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, coming back with your tea. He passes it to you carefully, handle out, and both you and James hiss at him for holding the hot part. 

“We haven’t even gotten her to answer anything yet,” Sirius complains. 

“It’s not her fault you haven’t given her the chance.” Remus perches on the armrest of the chair. It's probably so he can avoid sitting next to his nosy friends, but pride swells in your chest anyway at being chosen. You take his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in response. 

Sirius coos. “Only a few weeks of dating and he’s already holding her hand. I’m so proud.” 

You grin up at Remus, knowing what you could say to really shock his friends but not wanting to embarrass him further. He’s already flustered enough that his scars stand out in stark contrast against his flushed skin, but his look softens as he meets your eyes. Something about him eases, a small smile curving his lips. 

You decide it’s permission enough. 

“You’ve been a bit bolder than that, haven’t you, handsome?” 

James and Sirius erupt in hoots and hollers. Remus looks like he might well fall off the edge of the chair for how stiff he’s gotten. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It’s burning. “I’m not trying to torment you. We can go be alone in your room, if you like.” 

“No-o.” James waggles a finger at you. “Now that we know what you’re up to, you won’t be getting him alone in our house. You’re set on corrupting him!”

[zizzy-rie]

Another AU I've been thinking about for the past several days now

Here are some close ups of the second pic

More info under the cut

Lucifer Morningstar

His main job is creating toy designs and inventing them. Despite what people might think, he actually comes from a very wealthy and famous family, having owned several companies and lands in different parts of the country. Even though he has his wealth, Lucifer chose to live far from his family and start a life on his own, much to the disappointment of a lot of his relatives. From time to time, he does contact his father and siblings to catch up and know that they're okay.

Lilith Magne

She is a famous fashion model. Not much is known about where she came from as she rarely speaks about her past. Some say that she's bossy and unapproachable (men) but others see her as soft spoken and understanding (women and children). No one in society knows what she does behind her fame, except those powerful syndicates from the underworld. Lilith is a seductress killer who targets men as her victims. She lures them during huge gatherings and parties, wearing a purple gown paired with a black mask over her eyes. She leaves nothing but a black rose on the scene of the crime.

Alastor (??)

He is a radio host from an obscure radio show. Not many know who he is, much to his delight, as he prefers not being traced back to the monthly deaths happening in the city, most of which was his own doing. Alastor is quite organized with the way he chooses his prey, to the way they should be killed. In the underworld, he is well known, both by amateurs and by powerful and huge syndicates, yet no one dared to touch him or report him to authorities (they know what happens if they do, or even try to).

Relationships

Radioapple

No one knows how Lucifer and Alastor met, not even their close friends and family. One day, Lucifer was just suddenly seen arguing with Alastor on the street while holding some plastic bags filled with different things. Complicated is what can be described about their relationship. One minute, they're arguing and trying to hit each other with anything they can hold on to, then the next, you'll hear them cackling at each other's corny jokes. Their relationship got more complicated when the two got drunk off their asses and swore off and made a bet to make the other get laid.

**It would probably go something like this: Alastor and Lucifer, both very drunk and incomprehensible to anyone eavesdropping on them, somehow talking about relationships and partners (how their topic of conversation led to that is up to everyone's own interpretation).

Lucifer: Pppfft- I'm definitely a whole package! I mean just look at me! Charming, rich, handsome, great with the ladies~ Who wouldn't want that? Ehh? Eh?~

Alastor: Well, I don't see anyone hovering around you like an annoying pest now, do I? I guess you're not as charming or great as you think you are, sire.

Lucifer: You're one to talk! You've never even been on a date once!

Alastor: That's because I chose not to, Lucifer. Relationships are messy, and only complicate things. I have no time dealing with such feeble emotions such as love everyone oh so desperately craves. That is clearly not my cup of tea.

Lucifer: Pft, bet I could find you a partner that matches you.

Alastor: oh? Is that a challenge I hear, sire?

Lucifer: oh! How about this? you find me a partner to date, and I find you one as well. If one of us gets to find a match for the other in a matter of 6 months, then the winner gets to receive a reward. Sounds good?

Alastor: hhmmm, tempting, but what would be the reward, sire? If I may ask.

Lucifer: the winner gets to choose his reward, how about that? Doesn't that sound nice? Hhmm?

Alastor: Alright then, challenge accepted Lucifer. Although you're only making this easier for me, as I have never ever fallen for someone and I can assure you that it will never happen. Good luck with finding me a partner.

Lucifer: oh I definitely can, just you wait.

The current situation on their challenge so far: difficult is one word to describe it. No one has found a suitable date or partner for the other yet. [Until Lilith comes into the picture]

Radioqueen

Lilith is a witness to one of Alastor's murders. While disposing of the body, she had accidentally walked into the scene, much to Alastor's disappointment. This is their first meeting with each other, although they have heard rumors about the other from amateur criminals and rookies. Alastor, not wanting to kill Lilith because of his moral code of not killing women and children, bribed her into getting a date with one of the rich and chivalrous men in their city, Lucifer Morningstar, in exchange for her silence. Pleased with the idea (and perhaps another prey to feast on), Lilith agreed. The two exchanged contacts and have been in touch ever since. They are acquainted easily as the two share sentiments on not harming women and children in their murder spree. One detail Alastor forgot to take notice though is, Lilith's victims are men who she had a date with before their deaths.

Lucilith

The two bumped into each other in a cafe. Lucifer was getting a latte for himself, stressed out on the list he is making (names of random people he has heard of who he thinks are the type of people Alastor would go out with). Lilith was getting coffee, just finished from her modeling job in a nearby building. Their meet up was merely a coincidence, which was a delight for Lilith. This way, she could gain more information about who the person Alastor is setting her up with. Lucifer, mesmerized by her voice and stunned by her brilliance, tried to ask for her name. Unfortunately, he blurted out a different question as he was mulling over other problems in his head, such as the list for Alastor's possible dates. Asking someone to date their friend is not the kind of question anyone should be asking to a stranger, and yet it still happened to Lucifer, no less. Being possibly one of the most socially awkward people to exist, he could only sit on the ground and hide his face in shame and horror. Lilith, not expecting this kind of behavior from a rich and supposedly charming man, had found him quite cute and endearing. This is when she decided to leave her original plan of killing him, and instead vowed to marry him someday in the future.

[mari-writes]

Second year Bokuto who is struggling in math class and so enlists Akaashi, the new first year setter, to help him study.

Akaashi agrees (quickly), and they make a habit of it. Two months in, Bokuto realizes how much he loves hanging out with his teammate outside of the court. So he starts requesting help with other classes, like English and history, despite not needing as much help in those subjects.

He wonders if Akaashi knows. Wonders if the boy is catching on that aside from Algebra, he’s doing perfectly fine. Bokuto has never exactly excelled in academics, but he’s not failing either. He thinks he’s pretty average when it comes to grades. 

But how else can he justify them hanging out together outside of practice? He really doesn’t know. So he keeps asking, not quite “playing dumb” but posing certain questions and insisting Akaashi is the only one who can help.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” he’d declare, “and I trust you more than anyone!” For some reason, that would always work. Akaashi would turn away, the tips of his ears a bit pink, and agree right away.

But eventually, inevitably, Akaashi catches on. He finally speaks up after Bokuto asks him to help study for an upcoming science test.

“Bokuto-san, I recall you doing well in your Physical Science course last year.” He raises one perfect eyebrow, with a scrutinizing look that sends a thrill up Bokuto’s spine. “Do you expect me to believe you need help with Biology, of all things?”

“I mean, um,” Bokuto swallows harshly. “I just thought that maybe—”

Akaashi sighs. He turns in his seat, leaning one elbow against Bokuto’s desk. They’ve been working on other subjects for a couple of hours now. Papers are scattered about, and two empty owl-shaped tea mugs are set to the side.

Bokuto really hopes he hasn’t made things weird between them. “I’m sorry, ‘kaashi!” He reaches up to grip at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ugh, I’m so annoying! Don’t look at me!”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, and the lack of a honorific surprises Bokuto out of his spiraling thoughts. He glances up to see the other boy staring at him intently.

“Yes?” Bokuto holds his breath.

“You don’t actually need my help with any of this,” Akaashi declares. “So why did you ask?”

Bokuto stares. Does Akaashi really not know? Wow, his new setter is a touch more oblivious than he initially thought! “Well, um,” he stutters, “Obviously I just… wanted us to hang out.”

Apparently, Akaashi hadn’t been expecting that at all. His mouth drops open. He blinks. It takes him a few awkward moments to respond. “You… want to hang out… with me?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh.”

Bokuto waits patiently as the boy seems to work something out in his mind. No doubt he is overthinking, running through all possible meanings of Bokuto’s simple words. He looks bewildered. It’s… sort of cute. Bokuto chuckles. 

“Is that so crazy? That I like hanging out with you?”

Akaashi shrugs. He turns back the the desk, reaching out to fiddle with a pencil. Bokuto watches in delight as a blush creeps up the boy’s slender neck. “I suppose not,” Akaashi’s voice is quiet. “I’m just… not use to it.”

They fall into silence. Bokuto shifts in his chair, watching Akaashi closely, allowing him to lead them out of this charged moment. The only sounds come from the fan spinning overhead and his own heavy breathing.

Suddenly, Akaashi scoots his chair back and stands, causing Bokuto to flinch. “Okay,” he nods, carefully moving around to grab his jacket from the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Huh?” Confused, Bokuto slowly unfolds from his seat. “Go? Where?”

“You wanted to hang out.” Another shrug. He tosses over Bokuto’s jean jacket; Bokuto catches it easily with one hand. “So we might as well do that somewhere fun. Like the arcade. Or, um, we could go get food?”

Akaashi has made it to the door now, looking back over his shoulder, face is as impassive as ever. But there’s a new sort of spark in his eyes, one that Bokuto isn’t sure what to make of.

(He might be sort of excited to figure it out.)

“You coming?”

Bokuto pulls on his jacket, feeling light as a feather as he follows his new friend out of the room. He smiles.

This might be the start of something great.

 🤗���️ 

//

I imagine that after middle school, 2nd year Bo is still worried about overwhelming others, not wanting to scare them away. Love the idea that Akaashi immediately agreeing to practice, study and hang out as friends means a lot to him.

Please REBLOG and comment if you enjoyed🥰

[alexthefly]

Spilling Tea

This was supposed to be an entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial, but life got in the way and I went really over time (😅), so it's just a silly little something now, bringing a well-loved TOS character to the TAG universe. Enjoy!

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go

Content: mention of Pen & Ink (canon events only)

Spoiler warning for TAG episode 1:10, Tunnels of Time

Or read it on AO3

**********

Lillian and her trusty scouring pad had just reached a particularly stubborn bit of baked-on sauce at the back of the oven when she heard the kitchen door go, followed by a great clattering of boot and chair.

“Cor Lil, do us a cuppa would ya? H’I’m gasping, I am!”

Of course, she thought. There's only one person in the world who could make that much noise just entering a room. 

Master thief my backside…

“You’ve got legs, haven’t ya? Get it yourself,” she called, not looking up. “Can't you see I’m busy?”

“Aww, but I’ve ‘ad an ‘ard day. H’I’m dead on my feet!”

“You’ll be dead under my feet if you keep carrying on,” she grumbled. “Though on second thought,” - she extricated her head from the oven and took off her marigolds - “I'd better do it for you. Who knows what you might set fire to if I left you to it.”

She clambered slowly to her half-asleep feet and finally looked over to see Nosy Parker seated at the kitchen table, covered in dust, trying and failing to stifle a chuckle.

“Looks to me like you’ve been burning a few things yourself, girl. Get a look at your face!”

Eh?

She limped over to the hob and checked her reflection in the shining silver kettle there, only to see a grime-smeared ragamuffin staring back at her.

“You could be an extra in H'Oliver!” Parker chortled, clearly delighted with his joke.

She just barely resisted the urge to fling the kettle at him - she had only just polished it, after all - and instead wiped her face with a nearby tea towel before flinging that at him instead. He spluttered some sort of outrage at the assault, but she noted that he never actually stopped smirking at her.

“Whatcha so ‘appy about anyway?” she asked, filling the kettle and setting the hob on. “I thought you was bone-tired.”

Parker yawned and stretched, kicking his boots off under the table, which earned him a royal scowl.

“I am. Been traipsing round a bleedin’ temple all day, ‘aven’t I? I’ve been shut in, shot at, gassed, nearly buried h’alive…”

“Well that's bad luck. Still, perhaps they’ll get you next time.”

He glowered at her, but carried on.

“Frankly I’m just glad we made it out in one piece. No thanks to Gordon Tracy of course - ‘e was no ‘elp at all. All that equipment ‘e brought, and what good did it do us? ‘Er Ladyship said the same thing. Well, not in so many words…”

“Is she alright?” Lillian asked, leaning casually on the countertop. Her Ladyship was a tough lady indeed, but for all his catastrophising it sounded like they'd had quite a time of it.

“Oh yes, right as rain,” replied Parker. “Save perhaps for a smooshed nose, courtesy of that great fishy lummox.’

“Gordon did that?”

Lillian quickly scrolled through her various kitchen utensils in her head, considering how they might best be inflicted on a young Tracy’s sensitive bits. A jaded old bird she may be, but she didn't mess about when it came to Lady Penelope’s wellbeing.

That was one thing she and Parker had in common.

Perhaps sensing impending bloodshed, Parker held up his hands in an attempt to placate his companion.

“He never meant any ‘arm, Lil. It was my fault really, setting off that booby trap like that - he was jus’ trying to save ‘er from a fatal stabbin’. And ‘Er Ladyship gave ‘im a right ol’ earful over it, so I reckon the poor lad’s suffered enough.”

