#just not in spring like we all speculated

[krotiation]

Why are so many people upset at the fact that bl4 is gonna release after gta 6 😭 like do y'all WANT it to be rushed and released with a bunch of bugs or sth

[orcelito]

I went and did my exam (very thoroughly), got home and sorted out my finances + ordered groceries (bc I finally have some fucking money to buy them with), & then planned to write a bit and then do some chores. But then I just conked out lmao

It's been... a rough few days. I probably needed the rest.

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Folk were really into the post I made about Tandie, the zoo lion with a (then) undergrown mane due a period of time on testosterone blockers. He's having quite the glow up this summer.

But!

Did you know that manes are hormone dependent in both sexes of lion?

Let's talk about maned lionesses!

To recap the previous post quickly: the existence of a mane, and it's color, appear to be pretty heavily androgen-dependent. Neutered males or males put on testosterone blockers, like Tandie was, will drop their manes - but like Tandie, if taken off the meds, it will generally grow it back. Darker manes are indicative of higher testosterone levels, and long/lush manes are generally a good signal of a male's fitness and mate quality. Females seem to show a preference for males with longer, darker manes and other males will preferentially avoid scuffles with them. (Yes, as many comments have pointed out, that means Scar was actually a hunk. Do with that as you will.)

The fascinating thing about androgens being linked to manes in lions is that it goes both ways - females with higher levels will also grow manes!

Mane growth in females lions is most commonly seen with elderly animals who have stopped cycling and are basically in lion menopause. And they have to get pretty old for it to happen - captive lions generally only live into their late teens and early second decade, and most of the maned ladies I know about started growing manes around like, seventeen.

Not all old female lions grow manes, but some of the career cat people I've talked to said it happened to about a quarter of the females they've worked with over the years. Which... is an interesting contrast to the news articles about Zuri, who we'll meet in a bit, that breathlessly reported in 2022 that her mane growth "left scientists baffled."

Old lady lion manes are just... precious. They grow in first at the chest and then around the sides or on the back of the head, but they don’t normally get the length, density, and connectivity seen in the mane of an adult male. It leaves the lionesses manes kind of awkward, in the way I associate with very young males, and they're absolutely adorable. Prepare yourself for the photo spam.

I have to start with Daisy, because she's the only maned lioness I've had the privilege to meet in person.

I don't know exactly when she started growing her mane, but she was over 20 years old when she passed in 2019 with these luscious locks.

Here's another female at the same facility, named Adeena. On the left is a photo of her from 2021, on the right is from this spring (I think she's mid-sneeze in the photo). She turns 20 in October.

If you've heard about maned lionesses before, it’s probably because of Zuri, at Topeka. She’s the most recent one to get media coverage and she went a little viral.

(Just a side note here, but I have some strong feelings about knowledge loss in the exotic animal management world due to political/philosophical schisms. This is one of those topics where it's clear: Topeka told a reporter that the zoo had “never" heard of this happening before, but it's common enough to be well known as a thing in other sectors of the exotic cat world. There's so much expertise and knowledge being lost due to infighting between accrediting groups, and it drives me up a wall).

Anyway. Zuri had one of the best manes I've seen on an elderly lioness. It grew long and lush and she totally could have done shampoo commercials. I mean, look at this.

Zuri lived with her sister, who didn't grow a mane in her old age. Here's the two of them together, Zuri on the left, Asante on the right.

We don't completely know what's going on with these golden girls to cause them to grow manes. It's theorized to be related to the end of estrus and higher levels of androgenic hormones, although it's not clear if that's just due to lower levels of other hormones during "meownopause" or if there's something else also going on.

There was some speculation with Zuri's mane growth that it was caused by the death of the male she lived with, in some biological need to "take over the role." The zoo dismissed that idea pretty quickly, and it makes sense, although there is one other instance where I've heard of that happening before.

The cat people I've talked to say that older lionesses who grow manes don't tend to act differently - they're not taking over new social roles in their prides or anything. Sometimes they can be less active, or be a little more nervous around males, and want to be left alone more, but it was emphasized to me that those behaviors could also just be associated with the fact that manes tends to develop in elderly lionesses.

The mane growth can happen pretty quickly, as we saw in the photos I've posted of Tandie over the last year. Here's Bridget, from the Oklahoma Zoo. The left photo was taken in March of 2017 and the right in November - look how much hair she gained over six months!

The zoo did some research into what might have cause Bridget's mane growth, and found that she had elevated levels of androstenedione, which is a hormone that can be converted by the body into either testosterone or estrogen, depending. In AFAB people, it's known to have a masculinizing effect. The zoo theorized that this was the cause of her mane growth, and that the elevated levels might have been caused by a benign tumor. Fascinatingly, though, blood draws revealed that her testosterone levels were the same as her mane-less sister, Tia.

Tia is on the left in the photo below, Bridget and the beginnings of her mane are on the right. Bridget was 17 when her mane started growing in.

I don't think there's any formal hypothesis that there might be a genetic component to lionesses growing manes in old age, but it's interesting to note that one of Tia's daughters, Zari, also grew a mane. (And she grew it young! It started around age 13, interestingly, also right after their male died). She's on the left in the photo below.

And to circle back around to where we began: Tandie is related to a number of maned ladies! His father, Xerxes, was Bridget's son; Zari was Xerxes' half-sister.

Here's a few more beautiful maned ladies to leave you with. In order, Ngala, Pepper, Skye, and Dandy Lion.

Next up, and last in this lion mane series, is the story of five younger lionesses in Botswana who not only have manes but also express a range of masculine behaviors.

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A huge thanks to all the folk who shared photos of and stories about their golden girls for this post: M. Townsen, S.W. Simpson, E. Day, S. Cook, M. Stinner, M. Paul, K. Vanaman, D. O'Halloran, R. Simpson, D. Souffrant.

[loquaciousferret]

Seasons

Summary: One scene for each season of the year of your relationship as you fall in love with Joel Miller, single dad and sweet southern heartthrob.

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ explicit smut MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT. Discussion of religion, virginity, christian!reader, virgin!reader, old-fashioned values and gender roles/views of women. marriage, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.5k (whoops)

A/N: If you love a slowburn then this is the fic for you, filled with adorable flirting and so-sweet-he-gives-you-toothache Joel. This idea came to me so randomly but it’s been a WIP for so long so I hope you like it!!

Spring

You let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak as Joel and Tommy both picked up their cutlery ready to shovel the Sunday roast into their mouths. They hesitated at the sound and you spoke up, “I’m sorry, just, you don’t mind if I say grace, do you?”

A wide smirk spreads across Joel’s face and he raises his eyebrows at you, but puts his cutlery back down immediately. Tommy, who was frozen in place still clutching his fork which was loaded with roast chicken and gravy, received a harsh glare from Joel, leading him to put his down too.

“I’m sorry,” You said again, embarrassed that you had interrupted them.

Joel’s expression remained bemused but he responded kindly, “Hey, don’t apologise, sweetheart. You’re just always full of surprises, that’s all. Go ahead.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

You reached for Tommy’s hand with your left and Joel’s with your right and looked down towards the table, closing your eyes.

“Lord, please bless this food to our bodies and let us hold you in our hearts. We thank you for the meal and the company in which we will share it. Through christ our lord we praise you, amen.”

“Amen to that.” Tommy copied excitedly, wasting no time in getting stuck into his meal.

Joel didn’t respond to the prayer but gave you a reassuring nod, his smile still glowing. “That was lovely, darlin’.” He said, making you smile back shyly.

You got started on your own meal. You and Joel had spent the afternoon cooking together, and by together, that meant you did the cooking and he stood by and offered words of encouragement, assuring you that if he got involved he would only find some way to ruin it.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah, was out at a friend’s house all day, giving you ample time with him. He was yet to introduce you to her, given it hadn’t been long since you had met him, but you spent plenty of time with him and sometimes Tommy, too, when Sarah was otherwise occupied. Luckily for you, she was a social butterfly, and you usually got to see Joel at least one evening a week, and when you were lucky, for a full day at the weekend, like today.

It was your first Sunday with him, and it had taken quite the story to explain to your parents, grandparents, and siblings as to why you would be missing their Sunday dinner in favour of a new friend. They would most definitely be clucking like hens at their own dinner table, speculating about who might have enticed you away. In truth it had been your idea, you had been excited to do this with Joel.

You had met him in a hardware store just at the beginning of February, an old-fashioned meet-cute in which you struggled with deciphering what kind of faucet you needed to pick up for the kitchen sink in your new apartment.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sweetheart, you seem to be having some trouble there, can I lend you any knowledge?” The handsome stranger had asked politely.

His friendly demeanour as well as his expertise had led you to pick his brain in numerous aisles of the store and eventually, you bravely asked for his number. Strictly for DIY-related enquiries, of course.

But now here you were, gazing at him as he savoured the food you had cooked, and you quietly laughed along at his and his brother’s back-and-forth wit, chest bursting with affection for this gentle man whom you were growing fond of.

Summer

You fanned yourself with your magazine, sipping on a cool lemonade. Nothing was helping you to beat the suffocating Texas heat.

You watched on in amusement, perched at the edge of the lawn in Joel’s backyard as him, Tommy, and Sarah grappled with each other in a game of soccer gone wrong.

“Y’know, I don’t think soccer is supposed to be this violent.” You called out to them.

Sarah looked up at you and laughed. “These two idiots will wrestle over a game of monopoly, it doesn’t take much.”

You smiled back at her. You were so grateful at how quickly she had accepted you as Joel’s “lady friend”. You frequently caught her and Tommy wiggling their eyebrows and communicating about you and Joel behind your backs. Neither of them bought the idea that you and Joel were still just friends, but it was true.

In some ways, you had been surprised too. Joel was incredibly patient with you. Lots of guys you had dated got bored fairly quickly but Joel never rushed you and seemed happy going at your pace. You would go to dinner, take walks together, hang out with his family, but nothing more. And he respected it. As time went on, your respect for his patience grew along with your feelings for him.

Later, with Sarah in bed and Tommy having excused himself, the two of you relaxed together in the now relatively cool evening air on a wicker bench in his backyard. He nursed a beer in one hand, his other arm slung around you, and you were cuddled into his chest slightly, comfortable in his embrace.

He was pointing out constellations, but you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his face to look to where he was trying to guide your attention.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?” He said, smiling as he looked down at you and caught your gaze transfixed on him instead of the night sky.

You blushed and made to move away but he held you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You reached up to cup his jaw and looked up at him once more, connecting your lips to his. He leaned down to put his beer on the ground without breaking the kiss, the hand that was around your shoulder reaching up to become entangled in your hair, the other one holding your knee.

You continued to kiss and he deepened it gently with his tongue. At the same time, his hand drifted up your leg until it met the hem of your sundress. You jumped back as he slid his fingertips under your dress and onto your upper thigh.

“Joel, I-“

He straightened up, looking away with a heavy sigh. But when he looked back at you, he wasn’t angry. There was something else hiding in those brown eyes, you just weren’t quite sure what.

“Look, sweetheart..." He sighed. “We’ve been seeing for five months now. I just need to know, I mean…” He sighed again, he seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “I just need to know, baby. Don’t you see me like that? Don’t you want me like that?”

Your heart twinged with guilt as you met his eye again. They were filled with sadness. He thought you were rejecting him.

“Oh, Joel.” You reached out to stroke his cheek with one of your hands. “Joel, please don’t think that. I just-" You screwed your face up with embarrassment. Obviously, this moment would come. He had been so patient up to this point. You couldn’t fault him in the slightest for how respectful he was of your boundaries, never pushing you for more. And you were wracked with guilt at the thought that he had been considering this was down to him and how you felt about him.

“Oh, Joel, I- It’s.” You couldn’t help but stumble over your words. “Of course I do Joel, I do want you, more than anything, but I- I- I’m waiting, you see?”

“You’re-“ He scowled until the realisation hit and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh. You’re waiting waiting.”

“Yes.” You let out an apprehensive breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart.” He said, putting a hand under your chin and tilting it up so you met his eye once again, his face having softened once more.

“Just means I’ll have to be the one to marry you.” There was a glint in his eye and that paralysing smirk he wore so often.

“Joel!” You scoffed, playfully hitting his chest. You wished your heart hadn’t fluttered the way it did at his joke.

Autumn Sarah skipped ahead of you excitedly, you and Joel followed, walking hand in hand down the meadow path.

You had all piled into the truck that afternoon and you had directed Joel to this location, somewhere you had visited ever since childhood to pick apples during harvest season.

“Look! I’ve found them!” Sarah was quite literally jumping with joy, pointing up at the first tree you had come across which was bearing fruit.

“Good job, honey.” Joel said as you both caught up to her.

She was hopping up but failing to reach the fruit even on the lowest boughs of the tree. Joel stepped in at that point. “Here, let me get you a leg up.” He offered.

He held out both his hands for her to stand on as a platform, grunting with exertion as he hoisted her up. She then clung to his shoulders tightly with one arm around his neck, stretching out with her other hand to reach out for the fruit.

She picked them successfully and dropped them into the basket you held out for her.

After gathering nearly a dozen, she leaped down and inspected her findings, picking out each one individually to admire them and compare their sizes.

“Have you ever had real apple pie before? Like this? With the fresh apples and everything?” You asked her.

“Nope, first time!” She responded excitedly. “I’m so hungry for it already. I hope it doesn’t take long to bake.”

“Well, it does take a while, honey. Baking is a labour of love,” You explained to her kindly as you walked back to the truck alongside each other, Joel a few paces behind. “The more time and patience you put into things, the better the end pay-off.”

Joel chuckled lightly behind you and you whipped round to look at him over your shoulder.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothin’.” He said, smiling back at you. “Very wise life philosophy you got there, that’s all.”

You screwed your face up at him playfully. Trust Joel to turn your simple lesson into a different one entirely.

Back at Joel’s home, you taught Sarah how to soften the apples in butter, sugar, and cinnamon, filling the kitchen and most of the downstairs with that delicious combination of scents.

Next, you made the pastry by hand, patiently guiding her on how to knead the dough, and how to tell when to stop at the right consistency and not spoil it by over-kneading. She listened carefully and copied you, she was a quick learner.

Joel watched you both, filled with adoration at the scene in front of him. Your patience and kindness towards Sarah was a huge factor in how hard he was falling for you. You were only a little more than a decade older than her, but your maternal behaviours towards her seemed to come totally natural to you.

You were exactly the presence Sarah needed in her life. You were an absolute blessing for the pair of them.

He smiled and shook his head at his own thoughts. A blessing. Your way of thinking was rubbing off on him.

Sarah left to bathe and get ready for bed while you finished constructing the pie, the oven preheating. Joel continued to watch from his seat at the breakfast bar.

“You do so well with her.” He remarked.

“Oh.” You responded, slightly surprised. You had nearly forgotten he was there with how quietly he had observed the activity.

You didn’t turn to face him, not wanting him to notice the blush creeping into your cheeks.

“Thank you, Joel.” You said sincerely after having gathered your thoughts. “I’ve always loved kids. I think it just comes naturally to me.”

“Yeah?” He said, pleased with your response.

“It’s like I was born to be a mother.” You chuckled a little. It was something you had been told throughout your life. You had always enjoyed being with your aunts, helping with the babies, moreso than playing outside or doing things with your cousins and friends of your own age.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. This happened all the time, you took the thoughts right out of his head and spoke them into reality. You were perfect for him in every sense, he had known this for a while now but you strengthened his belief in the fact every single day. Joel knew he was madly in love with you, a deep connection he had never felt towards anyone else. And he had your morals to thank. The lack of physical relationship meant that you had spent months building on a genuine friendship and emotional connection, one that stood on its own without the need for sexual attraction. Not that he didn’t have that for you in spades.

All his previous relationships had been built on something physical, an initial attraction that was acted on and developed into more. Not you. His fondness of you was not based on that. That’s not to say he didn’t constantly want more as you kissed him, not that he didn’t think of you in his intimate moments, or sometimes needed to excuse himself when he got a glimpse of your upper thighs or even a panty line under your sundress if you reached up on tiptoe to grab something or climbed up the steps ahead of him. You had him like a touch-starved schoolboy, every single glimpse of your flesh was like a jolt of electricity inside him.

It had been nearly 8 months since you met and you had changed his and Sarah’s lives already, bringing laughter and sunshine back into their home. He had even met your family, too, at a barbecue towards the end of summer. He had had to hold in a laugh at their old-fashioned ways when they referred to him as the man you were 'courting'. But they accepted him, approved of him despite him being 10 years your senior, a divorced single dad. They didn’t judge him and they could see how happy you made each other.

The other day, he had lied about needing to head to the store and you stayed and watched Sarah. It had been a relief when he had went to your father’s house, and he had said yes so quickly to Joel’s request for your hand in marriage.

Winter

Austin saw it’s first measurable snowfall in a couple of years. You three, Tommy, and the new dog you and Sarah had convinced Joel to adopt for Christmas, were out walking near a cabin you had rented together for some of the holidays.

You all had red cheeks and your breaths were visible, coming out as mist in the cold air. It was the one of the coldest winters in a while, with the temperature barely hitting the 40s each day.

When you got back to the cabin, you, Sarah, and Tommy fought over who would get to shower first for warmth. You ended up placing second in the queue, behind her and before him, which you were satisfied with. There were 3 bedrooms but only one bathroom in the cabin, leading to almost daily arguments between the brothers and Sarah, most of which you simply observed in amusement.

“Come ‘ere.” Joel said, beckoning you to join him in the lounge. “Fire’s just gettin’ started. I’ll keep you warm until it’s your turn.”

You smiled and joined him, shedding a few layers of clothing to dry off and warm up by the fire.

He rubbed your arms and legs roughly, generating heat from the friction. It tickled and you pushed him away. He lost his balance and fell backwards.

“You tryna kill me?” He laughs. “There’s a fire behind me.”

You smiled at him. He was mesmerised by you, with your rosy cheeks and your eyes illuminated, reflecting the flickering of the log fire.

He had wanted to wait for the perfect moment, and propose to you like a scene out of those terrible romance movies you love so much. But it was times like this that moved his heart, the simple every day moments you shared that reminded him why he was so madly in love with you.

And so he couldn’t help himself, he shifted so he was on one knee between your legs.

“What are you doin’?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

“Quiet, alright, let me focus.” There was nothing impatient in how he responded, if anything, he only sounded nervous. That intrigued you more.

You smile at him and he loses all train of thought again taking in your expression.

“Sweetheart.” He starts, his voice cracking slightly. You had rarely seen Joel nervous or flustered but this had to be it. “I wanted to make this more special but I… I can’t wait any longer.”

You have to physically stop your jaw dropping in shock as Joel pulls a small box out of the pocket of his large winter jacket, his hands trembling slightly. Your heart races as you realise what is happening.

“Sweetheart, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I ask myself every day what I did to deserve you to come into me and Sarah’s life. You make me so happy every single day. I- I know we’ve not been together long but I know already I can’t see a future without you by my side. I- We- We want you to join our family. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Tears well in your eyes as you look down at Joel, waiting nervously for your answer. You had only been together 9 months but he was everything you had dreamed in a partner, kind, caring, supportive, always making you laugh. He was the most important person in your life despite the short time you had shared.

“Yes, Joel.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He exhaled deeply in relief.

“Yes, I want nothing more than to marry you.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you laughed, pushing him away, “Aren’t you gonna put that on my finger first?”

He pulled back, blushing, taking your outstretched hand and sliding the elegant ring onto your finger. “Yes, darlin’ I’m sorry- I-“ He cut himself off, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your head.

This was the happiest moment of your life.

Neither of you knew Tommy was in the hallway and had listened to the whole thing. “Finally.” He muttered with a wide smile on his face.

Spring

You married exactly a year to the day that you met (Joel’s idea) in your parish church with your close friends and family watching. Your sister, your childhood best friend, and of course Sarah made up your bridesmaids. Tommy was Joel’s best man.

You wore a simple white dress with a lace bodice and sleeves, complimenting your figure, cinching at the waist and stretching around your hips.

The wedding was simple, as was the dinner and reception. Flashy wasn’t you and Joel’s style.

As the night wore on and the guests mingled, you finally felt yourself relax. You weren’t a big drinker but today was your wedding day and you had been constantly plied with champagne by your friends and family.

“Hey Mrs Miller!” Tommy approached you from the side. “Will you give me a dance?”

You look to Joel, who squeezed your hand and smiled. “Off you go.” He said.

You laughed and took Tommy’s outstretched hand as he led you to the dance floor. The music was relatively upbeat and he was twirling you, you giggled, trying not to trip up on your dress or your heels.

“I would say welcome to the family, but it feels like you became an important part of it a long time ago.” He says when the music calms down and he takes you closer to him for a slower dance. “Joel is one lucky man, and I’m lucky to have you for a sister-in-law now too.”

You didn’t respond, taking in his sincere words. You were absolutely grateful for the extended family Joel had brought into your life. And Tommy was right, they had welcomed you with open arms and made you feel like you belonged from the very beginning.

“He’s never been happier. Sarah too. Thank you for that.” He goes on.

“They’re everything to me.” You say simply.

He nods in understanding. As the song draws to a close he pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

“No getting rid of me now.” You say back cheekily, and he laughs as he guides you back to where Joel is mingling with guests.

Joel sees the two of you approaching and smiles warmly, reaching out to pull you close to him and planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Having fun, Mrs Miller?” He says, his eyes twinkling. He hasn’t called you by your name all day. He likes this new one.

“Certainly. Tommy’s keeping me entertained.”

“Yeah he’s good at that, ain’t he?” Joel teases, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Tommy holds his hands up in defence, “Hey! That’s your wife.”

“Damn right it is.” He responds, squeezing your hip. You blush as he holds you close to him. He is always affectionate, but today you have felt more loved and cherished than any day of your life.

You catch Sarah’s eye. She is watching you fondly from a nearby table where she sits with a small group of her friends and some of your cousins who are about her age.

You smile warmly and offer her a thumbs up. She smiles back. You are grateful for the bond you have with her and the support you have both shown each other throughout your relationship with Joel.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of happiness, laughter, and love. More champagne is consumed, and some cake. Sarah was involved in baking it for you with help from a professional. As the night draws to a close, you begin to feel nervous, knowing what is to come when you and Joel retire to your honeymoon suite shortly.

“I can’t believe we’re married.” He whispers into your hair.

“Me too. But it feels like everything I ever imagined.”

Joel nodded, rubbing circles into your back with his large palm. “More than I ever imagined.” He responds.

He kept you in a tight embrace. You can hardly believe that a year ago you didn’t know this wonderful man existed, and now you are a married couple. He pulls back from you, a tender expression on his features. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

You know this question is loaded with the implication of another. Although you feel nerves rising in your chest, there’s another part of you that is thrilled and excited to experience this entirely new element of your relationship with Joel.

You nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to take your hand and lead you out of the hall. Many guests have left and you bid farewell to the others on the way out.

He leads you hand in hand to your hotel suite. The room is dimly lit, with soft music playing. There is another bottle of champagne on the dressing table- not that you need any more.

You turn to Joel, feeling nervous, which he can sense easily. He approaches you carefully, removing his suit jacket and tossing it over an armchair in the corner, loosening his tie and removing the top button of his shirt.

He looks so incredibly handsome and you think that it is intensified by the knowledge that you are looking at your husband.

He cups your face in his hands, “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re my wife.”

He leans in and kisses you. It leaves you breathless and exhilarated, knowing that for the first time, this kiss will lead to more. Your body melts into his, you wrap your hands around his neck and lose yourself in the moment, his warmth and his rich scent enveloping you and making you feel safe and comfortable.

He pulls away eventually and rests his hands on your hips. “I know we’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time- Well, I certainly have.” His voice is laced with emotion. “But we don’t have to rush anything. We’ll take it slow, enjoy every moment of getting to know each other like this.”