The kettle whistle blew and Lillian straightened to go and make the tea, still quietly plotting.

“The truth is,” he continued, “I think ‘e might be a bit sweet on her."

She was so surprised she almost dropped the kettle on her foot.

"Really? Gordon?"

He nodded. "Like a puppy, ‘e is, following ‘er around, trying to h’impress ‘er, like; he’s like a little blond labrador.”

“A dogfish,” she suggested, grabbing a packet of biscuits from the overhead cupboard.

“Ha! H’exactly!” he chuckled. “Wet nose and wet behind the ears, that one!”

Carefully, she balanced the full cups on a tray and took it over to the table.

“But ‘e’s not that young though, is he? Twenty-four?”

“About that,” replied Parker, shovelling a hobnob in his mouth. “Seems younger though, somehow. Too young for ‘er, anyway.”

“You would say that though, wouldn’t ya? Nobody's ever gonna be good enough for her s’far as you’re concerned.”

He grinned sheepishly and reached for another biscuit.

Lillian stared into her teacup, thinking.

“You don’t think she might like ‘im too, then?”

Parker’s biscuit fell in his cup.

“You wot?”

“Well I was just thinkin’,” she said, handing him a teaspoon to fish his biscuit out, “all this talk about how annoying he is and ‘ow he’s always getting into scrapes ‘n’ all that…” She took a sip. “It just seems that if she didn't like ‘im, she might not care quite so much what ‘e does.”

“Don't talk soft, woman!” exclaimed Parker, forgetting all about his slowly-disintegrating hobnob. “She’s fond of all those Tracy boys, Gordon included. It's part of her nature to worry after ‘em. Nothing more than that, I'm sure.”

“Hmmm. If you say so…”

They sat in silence for a minute, pondering.

“Though…” Parker started. “...Nah.”

“What?”

“S’nothing.”

She picked up another teaspoon. “I’m going to stick this somewhere painful if you don't come out with it.”

"You wouldn't dare," he scoffed.

"...Sideways."

A gulp.

“A moment?” She leaned forwards.

“Alright, alright, keep your ‘air on! It's only that I was just thinkin’, back there, there was a… a moment.”

“Between the two of ‘em, when we were up on that stairway, starin’ death in the face…”

He paused, waiting for sympathy.

She brandished her spoon at him. “And?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, we all thought that might be it - ‘The H’End’, as it were…”

“Uh-huh?”

“An’ he was saying something about us not having much time, and it being now or never…”

“Yes?”

“And the way they was looking at each other, it was like…”

“Yes?!”

She was right on the edge of her seat, tea and spoon both entirely forgotten.

He shrugged. “Well anyway, then next thing I knew, we was grappling into the air and out the roof to safety.”

She blinked.

“...What? That's it?!”

She picked up the tea towel off the table and threw it at him again.

“You almost ‘ad me then, you bleedin’ tease! Gettin’ me all invested like that…”

“What? That's what ‘appened!”

She was fuming. “I thought you’d at least say he kissed her hand or something. ‘A look’, he says!”

He flushed. “It was more than that-”

“Load of nonsense. You’ve been watching too many of those serials on telly!”

She got to her feet and stormed over to the oven.

“I can't be sittin’ here listenin’ to this rubbish all day. Got things to do,” she grumbled, pulling her rubber gloves back on.

He folded his arms, glowering. “Well that's just fine then! Last time I tell you anything.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

And so they retreated to their respective corners to sulk; her scrubbing the oven, him harrumphing in his chair, stormclouds hovering between.

A minute passed. Then two.

“...You can finish up your tea before ‘elping me with the dinner, if you like?”

“...Yeah, alright then.”

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

OC ASK THINGIE!! tagged by @tadpole-apocalypse

name: malas!! (formerly "of the bhaal temple", currently "of... my house?" he doesnt get it at all but hes got the spirit)

nickname(s): mal (astarion), arthax dus (by lae'zel, roughly translates to "utter moron" in draconic. theyre besties trust), evae (astarion, tranlsates to "love" in elvish), dragonbro (karlach), bhaalbud (wyll and karlach)

pronouns: he/him very loosely. sometimes he just drops shit like "i wish i were a girl" and everyone in the party has to deal with that for a second before moving on.

star sign: i would imagine capricorn with maybe something in cancer? hes a very responsible "big brother" quiet type but can absolutely be emotional. just like. in private. and then he immediately pretends like nothing happened. IM SORRY IM OVERTHINKING

height: 7'0 (okay last tangent but ironically i was actually working on a drawing of all the companions with my height and body type companions for them. so this was something i was very prepared for)

orientation: gay and asexual!! (he doesnt MIND sex and was totally chill with being intimate with astarion on the grave and shit, he just also doesnt really seek it out or desire it. ALSO i feel like he probably had a phase where he dated girls and kept trying to convince people/himself he wasnt gay)

race: white dragonborn! though in my head hes more of like. a hunk of bhaal's flesh in the vague shape of a white dragonborn. i think actual dragonborn might get an uncanny valley vibe from him if they look at him too long

romancing: astarion :DDDD

fave fruit: im really amused by the idea of this big hulking dragon guy very delicately picking some razzberries or blackberries to eat. so im gonna go with that (someone remind me to draw that later!!)

fave season: winter probably! i like to think that he absolutely thrives in the cold, being (sort of) a white dragonborn

fave flower: canada thistle! technically not a flower but a weed. i have a headcanon that poor malas just destroys every single plant he even considers going near. canada thistle is a very hard to get rid of weed, so i think he would be delighted to find a "flower" that could put up with his creepy death vibes

fave scent: this is gonna sound so weird but like? cooked meat? and rice and that sort of thing. the smell of a home cooked meal is the general vibe (i dont feel like the bhaal temple was super hospitable when it came to making nice food? malas loses his memory and is like "i dont know why but i feel like i prefer this curry so strongly to like. human fingers")

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: secret third thing called i think malas would be indecisive and slowly drink all of them. like back to back. over the span of an hour to try in avoid anyone catching on (astarion is so onto him)

average sleep hours: i think it really depends on the day. like 4-6 days out of the week hes too paranoid and restless to sleep at all/more than like 2 hours a night (concerning all of the elves in the party who can absolutely hear him). and then the other days of the week hes so stressed from questing and staying up the previous nights he just storms into camp and sleeps from then until he is forced out of bed

dogs or cats: dogs but more accurately worgs and owlbears. i feel like he just wants a pet thats also a bit of a feral sweetheart. also big fluffy guy you can ride!! whats not to love?? malas is probably one of those guys who inexplicably gets every cat ever to hate him within seconds of meeting them. and is also probably very upset by this

dream trip: LITERALLY ANYWHERE! malas just wants to see all the shit hes never seen before/doesnt remember. ideally after finding a way for astarion to walk in the sun.

amount of blankets: i think probably none to maybe one or a sheet? hes probably overheating for most of the game, being meant for colder climates and junk

random fact(s): - as bhaal's chosen, malas was much more into the preaching aspect of things. he would still probably be a good preacher if he worshipped any gods - malas can speak draconic as well as a bit of undercommon and deep speech. i feel like he had to like. hear people talk in these languages to even remember he spoke them post-amnesia though - that comic about malas having a giant journal full of everyones bullshit wasnt a joke. hes got a scrapbook full of quests, stickynotes, drawings, diary-type entries, and probably a good few mental breakdowns - this is more of a headcanon abt dragonborns in general but i think hes got a little hoard of pretty doo-dads.

(im so sorry if the images made this unreadable it looks fine to me on computer??? i dont know how to make them smaller either sob) IVE NEVER DONE A TAG THING SO I HOPE ITS NOT JUST SUPPOSED TO BE MUTUALS MOSTLY CAUSE I HAVE TWO ONE OF WHICH TAGGED ME ORIGINALLY tagging @venusmage @mooreaux @grandmother-goblin (i wish i had seen this tav when i did my tav appreciation post!! so cool!!) @ppilotco (AGAIN WISH I HAD SEEN THEM SOONER) @divorcedwife ANDD UUHH everyone else ever forever praying i did this right

[wetratheadcanons]

some battinson headcanons cause i still think about him almost a year later but 60% is actually just me projecting onto him

is autistic (obviously), but also has adhd

he also deals with intrusive thoughts, it's why his no-kill-policy is so important to him

loves video games, obscure internet lore and horror - especially analog horror and found footage

his favourite games are project deepweb, he solved it in just a little under 2 hours, and vampyr, he always plays the pacifist run despite it being harder

has a whole wall dedicated to the five nights at freddy's lore, scott cawthorne might be his biggest enemy

absolute animal magnet despite being kinda terrified of all of them

can't go anywhere that has animals because they're immediately flocking to him

the whole "introvert at a party finds the dog" - situation but instead the dog finds bruce and refuses to leave

ace was the first animal bruce wasn't ever really scared of, alfred thinks he may have been trained to be a psychiatric service dog prior to his adoption

wherever bruce is in the tower, ace isn't far away, his presence calms bruce

prefers loud music, he doesn't like being alone in his head too much and the noise helps him

apart from nirvana and my chemical romance, his favourite bands are ghost and ice nine kills because he likes their consistent themes

selina gifted him a pair of pink cat-ear headphones once and they're the only pair he ever wears at home

he claims it's just because they're comfortable but everyone knows it's because he loves them

eats when he's hungry but rarely at specific times, it doesn't make sense to him

he can't really eat after waking up

doesn't eat meat, he feels like it lies too heavy in his stomach

he also doesn't like the smell of cooked meats or fish

he loves sour fruits and has a mild sweet tooth

has a caffeine addiction but he doesn't like the taste of coffee, prefers black and green tea (to alfred's delight) and energy drinks (to alfred's horror)

he's trans ftm who is either gay or bi with a preference for men (he doesn't know and doesn't care to find out)

selina and him never went further than their kiss, bruce will always put gotham before anything else (until dick comes along) and selina needs a freedom that he can't give her

they also both realised it was a spur of the moment thing since they barely knew each other at that time and found they're better off friends

they're co-parenting a kitten though it's adorable really

bruce found her half dead on patrol one night and called selina in a panic about what to do, they named her chewy

ace loves chewy, she sleeps on his head, bruce has an entire folder on his phone dedicated to pictures of them

had a robin hood phase when he was 6, tried to steal from his parents to give to people in need

alfred continually reminds him of this after he takes in dick

his favourite rogue is ivy, they have important conversations (as in ivy talks and bruce hngs) about climate change while bruce tries to stop her from murder

he implements policies build after her ideals into wayne enterprise

his respect for her rises after she gets together with harley

for all that he fights it, he can't sleep without the sound of gotham - which includes gotham typical crime

he thrives when he's alone, it's how he does his best work, be it batman or wayne enterprise

has trouble admitting defeat, dick joining him as robin helped him in that department a great deal

is pierced. he did almost all of them himself, alfred has a heart attack everytime he spots a new one

the public has a weird badboy image of him, bruce has no idea where it came from

doesn't bruise easily but is still constantly in pain

has an absolute shit posture, social anxiety and crime fighting don't help

sleeps in the worst positions humanly possible

has a weird thing about mirrors, avoids them as much as he can

doesn't give interviews ever, it's part being a social recluse, part everything the press did to his parents, part hating to be perceived

has troubles with empathy, but his compassion makes up for it in great detail

dick uses him as a jungle gym, he pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it

when bruce is working on cases in the cave, dick hangs head down off of bruce's back with his legs over bruce's shoulders

dick claims it helps him think, bruce knows it's because he doesn't want to be alone

bruce loves the relationship dick and selina have, might be a little jealous that cat got through to the boy much faster than him though

after taking in dick, bruce makes sure to show alfred that he actually does see him as a father figure - regrets all the times he told him that alfred's not his father

that's all i have for now

[anglophiletraveler]

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Don’t Let Me Down

Written by John Lennon

*****

This is a shorter chapter written to be a transition chapter to keep the story of our favourite couple going.  Thanks once again to my wonderful friend and beta, Karen Bockius.  And thank you to the readers for all of your support.  It is much appreciated.  

*****

Demelza heard a knock on the door and answered it to find Caroline with a big smile on her face, and a large tote bag carrying goodness knows what!!

“Caroline!  Come on in, I’m so excited to see you!”  The two friends gave each other a big hug.  

“Hello darling, how are you?  I hope that you’re as excited about this wedding as I am!”  Caroline set down her heavy bag.

Demelza was staring at the bag, “What on earth did you bring?  It looks like you’ve shoplifted the magazine section of the grocery store!”

“Well, we do have a lot of work to do, don't we?  What kind of a maid of honour would I be if I didn’t help you get started looking at bridal magazines?  We must take notes, and possibly cut out articles and pictures that we want to keep.”

Demelza was a little confused, “Then what do we do with the articles and pictures?”  

Caroline shook her head and rolled her eyes, “What on earth am I going to do with you?  To make a scrapbook of course!  Of anything that catches your eye.  That way we or rather you, can get an idea of what type of wedding you’d like to have.”

“You make it sound simple,” Demelza replied.

“This is the fun part!  Before all of the stress takes over,” Caroline said.

Demelza furrowed her brows, “Have you ever planned a wedding before?”

“Well of course, I haven’t planned my wedding, but I’ve helped a few friends and some cousins plan their weddings.”  Caroline pulled out a giant three-ring binder with blank pages in it. Demelza thought for sure there was a spotlight on the binder and music playing when Caroline pulled it from the bag!   The front of the binder in pretty lettering spelled out ‘Demelza and Ross’s Wedding’.  “And look what I brought!  I didn’t decorate the cover because I thought you might want to do that, and of course, we don’t know a date yet.  So this will help you gather your thoughts.  You can write in it, make notes, scrapbook in it with pictures, and keep memories as you go along in your wedding planning journey.”