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You were nervous about messing things up or disappointing Joel, but he was patient and understanding as always.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

Joel leans in for another kiss and you melt into his embrace once again. He restrains his lust and passion and tries to make every touch a demonstration of his love and commitment to you.

He begins to unlace the delicate back of your dress and pulls it from your shoulders. Your neck is exposed, then your collarbones, then your chest, clad in your special bridal lingerie.

He lets out a sigh as he takes in the sight of you. He had seen your body before, at the beach, but now when he looked at you it was accompanied by an entirely different feeling. You were going to be his for the rest of your lives, all of you, all of this, was his. Forever. It was nearly overwhelming.

He leans down, pressing a trail of soft open-mouthed kisses to your neck and down your exposed chest. He continues to pull down your dress gently as he goes, until it has slipped off of you entirely. He retreats to carefully lay it out on the sofa in the corner. He approaches the bed again and begins to remove his own clothing, unbuttoning his shirt painstakingly slowly as you watched him in anticipation. You take him in, admiring the way his muscles ripple as he moves, his honey skin, and the dark hair scattered over his stomach and chest. He was the image of beauty to you. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel as though you were the only woman in the world, the only one he had ever wanted.

He steps towards you and climbs onto the bed, holding himself up with one strong forearm and kissing you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent waves of desire through your body.

His hands explored you, softly roaming over every curve and contour of your figure, giving every inch of you attention with his lips or hands. As he does so, you feel your body responding to his touch. Your skin grows more and more sensitive to his every movement. You moan softly as his hands glide over the thin fabric of your bra, your nipples hardening in reaction to his teasingly light touch.

He whispers in your ear, a low and husky tone to his voice that you haven’t heard before, “I want you, I want to make you mine forever.”

You shiver at his words, a rush of desire shooting through you. You pull him tighter to you in an embrace and you feel the hard length of him pressing into your stomach. It adds to your excitement.

He kisses you once more on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. You taste whiskey and wedding cake frosting. A combination of strong and sweet, like Joel. Then he lifts your back from the bed slightly, his attention on your bra clasp which he removes with practiced ease and tosses it aside. He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and licking and sucking gently. You gasp at the sensation and feel yourself clenching your thighs involuntarily, desire coursing through you.

He moves down your body, one hand continues to touch your breasts and he trails kisses down your stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your panties, he looks up at you, questioningly. You nod at him, nervousness and excitement fighting for priority in your body and mind.

He pulls them off slowly, savouring the moment. You feel exposed and vulnerable, but the sight of his hungry gaze as he takes in your naked form turns you on.

You feel his hard length pressing into you again and you are silently grateful that he keeps his promise, taking you through this slowly, even though you know he wants you desperately.

“You trust me, darlin’?” He says, breathlessly.

“Yes, Joel.” You respond, anticipating what might be coming.

“Let me take care of you, alright?” He says, his fingers massaging at your inner thighs.

You just nod, and with that he slides his hands higher and his fingers enter your folds, which are already wet with your want for him. You gasp at the sensation, shocked at how his large rough hands are even capable of such gentle touches.

He rubs at you softly, circular motions around your clit snd then down to your hole, barely dipping in a fingertip before withdrawing it again and dragging wetness back up to your clit. You adjust to the sensation quickly and crave more, to intensify the feeling he is giving you.

You buck your hips upwards, letting your thoughts be known to him. He laughs lightly. “Be patient.”

You whine.

He inserts a finger all the way inside you and you gasp at the feeling. Of course you have done this alone but the feeling of his large masculine hands with long, thick, fingers, is a new sensation entirely.

He moves it inside you, slowly, his other hand holding you at your hip. His touches are gentle and restrained yet firm and deliberate. Small moans of pleasure escape you.

His finger then curls inside of you and hits a spot that makes you arch in pleasure, moaning more loudly. Your hands reach out to grab him by the shoulders. He grins and curls his finger again, pressing against that spot faster and with more intensity. You feel your body start to tighten, your limbs tensing up instinctively. The pleasure builds inside of you until it is almost too much to bear.

Just when you think you couldn’t take it anymore, he removes the finger. It is trailed by a large amount of your wetness. He does something unexpected then, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking on it. The sight feels inappropriate and you look away from him, blushing.

He takes the finger, now wet with saliva and inserts it inside you again, this time accompanied by another. The stretch is numbed by the pleasure he gives you. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, curling and scissoring inside of you. He plays a game of attempting to elicit the sweetest sounds from you.

He brings his thumb to your clit simultaneously and gently rubs it. It makes you bite your lip to stop you from crying out.

“Let it out, sweetheart.” He instructs. “Don’t hold back from me.”

“Joell-“ You whine. “Ah!”

Your volume encourages him and he continues, a steady rhythmic pace applied to both the fingers working you from the inside and the one giving attention to your clit.

You feel the same knot of pleasure from before building.

You find confidence and become more vocal, “Please don’t stop Joel!” You plead.

“Are you gonna come, baby?” He asks in a deep tone.

“I think so.” You squeak. “Fee- Feels so good J-Joel, plea-“ You cut yourself off with a moan.

Heat gathers in every corner of your body and as Joel maintains his consistent pace, you reach closer and closer to a release of this tension inside you.

Finally it snaps, and you cry out. The pleasure is overwhelming, your heart races and you pant, breathless, as the feeling courses through every inch of you. You feel yourself collapse further into the bed, weakened by the experience.

He removes his fingers from inside you but keeps gently rubbing your clit as you twitch and shiver underneath him. Eventually he stops that too, and kisses you deeply. You come back down from your high slowly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, barely pulling away from you. His lips tickle yours as he speaks.

You feel a rush of affection towards him, still dazed from your orgasm. Your already flushed cheeks seem to grow even more warm under the weight of his intense gaze and his compliments. As you catch your breath, he continues to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, words of adoration spilling from his whiskey-loosened tongue.

“My girl forever aren’t you?” He whispers. You nod, keening towards his touch as he brings his hand to your core once again, the sensitivity of your orgasm finally worn off.

“My beautiful girl.”

You think he is talking to himself more so than you.

He shifts his weight, lowering himself further down the bed and positioning himself between your legs. You watch him, unsure what he is going to do next. He parts your thighs widely and lowers himself between them. He kisses and licks at your inner thighs, his hot breathe on your skin piques your arousal.

His mouth moves higher and higher, until his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds. You immediately gasp.

He continues licking and sucking, his stubble grazing at your inner thighs, a sensation that burns, but not unpleasantly. He is bringing the peak of your pleasure quickly, and you feel the hot tension gathering within you. Your hands reach down to tangle in his curls, which are slightly dishevelled from the busy day. You tug on his hair lightly and he groans against your pussy, a sensation that sends shivers through you.

He continues to work you with his mouth, sucking at your clit and then moving all the way down to penetrate your entrance with his tongue, then dragging it back up and starting again. It is messy and raw and more intensely pleasurable than you could have ever imagined. Your wave of pleasure is about to crash down, and you cry out in warning.

“Joel I’m going to- Ah!” He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, cutting you off into a moan as he increases the pressure of the suction on your clit, alternating with flicking his tongue against it rapidly, pushing you over the edge.

You cry out his name and unravel beneath him, your body shaking with an orgasm far more intense than the first. He continues to lick and suck gently, tasting all of your juices. Not quite taking you into overstimulation, just easing you through as the waves of pleasure subside before pulling away. He slowly makes his way back up your body. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, and his tongue tastes of your essence.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips. “You’re perfect.”

Finally, he straightens up, pulling away and removing his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in the size of his erection.

He notices your reaction. “This ok, darlin’?” He asks calmly.

You nod, still nervous, which he can see from how you bite your lip. He crawls back onto the bed and positions himself between your legs.

“I’ll go as slow as I can baby, if it hurts you tell me, ok?”

You nod.

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’ll tell you Joel, I promise.”

“Good.” He says.

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. One hand holds him up, the other is guiding his hard length to your entrance. You take a deep breath, trying to relax, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. He slowly begins to push himself into you. You both gasp at that first sensation.

You feel a painful stretch, but it quickly fades as he stops with just the tip inserted in you, giving you time to adjust. He plants kisses all over your face and whispers words of praise and reassurance as he continues to edge into you again.

Finally, he is fully inside of you, and he stops, looking down at you with a caring expression. “This OK, sweetheart?” He asks softly, stroking your hair with his free hand.

You nod.

He begins to move slowly, in and out in a gentle rhythm. You moan softly every time he is fully deep inside you, hitting pleasure spots inside your walls. As time goes on he picks up the pace gradually and thrusts slightly harder, analysing every sound and expression of yours to ensure you remain comfortable.

You feel an urge to wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to feel him even deeper. He grunts in pleasure as you do so. Your connection to him is intense and overwhelming, physically full of him and giving yourself to him in every way.

Next he brings a hand to your clit and his thumb rubs at it gently like before. You feel that this makes your pussy clench around him. He grunts every time it does so.

“Oh, Joel.” You gasp.

He takes your gasp as a cue to increase the pace, and soon he is pounding into you with a steady, rhythmic force. You feel that knot of pleasure building in your core, and you know you won't be able to hold back a release much longer.

Joel's movements become more urgent, and his hand on your clit works faster. Your moans and gasps grow louder, and you feel like you're about to come apart at the seams.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growls, his breath hot against your neck. "I want to feel you come around me."

His words are all you need, and with a cry, you fall over the edge. Waves of pleasure crash over you, and you clench around him tightly as you ride out your orgasm.

As you come down from your high, Joel’s pace is faltering, and with a grunt of your name, you feel him tense up and a hot release spills into you. He collapses a little on top of you and you can’t help but laugh as he knocks the air out of your lungs, crushing you, his body shaking with exertion. He slides his hands under you and squeezes you into him.

You both lay there in silence, trying to catch your breath and ground yourselves from the pleasure you had both experienced. The gentle music continues to play in the background and other than that the only sounds that can be heard are the rise and fall of your breath and an occasional contented sigh from Joel.

Eventually he pulls out from inside you and rolls off of you, pulling you close to his side. You snuggle into his chest, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

“Was I as good as you imagined? Didn't let you down?” He teases gently.

“Even better than I could have imagined.” You admit. “Can we do it again?” You say.

He laughs and kisses your head. “Of course, Mrs Miller. As much as you like.” He says, running his hand through your hair.

You both lay there, enjoying the peaceful afterglow of your lovemaking. You drift to sleep, ready to wake up for the first day of the rest of your life as Joel’s wife.

Read more pre-outbreak Joel smut in Country Lovin’

Find my entire masterlist of Pedro Pascal characters here

Pedro Taglist @tightjeansjavi @lovers-liability @cutesyscreenname @serenaxpedro @hrtsforpascal @queerponcho @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @kdogreads @drewharrisonwriter @therealmabelpinez

Story Taglist @carlyreneeinthemoon @anat2507 @soph55 @annagraceevanss @vanillen @hummusxx @still-wanna-be-corrupted @prettyangelsthings @luvtheoldmen @theelishad @afterglowsb-tch13 @moonlightdivine @dilfsaremyfavourite @midgetpottermills @skysmiller @gaypoetsblog @jadeees-posts @rosey1981 @alyhull @decaffeinatedweirdo @prwttp @hesjustken @luamarieta

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be on a Joel taglist, or permanent Pedro taglist <3

[ab4eva]

‘The Three of Us: Brat Behavior’

Fully co-authored with: my love @therealslimshakespeare

Notes: The response to the first fic has been so unexpected and overwhelmingly amazing - thank you, thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, liked, screamed and gushed over it! It has made our little hearts so very full, we can’t even express properly just how happy it’s made us! We hope you enjoy this installment - we love hearing from you so please feel free to scream at us!