Caroline handed the binder carefully to Demelza like it was the original Bible!  Demelza took it gently from her with big eyes.  The empty pages felt intimidating.  Demelza had no clue what to do with it.  She’s never been part of a wedding before, she’s attended a few and had actually played at quite a few, but really had no clue what to do with this giant binder or what to do first.  

The girlfriends made themselves comfortable on the couch with tea and biscuits close at hand.  Caroline pulled out a couple more magazines, “Now I know that you really have no idea what to do first, and I can help you with that, or you can do it on your own.  That’s fine if you do.  I brought a few of the magazines that seem to be pretty helpful in guiding brides what to do and when.  They’re called The Knot.”

Demelza chuckled, “Seriously?  ‘The Knot’?”

“I know right?  Catchy.  But they really do seem to be full of good ideas.  And of course, they have a website.  Have you and Ross talked about any wedding plans at all, or maybe a date?”

“No, not really.  I reckon we should start doing something?  We’re just so busy right now.  He’s been working a lot of hours transitioning over to his new division, and I’ve been either in my private lessons or at the music hall.  I don’t know what I’m going to do if we decide to have the wedding before his mother’s surgery.”  Demelza was getting anxious by the second.  

Caroline could tell Demelza was getting worried.  “Well don’t let it worry you too much.  Something that I did think of, is what venue you could use.  I checked with my uncle and he said that he would be delighted if you’d like to have the wedding and reception at his home.  That way it could all be held in one place and you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing!  And it could be as simple or as grand as you’d want!”

“Oh Caroline!  That would be wonderful! I’ve always loved your uncle’s home and it’s a place that I’m comfortable with!  But I’ll need to talk it over with Ross.”

“Of course.  In the meantime, let’s look at these dresses before I drop you off at the music hall,” Caroline smiled.

*******************************

Jenny was about ready to go home for the night and walked in to see if Ross was ready to go home as well.  But by the look of things, Ross was knee deep in boxes.  “Ross, it’s time to go home.”

Ross turned around and gave Jenny a weak smile, “Oh I don’t know Jenny.  Maybe I’ll just stay until it’s time to pick up Demelza.”

“Ross, that's two and a half hours yet!  Why don’t you go home and rest before you pick her up?” Jenny said.

Ross moved some files so that he could sit down, “I can’t believe there’s so much stuff here leftover from the last bunch of blokes.  Oh hell Jenny I don’t know.  I’m so tired of boxes and files, but I’m afraid that if I go home I’ll fall asleep and be late picking Demelza up.”

“You need to start letting her take the tube home, or better yet teach that woman how to drive!” Jenny felt bad for her boss doing all of this running around for Demelza.  

“No, I don't like her riding the tube that late at night.  And actually she does want to learn to drive when the good weather is here to stay.  Oh, I think I’m just going to stay here for a while longer, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure Ross.  See you tomorrow,” Jenny walked out of the office.  Jenny was starting to feel frustrated with Ross driving Demelza all over London.  It’s not fair.  He does so much for her, and she doesn’t do a damn thing for Ross!  If he were my boyfriend I’d … stop it Jenny.  He’s not your boyfriend.  Get over it.  At least she’s not Elizabeth!  Jenny stepped onto the elevator and headed home.   

**************************

Ross had worked until it was time to pick up Demelza.  He was on a roll of getting things done and just stuck with it.  To his delight he was able to get most of the files put away, making less work for them in the morning.  He was now sitting in his car in the parking lot at the music hall, waiting for Demelza, with his head leaning against the window, his eyes closed.   Demelza saw through the window that Ross was probably asleep, his mouth hanging open.  She quietly opened the door and got into the car.  She nudged Ross a little bit to wake him, he startled awake and saw Demelza, “Oh shit.  Demelza, are you done?”

Demelza gave him an understanding smile, “Time to go home Ross.  Have you been at the office all this time?”

Ross cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah.  But I finally got almost all of the move done, so it was worth it,” Ross’s eyes were droopy and his voice sounded tired, “Are you hungry? We could pick something up on the way home.”

“Well, I am hungry, but I could always find something at home if you just want to go home,” Demelza said.

Ross placed his hand on Demelza’s “I don't mind stopping.  I know your appetite.  Chinese?”

“Yes Ross.”

********************************

A tired Ross and Demelza were getting out of the car when Ross stopped dead in his tracks, “fuck!”

Demelza stopped beside him, “Ross, what’s wrong?”

“Oh shit, I wasn’t thinking while working so late at the office that Seamus probably needs to get outside!  I hope he didn’t make a mess in the house.  Damnit!” Ross said as he started to head into the house ahead of Demelza.  He didn’t want her walking into a mess.

“Well, if he did, don’t yell at him, it’s not his fault,” Demelza said.

“I didn’t say it was Demelza!  For Christ’s sake I’m not going to yell at him, it’s my fault,” Ross’s voice had an unusual terseness to it that caught Demelza by surprise.  He opened the door and turned on the light.  Seamus was sitting in the kitchen waiting for his master to come home.  As soon as Demelza and Ross stood out of his way, Seamus raced outside.  The couple was looking around for any signs that Seamus might have left them something but thankfully they didn’t see anything.  Demelza put the Chinese on the table and started pulling the boxes of food out.  Ross went back outside and closed the door behind him.  It was chilly out in the dark night.  The stars were hidden by cloud cover which made it seem colder.  He plopped down in one of the lawn chairs and watched Seamus run around and stretch his legs.  He finally came over to Ross for some attention, “I’m sorry buddy, I wasn’t thinking.  I should’ve come home earlier and let you out.  I got distracted.”  Seamus licked Ross’s face in forgiveness.  Ross was laughing at the kisses.  Eventually Ross sighed, and got up and walked back inside.  

Demelza wasn’t around  when Ross came back inside, so he assumed she had already headed upstairs for the evening.  He looked at his boxes of Chinese and decided his stomach wasn’t up for it and put it in the fridge.  He grabbed a bottle of water, and also poured himself a bit of whiskey and drank it down and headed upstairs.

Demelza was sitting up in bed looking at a bridal magazine when Ross walked in, sat down and started taking off his clothes.  Demelza couldn’t help but notice the grunting that Ross was making as he undressed.  “You sound like an old man grunting over there.”

“Hmmm?” Ross climbed into bed.

“Did Seamus get all fed and watered and tucked in?” Demelza’s voice was now the one that was terse.  She was flipping the pages of her magazine quickly enough that she couldn’t possibly be reading them.

Ross yawned and stretched his arm out, and mumbled something that she didn’t understand.  “What ya readin?” Ross looked over Demelza’s shoulder and smiled, “Aww a bridal magazine, that’s nice love.  Find anything interesting?”  Ross was trying to peek at the magazine.

Demelza closed the magazine abruptly and slammed it down on her lap.

Ross’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped in shock, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to take a look.”  Ross went to put his hand on Demelza’s hand but she pulled it away.  “Demelza, what’s wrong?  Was it a bad night at rehearsal?”

Demelza let out a loud sigh, “You yelled at me Ross,” she sniffed but was fighting hard not to cry, “and I didn’t like it at all.”

Ross’s eyebrows came together, “When did I yell at you?”

“Just a little bit ago when we were coming into the house.  You yelled at me about Seamus,” Demelza said.

Now Ross remembered what she was talking about.  He pulled her into his arms, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.   I guess I didn’t even realise it.  It’s been such a long day, and I was mad at myself for forgetting about Seamus and didn’t come home to let him out before picking you up.  I’m sorry Demelza, I wasn’t mad at you.”  Ross made another attempt to hold her hand again, giving her puppy dog eyes.

Demelza rolled her eyes, “Oh alright, how am I supposed to say no to that face.”  She leaned in to kiss Ross and took his hand, which brought the sunshine back to Ross’s face.

“Sooo have you found anything interesting in your magazines?” Ross asked.  

Demelza sighed, “No, not yet.  I haven’t really given them my full attention since Caroline dropped them off earlier.”

Ross’s eyes widened again, “Caroline brought them over?  That was nice of her.”

Demelza got her smile back, “Yes! She brought over quite a few magazines, and she actually made me this three ring binder with blank pages in it, where I can cut pictures out or write down thoughts …”

Ross interrupted, “What?  A binder? I don’t understand.  What are you supposed to write down in it?”

“Wellll, thoughts about the wedding of course!  Silly!  You know, what things we want to include in the wedding, how we want it to look like, themes, wedding dresses that I like, decorations.”

“Really?  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  Sounds kind of complicated.  Do you have an…idea of a wedding dress?” Ross replied.

Demelza started flipping through the pages again, “No, not yet.  I don’t know if we need to figure out where we’re going to have the wedding before I choose my dress.  Oh Ross!  I forgot to mention!  Caroline has offered her uncle’s house to have our wedding and reception in!  Isn’t that wonderful!”

Ross’s eyebrows grew together again, “Oh.”

“What?  What’s wrong Ross?”  

Ross was looking down at his hands, “I guess I just assumed we…would get married at Nampara.”

“Oh.  I hadn’t thought about Nampara.  Well, we don’t even know about a date yet, and when your mother’s surgery is…”

“Well, I have spoken with my father about that.  Mama has a doctor appointment this Friday and he’s going to try to get a handle on that and what the doctor thinks is best,” Ross said.

Demelza was a little taken aback by this, “Oh, you didn’t tell me that you had spoken with your father.”  

“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you but I couldn’t remember whenever I saw you.  It’s hard right now.  I wish we could carve out some time for each other during the week.  By the time you get home, I’m tired, and then in the morning when I’m getting ready for work, you’re tired.”

Now Demelza’s eyebrows were knitted together, “Are you saying that you want me to quit the orchestra and my lessons?” Her voice raised.

“No Demelza!  I’m not saying that at all!  I’ve told you before that I don’t want you to quit your career, and I meant that!  It’s just hard right now with all of the rehearsing that the orchestra is doing to get ready for the album, and with the audition of the next chair of the cello coming up, it’s all just a lot.  I’m getting prepared to take over this new division  so that’s a lot as well.”  Ross let out a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry, love.  I’m kind of new to living with someone and dealing with issues like this.  And now we will soon start planning a wedding, something which I know absolutely nothing about.”

“Well, that makes two of us!  I was never the girl who thought about weddings and wedding dresses while growing up.  I was just trying to survive and get the hell out of the house.  Today is the first time that I’ve ever looked at a bridal magazine.  What about you?”

“I’ve never thought about wedding dresses either,” Ross cocked an eyebrow for a mischievous look.  

Demelza pushed him, “You twat!  I meant have you ever thought about what your wedding might be like?  You were engaged to Elizabeth after all, so you must have thought about it.”

“Well, to be honest we didn’t get very far into the wedding planning when I found her in bed with my charming cousin.  As far as thinking of what my wedding would look like?  It’s not really a guy thing.  Although, whenever I mentioned to Elizabeth about getting married at Nampara she would make a face at me.”  Ross yawned again.  “Not to be rude, but would you mind if I went to sleep, love?”

“No, I’m tired too.”  A very loving good night kiss was exchanged and they both settled down under the covers after turning out the bedside lamps.  They snuggled into their usual position of Ross wrapping his arms around Demelza with her back side pressed up against Ross’s chest.  Ross had drifted off to sleep, and Demelza was almost there when she sat up all of a sudden and screamed, “LUNCH!”

Ross sat up dazed and confused from his sleep, “What’s wrong?  What happened?  Are you alright Demelza?”

“Lunch!  That’s the solution Ross.”

“The solution to what?  What are you talking about?”

“The solution to us never seeing each other!  I could come over to your office and have lunch with you a couple of times during the week before my lessons,” Demelza was excited that she found an answer to their current problem.  

Ross’s relieved shoulders sank back down, “Yes, Demelza, that is a very good idea.  We’ll plan on it.  Can we just go back to sleep, please?”

Demelza had a slight smile on her face, “Yes Ross.”

******************************

Demelza stood at the door to Ross’s new office, and in her sexiest voice said, “Well hey sexy fancy meetin you here!”

Ross turned around and got a big smile on his face, “Well, hello there!  Come here often?”

Demlza laughed, “Not often enough.  I’ve heard that there’s a very sexy banker that works here.  Have you seen him?”

Ross got up and slinked over to Demelza, “Well, it just so happens, that I’ve thrown him out a window so that I can have you all to myself!  So, why don’t you step into my office and I’ll take you for a spin on my new office chair!”  Ross moved his eyebrows up and down trying to be all sexy.

Demelza burst out laughing at Ross and walked into his office so he could shut the door behind her.  He grabbed her arm before she could escape from him and pulled her into a very deep, forceful kiss.  Ross whispered into Demelza’s ear, “I’ve been looking forward to lunch all morning.”

Demelza giggled, “My, my aren’t you the frisky one.  Better be careful that Mr. Tonkin doesn’t walk in on us,” She wrapped her arms around Ross’s neck to pull him down for another kiss.  She felt Ross’s hands on her back side bringing a moan from Demelza, then she realised where they were and she pulled away, “Ross, darling we can’t!”

Ross let out a big sigh, “Oh, I know, I know.  Sorry.  I’m just feeling a little bit…”  Ross’s mobile phone rang, “saved by the bell,” Ross smiled.  He looked at the screen, “Hello da, how are you?”

“Hello Ross, did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all.  In fact Demelza is here with me for lunch,” Ross said.  Joshua chuckled.  Ross raised an eyebrow, “What’s so funny?”

“You, calling it lunch.  That’s what your mother and I used to call it back in the day.”

“Ewwww da, I do not want to hear about yours and mother’s sexual escapades!” Ross replied.

Demelza got a scandalous look on her face.

Ross smiled at  his fiance’, “well now that you’ve completely freaked out Demelza, is there a point to this call?  And I’ve got you on speaker.”

Joshua chuckled again, “Oh I’m sorry Demelza, I didn’t mean to shock you.  Anyway, we went to your mother’s oncologist appointment today…”

“And?”

“And, the doctor suggested that you have the wedding before the surgery, but of course it’s up to the two of you if you want to hurry up and plan a wedding, or take your time and have it later after the surgery.  The doctor is planning on the surgery for two months from now.  Your mother is upset about all of it.  She wants to be a part of the planning, but of course that’s all up to the two of you and where you want to have the wedding.”

Ross looked at Demelza to see if he could tell what her feelings were, but she wasn’t showing her hand right now.

“Ross? Are you there?” Joshua asked.

“Yes dad we’re here.  Is mum hoping that the ceremony is at Nampara?” Ross asked.

Demelza rolled her lips to bite on them in anticipation of Joshua’s answer.

“She did mention that, Ross, but this is your wedding.  You two decide on where you want to have it.  It would be nice to at least have it down here in Cornwall so that your mother does tire out too much.  But like I said, it’s your wedding,” it was obvious that Joshua was stuck in the middle.  He knew how much it would mean to Grace to have the wedding of their surviving son at their home.

Demelza cleared her throat, “Caroline’s uncle has also offered us to have the wedding and reception at his home.  That way everything could be in one place, and there wouldn’t be much planning to do.”

“Well that’s very generous of him, and it would certainly be a lovely venue for your wedding.  Well, I’m going to get going here.  I need to go pick up a prescription for your mother.  We’ll talk soon,” Joshua said.

“Alright dad, we’ll talk later,” Ross replied.  He looked up at Demelza.  “So what do you want to do?  I guess the first thing to decide on is if we want to have the wedding before the surgery, or wait?”

Demelza was biting her thumb nail, something she rarely did.  “I think we should have the wedding before the surgery.  But I also think we should have it at Killewarren.”

Ross blew a big sigh and ran his hands over his face.  “I was afraid you were going to say that about Killewarren.”

“Ross it will be so much easier on Grace and on us if we have it there, plus we can have more guests if we have it at Killewarren.  I don’t have much family, but I do have friends that I want to invite, and you do too.  Not to mention business associates.  If we have it at Nampara, we would have to use a tent for everything, and that’s something I really don’t want to do,” Demelza explained her side of things.

“Is that you talking or is that Caroline talking?”

“Ross!!  I can’t believe you just said that to me!  I haven’t even talked with Caroline since the other day.  Don’t you think I can make a decision on my own without Caroline? I…”

There was a knock on the door.  Jenny interrupted, “Ross your lunch is here.  Do you want me to bring it in here?”

“Uh yeah Jenny, thanks.  Why don’t you go on to lunch as well, yeah?” Ross told Jenny.

“Sure, sounds good.  Congratulations on your engagement Demelza.  You must be very excited. I know I would be.” Jenny said.

Demelza gave Jenny a smile, “Thank you Jenny.  Yes we’re very excited.  Have a good lunch.”

“Aye.  Ross, call me if you need me to come back sooner.  Ta.”  Jenny turned around and left the couple with their lunch.  She had heard their voices raise just before she knocked on the door which made her wonder if there was trouble in paradise.

Ross let out a big sigh and sat down at his desk, “Look Demelza, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that earlier about Caroline.  Of course you can make a decision without Caroline.  I don’t want things to be tense between us.  Can we agree to just try to keep things simple since we don’t have time to plan a royal wedding?”

Demelza sat on the couch and started pulling their lunch out of bags, “Yes, I think we can definitely agree on that.  It sounds like the album recording is going to be after your mother’s surgery, so at least we don’t have to worry about the actual recording itself.”

“Well, that’s one good thing.  I imagine that you’d like to hire some of your friends from the orchestra to play at the ceremony?” Ross asked.

Demelza started eating her sandwich, “Well, there’s a line there.  Is it tacky to ask my friends to play?  I’ll have to ask around and see how people would feel about it.  I mean we would pay them to play, naturally.  Do you think we should hire a wedding planner?”

Ross tucked into his lunch and was thinking about the question.  “Well, would that insult Caroline?  You don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to ask her point blank on that one.  I don’t want her overwhelmed either.” Demelza’s phone buzzed with a text.  She took a moment to look at it.  “Well, here we go.”

“Who is it?”

“Frank.  He said the maestro just announced the cellist audition for next Wednesday.”  Demelza’s face turned white as she put her hand over her heart.  “Fuck. It’s all too much!”  

Ross could see she was about to lose it.  Her breathing was getting faster, he joined her on the couch quickly, and placed her hand into his, “Demelza look at me.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Come on, do it with me.  We’ve done this before.  It’s okay, my love, you’re alright.”  Demelza was breathing along with Ross.  “Demelza, look at me.  Forget about anything to do with the wedding until after the audition next week, alright?  Do what you need to do to get yourself ready for the audition.  If there’s a practise room somewhere that I need to hire for you just let me know.  And I can hire a driver to take you wherever you want to go until after the audition.”

Demelza looked at Ross like a dewy eyed doe, “Oh Ross I can’t let you do all of that.”

“I insist Demelza.  This audition is very important.  I can’t help you play, but I can make arrangements to help make life easier for you while you prepare.  I’ll do the shopping this weekend and the cooking, and make sure Seamus and I stay out of your way.  Whatever you need, please just let me know, alright?  And no talk of wedding plans,” Ross raised his hand to brush a loose curl from her eyes.  

Demelza grabbed him for a hug, “Oh Ross, I’m so sorry for being so cross with you lately.  I don’t deserve you.”

Ross softly chuckled in Demelza’s ear, “Hey now, no apologies necessary.  I think we’ve both been a little on edge lately.  You just worry about kicking ass at that audition, and being the best cellist that you can be, alright?”  Ross leaned back to look at Demelza, “I love you, and I believe in you and your ability.  And I’m going to be right there by your side, every step of the way.”  Ross took Demelza’s face in both of his hands to gently kiss her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips.  The two separated and rested their foreheads against each other.  Ross sighed and smiled as Demelza’s phone started to blow up.  “I believe you know what all of that is about?”

Demelza looked at the phone, “Yep.  That would be James.  I suppose that I better get home and get ready for rehearsal.  Sorry that our lunch date was cut short.”

Ross smiled and shook his head, “It’s quite alright.  It was for a good reason.  C’mon, let’s go get you a cab home.  Why don’t you take the rest of your sandwich with you, maybe you can eat it later.”

“Good idea.  You could finish yours as well,” Demelza stood up to get her things together.  

Ross straightened his tie and ran his hand through his hair, “You ready to go, love?”

Demelza smiled at him, straightening his tie, “Yes, I guess so.”  She placed her hand on his chest and leaned up for another kiss.  

“Okay, I’ll walk you downstairs to get a cab,” Ross opened the door for her.  Jenny was standing outside of Ross’s office door when he opened it.   “Oh hi Jenny, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.  I’m going to walk Demelza downstairs to get a cab and then I’ll be back.”

“Oh the tube station is just half a block away, that would be cheaper,” Jenny piped in.

“Oh I could just do that Ross…” Demelza said.

Ross’s eyes widened at Jenny, “No Jenny, please!  Demelza, I want you to take a cab. It will be quicker and you’ll be able to get home and do what you need to do for rehearsal and find out more about the audition,” Ross said emphatically.  Demelza saw the look on Ross’s face and then looked at Jenny whose face was flushed from Ross’s words.  Ross took a breath.  “So Demelza, do you have everything together?

Demelza’s eyes were wide, and she answered him in a soft voice, “Yes, love, I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

“Right.  Jenny, I’ll be back in a moment,” Ross grabbed Demelza’s hand and led her to the elevator.  

Ross and Demelza stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind them.  Ross noticed Demelza was looking at him, “What?”

“Um, well, maybe it’s just me, but I think Jenny has a thing for you.  I’ve suspected before but the way she looked at me today, I’m pretty sure.  Has she said anything to you?”

Ross sighed, and ran his hand across his face, “I had an inkling.  I was hoping I was just imagining things.  What should I do?”

The elevator door opened and they stepped out.  “I don’t know Ross.  I guess just make sure you don’t encourage her feelings.  I’ll think about it and we can talk about it over the weekend, but right now I need to get a cab.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  I see one over there, let’s go grab it.”  Ross waved at the cab to make sure it didn’t drive off.

Ross opened the car door for Demelza, “Look, I’ll pick you up later tonight, and then maybe we can go have a drink or something.  Unwind a bit,” Ross reached in the window to give the driver instructions on where to go and paid him.

“That sounds wonderful!” Demelza gave Ross a kiss and got in the cab.

Ross waved them off and then turned around and looked at his building.  He couldn’t help but think about Jenny and what he should do, or if he should do anything.  He’s never been in this kind of situation before and he didn’t want to mess it up.  He let out a big sigh and headed back into the building.

*******************************

I have to admit, finding titles for the chapters has forced me to remember Beatles songs that I’ve forgotten about and it’s also been fun learning about how they were written and the story behind the song.  I chose this song for this chapter because as Ross and Demelza go forward in their relationship, and now planning a wedding, things or people will no doubt get in their way just like any other couple.  Demelza has worked hard for her career and Ross plans on supporting her in it, but what about children?  To have children or not to have children?  Where is the wedding going to take place?  Is there going to be a woman from Ross’s past to throw a monkey wrench into the couple? 

[ciaossu-imagines]

Any long term reader of mine knows how dear to my heart the polyship of Hakkai/Reader/Gojyo is. Like, I am so incredibly in love with that polyship; it’s one of my self-ships…I just love the dynamics there! So, used the same prompt again and hope the Saiyuki fans enjoy the headcanons!

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa?

This is Gojyo. It’s usually when he’s drunk though, so he kind of has an excuse. Or at least, that’s what he’ll say!

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them?

I feel like, though not a desk, Hakkai would have done this at least once on a scrap piece of paper. He rips it after he’s finished using it and it never gets shown to anyone because Hakkai likes to be a little secretive of just how much you and Gojyo do mean to him.

Who starts the tickle fights?

Out of the two of them, Gojyo would be the more ecstatic to find out that you are ticklish if you are. He really, really delights in pinning you down and being goofy, tickling you and having you smile and laugh and beg him to stop. He won’t stop until you’re squirming under him and breathless from laughter though…and let’s be honest, with all the squirming you did, he only stopped so that he could lead the affection in a much naughtier direction.

Who starts the pillow fights?

Gojyo starts them…Hakkai finishes them. I really don’t feel much more needs to be said there.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

It could be you, or it could be Gojyo. Hakkai likes to get to bed earlier, whenever possible, while Gojyo likes to go out at night to the bar or stay up late. He likes when you stay up late with him but he understands when you need to turn in early too, and coming to bed and seeing your peaceful face is a nice sight to behold…his second favourite of your facial expressions, to be honest.

Who mistakes salt for sugar?

It’s you or nobody. Gojyo doesn’t eat a lot of sugar and Hakkai cooks enough to know where each is kept, and to keep them quite a ways apart.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m. in the morning?

Gojyo is actually really good about stopping it just at the last couple seconds so that it doesn’t beep, actually…however, he never thinks to clear the time off the microwave, so that’s another issue in and of itself.

Who comes up with cheesy pick-up lines?

Some of Gojyo’s dialogue with women, just canonically, shows that he definitely does this every now and again. They just always come across as endearing or charming though, no matter how corny or trashy romance book dialogue-esque they would seem coming from anyone else.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order?

Hakkai is the more organized out of all of you. He likes to have everything in its place and pretty solid systems for organization and alphabetical is the most common one to use. Not only is the bookshelf probably in alphabetical order thanks to him, but the spice rack and medicine cabinet is as well.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

You and Gojyo always have a playful fight over who gets to lick the spoon…which almost always ends in him saying you can have it, you starting to lick the spoon, and him surprising you every damn time by licking the other side and then turning it into a steamy kiss, after which he always mentions that you taste particularly delicious.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion?

I feel like little romantic gestures like this are very much Hakkai’s style. In all of his memories with Kanan, it’s not the big events or sweeping grand gestures that he remembers vividly, but all the little quiet moments and all the small day to day things that instantly pop into his head. It’s also why he likes making you tea or coffee and remembers how you like your eggs cooked.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen?

While he loves you, Gojyo might just be childish to write ‘property of Gojyo’ on you for shits and giggles if you let him near you with a pen. Hakkai would remind both of you that drawing on yourself is a bad habit and very childish and you probably shouldn’t be doing that. So, you’d most likely be the one doing this.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation?

I feel that Hakkai isn’t really into materialistic gifts or things heavily and souvenirs aren’t a huge thing to him. Magnets hold no appeal to Gojyo but if he can, he likes to decorate with souvenir shot-glasses from places you travel to or might buy you a piece of cheap jewelry unique to a certain area you guys travel to or through.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines?

Okay, but nobody, and I mean NOBODY, will ever convince me that Gojyo would not be all over those quizzes in Cosmopolitan…or that he wouldn’t read a lot of the articles in the magazine either.

[smallraindrops-blog]

(Anon who sent the Vamp! Y/n blurp!)

Absolutely think Y/n and Persephone would become friends. I actually had some blurbs written in between them interacting, but I didn't think it lined up well. ;w; Funnily enough, one of the small sections was going to be Persephone offer to drink tea together!

If I ever sit down and write all the little stories your writing has inspired from me, I'll make sure to send you a link! (They'll most likely be on Ao3 under the name Mewtwo04 nwn)

omg yes definitely send me those links! But no pressure and please feel to send me an ask or dm me if you ever want chat! ^-^

The vamp! Y/n fanfic you send me was so so good. I still reread it.