Warnings: Threesome, all the sex that entails, 18+ only

Word count: 6.3k

The Three of Us - part 1

-

When the paparazzi pictures of you and Callum outside a pre-Emmy’s bash were splashed across the internet, the confusion was palpable. The photo evidence of Austin Butler’s girlfriend looking especially loved up with his best friend sparked more than a bit of outrage. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if they had snapped the two of you just a few seconds before. But the way his strong arms engulfed your entire body, your sequined dress glittering in the night as your back was pressed to his broad chest while you waited on the curb for your ride. The way he nuzzled your neck and made you giggle - the evidence was undeniable. Tumblr was once again set ablaze with rumors and speculation:

“I thought she was dating his close friend? Wtf?”

“He didn’t seem like this kinda dude but ok, another disappointment. Damn.”

“Bro code is dead it seems.”

But then, a day after those pictures captured headlines, a new set of photos made the rounds. Austin Butler himself could be seen, standing just off to the side, laughing and chatting with you and Callum. Upon further inspection he had been there all along - crouched in front of you and Cal, talking to the Uber driver, head ducked into the window. A leather jacket-clad arm, just barely inside the photo, ringed hand entwined with yours as Callum held you in his arms. A collective huh could be heard throughout the fandom.

-

The three of you had had exactly two months together, before going your separate ways for work. Two months of clandestine, late night get togethers at Austin’s house or your apartment. Two months of breakfasts in bed, hikes at Fryman Canyon and coffee dates at Aroma. Two months of hard work while each of you prepared for your next projects, the tedious research and memorizing lines made a little bit easier, more interesting, just by being in each other’s company. A thousand kisses, smiles, secret looks, soft touches and more than double that in sighs, whimpers and blushes. Until one day, when the party finally seemed to be over, for now, and all that was left were deflated balloons and half-hung streamers.

The night before you left for Europe for five months you spent with Austin, just the two of you, cuddled up in his big bed, eating takeout and watching old movies. You, Callum and Austin had already said your goodbyes to one another earlier in the day, a bittersweet encounter that left you happy, satisfied and more than a bit sore, and you wondered how, exactly, you’d fair spending ten hours sitting on a plane the next day. The boys were due to ship out in the next couple of days as well - Austin to New Mexico for a new film, followed by press for The Bikeriders after that. And Callum was off to Vancouver for his next film, Eternity. The way things were looking, you three wouldn’t be together in the same room again until September, just in time for the Emmy’s, which seemed like an awfully long time to miss someone. Two someones.

What followed over the spring and summer were five long months of mutual pining and longing and horniess that was only partially satiated by group video chats as often as schedules allowed. These catch-ups inevitably turned into what amounted to three-way phone sex with everyone getting off in their separate hotel rooms and going to bed alone, wishing it was any other way than the way it was. You bought a ridiculous amount of cute lingerie just for these hangouts, not to mention various toys and gadgets sure to turn on more than just you.

Then there was the group text chat that Callum had set up and named, appropriately, The Lads. Sometimes it was silent except for a thumbs up from Austin on yesterday’s “Miss you, chums,” from Callum. He had taken to calling you and Austin his lads, his chaps, etc. And you, in turn, deemed him Old Bean, never using the affectionate nickname without also employing a stuffy British accent, purely to see his face light up and crack with a smile. Sometimes you sent suggestive food photos from your apartment in Budapest, “food porn” as you cheekily referred to them. Your little hand wrapped around a squash you were cutting up for soup or two avocados you saucily bounced in your palm, mimicking a favorite move of the boys’ - you could almost hear them groan in ecstasy a thousand miles away. It tickled them pink when you did this and almost always led to a filthy string of threats from Callum and a soft expletive from Austin.

Sometimes this group chat got you all in trouble, or at the very least, terribly embarrassed. There was the time you were in a production meeting with other department heads on the film and Callum sent a picture of himself in tight boxer briefs, lounging in bed, veiny hand gripping his very hard dick through thin fabric. Or the time you sent a, mostly covered, nude pic and Austin’s manager happened to be holding his unlocked phone at that moment. You could picture exactly the furious blush that must have spread over his entire face.

But it wasn’t all lighthearted chatting and sexy photos. Sometimes you’d come across a paparazzi photo of Callum out to dinner with friends or a co-star. You didn’t love how white hot jealousy burned through you like a smoldering ember, blinding you to the truth. The truth that he has girls who are friends. That he’s an affectionate, touchy-feely kind of guy and sometimes he just can’t help himself. You had to tamp down your needy tendencies and remind yourself that you didn’t own him and besides, it was always you and Austin for him at the end of the day anyway. And sometimes you’d be scrolling Instagram, when out of the blue, you were stopped dead in your tracks by a picture of Austin on someone’s feed. The sense of desire and longing that kept you tethered to him would tighten and threaten to spill over in tears.

-

The thing about Callum Turner is that his constant teasing and joking, that wheedling mouth of his, gets him into all sorts of unforeseen trouble. And the trouble coming his way tonight ain’t his usual choice of dynamic but hey, he’s here now and whatever comes his way, he might as well try new things, eh?

“So what, you’re a big boy, big shot, producer fella now, huh? Off doing big shot important shite, too busy for us?” Cal says through a wide grin, though the playfulness of his words doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s some other emotion stirring in those blue depths - neediness, maybe. Or impatience. The only response from Austin is a quiet breath, huffed out through flared nostrils as he sips from his cocktail and looks around the room, choosing to ignore the teasing.

Austin is Mr. Stately Reserved at the party - not really, it just seems that way from the outside. Or the inside, as it were. He’s hugging and laughing and chatting but to Callum, who’s missed him more than he cares to admit, even to himself, it’s maddeningly poised. Callum would like to smooch him and pick him up and twirl him around but Austin is barely even looking him in the eye. He wants to grab that perfect, model face that Austin has on for the cameras, the crowd, and wreck it. Make sure he still feels something behind that cool and indifferent facade.

Austin glances at you as his hand goes round your waist, tugging you closer to his side in the crowded room. You sneak a glance at Callum through your eyelashes and are amused to find a rather put out expression on his face. Every little thing Cal thinks bolts across his features like a flashing neon sign. You bite your lip and turn the snicker escaping your lips into a cough behind your hand. Cal’s eyes flicker to you and you raise an eyebrow, imperceptibly shaking your head, staring him down and silently pleading with him to be patient, just cool it. You can tell by the way his mouth sets into a determined little smile that your telepathic message was not well received.

“You could just ask to be dommed, you know?” Austin says suddenly, voice monotone, eyes unreadable and his haughty, camera-ready face still scanning the room.

“How the hell does that correlate to being dommed, Aus? Huh? How?” There’s an outraged disbelief in Cal’s tone that almost outweighs the high pitched -although mild -panic seeping through. Never unsure, ever, at least that you’ve seen him, until Austin Butler interprets him some such way and then this big tough man is a flailing and defensive windmill of arms and definitions.

“You’re literally so happy to see me, everyone here can see your tail wagging, that’s how,” Austin says smoothly out of the side of his mouth, an almost bored tone permeating his inflammatory words.

“Ah see, now, I’m offended mate, here I am, missing my friend, showing it -and I get called a furry. You into that now?” Callum ribs goodnaturedly.

“Wouldn’t say no to you on Halloween just ‘cause you were wearing a pair of ears,” Austin admits with a suppressed grin. Already in full contestant mode, it takes Callum a brief minute to close his mouth and realize he’s just won a victory for himself here.

“Now that’s the kinda way to make a fella feel special, Austin. That and loaning me your cable to watch the game later. That would do it.”

“Oh I’ll make you feel special, Cal, just not in front of Steven Spielberg,” Austin murmurs, as the man himself starts to make his way across the room to shake their hands. Austin finally turns his eyes on Callum and holds his gaze so intensely that Cal’s stomach drops and he feels a twitch in his pants, like he shoulda braced or something before those eyes flicked over and met his: fuckin’ finally.

And he just knows, in that moment, that he’s in for it. He’s gonna get what he’s been asking for all night, and from that moment on, his stomach is in pleasurable knots and he can’t concentrate on anything anyone is saying to him. And if there’s a wink in there somewhere, when Austin is sure no one can see, well, it makes Cal just about stagger, both from assurance and the weirdly hot feeling of being a naughty little secret.

—

The coast is clear. Or that’s Cal’s best guess when Austin’s golden little head stops covertly craning around the corner of the elevator to inspect the hallway and turns instead to lock eyes with him.

Oh that smile, soft but not tender, slow but not lazy, constrained but nothing short of mischief in a bottle. A lean, ringed hand darts out and Cal is suddenly tripping over his big feet, pulled into the dim hall by a fist in the gap of his double breasted blazer, Austin’s knuckles firm against his sternum when he lurches forward too fast. A dog on a leash. And the hypnotic swirl of the carpet’s pattern blurs with the interspersed lamps on the dark walls until it’s nothing but a streak of swirls and Austin’s shoulders ahead of him. He’s got them fuckin’ joggin’ to the room. Cal’s loud laugh surprises himself but he’s too happy to shove it down.

“So ya did miss me -badly looks like- ya’poncy bastard.”

Austin does nothing more than throw an amused look over his shoulder, not a hitch in his fast stride. The look glances off Cal’s grinning face and back behind him to where you’re lagging behind, not out of shyness or hesitancy, instead you’re unabashedly admiring the view from back here, watching them tug and run and fall into each other on patterned carpet leading to the suite.

“Keep up, angel!” Austin insists before turning his face back towards his break-neck trajectory.

The tone and the attitude reminds you of that afternoon when you’d all first settled into some sort of lasting mojo, one that had begun in bed but wouldn’t last without some care outside in the carless, callous, scrutinizing world. You’d gone rock climbing, sweaty tank tops and dusty hands a-pair, the competitive spirit spilled onto you too as they grappled up the wall.

You’d been one of the boys then. And it felt just right. Especially when the boys were as loving and devoted as these to each other.

They’ve a head start on you down the hall, the heels Austin had helped you out of in the elevator did their damage to your poor toes but you try anyway, sequins rough and crushed in your sweaty palm as you hike up your dress skirt and sprint after them, the hallway suddenly burning hot in your exertions, Cal’s sweaty face cackling maniacally back at you as you try, and fail, to grab at his coat tails, seems to share the sentiment.

“We gotta get out of these layers.”

Dexterous, and a dozen other potent synonyms that Cal has indulged in coming up with late at night on his brainy apps, is how he’d describe Austin on a good day. It’s a goddamn magic trick tonight, the way the room key is suddenly in his hand from up his shirt sleeve, like pulling a white rabbit out of a hat, and it’s tapping and opening the latch.

The room is cool, dim and smells of your hairspray and Austin’s cologne. Cal salivates and would contemplate that being a new low to go with being called a furry tonight, but then his back is being slammed harshly against the small wall space by the door, Austin’s fist still tight against his chest, suit coat clenched between white knuckles. He’s really letting Butler just toss him around tonight, and dimly he knows he could do something about that but after hours of trying to blow straw wrapper balls at him to get the least response, it’s nice to be manhandled instead.

Oh, right, ok, of course— Austin’s keeping him here, the door propped open with a Louis Vuitton outfitted foot so you can come in too.

This wasn’t all about bruising Cal’s back. He finds himself mildly disappointed by that. Odd. Tonight’s been odd. But it just got nicer with you coming in all pink cheeked and panting from the race.

“Third place.” Cal has enough assholish gusto left in him to taunt over Austin’s shoulder, sticking three large and disrespectful fingers in your eye-line as you pass, shoving the score quite literally in your face.

You were headed to pull the drapes, being a nice little girlfriend and respecting how tough it might be for either of these guys to find themselves on TMZ tomorrow doing...whatever it is that Austin’s doing pinning Cal up to the wall like he’s a suspect. But with this competitive provocation regarding having lost a foot race to two very large, very competitive and highly motivated young men, you pause in your errand of mercy and chomp at the offending fingers instead, drawing a howl from Callum. To his credit he no longer looks remotely surprised when you do that anymore.

“Only loser here is you,” Austin jabs but the door has just banged closed, let go by his foot, and Callum has the decency to swallow very hard at whatever the hell that look on his face means.

“Your hair’s grown back out,” Austin adds, not conversationally, more like someone pleased their Amazon order came as advertised. His eyes rake over Callum’s features, following the swirls of soft curls falling across his forehead.

You trip backwards to the curtains, not wanting to miss a thing and hardly registering banging your heel on the very modern and very sharp ottoman corner that’s in between you and the window.

“Ya like it?” Cal’s face lights up and his cheeks go a little pink under Austin’s intense scrutiny, making the light freckles that dot his nose spring to life. He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly aware it’s getting to the length it was when they first met. “I didn’t think you’d noticed, Mr. Big Shot, with all that schmoozing you were doing.”

Austin’s eyes deepen as his pupils dilate, almost swallowing the blues of his irises completely. The fist gripping Cal’s shirt loosens, only to be quickly replaced by a firm arm barred across his throat, threatening to cut off his air supply, both a warning and an invitation. Austin smiles darkly and a look flashes across his face, needy and possessive. Callum’s adrenaline kicks in, his cock throbbing painfully in sync with his pounding heart. He is reminded of the only other time he’s seen Austin Butler look this way.

Three Years Ago

The slow build from friends into something more had happened gradually, in tiny increments. How had they gone from walking Callum’s dog and dinners at the local pub to lying beside each other in the balmy dark, ragged breaths and quiet groans filling the air as they tugged each other’s cocks, their spend eventually spilling out, hot and sticky, onto their hands. But looking back now, Callum could see it had all blurred together, like an impressionist painting, and he was unable to tell where things began and ended. It felt like everything had happened all at once, their worlds colliding and meshing into one another, and that was the way it had always been, before they had ripped apart, separate once more.

The closer they came to wrapping Masters of the Air, the more inevitable the end became. One evening, towards the end, Austin had a mind to show his mate how much this meant to him, whatever this was. They’d never gone farther than some heavy petting, an urgent kiss here and there, and getting each other off. But that night, something simmered just under the surface and Austin, with slightly shaky hands, unbuttoned Callum’s jeans and pulled them down his solid thighs as he sank to his knees. He felt Callum’s hands rest lightly in his hair, thumbs brushing his temples as Austin slowly leaned forward. He hesitated a split second before taking Callum’s bulging tip into his mouth, his tongue running circles around it. The feeling was foreign but intriguing and he noted with distant observation the things Callum responded to. It was messy and awkward and thrilling, in an illicit sort of way. Cal’s muscles flexed beneath Austin’s gentle hands as they mapped and explored every dip and crease.

Weirdly it got him so hot and bothered, doing it, listening to Cal’s constant praise, that Austin noticed, with dissociated interest, his own cock growing hard and rubbing against the inseam of his pants with delicious agony. Cal sounded like he was being exorcized the braver he got, which spurred Austin on to redouble his fumbling but enthusiastic efforts. Callum surged forward and Austin gagged, barely recovering before gagging again. That's apparently what it took to get the job done and with less than a second’s warning, Austin pulled his mouth off Cal just as he started to come, using his fist to jerk the rest out of him with rough precision.

Once he caught his breath, Cal was ready to return the damn favor, and excited about it too. He led Austin to the edge of the bed as the blonde struggled to rid himself of the offending inseam and pants, tripping slightly in his haste. Cal chuckled and steadied him with a strong arm around his waist, licking a stripe up Austin’s neck as he did. Austin’s stomach flip-flopped at the promise of that mouth as he finally shucked his pants. Once out of its confines, his perfect, pink cock sprang up toward his belly, already slick and oozing. Callum pushed Austin onto the bed with a gentle shove, dropping to his knees between those long, lean legs. Austin fell back on his elbows, blue eyes ever watchful, his face red and gleaming with sweat. Cal grasped Austin’s hip firmly with a large hand, the fingertips of the other barely touching the angry cock bobbing at him at eye level. He hadn’t even had a chance to wrap his lips around it before Austin was shooting off without warning all over Callum - into his eye, up his nose, onto his open lower lip. Cal sputtered in shock, falling back on his ass in his haste to try and get the sticky stuff off.

“What the fuck, Butler! What the fuck?! It’s in my hair! Jesus Christ!” he moaned, the shock beginning to wear off. Callum looked so cute, with his freckles glazed and being dramatic as all hell and Austin was no help whatsoever. He laid there, feeling fabulous and sated with his spent cock still spurting now and again. Completely relaxed, zero sympathy, because truly he wasn’t even remotely sorry for cum up the nose when his throat was raw from sucking Cal’s massive dick.

In the present time Cal’s tentative: “You like them?” has Austin reaching up to drag through Callum’s curls after his pleading goad.

“They’re gonna make the prettiest handle here in a second.” Austin smirks and yanks his large puppy away from the wall, hauling him to the bed, gravity working in Austin’s favor as Cal trips over his feet and lands in a face-first splat onto fine weave cotton with a muffled “oomph.”

Without warning, Austin levels a hard smack to Callum’s bottom, the loud crack of it reverberating throughout the room. You gasp and freeze where you stand near the curtains, not wanting to disturb whatever this is that’s playing out. You see Austin wind up for another spank, delivering it just as Cal recovers from the shock of the first one. He roars, unused to being treated this way. A stream of curses leaves his mouth as he struggles to roll over, to fight back in some way. But Austin’s already kneeling on the bed, looming over him with one knee planted firmly on Callum’s back, pinning him down.

“The hell was that for?! Let me up!” Callum practically shouts, the panic of not being able to move setting in, all that alcohol he tossed back with abandon at the party making him slow and uncoordinated. “Fucking let me up, bro!”

“You’ve been a pain in my ass all night…couldn’t wait til we were alone, could you? Had to have allllll my attention right then. Had to act like a brat in front of our friends and colleagues.” He delivers another brutal smack that has Callum jolting forward, fists gripping the white duvet he’s face-planted in. Callum lets out a strangled moan, half frustration, half arousal. “Practically begged me to dom you…” smack. “Does my attention feel good now, hmm?”

You can’t watch from the sidelines any longer, your panties are already soaked and your legs feel shaky with need. Without a word you walk over and tug Cal’s pants off unceremoniously, his boxer-briefs sliding down with them. His usually pale, round bottom is already red, and by the look on Austin's face, it’s about to get much worse. Compulsively you kneel over Callum and kiss it better, your lips trailing little smooches over the angry skin before smoothing your cool palm across the expanse of his backside and rubbing his back soothingly. He lets out a sigh of misplaced relief, his hands relaxing their grip on the covers only to be startled out of his temporary reverie by another slap to his now bare ass. That one definitely left a mark and you stare in awe at the large handprint left behind. From there it’s just a tenderly brutal back and forth as you soothe what Austin stings.

Callum is so dazed by his own feelings and having allowed himself to be treated this way that when Austin stands and finally rolls him over he’s about as docile as a lamb. He didn’t even know he’d come until the cool air hits him and he realizes his belly and shirt are a hot, sticky mess. As Cal is hazily coming to grips with what just happened, you turn your gaze to Austin standing at the foot of the bed. In soothing one you hadn’t been paying attention to the other.

Your boyfriend is breathing hard and his face is flushed, like he’s just run a marathon. You bite your lip as your eyes travel the length of him, eyefucking him blatantly, there’s something so magnetic and even a little daunting about him when he’s in this mood. Your gaze stops at the outline of his hard cock pressed against his pants. You didn’t realize he was so turned on by what he’s taken out on Callum’s skin but it makes your belly jump as you slowly slide off the bed, the need to ravish him overwhelming.

In an instant your hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging his own curls. Your mouth is desperate for his, nipping and sucking and kissing every inch of him you can reach. You grab at his t-shirt, ripping it off in one fell swoop and tossing it aside before you resume your aggressive making out. You can’t decide what to focus on first - his plump, pink lips or his open neck. You decide to bite his collarbone, drawing a yelp from him. Your little hand, with perfectly painted red nails, palms his hard-on through his slacks, doing your damndest to give him a handjob through all that fabric. Austin pants into your mouth and unzips your dress, pushing it off your shoulders and to the floor. You step out of it as you push him against the wall, unbuttoning the fly of his pants and reaching a hand in to grip him fully. He’s so soft and warm and hard as you swipe your thumb across his tip, swirling your tongue over his, wishing you could feel him in your mouth. He lets out a choked moan as he unfastens your bra, his long fingers finding your peaked nipples and giving them a pinch. You’ve knocked his mojo off course for the moment and he shudders under your sensuous attack. And all the while Cal watches you two from the bed, one hand around his straining length, about to spurt again.

Austin suddenly breaks the kiss, grabbing your wrists and holding your body away from his. “That’s enough now, baby. I-I need you to get on Cal’s cock.” The command is so sudden and so sure it nearly winds you, but then Austin is mummering, “Can you do that for me, angel?” blue eyes suddenly serious as he stares you down, his lips kiss-swollen and neck already starting to bruise. You nod your head silently as he turns you around and shoves you toward the bed, smacking your ass hard as you willingly obey. Cal starts to sit up and move towards the headboard, like last time, ready to have you and some relief as well.

“No, no, no. On your back, Callum Turner. You stay on your back,” Austin commands quietly, pointing a finger. “You feeling special yet, baby boy, or will it take my cock down your throat, too?”

You’re straddling Cal now and after momentarily bracing for that extra burn only he can give, you deliciously sink down onto him as he fills and probes you just that little bit deeper beyond comfort. His hands encircle your waist without thinking as you slide him in to the hilt, both of you groaning. He can unfortunately no longer think straight, let alone answer, right this moment. And daddy definitely wanted an answer.

Austin tsks quietly in feigned disappointment, “Cock it is then.”

And that’s how Callum Turner found himself flat on his back with you balancing on his balls and Austin Butler’s heavy cock in his mouth, choking him from time to time, not unpleasantly he’s surprised to find.

“You were so sad when I didn’t make it down your throat last time,” Austin coos over his shoulder as he slowly rides Cal’s face while his perfect, pert ass is manhandled by Chelsea’s finest lad, muffled sounds of god knows what coming from him. Austin has a love/hate relationship with watching you enjoy another dick that much, the least he can do is make you scream his name while you’re at it. Which is why he’s facing you as both of you ride Callum, overwhelming him like ants, the man has no chance of getting back up once he’s been felled. You lean back a little, hands on Cal’s thighs as he pounds you, teasing Austin with a little peek at your swollen clit. It has the intended effect and Austin keeps his slow and steady pace as he bends over to lick you while you ride Cal’s fat cock.

Meanwhile, gurgling noises are emanating from somewhere behind Austin’s shoulder as Callum is literally choking on cock, the bend of it molding perfectly to his throat at this angle, like someone poured playdough down it, heavy balls resting on his nose. Austin shifts again, one hand on your breast and one reaching behind to Cal's throat, massaging, squeezing. And the only thing floating through Callum’s mind as he struggles to draw breath is, “Payback’s a bitch.”

“Do you feel special now, huh? Now that you can’t breathe?” Austin grunts out, relishing the feeling, the noises, the heady rush of being in control.

Something that sounds suspiciously like “Jesus Christ, Austin” flies out of Callum’s mouth but you can’t quite tell because it’s all garbled, almost unintelligible. He’s arguing with a cock down his throat, muffled protests and encouragements. All of the sudden his belly starts to heave in panic, his airflow finally sealed off as Austin presses lower, trying to get Cal to deepthroat him.

“Shhh it’s ok…breathe baby, breathe through your mouth, Cal, not your nose. That will only make it worse.” You pet his belly soothingly as he still gags for a moment. Austin jolts forward, the feeling of Cal gagging on his cock incredible. He grabs your hips, nails digging into your flesh, taking some calming breaths himself, trying to last and not to spurt hot cum down Callum’s throat right now. Cal bucks up into you, swift and firm, but Austin’s got a death grip on your hips, holding you down and that’s just the first orgasm of the night for you.