Adding more rambling thoughts.

also imagine this. Y/N is Persephone’s bodyguard and y/n acts like a total gentleman to the queen, like holding his hand out to help her down the steps and holding her bags for her while acting as her bodyguard.

And it made some shades go ‘ooo, the queen and her bodyguard???’ But there is nothing going on between them bc y/n is super gay and into Hypnos and the queen is still in love with Hades even with all of their issues.

but the rumors got Hades giving Y/N dirty glares every time he sees him.

Y/n doesn’t talk much over tea but the judgmental expressions he makes when Persephone tells him new gossip delights her to no ends.

He is also a very good sounding board for any new gardening ideas she might have. Unlike everyone else, he just agrees to whatever she says.

[discordantwords]

wip wednesday!

I was tagged by @7-percent to share some of the WIPs I'm currently working on. Thanks for the tag!

Rules: post the first few lines or the summary of as many WIPs that you care to expose to the reading public. Tag others if you are curious to see what they are working on.

Oooof, I have so many WIPs. A lot of them are little more than ideas that I've jotted down that will never see the light of day. But let me pull out a few of them.

Nothing to Celebrate (currently posting on AO3)

Here are a few lines from the next chapter, which has been slightly delayed as I (and everyone else in my house, this has been a hell of a week ::sob::) recover from Covid, but should be polished up and posted by the end of the week:

It is CCTV footage, grainy, black and white. John and Mary, weaving their way down the street. They look quite cosy, tucked up against each other. In spite of the blurry picture, Mary's dress and coat are unmistakable, as is John's moustache.

Time in a Bottle

This is the next fic in line, a very belated FTH gift for @khorazir, and should start posting once Nothing to Celebrate is wrapped up. Sherlock and John investigate a case tied to an old bottle, and might get the chance to make some wishes.

I have a big chunk of this one drafted already, but I'm playing around with the structure and trying to decide on the best starting point for the story. The timeline is going to get a little twisty and convoluted before the boys get their happy ending.

"First order of business is to find out what you've drugged me with. Though, if you're so inclined, you can save time and simply tell me." She laughed, a startled sound. "Drugged you?" He smiled tightly, set the vial aside. "Tea?" "No, thank you," she said. "Do people frequently break into your flat to drug you?" "On occasion," he said, and flashed another insincere smile. He dug his mobile out of his dressing gown pocket, thumbed out a text to Molly. "As you've just admitted to breaking into my flat, perhaps we can dispense with the pleasantries and skip to the part where you tell me what you're after."

Untitled Amnesia Fic (current working title is Strangers Forever)

This one will get written. I've been picking at it off and on for the last year or so. Set in a world where Sherlock's plane does not turn around at the end of HLV.

Sherlock is undercover doing reconnaissance work for Mycroft in the US. Thanks to what he believes was an accident, but which was actually an intentional procedure, he has no recollection of the last ten years or so of his life. John finds him and things unravel from there.

I'm so excited for this fic, but also intimidated by it, which is why I've been poking at it for so long. It's angsty turned up to 11. Intensely, painfully angsty. And I will warn upfront that there is no miraculous return of memory-- everyone involved must simply find a way to carry on.

Here's an excerpt:

There are ashtrays balanced on nearly every flat surface. He picks one up, sets it back down, surprised at his own nervousness. "I'm—" he starts, and swallows. Tries again. "I'm in the midst of a fascinating study on tobacco ash. Do you have any idea how many variations—?" "Two hundred and forty-three," John says. Sherlock swivels to look at him, delighted. "You know ash?"

And another:

"I think it might be nice to have an arch enemy," Sherlock says idly. He is feeling whimsical, and he lets a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. "I've often thought about it." John does not smile. "You had one. It wasn't nice."

Untitled Harry Wedding Fic

This is another one that I've been poking at for a while. It's meant to be two chapters. I've had the first chapter written for years, but stalled out on the second. Something just feels wrong about it. I hope to figure it out one of these days, because I quite like what's already been written.

Set sometime post S4, John bumps into Mike Stamford again. Mike lets slip that he's attending Harry's wedding that weekend… a wedding John knows nothing about. He's hurt and embarrassed and makes plans to crash the wedding. Sherlock invites himself along.

"This was supposed to be a nice day," Harry said. "Hm. Yeah. Seems perfectly nice." She turned to look at him, lips pressed into a tight white line. He stared back, but his resolve refused to hold. He just felt tired. Tired and sad and sorry. He sighed, looked down. "Harry—" "I'll have them find you a place at one of the tables," she said. Her voice was clipped. "I ought to pitch you out on your arse. But." "Two," he said. "What?" "Two places." "Sorry," she said. "Did I hear you correctly? Not only did you crash my wedding, but you brought a date?" "He's not my date," John said. He cleared his throat, looked away.

Golden Ticket

Yeah, it's a Willy Wonka AU.

"Sherlock Holmes," Mike said. "The genius behind it. Completely mad, of course, but—" "Mad. Genius. Yeah, got it," John said. He vaguely remembered hearing something about Holmes, years ago. Before Holmes Candy had blown up bigger than Cadbury, or Moriarty, or even Hershey over in the states. "Young guy, right?" Mike laughed, but there was no mockery in it. "Oh, you have been out of touch for the last few years, haven't you?" He smiled, shook his head. "Yeah, that was him. Showed up out of nowhere, no formal training, no background in the industry, completely blew the competition out of the water. Every bloody shop in London carries his stuff." "Okay," John said. Mike was right, of course. Holmes Bars, with their purple and gold packaging, were damn near ubiquitous. And he supposed the story of Holmes' out-of-nowhere success had a certain appeal, though why Mike had chosen now to bring it up was more than a bit perplexing. Mike smiled at him, an encouraging smile. John frowned, back, looked down at his cane. "Right. So what's . . . funny about him?" Mike took another sip of his coffee. "Well. He had some kind of nervous breakdown three years ago. Guess all the success went to his head. If you were overseas you might not have heard about it, but—" "Not really the sort of thing I'd have followed, overseas or not," John said, glancing past Mike towards the path once again. He wondered if it would be terribly rude to invent a forgotten appointment. "No, trust me, you'd have noticed," Mike said. "It was bizarre. He put out a string of limited edition candies—I mean—there were these lollies, right? Where each flavor represented a different level of decay—" "What?" John looked away from the path, back at Mike. Mike nodded. "Yeah. Not joking. And if I remember our anatomy classes correctly—and mate, you know as well as I do that's not something I'm likely to forget—he absolutely nailed it." "Why would anyone—?" "They were puzzles, you know? You were supposed to work out by the colour and taste how long the victim had been dead and where they'd been found. There were a few different ones, and eventually all these websites set up where people speculated over it and eventually solved the mystery of what each one was supposed to be." John blinked. "Man buried in shallow ground for a week. Woman floating in salt water for three days. Man in deep freezer for—" "Yeah, all right, I get it," John said. Then he shook his head. "No. I don't get it. He . . . flavored his candy with corpses?" "No, he flavored his candy like corpses. Caused quite a stir! But it was genius, really. A bit mad, but—" "Mad genius. Yeah. So you've said." "Anyway, around the same time that was going on, he started to get paranoid. It was in all the papers. Lots of speculation about drugs. He went on these public tirades about spies in his factory, stealing his recipes. Said Moriarty was out to ruin him." "Sounds like he did a right job of that on his own," John said. Corpse-flavoured candy. Honestly. "Well, he disappeared. Shut down his factory, just like that. Sacked all his staff. Cancelled all of his pending orders" "Shame," John said flatly. "But," Mike said, his eyes lighting up. "Five days ago, the factory started up again. Candy started shipping out worldwide. No one knows how. Or why."

I'll tag @thetimemoves @saki101 @algyswinburne and anyone else who sees this, if you'd like to share some of what you've been working on, consider yourself tagged!

[nyxlaufeyson]

The Verdict (Pandora's Box)- Chapter 7

Main Masterlist - Pandora's Box Masterlist

A/N: I did not forget to post chapter 7. Totally not. Could never be me. Imagine. (Sarcasm)

Pandora awoke to a soft knock on the door, followed by a voice. “Pandora?” She heard Loki call, and she reluctantly got out of bed to open the door.

Thor and Loki were standing in the doorway, and Thor smiled at her. “Did you have a good night’s slumber?” He asked, and Pandora nodded. 

She had, in fact, actually had a decent night’s sleep compared to her usual sleep schedule. The comfortable bed, along with the melatonin released from a few tears, must have helped her drift off.

“Great.” Thor said, grinning. “Me and my brother have come to escort you to breakfast.”

Pandora strummed her fingers through the air, and she was dressed in what Asgardian men would usually wear, because it was more comfortable than the Asgardian dresses. She kept her hair down, something she rarely did. She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Let’s go then.” She said, and walked between Thor and Loki as they made their way through the halls.

They were silent for a moment, before Pandora spoke once more. “Do we know when the council is planning on continuing our lovely discussion?” She inquired, and Loki nodded. 

“Odin and his court plan to meet later in the afternoon, and he does expect us to be there.” Loki said, gesturing to all three of them. “Which means it’s probably best we come up with some things to say in response to all their complaints.” 

Pandora nodded. “Shouldn’t be that hard.” She said as they made their way to a table and sat down. There were traditional Asgardian breakfast foods that filled the table, and Pandora’s mouth nearly watered at the sight.

Thor began to pile his plate with all that he could fit, before she and Loki followed. The three of them sat down, and Pandora noticed others fill the room and grab their own plates, several of them throwing ugly glances towards Pandora. 

Frigga came up to her, smiling. “Did you sleep well, dear?” She asked, and Pandora nodded with a small smile. 

“I did. Thank you for…” she paused, considering her words, “... your hospitality.” Pandora replied, and Frigga put her hand on Pandora’s shoulder. Pandora had to control herself from flinching, not exactly delighted by the physical contact.

“Of course. I must get going now, I shall see you all later in the day.” Frigga dismissed herself, and Pandora continued to eat with Loki and Thor. 

After she had finished with her food, she started thinking about what the council might bring up against her. “Do you know what they plan on using against me?”

Thor shrugged, while Loki thought the question over before responding. “I am not sure. Odin isn’t exactly transparent when it comes to what he has planned. But, I am certain he will bring up how you managed to evade Heimdall’s all-seeing eye.”

Pandora bit her lip, looking down. Truth was, she had no idea how Heimdall could not see her. Ever since she had made it out of Helheim, she had expected to be inevitably found. In fact, when nobody came after her, she had begun to grow wary.

She added another sugar cube to her tea and stirred it with a spoon, watching as the white cube melted into the steaming tea and separated before dissolving. She didn’t answer, because she didn’t know what to say. What could she say that wouldn’t sound like a blatant lie? If she told them that she honestly hadn’t had a clue, then they would presume that she was lying.

“Also, when you said you had help escaping, and told Odin he knew who you were talking about, what did you mean? I meant to ask you yesterday, but didn’t want to make things more… stressful for you.” Loki asked, and Pandora took a sip of her tea to delay her response.

Considering the fact that before arriving in Helheim, Pandora had no idea of her ‘helper’s’ existence, she seriously doubted that Loki and Thor had any idea of their existence. And, not wanting to stir up any old drama before their current problems had been solved, Pandora was not going to be the one to alert them of said person’s existence.

Once Pandora knew she was out of time to sip her tea without looking suspicious, she answered. “Another person who was banished to Helheim as well. She was, is, substantially powerful.”

“Do you know their name? Anything about them that we should know?” Thor asked, and Pandora bit her lip before shaking her head.

“No, she never did give me her name. She said that it was unimportant” She lied, and she was convincing. After all, she’d had centuries to practice the craft of lying. 

She only felt a twinge guilty at the lie. Thor had shown her hospitality and didn’t turn her in to Odin and leave it at that. However, she knew that if she revealed too much information that Thor was unaware of, that it would influence him to make irrational decisions. 

To make up for the lie, Pandora followed it up with a truth. “But she was Aesir. A goddess.” She said, and Thor. “I’m sure Odin knows who helped me, I know that she had… history with him.”

Loki didn’t seem entirely convinced with the fact that Pandora knew that her, for lack of better word, ‘companion’ was an Aesir goddess, but not the simple knowledge of her name. Nonetheless, he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure it will all go smoothly.” Thor said, optimism lining his voice. “The council is composed of… reasonable people.”

Loki and Pandora locked eyes, both clearly trying not to snort. Thor might have faith in the council, but Pandora and Loki were significantly more doubtful.

Pandora smiled, dropping the napkin that she had used to wipe her mouth onto the plate in front of her. “I admire your hope, Thor.”

Thor returned her smile. “Hope is always a good trait to have.” 

“Yes.” Pandora said, tilting her head ever so slightly. “I suppose it is.”