But Callum Turner is nothing if not resilient, and a multitasker at that. He relaxes his throat, starting to get the hang of things, figuring out how to breathe around a pole stuffed down his windpipe. Good thing he has such a wide mouth, finally came in handy for something. He can both learn how to deepthroat for the first time and knead Austin’s ass and thighs like he’s making sourdough. He’s really getting into the groove now - kneading and slapping, rocking Austin in encouragement to pick up the pace. Which quickly turns Austin’s dominance into a very whiny sort of thing. He can’t quite keep up after a few minutes of Callum’s sweet torture, the balls on his nose no longer a hindrance. Callum is pulling him apart and acting like he’s enjoying himself so much that Austin’s mind goes blankety-blank. When Cal starts smacking at his little ass to encourage him to rut, he loses it.

You watch this change overtake Austin gradually, like sand eroding from a beach, little by little. You can see when he goes from being in charge of “Operation Overwhelm Cal” to being a pretty baby in dire need of cumming. He slowly tips forward, partly to get his cock further into Callum’s throat and partly to face-plant in your ample titties because he’s feeling a lot of feelings at the moment. He’s practically on all fours now, drool dripping down onto Cal’s lower belly and mixing with your wetness already there. His forehead rests between the valley of your breasts as his hips work like an auger down Cal’s throat. You’ve got one hand in his hair and the other on one of your tits as he grabs your hips, urging you to pick up the pace. He can’t take his eyes off of where Callum disappears inside you, again and again, his thick, pale lower belly, everything a blur.

Austin explodes without warning, a strangled cry wrenched from his lips. Cal’s whole body jerks up as he chokes, dislodging Austin onto the bed beside you. He has the forethought to grab a discarded t-shirt lying next to him and spit into it, gasping for breath. You’re still riding him hard, and you’re close again, so close. In the blink of an eye you’re on your back, delicate wrists held together in one of his expansive palms. You hook a leg around his waist and a floodgate opens up. At this new angle he’s hitting the spot that has you shaking apart and coming, little quakes every few seconds. He presses on despite your gasping protests, whispered words of praise and teasing and you can’t tell which is making you come harder - his taunts or his cock. You feel Austin slip a hand between your bodies, one long finger toying with your nipple, sending you over the edge again just as you were recovering. Callum roars, wrecked and rasping, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he finishes, his solid weight crushing you as he collapses onto your chest.

“Roll over, ya big oaf…my hand is…trapped,” Austin says between tugs, trying to extricate himself. Callum turns one, jewel-blue eye on Austin and grins, leaning over to bite his shoulder. Despite Austin’s growled protests and more useless tugging of his trapped hand, there’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a certain kind of floaty lightness. It looks good on him.

-

Quiet noises filter through Cal’s brain, like sunlight through a window, slowly and then all at once. The actual sun stays hidden behind blackout curtains, thanks to your thoughtful gesture the night before. Sprawled out on his belly like an overgrown spider, he registers the sound of someone getting ready for the day. Running water, an electric toothbrush, the soft thump of a towel being dropped, the rustle of clothes. He blinks his eyes open slowly, swallowing gingerly. God, his throat feels like it’s on fire! Is it always this way? He groans as he swallows again, trying to get some moisture down to soothe it. He makes a mental note to go a little easier on you next time you have his cock shoved down your windpipe. A movement catches his eye through the cracked bathroom door and he can make out Austin, dressed to the nines and fussing with his hair til he gets it just so. His heart plummets - Austin’s already back on his professional bullshit. Cal opens his mouth to make some comment about the outfit he’s wearing only to have it all squeak out in a cracked voice, the hoarse dig barely audible. That gets a smirk and a raised eyebrow from Austin, he knows where this is coming from.

“Need a cough drop for that throat, bud?” as he buttons his shirt at the wrists, looking at him in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t be salty,” he snickers, trying not to laugh at the gathering storm cloud on Cal’s face.

“That’s a shit pun, Butler,” Callum manages to croak, starting to raise himself up. To do what, he isn’t sure, he only knows he can’t take this lying down. But then you’re giggling somewhere at his back, apparently still in bed with him, going, “Salty, get it?” Your cool hand travels up his freckled skin, soothing his ruffled feathers and urging him to lie back. He flops down again, arms spread wide and rolls over to see you’re still very much entrenched in the bed, fluffy covers held to your chest and hair floating in a halo on the pillow. He’s not going to be alone…or not right away, at least. Austin walks to the foot of the bed, all suave and put together, the woody scent of his cologne hitting your noses and making you both swoon a little, if you’re honest.

“You sleepy heads enjoy your breakfast. And don’t watch without me...or there will be repercussions.” One side of his mouth quirks up, long finger pointed at the two of you as he slips on his sunglasses, looking for all the world like some hottie mob boss. Heat curls in your belly and you have to stop yourself from reaching up and pulling him down to the bed by his open shirt collar.

“And just what are we, your harem?” you say with a pout, stretching your arms above your head, pert nipples peeking out above the covers. His eyes are hidden behind dark lenses but you note with satisfaction the way he swallows hard, leg jiggling slightly, before turning abruptly away and heading for the door.

“Don’t wanna be it, don’t act like it,” he tosses over his shoulder just before the door slams shut.

In the ringing quietness after his exit, you can hear Cal’s raspy breathing and a mildly oppressive feeling of sore melancholy. You roll on your side to fully face him, the crinkle of the sheets loud in the stillness and he turns to you, boyish and expectant. A smirk lights up your face, “How about a bath, Turner? Baby’s first time and all,” you tease, fingers trailing up his collarbone as he pulls you into the crook of his arm.

“Oh fuck off,” he grins, blue eyes shutting, snuggling you closer. He cracks one eye open again, fixing you with a sheepish look. “Could use some pancakes though.”

-

The Three of Us: ‘Tis The Damn Season (part 3)

The Three of Us: Masterlist

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[branwinged]

what's your take on rhaegar?

take as in, my opinion of his moral character? we don't have all the details for that, filling in the blanks involves a great deal of speculation. my read of him is based on what purpose he serves within the story.

i don't think much of him outside of what he means for dany. it's the way robb is not a character in his own right to me and exists only to serve catelyn and bran's arcs. which is why my opinion of rhaegar is mainly informed by that scene in agot, where dany dreams of him in his armour and lifts the visor to find that "the face within was her own", dany is clearly inheriting his narrative role (jon too in some capacity, but i'm not thinking of jon in relation to the targaryens before the reveal happens), it's for purely this reason i've never seen him as someone with no redeeming qualities. the memory of rhaegar shadows and informs everything she does (it is time to cross the trident) grrm writes her with shades of all her targaryen ancestors, because she's the last of them and embodies three hundred years of her house's glorious and terrible history. but rhaegar's particular echo is the strongest because that's the brother she would've married under slightly different circumstances, she imagines rhaegar as the ideal vision of the king in her mind whom she must emulate, he died and made her the prince that was promised. her entire character is constructed around him. he's not simply a strong influence in her life, she is him. they call her aegon the conquerer come again but she's been having visions of battling the others at the trident since agot, she's also rhaegar come again. she'll do everything he couldn't. it's just a bit inconceivable for a character like that to be revealed as a cold, unfeeling schemer. like, where's the heart in that? if everything rhaegar resembled was antithetical to dany's own beliefs and motives? aerys is already there to serve that exact role.

but what we learn about him from a number of contradictory sources is interesting. melancholy bard prince, born in grief, sang songs of doom and loss among the ruins of summerhall, presumably plagued by prophetic dragon dreams. he's framed as a character out of some song. all rebellion characters have that quality to them, there's a girl who dies trapped in a tower, another throws herself off a tower, the tourney at harrenhal episode is told to bran (and in turn, the readers) in the form of a song. they don't feel very real, or at least, they'll never get to be real the way our present day characters feel real because they're dead and their stories have been distorted and repurposed. robert's version is that of a king valiantly fighting for his abducted lady love, the version told to dany is that of tragic star crossed lovers torn apart by the realm. they're songs, and cannot be the whole truth. it's in the name. it was the year of the false spring and they all thought they were changing the world. rhaegar was going to call a great council and depose aerys, robert and ned where overthrowing a mad king to put an end to his atrocities. except rhaegar died having achieved nothing, robert ascended his throne on the corpses of children, then in fifteen years' time recreated the conditions for the start of another war. and lyanna simply traded one kind of gendered sentence for another. i'm not drawing a 1:1 equivalence between rhaegar and robert (and i do think it will be written as a romance with the truth somewhere between robert and dany's versions), but that she died either way is a pretty significant detail. she died in more ways than one! when they talk about her they recall a helpless maiden dead in some tower, not a girl capable of besting renowned knights.

like, it's very clear to me that the rebellion and its immediate consequences are meant to be read as a tragedy, caused not by the actions of a character(s) but as a result of the systemic failings of their world (which is why it's once again leading up to the burning of king's landing, where it all began, the city is symbolic of the very worst of westerosi feudalism). lyanna's death is less about robert and rhaegar and more about the way there was no escape possible for a girl like her—a theme that's carried over in sansa and arya's stories, except this time it will end with them getting to live the life lyanna wasn't allowed to, because this time they will change the world. dany's earnest dream of "to plant trees and watch them grow" is just that. it's the dream of spring.

[hellfridge]

Jayce wouldn't have survived the fissure.

The below shots were shown almost back to back. Originally I interpreted this as straight up horror, but what if it's secretly Jayce's unknowing solace? What if the infection isn't meant to harm, but to heal?

This would explain Jayce's miraculous recovery. He FULLY broke that leg, it was severed at the bone and jutting out the side, it was awful and it was bad. But immediately after he sets it and starts a fire, he nearly sees the Mage and immediately after that we see this shot of the wound.

Now, granted, we don't know how much time passes, but this seems intentional. Viktor wouldn't come just to watch Jayce suffer, when has he ever come into any scene to simply watch passively.

Now, what does this mean?

First, it hints at an interesting change within the post-apocalypse Herald that I haven't seen dissected yet.

The return from machine to man

This older version of Viktor literally seems to reside by Jayce's statuesque pseudo-corpse's side on top of the ruined Hexgates, all that's left of their dream, in a beautiful but grotesque garden above the clouds. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be etc etc but. Here's the ringer. Why the garden? People have speculated it's for comfort and beauty, if not for himself then for what remains of his Jayce.

But if you look closely, it's almost as if the vegetation is eroding the metal of Jayce's body while simultaneously springing from it. What if Viktor is slowly undoing what he's done?

Why does the Herald seem to be made of flesh when he meets Jayce now, and as a child? Because he's not a Machine Herald anymore. Corroding all the metal and returning it to nature is part of the process. The way he wields the arcane now is far more biological, and even here--

--we see that the metal from the bracelet remains, centers the rune, while the majority of added material seems chaotic and biological. In the impact frame it almost looks like a creature, like something living.

I'm willing to bet that his Jayce said the exact same thing to him among the stars and souls. He did show Viktor, and Viktor did become his partner again.

It was just too late by then.

Bonus because it made me suffer :)

Jayce looks forward when Viktor touches him, but when the command comes to give Jayce his hammer, he looks away before moving. I fully believe this is because he knows Jayce will use it to try to kill his own Viktor.

They've assumed it was inevitable, that in every world one of them must kill the other. And they would have been right if not for Ekko.

[chevyslate158]

Pleasantries of 'Love' 18+ (Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader) Chapter 1 - Gilded Beginnings

A/n: Hey everyone! First off, I want to apologise for taking so long to upload this chapter. I’ve been working on a bunch of drafts, so you’ll have plenty of content to enjoy over the holidays! 🎄✨ I promise I’ll be uploading them very soon, so stay tuned!

I hope you enjoy this chapter of Pleasantries of 'Love' and I’m looking forward to sharing the next one with you all. 😌💖 Also, I’ll be uploading a finished draft of a short story featuring Coriolanus either tonight or tomorrow (you’re not gonna want to miss it!). 📖✨ As for Threads of Freedom, the next chapter will be up later this week, along with many more updates! 😍

Thanks for your patience, and I can’t wait to hear what you think! 💕

Word Count: 6.7k words Warnings: Power Imbalance, fixation, manipulation, obsession themes, social pressure, unrequited affection, control, age gap, gendered expectation, objectification, traditional expectations, coercion, underlying threat, unhealthy relationship dynamics (Coriolanus and Reader), eventual smut and eventual arranged marriage

The gilded ballroom brimmed with grandeur, its opulence almost overwhelming. Y/n stood near the edge of the crowd, marvelling at the way the crystal chandeliers sparkled like stars. Her breath hitched slightly, her nerves fluttering as the hum of conversation rose and fell around her. The string quartet’s melody soothed her, and she clasped her hands tightly to steady herself, her soft blush gown swaying gently with her every movement. She adored how the dress reminded her of spring blossoms, modest yet quietly radiant, like the life she lived.