Hope was a beautiful thing. Hope was what had helped her through some very difficult times. However, it also seemed to let her down. She could hope all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change reality. It was alright, though, because she had other ways to alter reality.

~~~~~

Pandora had once again found herself sitting at the large ebony table surrounded by people that were either scared or annoyed by her. She felt more confident than she had yesterday, now that she was no longer being surprised by any long-lost siblings.

As Loki had predicted, the council had asked her how she had evaded Heimdall’s watch. She had prepared an answer, one that she had thought about for around an hour, despite its simplicity.

What she had not expected, however, was for her to lock eyes with Heimdall right after Odin asked the question. Heimdall looked uncomfortable, and a little bit nervous. Now, Pandora almost excused his look as him being upset that he hadn’t been able to see her. But, when she met his gaze, Pandora seemed to understand.

She hadn’t been out of Heimdall’s sight. He had seen her the entire time. He had lied to the king. He had committed treason. Why he had done such a thing, Pandora hadn’t a clue, but she wasn’t going to reveal his secret, especially since it was probably the only reason Pandora hadn’t been caught sooner.

So, Pandora gave the answer that she had rehearsed. “Magic.” She said, and for good measure, she continued, “A simple but adequate spell that broadcasts a different location each time someone tries to locate me.”

She noticed Heimdall slightly relax after she had answered, confirming her suspicions. “I see.” Odin said, rubbing his beard. He didn’t look like he believed her, but it was obvious that it was what he expected her to say. After all, it made perfect sense.

Pandora had expected all of the questions that had been thrown at her thus far, but what she didn’t expect was for Frigga to ask her the same question that she had asked Pandora in the cells. “What do you want in life?”

It wasn’t clear to Odin or anyone else why Frigga would have asked such a question, but it was obvious to Pandora: sympathy. The council didn’t have much of that to give, all things considered, but she considered that some of them might feel guilty for sending her off as a child. Banking off of their small bits of sympathy might prove beneficial, so Pandora knew she needed to answer.

But, even though she knew she needed to say something, Pandora froze. She could tell that she wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the question, as several of the council members were beginning to whisper. 

She felt a hand grab hers under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. She looked to her left to see that the hand belonged to Loki, although his gaze wasn’t focused on her, he pretended to be fully focused on the council and their questions.

This gave Pandora the confidence she needed, so she drew in a breath. “I would like to have some sort of stability. People that care for me, and vice versa.” The answer was a less emotional one than what she had given Frigga, but it still made her feel partially vulnerable.

The council hadn’t been expecting this answer, nor had they accepted it. Someone even had the nerve to laugh, although they quickly turned it into an awkward cough once the Allmother glanced their way.

“I know you all don’t believe me, but it’s true. To be fair, I was a child when I was kicked out. I haven’t exactly had any sense of stability since then. I’m sure you all would feel the same if taken out of your posh lives and forced to survive on your own.”

After that, the whispering stopped and the council’s awkward glances turned downwards. They were the ones that had sent her off in the first place, and they deserved to feel awkward.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes, until finally Frigga broke the silence. “I suppose we all would feel the same way in your situation.” She mused, and to Pandora’s surprise, a few people mumbled agreements.

Odin cleared his throat and everyone turned their attention towards him. “Well then, what did you do in Midgard while you resided there?”

“I took different jobs at different places, moving every now and then to avoid any suspicions. I’ve been a barista, a sales associate, a private investigator; I’ve collected several jobs over the years to keep me busy.” Pandora explained, recounting her experiences. Some of her jobs had been wonderful, while others had not. Whenever her work involved customer service, Pandora found it more difficult as she had to handle a plethora of stupid people.

She hadn’t done anything particularly violent on Earth, and nothing that was too illegal. Some Midgaurdian laws seemed to be too constrictive, so it wasn’t entirely her fault that she occasionally did something that was against the law.

“What would you do if you were to go back to Midgard?” Frigga asked, folding her hands neatly on the table. 

Pandora wasn’t entirely sure what she would do if she was able to go back to Earth, but she had some ideas. It would certainly make it easier that she wouldn’t have to worry about someone finding her, now that it had already happened. “I suppose I would continue what I have been doing. Move around and get new jobs, and then just repeat the process.” 

What she really wanted to do was settle down, but nowhere in the mortal world she had felt entirely at ‘home.’ She wasn’t sure what ‘home’ was supposed to feel like. Was it supposed to feel like when she was a child with her parents?

Plus, with her being hunted down, she couldn’t have risked it. “Maybe if I find somewhere that I like, I’ll be able to settle down.”

Frigga nodded and looked at Odin, who seemed to be deep in thought. Could he actually be considering letting Pandora go? If so, she would be indebted to Frigga. Pandora had doubted her chances of being released, as she had already been hatching an escape plan. She could probably get Loki to help, but she wasn’t sure how loyal Thor would be to his father and his decisions.

Odin looked over to Thor. “My son, you said that your group of… heroes didn’t find any crimes or deaths connected to her?”

Thor shook his head. “No father, we did not find anything connecting the lady to any sort of wrong-doing on Midgard.”

Suddenly, the hall doors burst open and King Njord walked in. Pandora had to literally bite her tongue to keep from saying or doing anything that would get her in deeper trouble.

Njord narrowed his eyes at Pandora, walking over to Odin and greeting him with a bow. “I apologize I could not make it earlier, Allfather. I had business to attend to in Vanaheim. I see you have found the prisoner.”

Njord walked and took a seat directly in front of Pandora. “I’m surprised this matter is not already closed. I thought we had a clear understanding of what was to happen if the girl was ever caught.” 

Frigga frowned at the man. “An execution without a proper royal trial? Now, Njord, that doesn’t seem very just to me.”

Pandora wasn’t exactly surprised that they had planned to execute her before Thor and Loki stepped in. However, that didn’t stop her from feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. Even with her magic being stronger than ever, she didn’t know if she would have been able to take all the guards alone as they brought her to her doom.

“I didn’t know that a trial was needed when she was clearly guilty and escaped Helheim.” He said, and Pandora grimaced. She wanted to punch him square in the jaw, but that would have to wait until another date. She grabbed a hold of her necklace locket, twirling it around in her fingers.

Loki was about to say something, but Frigga subtly raised her hand to stop him. Loki took note of the gesture, and held his tongue.

“Thor has just explained to us that Pandora had done nothing of malice on Midgard. The only crimes we have her committing were centuries ago, and surely those were not entirely her fault.” Frigga said, but Njord didn’t seem to give her the same respect he gave Odin. 

He didn’t even need to come up with a response. “She was a danger to the nine realms, and we did what needed to be done. She still is a danger, and I thought that you both would be able to see that.”

Pandora scowled. “Tell me, Njord, how exactly was a kid that much of a threat that you had to banish her to Hel?”

Njord seemed taken aback by the fact Pandora did not address him with his title, but he quickly composed himself. “Seiðr is a dangerous art and should not be in the hands of those we can not trust!” 

Pandora was about to make another retort, but a beautiful goddess walked in. Everything about her screamed that she was powerful, and not someone to cross. It was Freya, Njord’s daughter.

Njord seemed surprised by his daughter’s arrival. “Freya, what are you-” but he paused as she strutted right up to Pandora and offered her hand. Pandora stood up, firmly shaking Freya’s hand.

Freya smiled, eyeing Pandora up and down. It wasn’t a glance of judgment, but one that was of assessment. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Pandora. I have heard a lot about you.”

Pandora attempted to smother her surprise with a calculated smile. “The pleasure is all mine, my Princess.” The fact that Pandora called Freya by her title and not him clearly pissed Njord off, which made Pandora smirk.

“I know I’m not usually on the counsel, but as Princess of Vanaheim I invoke my right to have a say in this matter.” All around the table, members wore shocked faces. Even Loki was surprised. Neither him nor Pandora had seen this coming, although it was not unwelcome. Since Freya was a magic-wielding goddess, she would be easier to convince that Pandora meant no harm to the realms. 

Odin, after recovering from the initial shock, shushed the court from their conversations. “Very well then, Princess Freya, please take a seat.”

Frigga tasked herself to bring them up to speed on the situation. “So, we were just learning of how Pandora wishes to have a stable life without being on the run. As you know, much of her life has been devoid of that.”

Freya nodded. “Perfectly reasonable. I don’t see the problem with it.” Njord looked at her, livid. 

“Don’t see a problem with it?” He spat, throwing his hands up in the air. “She is dangerous. She’s killed, probably more than we know of. How can we let her loose when we know she could bring death and destruction?” 

Freya leveled her shoulders, not looking bothered. “So have I. Lots of people are dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that they will inflict harm. The death she caused centuries ago was the result of a child discovering something that was buried within. Did you forget how it was when I discovered my magic?”

This seemed to temporarily silence Njord, and Thor used that time to speak. “Father, what if I kept an eye on her? You send Pandora back to Midgard, and I will check in with her and ensure all is well.” 

Frigga seemed pleased with the plan, and Odin didn’t immediately reject it. Njord, however, was not easily swayed. “Absolutely not. She would just run away like she has before.”

Pandora narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t speak. She could not find words that would be nice enough to describe her point, so she opted for silence. 

“Pandora, will you please follow one of the guards back to your room? I will discuss the matter with the council and we will come to a decision.” Odin said, and Pandora nodded, walking towards the exit with a guard. 

She turned back towards the table, the royals, her parents, and smiled. It was somewhat forced, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Thank you for considering my case.” She bowed, locked eyes with Loki, and her smile became a tad more genuine. “Thank you.”

The guard led her out of the great hall and back to her temporary room. Now, all she could do was wait. She rested, knowing that if the outcome was not in their favor, she would need to have all the energy she could muster.

~~~~~

Three knocks sounded at the door. The pattern sounded rushed, but not dangerous. If they had denied her request to return to Midgard, would they have the courtesy to knock? She would have assumed them to run in and seize her.

However, she did not want to push her luck. She moved closer to the door, ready to go into a defensive mode. Would they want to execute her? Or would they lock her up for all of eternity?

Pandora pushed the door open, finding just Loki and Thor. They both had smiles on their faces, and Pandora dropped her defensive state a little bit. “You are free to live!” Thor shouted.

She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t exactly plan it all out this far. She had mostly expected to be fighting for her life at this moment, but the fact things had gone right? How was one supposed to react? Finding out that she would no longer have to run, after running all her life?

“Of course, there are restrictions, and you’ll have to stay in touch with me, but you won’t be stuck in a cell…” Thor began to ramble about some of the things the council would expect her to do, and that she would need to check in with Thor often. Pandora, still in shock, pulled Loki and Thor into a hug.

She hadn’t hugged anyone in a long while, but it felt right. It was a little awkward, her between two men who reacted very differently to the hug. Thor returned the embrace, but Loki was hesitant and stiff. After a second, though, he caught his wits and wrapped his arm around her. “Thank you.” Pandora whispered, afraid that she would wake up and be in a cell, or worse, in Hel.

“You're welcome.” Loki and Thor said at the same time, locking eyes with each other. It had been a while since they had worked together to achieve a common goal, and it felt strangely satisfying now that they had. Maybe their strained sibling relationship needed this.

Pandora pulled away, letting a tear fall down her cheek. “We will return to Midgard in the morning.” Thor said, and Pandora nodded. He bid his goodbyes, leaving Pandora and Loki alone.

“Will you be coming with us?” Pandora asked, and Loki frowned. He hadn’t ever dreamed of returning once his assignment was done. But after getting to know Pandora, even as little as he had been able to, he was intrigued.

Intrigue wasn’t all that influenced his decision. In truth, his mother had talked to him about it. She wanted Loki to go with Thor and help out the Avengers more, to try to build a better image for himself. He wasn’t ecstatic about the idea, but he could always come back to Asgard and say it didn’t work out.

“My mother talked to me, she wants me to go with Thor and continue to help out the Avengers. Something about ‘reforming my image in the public’s eye.’” He made a face, and Pandora laughed, looking relieved.

She smiled. “I’m glad. I’m not sure where I’ll go when we go back, but I hope we can remain in contact.” 

Loki smiled and nodded at her. “I would like that.”

And so, Loki left Pandora to pack a couple of dresses that she had found in the closet along with the vase of flowers. The flowers had not shown a singular sign of death, and they were as vibrant as they had been when she first received them.

TAG LIST (If you want to be added or removed, comment or inbox. If you want to only be tagged for this series/or just oneshots, etc... make sure to let me know. Make sure your tag settings are on.)- @anukulee @mischief-dream @iceeericeee

[nightmarenova-writer]

~Story Drabble Pt.7~

(P.S. this is something of a draft for my project that I briefly mentioned in my pinned comment, I kinda impulsively decided to type this down because its been driving me a bit crazy due to how much I could work with this. And since by the time March comes around, this’ll be my 2nd year of constant and detailed planning with taking stuff out and putting stuff in. And I’m hoping by next year or by December I’ll have enough to start posting my stuff. BUT there is one important detail with my project. It’s actually a large scale fan-fic that’s gonna have roughly 10-11(?) parts or “installments” so if that isn’t your thing then you don’t have to feel obligated to read these okay? If its not your cup of tea, then no hard feelings. Also just a heads up my grammar might be a bit sucky. Even as a native English speaker my grammar does go down when I don’t write for a while! But I hope you enjoy this! Without further ado, lets get to it!)

—Also this one is a long one, so buckle up and get ready for the ride! Might be a bit confusing at some parts but i tried to make it make sense lol. Enjoy!!—

When I came to, there was nothing around me. Not in the sense of it just being pitch black and void of signs of anything, but literally nothing. No noise, no air, not one tree or silhouettes, not even color. Just…nothing.

‘Where am I?’, I couldn’t help but think.

After all, the last thing I remember was laying down on my brand new bed I just managed to get and conking out. The gentle sound of the wind blowing the trees limbs, and the delightful soft, fluffiness of my blankets engulfing my small frame. Laying snug against the wall facing my bedroom’s door. As I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence and chance to get a full nights rest.

But now I’m here. Alone, in a place that even though I know I’ve never been to, seems so painfully familiar. And no matter how much I called out or tried to find anything, anyone there was nothing. Alone…I was alone. Where am I? Where is this? Why am I here? What is happening?!

No matter how many times I asked I didn’t receive an answer. Alone. I was utterly alone.

‘Someone…anyone…please someone answer me!!’, I screamed helplessly in my mind.

I don’t want to be alone. Please, I just want a sign. A voice, a color, a tree or flower, a person, it doesn’t matter. Just give me a sign!