Her eyes scanned the room, widening slightly at the decadent displays of wealth: trays of delicacies she had never seen before, diamonds glittering on throats, wrists and ears. A warm smile touched her lips when someone greeted her, and though their words often carried subtle barbs, she responded with kindness nonetheless. Politics and power games weren’t her nature; instead, she revelled in small, sincere exchanges. That is why she had such a small group of friends. Her upbringing had taught her the strength of humility and the beauty of honesty, even in a room filled with the opposite.

Y/n’s family lingered nearby, her father standing protectively at her side while her mother and young sister basked in the excitement of the evening. Her two closest friends, Clara and Rose, whispered animatedly about the attendees, their eyes sparkling as they tried to guess who wore which designer dress or who was the cutest couple at the event. Y/n giggled softly at their speculations, feeling a surge of gratitude for their company.

Rose twirled a lock of her auburn hair around her finger, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Clara and I have decided we’re going to rank the best-dressed couples here tonight. Starting with them.” She tilted her head toward a striking pair near the centre of the room, their coordinated gold and ivory ensembles gleaming under the chandelier light.

Clara scoffed playfully. “Oh, please. They’re trying too hard. Look at her necklace—three layers of diamonds? Overkill!” She pointed subtly with her glass of sparkling cider. “Now, they,” she gestured to another couple near the banquet table, “look perfect. That midnight blue suit with her silver gown? Subtle and classy. No one’s outshining the other.”

Y/n chuckled softly at their analysis, letting their animated chatter ease her nerves. “I’m impressed you two know so much about Capitol fashion. I wouldn’t have the faintest idea who designed what.”

“That’s why you’ve got us,” Rose quipped, nudging Y/n again. “We’ll make sure you’re the best-dressed at every event from now on.” She paused, glancing toward a group of sharply dressed young men by the bar. “Speaking of, is it just me, or are we getting a lot of looks tonight?”

Clara smirked, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder. “You’re not imagining it. I caught at least two of them glancing our way just now. Maybe they’ve never seen real beauty before.”

Y/n rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You two are ridiculous. They’re probably just wondering why we’re hovering by the wall like shy schoolgirls.”

Rose gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m surveying the room. It’s called being strategic.” She turned toward Y/N with a sly grin. “And besides, you should be flattered. Half the men in here can’t take their eyes off you. Including, might I add, a certain very important man.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed immediately. “Stop it,” she protested, shaking her head. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Rose teased, her voice sing-song. “He’s looking again. Right now.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered as Clara leaned in conspiratorially. “You should practice your curtsy. Who knows, you might end the night with a dance from President Snow himself.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Y/n whispered back, mortified, though her friends’ laughter made it impossible to stay annoyed. They teased her mercilessly, but the warmth of their camaraderie eased the tension in her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself to giggle along with them, the weight of the evening forgotten—until the thought of his piercing blue eyes lingered just a little too long in her mind.

Y/n’s laughter faded as curiosity tugged at her brows furrowing ever so slightly. Was he truly looking at me? Gathering what little courage she could muster, she dared to glance in his apparent direction. Her breath caught in her throat the moment her eyes found him. President Snow stood near a marble column, a glass of deep red wine cradled effortlessly in one hand. The tailored crimson suit he wore seemed to command the attention of the room, the deep hue a stark contrast to his fair complexion and icy blue eyes. The jacket’s sharp lapels framed his broad shoulders, his polished appearance exuding an air of quiet authority that made her stomach flutter.

His features were a study in precision—strong, angular, and utterly unreadable. The slightest tilt of his head and the glint in his eye gave him an edge of mystery, as though he were privy to secrets the rest of the world would never uncover. He sipped his wine slowly, his gaze steady, and Y/N’s cheeks burned when she realised those piercing blue eyes were locked on hers once again.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The noise of the ballroom faded into a distant hum, and all she could feel was the erratic rhythm of her heart as it skipped a beat, then another. His stare was unrelenting, both chilling and thrilling in its intensity. It was as though he could see straight through her, past her composed exterior, to the nervous energy buzzing beneath her skin.

She quickly looked away, her fingers tightening their grip on the folds of her dress. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach, and her thoughts became a tangle of confusion and exhilaration. What was it about his gaze that made her feel both exposed and significant all at once? She hadn’t even spoken a word to him, yet somehow, she felt as though he had marked her as someone worth noticing.

Clara’s voice pulled Y/N from her daze, the teasing lilt unmistakable. “You’ve gone quiet. Let me guess—you’ve been captivated by someone across the room?”

Y/n blinked, trying to compose herself, but her thoughts were still tangled with the image of him—the sharp angles of his face, the commanding presence he exuded, and the way his icy blue eyes had held hers with such certainty. Her heart fluttered wildly, betraying her previously composed exterior. “I’m just… lost in thought,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual.

Rose, ever perceptive, wasn’t convinced. “Lost in thought? Or lost in someone?” she teased, her grin widening as she glanced knowingly in the direction Y/n had dared to look. “Don’t deny it—you’ve been sneaking glances at him.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned, and she clutched the fabric of her gown tightly to steady and ground herself. 

“That’s not true,” she whispered, though the heat rising to her face and the erratic rhythm of her heart told a different story. She couldn’t admit it—not to herself, not to anyone—but the way his eyes had lingered on her made her feel seen in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Despite her original protest, curiosity got the better of her once more, and she found herself stealing another glance. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught him watching her again, his gaze steady and unrelenting. He raised his glass ever so slightly, the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips, as though he knew the effect he had on her.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier as though the wind was knocked out of her. Oh, dear God. Y/n’s thoughts spiralled as she quickly averted her gaze, her heart leaping to her throat. A rush of warmth spread across her cheeks, and her pulse thundered in her ears, betraying the composure she struggled to maintain.

Why does he keep looking at me? She wondered, her mind a whirlwind of nerves and wonder. She barely registered her friends’ continued chatter as her thoughts spiralled. Had she imagined the subtle acknowledgement? Or was it real?

Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together one over the other, her friends’ laughter blending into the background. She tried to calm the butterflies fluttering wildly in her chest, but her gaze kept drifting back to him, as though pulled by some invisible force.

The night passed in a whirlwind of introductions and pleasantries, her family eager to acquaint her with men her age. Her father, ever watchful, took it upon himself to steer her toward eligible bachelors, each introduction feeling more forced than the last. One was the son of a wealthy politician, another the heir to an influential Capitol family. Y/N smiled politely, exchanged the expected small talk, and nodded at all the right moments, but her heart wasn’t in it. The son of the wealthy politician was tall but slender, with soft brown hair that fell just above his ears, and wide, nervous emerald green eyes that never quite met hers. His clothes were well-tailored, though his fidgeting hands betrayed his shyness shifting from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment clearly aware that his father was trying to attempt to set him up.

“Y/n,” the young man began hesitantly, his voice soft and uneven as though it might crack at any moment. “It’s… it’s been a long time since we’ve talked. You look—uh—nice tonight.” His emerald eyes darted to hers briefly before dropping back to the floor.

“Thank you, Theodore,” Y/n replied with a kind smile, her tone gentle. She remembered him well enough—Theodore Alden, the quiet boy from her school years, always sitting at the back of the classroom with his head buried in books. “It’s good to see you again. You’ve done well for yourself, I hear.”

He flushed deeper, tugging nervously at his cuffs. “Oh, I… I don’t know about that. My father likes to, um, exaggerate.” He glanced toward where his father stood a few feet away, watching them with an encouraging but overbearing smile. “I just… I wanted to say, I always admired you. You were always so kind… and graceful.”

Y/n blinked in surprise at his honesty, a warmth rising in her chest at his sincerity. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Theodore. I’ve always thought highly of you as well.”

His gaze lifted for a moment, meeting hers fully for the first time, and a tentative smile formed on his lips revealing small dimples. “You have?”

“Of course,” she said with a small laugh, trying to put him at ease. “You’ve always been intelligent and thoughtful. That’s something to be proud of.”

Before he could respond, her friends’ laughter rang out behind her, drawing her attention. She turned back to Theodore with an apologetic smile. “I should rejoin my friends. But it was lovely to speak with you again.”

“Y-yes, of course,” Theodore stammered, stepping back awkwardly accidentally bumping into a waiter in the process causing him to hastily apologise to the waiter before turning back to face you with an awkward smile on his face with his cheeks flushed. “Thank you for… for talking with me.”

As Y/n walked away, she felt a pang of guilt for leaving so quickly, but she felt as though the conversation had run its course. Glancing back once, she saw him watching her retreat with a wistful expression, his shoulders slumped slightly as though regretting he hadn’t said more.

As Y/n approached her friends, Rose and Clara exchanged knowing looks, their smiles already brimming with mischief. The moment she rejoined them, they pounced.

“Well, well,” Rose said with an exaggerated smirk, crossing her arms. “What was that all about? You and Theodore looked pretty cozy over there.”

Clara gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Don’t tell me the shy boy finally worked up the nerve to talk to you! Did he confess his undying love? Write a sonnet on the spot?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We were just catching up. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to him.”

“‘Just catching up,’” Rose echoed, mimicking Y/n’s soft tone. “Is that what you call it when a man can barely breathe around you? He looked like he was about to faint, Y/n.”

Clara giggled, leaning closer. “He’s had a thing for you since, what, first year of high school? Honestly, I think it’s adorable. The way he couldn’t stop fidgeting—poor thing was terrified of saying the wrong thing.”

“Terrified because Rose wouldn’t stop glaring at him from across the room,” Y/n shot back, giving her friend a playful nudge.

Rose held up her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I was just trying to make sure he knew he had to impress you. Besides, he’s not really your type, is he?”

“And what exactly is my type?” Y/n asked, arching an eyebrow.

Rose and Clara exchanged another look before bursting into laughter. “Well definitely not shy, blushing bookworms,” Clara teased.

Y/n shook her head, laughing despite herself.

“Oh, come on,” Rose said, looping her arm through Y/n’s as they walked further into the ballroom. “Admit it, it was sweet. He couldn’t stop looking at you, and you can’t tell me you didn’t feel even a little flattered.”

Y/n sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe a little. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Clara grinned, nudging her gently. “Whatever you say, Y/n. Just remember, if you ever do need a shy, adorable politician’s son in your life, you’ve already got one wrapped around your finger.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, the faint blush on her cheeks betraying her exasperation. “You two are impossible,” she muttered bashfully under her breath, though their teasing drew a small, reluctant smile.

Rose suddenly gasped, her eyes lighting up with mock realization. “Oh, right! How could I forget? You weren’t exactly paying attention to poor Theodore, were you? Not when you were giving heart eyes to the president earlier.”

Clara burst into laughter, clutching her side. “She’s right! Y/n, you practically melted on the spot. I’ve never seen you blush that much in my life. Should we curtsy every time we walk by you now? Future First Lady and all?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, her face flushing as she waved them off. “I was not giving him heart eyes! Stop it, people will hear you!”

Rose smirked, tapping her chin dramatically. “Oh, you weren’t? Because I’m pretty sure he was looking at you, too.”

Clara nudged Y/n with her elbow. “Come on, admit it. Just for us. You felt something, didn’t you?”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands as her friends giggled uncontrollably. 

Yet even as she humoured with her friends on her family’s previous attempts to match her with Capitol’s finest, her gaze kept drifting across the room. No matter where she was or whom she spoke to, her eyes sought him out, as if drawn by some invisible force. Each time she looked, he was closer than the last time.