L̶o̷n̵e̴l̷y̸.̷ ̶I̴’̸m̷ ̵s̴o̵ ̴l̷o̵n̵e̸l̴y̵.̸ ̶W̸h̸y̵ ̷i̸s̸n̴’̶t̷ ̸t̵h̸e̷r̷e̵ ̴a̸n̷y̶t̵h̶i̸n̷g̵ ̸h̶e̶r̵e̴?̸ ̷W̴h̴y̵ ̷a̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̵a̵l̶l̵ ̷a̸l̸o̸n̸e̸?̸ ̵I̷ ̵c̷a̸n̶’̸t̵ ̶e̶v̵e̸n̷ ̸r̷e̵m̷e̷m̶b̶e̸r̶ ̴h̷o̶w̴ ̶I̶ ̷c̴a̸m̶e̴ ̵t̷o̵ ̷b̷e̶.̶ ̵S̴o̷ ̵w̸h̷y̴?̵…̷A̸h̶ ̴I̵ ̴s̵e̶e̷…̷s̵o̴ ̵t̵h̸i̵s̵ ̷i̸s̴…̵b̴u̸t̵ ̴h̷o̴w̶?̴

‘Who’s there?! How are you here!?’

D̸o̶n̷’̴t̸ ̶w̸o̶r̶r̶y̷,̴ ̷l̶i̸t̸t̷l̸e̴ ̴o̶n̶e̸.̷ ̵I̶’̵m̴ ̶h̸e̶r̴e̷ ̷t̶o̷ ̴h̸e̶l̸p̵.̴ ̸A̷n̸d̷ ̴w̷h̵o̷ ̶I̴ ̴a̷m̵…̵i̷s̷ ̵n̴o̵t̷ ̶i̸m̴p̸o̵r̴t̷a̷n̷t̷ ̸r̶i̸g̴h̷t̵ ̶k̸n̴o̷w̵.̴ ̷N̴o̸t̷ ̸y̴e̷t̶.̶

‘You…what do you mean? Why are you lonely? Why….’

D̷o̶n̵’̸t̷ ̵f̷r̵e̴t̵,̶ ̶y̵o̷u̴r̷ ̶a̴n̸s̵w̸e̴r̶s̶ ̶w̷i̵l̶l̶ ̸c̵o̵m̷e̶ ̷i̵n̷ ̵t̴i̷m̵e̸.̷ ̸H̵e̴r̶e̷ ̵t̷a̸k̴e̷ ̸m̷y̷ ̷h̵a̷n̴d̵ ̶I̷’̶l̵l̴ ̵l̶e̵a̶d̷ ̸y̸o̷u̵ ̵a̶w̴a̶y̸ ̴f̷r̵o̶m̴ ̸t̵h̶i̶s̶ ̷p̴l̸a̸c̸e̶,̸ ̸a̸n̵d̸ ̷b̴a̷c̷k̷ ̷t̵o̸ ̴y̷o̸u̸r̷ ̸h̶o̵m̸e̴.̴ ̶T̴o̶ ̸y̵o̷u̵r̷ ̴f̴r̷i̶e̷n̷d̵s̸,̷ ̶y̸o̸u̸r̸ ̵l̵o̷v̶e̶d̷ ̴o̶n̵e̷s̷.̷

Then, just like a higher being answered my prayers, a hand reached out to me. A small, fragile hand that waited for me to place mine in theirs greeted me. Their skin was pale, and when I looked up to see who this person was. I was met with a blank, white silhouette. No features, or details to show who this hand belonged to.

Even when I knew I should be cautious, be afraid, to be on guard. I couldn’t bring myself to. It was strange, it felt like I was somehow looking in a mirror. Myself but not myself. A feeling of a connection that I shouldn’t have discovered just yet. That the right time wasn’t now, but further in the future…

This person didn’t mean me any harm. But the aura around this person…was so sad, so lonely, so desperate, and resigned. My heart clenched at the sheer despair they where openly showing, the heart break, the grief, and the self-deprecation. I could see it all. I wanted nothing more than to hug this person, give them words of comfort, of self worth, of saying that it wasn’t their fault, it never was.

This person was featureless, but they didn’t need features or words for me to see. I just knew, even without their aura, I just somehow knew. Me, but not me. A mirror. I didn’t even know I had started crying until they pointed it out, voice filled with tender worry.

W̴h̵y̷ ̴a̸r̵e̴ ̶y̷o̵u̸ ̵c̶r̶y̵i̵n̴g̶ ̵l̷i̸t̸t̷l̷e̴ ̶o̸n̶e̵?̸ ̸

Placing my hands against my eyes, I could feel the waterfall tears fall down my face in big globs. Surprising me as to how much I was crying, more than as to why. I knew why, but I also didn’t. Frustration welled up, but also sympathy I held for them. It was like they where the other side to me, another side of the coin, the reflection of me I would see in the mirror every day I would wake up and get ready for another morning.

‘A-ah! I…I can’t help it. I don’t truly know why, but when I look at you I can’t really help but cry. It’s strange just how much it feels like I’m looking at myself in some way, that’s mainly why.’

Feeling the caress of a hand against my cheeks, brushing away the tears. I moved my hands from my face in favor of gazing at their face, lightly placing my hand on top their own, holding it in silent understanding. Blank, but was somehow still expressive, speaking not in words, or facial expressions, or the light in their eyes. But with a simple touch, and the aura they held said it all.

Lonely….they said they where lonely. Something I’m all too familiar with, but overcame with the bonds I made with others. Why are they so lonely? Why do they hurt so? I didn’t know, and I also knew they wouldn’t tell me why until it was time. I don’t want to leave them here alone. They shouldn’t have ever felt these awful emotions in the first place, but there was no changing what they had been through.

Was there truly no way to help them? To make them feel that they’re not truly alone? I racked my brain for any solution, any possible answer but there was none. As if there was already no possibility in the first place, that this person right in front of me already used that chance and was left as their current self.

But how do I known this? I’m sure I shouldn’t know this, and I’m already treading on dangerous territory the longer I stay in this place. Even now, my train of thought is changing, adding things to my thoughts as they come to me.

…I don’t care though. All I care about for is this person in front of me. Their touch is cold, when they speak it sounds lightly scrambled, their hand is soft yet has muscle. Committing all of these sensations to memory, although it would no doubt be locked away for the future.

I̴t̴’̶s̶ ̵a̶l̴r̷i̴g̷h̵t̷,̴ ̶t̷h̴e̷r̷e̴’̴s̸ ̵n̷o̶ ̴n̷e̴e̶d̷ ̸t̵o̸ ̸c̴r̶y̶.̴ ̸I̸t̸’̷s̵ ̶t̶i̴m̶e̶ ̸f̵o̸r̴ ̸y̷o̸u̴ ̴t̴o̶ ̷g̴o̸ ̵h̶o̷m̸e̸.̶ ̷I̴ ̶h̷o̶p̴e̶ ̷t̷o̶ ̴s̷e̸e̵ ̸y̷o̵u̶ ̴w̸h̶e̷n̸ ̷t̴h̸e̶ ̴t̸i̶m̵e̷ ̴i̵s̸ ̵r̶i̸g̵h̷t̶.̶

‘Wait please, don’t let me leave you all alone again!’

I̴’̸m̸ ̷n̸e̷v̵e̵r̸ ̷t̸r̷u̵l̸y̴ ̶a̷l̸o̶n̵e̴,̴ ̴n̴o̸t̸ ̸w̵h̵e̵n̶ ̸I̷’̸m̸ ̸h̴e̴r̴e̵…̶.̵f̷a̶r̵e̷w̶e̵l̵l̸ ̵m̸y̵ ̸@̷$̷%̸#̴&̸!̸%̷!̵&̷.̴

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pa…wa…u! P…ge…w..ke…p! Page wake up!”

I woke up gasping for air, my lungs burning in need to the blessing of one of life’s driven forces. My body shaking, throat aching in protest, and my cheeks wet from the tears I shed in my sleep. Finally recognizing the feeling of hands pressed firmly on my shoulders, I looked at the person who woke me up with wide eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? Me and @#%! heard you crying from our room.”

“Oh, I’m sorry @!#$&%!^. I just…had a bad dream?”

“A bad dream? Do you want to talk about it? I wont mind if you don’t want to either of course. I don’t want to make you talk about it if you don’t want to. After all bad dreams suck.”

I chuckled at @!#$&%!^’s response. They always found a way to make me laugh, even it was unintentional. That’s the kind of person they are, I’m glad they’re my friend.

“Well I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Since I can’t even remember what the hell went on in it.”

“Well, that’s good I guess? I don’t know what else to say really since you don’t remember it. But do you want to go back to sleep or do you want to stay up for a bit to drink some hot cocoa to calm down?”

“Mmmm, I should try to go back to sleep. After all, we have the !@#&*@%@!#% !@#%$ to go to later on today.”

“Ah your right! Well I’ll go back to my room, goodnight Page. Sleep well.”

Before they could leave I grabbed onto the back of their shirt. I don’t want to be alone, I don’t think I could handle being alone right now. Even though I don’t remember my dream, I could still feel the powerful feeling of loneliness that came from it. As well as the feeling of being powerless. Two emotions I absolutely hate experiencing, as the memories attached to them are memories I wish I was able to erase completely.

Regardless, those moments made me who I am today, made me stronger. Made me more determined to protect my people. Even then, there are times where even I need comfort. Although I try to not let it show, I break down, I cry, I hurt too, away from their eyes.

Back then i wouldn’t even think of seeking comfort for these moments, my burdens, my promises, my duties. But now….I’m slowly beginning to let myself lean on my loved ones shoulders in times I need it. After all this time my older siblings told me that it’s alright to lean on others for comfort, to let them hold me as i cry, and tell me it’ll be alright. I’m slowly, but surely letting myself be more open, this moment being one more to add to my memories.

“Wait! Can you…do you think you could stay with me? I don’t…I don’t want to be alone right now…please.”, I whimpered.

A soft sigh was the response @!#$&%!^ gave me, small smile plastered on their face as they gave me a nod, “Yeah I can do that, let me get !@#& and well go to sleep alright?’

“Okay, bring a extra blanket with you too.”

“Hai hai.”

Watching @!#$&%!^ leave my room for theirs I laid back down in my spot against to wall, curled into the cool surface as i waited for them to come back. Listening to the soft murmurs and rustling come from their room, next door to mine. A small smile made its way to my face as I saw @!#$&%!^ come back into my room with !@#& in their arms, a royal blue blanket draped over their shoulder.

Scooting a bit more into the wall, as they place !@#& down on the bed first, before climbing in themself. Shuffling a bit to get comfortable, and turning to face me once they did. The air was soft, filled with comfort and warmth. It made me feel safe, made me feel like everything was going to be okay for the rest of the night. Reaching my hand out I latched me hand onto theirs, intertwining our fingers as I gave their hand a squeeze in thanks. They squeezed back, that small smile still on their face as i closed my eyes once more.

This time I wasn’t scared of anything that could happen inside my dreams. After all I have them next to me to make sure i don’t. I trust they will wake me if I do once more.

Once again i fell into the grasps of sleep, unaware of the soft, endearing look my friend held on their face as they watched me fall back asleep without any problem. Silently cheering that I didn’t put a strong front to hide my suffering. And was opening up with letting them comfort me whenever i needed it. They would have to let the others know about this, after all this was a big step not only for me, but for them too, and our ever blooming relationships.

[joemuggs]

Zooming in With Herbert

Christ, was this 17 years ago? Thinking about Herbert and his grooves because of this review I did this week sent me back to one of the first features I did for Mixmag back in 2006. It was a pleasure to do and really, really stuck with me - especially his bit when we were sitting on the beach about how much sonic information was surrounding us in the moment.

👇🏻👇🏻

In the sleepy Kent seaside town of Whitstable – more famous for oysters than techno – Matthew Herbert owns a modest but pretty old coach house. It’s sweetly rustic outside, functionally modern and open-plan inside. A couple of young mums from down the road have popped in to say hello and have a cup of tea; Herbert is yawning, stretching and saving the tunes he was up late making on his laptop-powered mini studio. Musical equipment is dotted around; it could be any moderately untidy techno fan’s house. Herbert himself – in Fred Perry and low-hanging jeans – doesn’t look at all out of the ordinary for a 30-something with a raving past. He holds up an artillery shell. 

“It’s from a Tornado bomber,” he explains, “in fact this one was actually salvaged from a battlefield in Iraq, so it’s been used in a combat situation. It’s so well-constructed, some of the most precise craftsmanship around; but look…” He slides off part of the brass casing, taps it on the table and an incredibly clear tone rings out. “It makes a really beautiful sound, like a Tibetan temple bell or something. So I’ve sampled that…” He hits a key on the laptop and a chiming melody starts up, building into a spacey groove. It is indeed rather beautiful. “…I’ve taken something designed only to kill and changed its purpose completely.” Herbert might appear ordinary superficially, but it swiftly becomes obvious that his image as dance’s nutty professor is not far wrong.

Matthew Herbert’s compulsions to experiment and play with ideas have been obvious throughout his career. He started playing raves on the West Country free party scene with Aphex Twin. His albums are some of electronic music’s most experimental (but still listenable) works. He talked Dizzee Rascal into coming on stage with the Herbert Big Band of veteran jazz players, and his discography veers between brutal techno, gorgeous electronica and sexy disco. He’s turned politics into theatre and protest into weird noises; when he played with the Big Band in Syria (“I really wanted to play in the Axis Of Evil!”), the moment when they created a rhythm track by ripping up the Daily Mail drove the crowd wild with shock and delight (“they could be arrested and tortured if they ripped up their own newspaper, so this was amazing for them”), and at a solo show in Australia the ravers’ biggest reaction was when he sampled himself destroying the sponsors’ video tape that has been projecting footage behind him. His new album Scale, overflows with wonky noises and stunning songs. It contains samples of 723 different objects and instruments – from meteorites to petrol pumps to underwater drumkits – and for every last one of these, he has an explanation connecting it into his wider worldview. 

Looking more closely around Herbert’s living space, it becomes clear there are quite a lot of books on odd topics like the philosophy of food or the economics of armaments. It’s a perfect, still Summer day, though, and we decide to stroll down to the quiet beach nearby. As we go Herbert points out how even though it seems almost silent that every sound we hear could tell someone about our situation, from the health of the birds singing to the types of cars to the type of building work going on – and how each of those illustrates the economics and ecology of the area to someone with an expert ear.

It should be enough to give you a headache just thinking about it, but the weirdest thing of all is that listening to him explain all this is oddly enjoyable. Like his music and political performances, it’s funny rather than preachy, and it’s obvious that he does it because he enjoys it. Of course, being Herbert, he has a detailed explanation of how he combines fun and ideas in his records. “I like to construct each album like a hotel. You can just come in and have a drink at the bar and have a good time – but if you want, you can keep coming back to explore much further.” Behind every door – every sound or rhythm – is something going on, he says. Through track titles and information on his websites he gives away “keys” that let you uncover a little more of what’s going on and understand the whole thing a little more. In a world where downloading individual tracks dominates, this is a unique way to get people listening to and thinking about a whole album.

It’d be easy to characterise Matthew Herbert, dance music philosopher (and ‘hotelier’!), as a classic outsider. As we sit down on the beach to continue our chat, though, he insists he had a “totally normal middle-class Kent childhood; I was a very sociable kid, really”. At school, however, he avidly looked for connections between things: “it would always fascinate me if, say, I found out that the dinosaur triceratops is called that because it has three horns. Straight away that animal is connected with numbers, words, history, and just about every other subject.” He was addicted to music from infancy too, picking up new instruments at a rate of knots, and devouring jazz and classical theory. 

His introduction to raving came at Exeter University, where he got stuck into the West Country free party scene along with Aphex Twin, Luke Vibert, Global Communication, and experimented with his own dance tunes. The scene was separate enough to be distinctive – “no-one could afford to get to Bristol let alone London” – and held together by the legendary Mighty Force shop and label, which brought in Chicago acid tunes and released Aphex Twin and Herbert’s first records. Herbert loved the exchange of ideas at those early free raves: “council estate lads from Plymouth or Exeter who you’d expect to be out stabbing people, dancing and talking with the landed gentry who’d given up their land for parties.” Promoters would get him to play his quirky, housey tracks after sunrise, “with everyone sitting around talking and feeling really… strange!” 

Herbert kept with his organic, emotive sound – often featuring his partner Dani Sicilano’s mournful vocals – through the 90s, even as the underground favoured relentless instrumental techno. Fashions have caught up with him now - the classic Around The House and Bodily Functions albums sound incredibly fresh in today’s Minimal climate – but he has kept moving on in ever-weirder and more diverse directions. For his last album, the wonky and experimental Plat Du Jour,’ Matthew had a pie baked in the UK Foreign Office, flew it over to the site of a battle in the US Civil War, and got a guy who had served in the CIA in Vietnam under Nixon to shoot up the cake with an old Nazi officer’s pistol. The various connections between the factors in the pies destruction relates to the history of international conflict and the globalised food but just as importantly Matthew points out “it seemed like fun to go to such ridiculous lengths to blow up dear old mom’s apple pie!“

Perhaps this just sounds barking mad, but it also illustrates the method at the heart of Herbert’s madness. Life is a projectfor him, a series of schemes to have fun whilst developing his ideas about the connections between things. Almost all the money he makes from the remix and film soundtrack work which increasingly comes his way (he is currently pitching for his first Hollywood movie) is ploughed into further developing his unique musical and political ideas, and into supporting his fellow maverick artists through his Accidental, Soundslike and Lifelike labels.

The dedication to investing in creating great stuff is also important throughout Herbert’s extended musical family, including the promoters of the infamous Soundslike:Werk parties in London. These parties, as well as providing some of the most twisted electronic music and raving atmosphere in the capital – held in unusual venues like old cinemas and art centres, they are proper all-night raves where live electro, techno, grime and other, weirder electronic styles run together into non-stop delerium – are run in typically ethical fashion, with profit shares meaning that international DJs playing a couple of hours don’t get paid more than barstaff who sweat it out all night. This attention to detail means that, without being all knit-your-own-hippie-party worthy, that they can provide a genuinely mental atmosphere without the shadowy presence of rip-offs and psycho promoters - “club owners are so often a certain type of person,” says Herbert, “very very motivated by profit – it’s a very pure form of capitalism nowadays.”

That sort of commitment to making the party a collective effort is something he feels was strong in the free party scene til the Criminal Justice Act of 1994 put a stranglehold on the scene, sending soundsystems abroad or into clubs. “The potential is still there,” he says, “after all, how many people are out socialising, listening to music dancing themselves wild every weekend across the world? Millions? Tens of millions? But there’s very little sense of that having a purposenow.” One of the rare occasions where he seems less than enthusiastic in conversation is talking about purpose-built ‘clubbing bars’, which he has seen more than enough of in his years of gigging and DJing: “I would happily never set foot in another bar again; they’re all starting to look like such clichés now, no beer that’s not bottled, no sandwich that’s not a ciabatta…”. 

This talk reminds us that it’s getting to lunchtime. We walk with crunching footsteps back up the pebbly beach back towards where Herbert’s hefty old BMW is parked, ready to head out to a country pub to eat. The cars (he has two souped-up Beemers), he admits, are one of the contradictions in his personal politics. “They’re my real weakness,” he laughs, “obviously I’m concerned with our oil addiction and global warming, but these do at least fit with my thoughts on craftsmanship. And they are very fast.” Rebuilt and hand-tuned, these cars will last a lifetime, unlike modern cars, designed for obsolescence and riddled with so much computer technology they’re nigh-impossible to fix. 

That is one of the vital parts of Herbert’s philosophy. Whether it’s cars, political ideas or music, he believes in things built to last: antidotes to the ever-hungry and wasteful culture of constant consumption that seems to dominate now. And unlike politicised rock stars – the Bonos and Stings – he doesn’t believe in preaching; rather than tell you what you should be doing he wants to lead by example, showing that the good stuff needn’t be trash, and that thinking about your place in the world needn’t be a drag or the province of hippie dreamers. “Enjoying life,” he says, “doesn’t have to make you dumb; you don’t need to compromise, in life or in music.“

Over lunch we talk about the future. Planning long-term is out of the window right now, while he works out how to promote and tour the lush intricacies of Scale – he’s busy working out how to reproduce songs recorded with a 50-piece orchestra with 3 musicians. However as he is entirely his own boss, running his own labels and planning his own gigs, he is not bound by traditional music industry timetables, and is keen to keep the touring flexible to allow for all his other activities. He is increasingly being courted by the art world and is busy planning the first of his regular columns for a highbrow art magazine. If the aforementioned Hollywood soundtrack pitch comes off, that will take up his time for a while, otherwise he will get back to researching and reading, “looking for more new ways to make sounds nobody has ever heard before”. It’s not a bad life, being a mad scientist.

[newobsessioneveryweek]

So sorry to hijack your post but I finally drafted the scene :]

Piers regarded the senator with mounting distaste. “You think you are superior to me because you possess something that I do not?”

Senator Rowan grinned condescendingly. “I mean it only as a caution, Your Majesty. Those who have come before you- your late brother, for example- indeed have accomplished quite remarkable feats of power, feats that, unfortunately, you are not able, let alone capable, of managing. I am merely addressing that your opponents might take advantage of that weakness.”

Piers felt his jaw clench but remained composed. “You think it weakness, Senator?”

The man’s expression changed to one of vaguely concealed contempt. “It is a rather lacking state to possess nothing of your family’s great well of power. Others might see you as vulnerable.”

Yes, of course, Piers thought, “Others.”

Piers hummed in false interest, not once breaking eye contact with Senator Rowan, wishing for once that he had enough of this oh-so-great power that he could actually pierce the man with his stare alone. “Senator,” he began, making sure to speak up so the whole room would know that he was, in fact, addressing all of them. “If I cut your throat right now, would your magic save you?” A spark of panic ignited in the old man’s eye and Piers felt a thrill wash over him. He let a small smile slip before returning to the stone-hard look of concentration. Senator Rowan was about to answer but Piers kept going. “If I poisoned your tea and made you drink it, what do you think would happen?” He paused for effect and watched the room squirm with growing delight. Oh, how he would love to poison one of these stuffy old men’s tea. “You would die, correct? You are but a man, an old and arrogant one. This era of magic, the glorification of it has made you all falsely secure. Allow me to introduce you to a thus far ignored concept among you; mortality. Whether or not you have magic great enough to shape mountains and calm seas a sharp sword, a ravaging poison, or my bare hands will be enough to fell you. You are not a god. Your magic cannot protect you. As far as I am concerned, were I pitted against you in a fight to the death, I would win. I have felled magic users like you before. My late brother is one of them and he was a far superior sorcerer than all of you combined. But even he could not withstand the slice of my blade through his heart and neither can you.”

He had actually stabbed him through his stomach but the heart sounded so much more intimidating to the low constitutions of his audience. He recognised that his little outburst was not appropriate for a senatorial discussion but it felt amazing to finally say what was on his mind, to kick magic off its ill-earned pedestal and after his speech, Piers was satisfied to see how subdued the room had become. Senator Rowan was no longer smiling. In fact, Piers relished the look of fear he now wore. The rest of the old men were similarly appalled and Piers doubted he would be hearing about his lack of magic for some time.

“Well, I think that covers everything on the agenda for today. This meeting of the senate is adjourned.” He stood and smiled broadly. “Please, enjoy your day further.” Then he left.

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

[theriverspath]

Good Omens November 2023 Writing Challenge. Day 4

This one turned out to be over 2,600 words! So, here's a snippet. If you like what you see, hop on over to my AO3 @theriverspath for the entire story.

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Celestial Teas

[Crowley] didn’t know what he had been expecting on his first visit [to Celestial Teas], but Aziraphale had caught him completely by surprise. When he and Anathema had first walked in, the shop was bustling. People milled around the product displays or lounged in the chairs. Crowley had let his eyes wander, taking in the atmosphere. He thought the dark blue ceiling with the stylized gold stars was a nice touch.

“Anathema, dear!” Crowley’s attention snapped to the source of the rich, smooth voice. He felt his breath leave his body in a rush when he spotted the man making his way over to them. A welcoming smile and twinkling eyes sat beneath a halo of blonde curls. A light blue shirt was rolled up at the sleeves to reveal sturdy forearms. And, was that an actual bowtie?

He approached with short, confident steps, both hands held out to greet Anathema. She clasped them with her own and leaned in. To Crowley’s amazement, the two exchanged quick air kisses beside each cheek. The man leaned back, but didn’t release Anathema’s hands.

“I’m so glad you stopped by! I just got in some of that peach and white you’re so fond of. I was thinking of dropping you a text about it.” Anathema smiled at the declaration.

“Well, I must have picked up on it. I knew I had to bring Crowley in to see you today.” Anathema let go of Aziraphale’s hands and placed one on Crowley’s arm. “He's suffering from a little coffee addiction, poor thing. I was thinking that you might be able to help him?” Aziraphale shifted his gaze over, and Crowley felt both his stomach drop and his heart leap. The man’s expression was curious, open. Suddenly terrified that Aziraphale would try the continental greeting on him, too, he stuck out a hand between them.

“Er, nice to meet you. Anathema says that you’re a tea genius.” Oh, hell. What did I just say? Aziraphale chuckled, and took Crowley’s extended hand. It was warm and dry, and sent a jolt of electricity right down to Crowley’s toes.

“Well, that's high praise, indeed. Let’s see if I can live up to it.” Crowley noticed little lines crinkle around Aziraphale’s eyes as he smiled. “Coffee addiction, huh? I’ve got a lovely English Breakfast with enough caffeine to help transition you away from the ol’ bean juice. Would you like to try some? I can make up a cup at the counter.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” A young woman tapped Aziraphale on the shoulder. “But, we’re out of oat milk and I can’t find any in the back fridge.” Aziraphale excused himself to sort out the milk emergency with a promise to meet them at the counter later. Crowley watched him walk away. Respectfully. I am respectfully watching the way he fills out those khakis. Re-spect-ful-ly. He tried to convince himself.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur in Crowley’s memory. The taste of the hot tea Aziraphale had made him, the sound of Aziraphale’s voice as he explained its properties, the disappointment he felt when Aziraphale was called away to help other customers, the way he held the small tin of looseleaf that Aziraphale had handed him at the register.

“Now, when you’re done with that. I’ve got plenty of other things for you to try.” Crowley felt a flush under his collar at the words. Tea, idiot. Get your mind out of the gutter. He’s talking about tea.

“I will. Thanks for your help today.” Crowley extended his hand for another shake. Aziraphale looked surprised, but pleasantly so. He took Crowley’s hand more carefully this time. Crowley felt the way the man’s soft spot at the base of his thumb fitted against the crook between Crowley’s own thumb and index finger. And, was that a little squeeze?

“It’s been a delight to meet you, Crowley.” Thankfully, Aziraphale released his hand and turned to Anathema. Crowley imagined that he’d only be able to manage a squeaky croak of a reply if Aziraphale had been expecting one.

“Anathema, always a pleasure. Do let me know what you think of the new chamomile blend. You have such a sensitive palate. I always value your feedback.” Aziraphale and Anathema repeated the air kisses, and before he knew it, Crowley was back outside. As they walked to where Crowley had parked the Bentley, Anathema looked over at him. She raised her eyebrows and leaned over just enough to bump her shoulder against his.

“I didn’t intend to play matchmaker today, just so you know. But, I think you may have charmed a particular ‘tea genius’.” Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Menace.” He muttered fondly before fishing a pair of sunglasses out of his coat pocket.

Following these prompts

Cross posted on Sendarya's Patreon discord