Coriolanus Snow moved with calculated ease, weaving through clusters of politicians and dignitaries with his effortless charm. His crimson suit was impossible to miss, and neither was the way he glanced in her direction, his gaze lingering just long enough to send her heart into overdrive. His every move seemed casual, but Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that he was purposefully closing the distance between them.

Her pulse quickened as she realised he was nearing her side of the room, his slow but deliberate path bringing him closer with each passing moment. He stopped to exchange a few words with a senator, then moved on to greet a wealthy benefactor, all while subtly inching toward her. Each glance, each small shift, made her chest tighten with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Y/n, are you even listening?” her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts gently tugging her away from her friends and close to her side so she could join in on the conversation. “Lord Albright was just telling us about his family’s estate outside the Capitol.”

“Oh,” she said quickly, forcing her attention back to the conversation. “That sounds lovely.”

But her distraction didn’t go unnoticed. Rose stifled a laugh, her eyes flicking knowingly toward where the young president stood. “You’ve been staring all night stop being so obvious,” she teased in a low voice. “He’s going to think you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not—” Y/n began, but her words caught in her throat as her gaze unintentionally flicked back toward him. This time, their eyes met again, and her breath hitched. He was only a few paces away now, his sharp features illuminated under the golden light of the chandeliers. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the deliberate way he was closing the gap.

Just as the moment felt unbearably intense, her father spoke up. “It’s getting late. We should head home before the streets grow too busy.”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “Already?” she asked, a hint of reluctance slipping into her tone.

Her mother gave her a gentle smile, guiding her toward the exit. “It’s been a long evening, dear. You’ll have other chances to socialise.”

As they made their way toward the grand doors, Y/n couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder one last time. Snow was standing where she’d last seen him, his piercing gaze following her departure. There was something in his expression—calculated, almost possessive—that sent a shiver down her spine.

She tore her eyes away, her heart pounding as she stepped out into the cool night air. Even as the carriage pulled away, the image of him lingered, etched into her mind like an indelible mark she couldn’t shake. Deep down she had a gut feeling this wouldn't be the last time she saw President Snow.

-Two days after the grand event- Y/n found herself seated at the dining table with her family. The cozy glow of the chandelier illuminated the room, filling it with warmth as the evening meal unfolded. Plates clinked softly, and light chatter wove through the air, her parents and siblings discussing the usual topics of the day.

It was then the soft knock came at the door. A courier, dressed sharply in Capitol livery, handed a small, elegant envelope to their housekeeper. The sealed parchment bore the unmistakable crest of the President. Y/n's heart fluttered at the sight of it as it was carefully placed in her hands.

“Who could that be from?” her mother asked, her curiosity barely contained.

“I have no idea,” Y/n murmured, her fingers trembling as she broke the seal. Her family’s conversation fell into a hushed silence, all eyes now on her as she carefully unfolded the letter.

As her gaze swept across the elegant script, her breath hitched. She could barely process the words, the formal tone, or the undeniable authority that each sentence carried. When she reached the end of the letter, her cheeks were flushed, her mind whirling with the weight of the invitation. -Start Of Letter-

The Capitol, Office of the President, Panem,

Dearest Y/n Y/l/n

I hope this letter finds you well. Allow me to formally introduce myself: I am Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem, though I suspect you may already know of me. Yet, in turn, I must admit I knew little of you until recently when fate allowed our paths to cross. At my recent formal event, amidst a sea of notable guests, it was you who caught my eye. There was a quiet grace in your demeanour, an elegance that demanded notice yet sought none. Intrigued, I found myself wanting to learn more about the person who carried such an air of distinction.

As a man who values intelligence, poise, and refinement, I feel compelled to extend an invitation for us to become better acquainted. It is rare for someone to leave such an impression, and rarer still for me to act upon it. However, I find myself intrigued by the possibilities that may arise from our acquaintance. To that end, I would be honoured if you would join me for an intimate dinner at Le Marbre Étoilé this Friday evening at 8 o’clock for I have already taken the liberty of reserving a table. The setting is one of the finest in the Capitol, offering an atmosphere befitting such an esteemed guest as yourself. 

While I understand the obligations of daily life can sometimes interfere with such invitations, I must stress the significance of this occasion. My schedule, as I am sure you can appreciate, is relentlessly occupied, leaving little room for rescheduling. I trust you will recognise the importance of seizing this opportunity and make the necessary adjustments to your own commitments. You are, of course, free to decline. However, I would hope such a decision is carefully considered, for an audience with the President is a privilege not lightly afforded.

I eagerly await your company and trust you will honour my invitation with your presence.

Until we meet, I remain yours with the utmost anticipation.

Warm regards, Coriolanus Snow President of Panem

-End of letter-

“What does it say?” her father pressed, leaning forward with a look of concern.

“It’s…” Y/n hesitated, still struggling to believe it herself. “It’s from President Snow.” Her voice was quiet, yet it seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. “He… He’s invited me to dinner. This Friday.”

A moment of stunned silence followed before her mother clasped her hands together. “President Snow? Invited you personally? How extraordinary!”

Her father frowned slightly, his protective nature stirring. “Why would the President take such an interest in you, Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said he noticed me at the event and wanted to become better acquainted. He’s already made arrangements for dinner at Le Marbre Étoilé.”

Her mother’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Le Marbre Étoilé! It’s the finest establishment in the Capitol. What an incredible honour!”

Her father rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It is unusual, but… he is the President. It wouldn’t be wise to decline.”

Her younger sister giggled, teasing. “Looks like someone caught the eye of Panem’s most powerful man.”

“Enough,” her father said firmly, though a trace of pride crept into his tone. “Y/n, you’ll go. You’ll represent our family with dignity and respect.”

“But…” Y/n faltered. “What if I embarrass myself? What if I’m not what he expects?”

Her mother placed a gentle hand on hers. “You’re everything he could expect and more, darling. Be yourself—your grace and poise will do the rest.”

Y/n looked at each of her family members in turn, feeling a mix of trepidation and resolve. The weight of the invitation was heavy, but their encouragement wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

Finally, she nodded, a small but determined smile breaking through her nerves. “I’ll go,” she said softly. “I’ll make sure I don’t let any of you down.”

Her family’s approval bolstered her spirits, but as she folded the letter and set it beside her plate, her thoughts drifted back to the man who had written it. President Snow—a name so synonymous with power and control. She wondered, for the briefest moment, what kind of man she would truly meet that Friday night. -Friday-

Friday evening arrived faster than Y/n anticipated, bringing with it a flurry of nerves and excitement. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, while the glow of Capitol lights began to twinkle in the distance.

Her bedroom was a whirlwind of fabrics and accessories as her mother and younger sister fussed over her, each determined to ensure she looked perfect for the evening ahead. A soft gown of midnight blue had been chosen—a colour that complimented her complexion and highlighted the delicate curves and frame of her body. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, subtle yet captivating, with a neckline that was modest but elegant it dipped just low enough to catch the eye but not enough to be deemed scandalous, with the dress flowing gracefully to the floor.

“Hold still, darling,” her mother instructed, carefully fastening the clasp of an understated pearl necklace around Y/n’s neck. “You look exquisite. Truly, like a vision.”

Her younger sister grinned, hands busy smoothing the delicate folds of the gown making sure there was not a single crease. “You’re going to leave everyone speechless, especially the president.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed at the mention of President Snow, her stomach twisting with nerves. “Do you think this is too much?” she asked, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.

“Not at all,” her mother reassured her, brushing a few stray hairs back into the intricate updo they had styled. “It’s elegant. Sophisticated. Exactly the impression you want to leave.”

Her sister couldn’t resist teasing. “You’re going to make every woman in that restaurant jealous, Y/n. But don’t forget—he’s the one who invited you. That says everything.”

Y/n managed a small smile, though her heart still raced. The weight of the invitation and the significance of the evening felt almost overwhelming. Yet, beneath the nerves was a flicker of curiosity, a quiet wonder at what awaited her.

Once her hair was set, her makeup applied with a light and delicate touch, and the finishing details of her ensemble in place, her mother stepped back to admire her work. “Perfect,” she declared with a smile of pride. “Absolutely perfect.”

Y/n turned to the mirror, studying her reflection. For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to feel a sliver of confidence. She had to admit, she did look elegant, the kind of elegance she imagined would be expected of someone dining with the President.

Her father appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of protectiveness and awe. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft. “Are you ready?”

Y/n took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of her gown with trembling hands. “I think so,” she said quietly.

Her mother gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders. “You’ll do wonderfully, darling. Remember, just be yourself.”

As she descended the staircase to the waiting car, her family’s encouraging smiles lingered in her mind. Though the thought of meeting President Snow still made her heart race, Y/n was determined to carry herself with grace and dignity, no matter what the evening held.

The soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the manor living room marked each passing moment as Y/n sat with her family, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her midnight blue gown cascading elegantly to the floor. Her father paced near the window peeking out discreetly every so often, his stern expression masking the nervous energy he exuded. Her mother, ever composed, sat gracefully beside Y/n, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. Beside her, Y/n’s younger sister fidgeted, her excitement barely contained as she sat perched on the arm of the couch. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment,” her mother said, glancing at the ornate clock above the mantle. Her tone was calm, but the glimmer of pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Do you think he’ll actually come to the door?” her sister asked, her wide eyes alight with curiosity. “Or will the driver just honk and wait outside?”

Her father shot her a look. “A man in his position would do well to show proper respect.” Her father stood near the window, peeking out and looking to see if the president had arrived yet. He turned to Y/n, his gaze softening. “Remember, this is just a dinner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a mix of encouragement and caution. “Be polite, but don’t let anyone make you feel uncomfortable.” Y/n nodded, her heart pounding against her ribs. The weight of the evening ahead pressed down on her, but she met her father’s gaze with quiet determination.

The sound of an approaching vehicle, smooth and unmistakable, silenced the room. Y/N’s heart skipped as the sleek black Capitol limo came into view, its polished surface gleaming under the glow of the estate’s exterior lights. The car rolled to a stop in front of the manor, and after a moment, the door opened.

Coriolanus Snow emerged with the kind of poise that commanded attention. Dressed in a tailored black suit with crimson accents—a subtle yet striking statement of power—he exuded confidence. In his hand, he carried a single white rose. He paused briefly, adjusting his coat, before making his way up the stone steps to the front door.

The knock that followed echoed through the room, sharp and deliberate. Y/n’s father straightened, crossing the room to answer. When he opened the door, Coriolanus greeted him with a polite, disarming smile, his icy blue eyes betraying nothing of his true intentions.

“Good evening, Mr. Y/l/n,” he said smoothly, his voice like silk. “I am Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem. Thank you for allowing me the honour of escorting your daughter this evening.”

Y/n’s father hesitated, sizing him up for a moment before stepping aside. “President Snow,” he said, his tone cautious yet respectful. “Welcome to our home. Please, come in.”

Coriolanus stepped inside, his sharp features framed by the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. His gaze swept the room briefly before settling on Y/N, who had risen from her seat, her composure steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted, inclining his head with a practised air of courtesy. “You look radiant this evening.”

“Thank you, President Snow,” Y/n replied softly, curtsying slightly, her voice steady even as her heart raced.

With a small, calculated smile, he extended the white rose to her. “A token for a memorable evening,” he said, his tone gentle, though his eyes gleamed with something more inscrutable.

Y/n accepted the rose with both hands, her fingers brushing the delicate petals. Before she could respond, he snapped the stem cleanly, leaving the flower intact. Leaning forward, he gently tucked it behind her ear, his touch light but deliberate.

“There,” he said, his voice low, almost intimate. “Perfect.”

Her family watched the exchange in silence, yet her mother beamed at the exchange while her sister barely stifled an excited squeal. The weight of the moment was heavy in the room. With an air of finality, Coriolanus stepped back, offering his arm to Y/n. “Shall we?”

Y/n glanced at her parents, who both gave small, reassuring nods. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand lightly on his arm. 

Just as he guided her toward the door Snow turned back to her father, his tone unwavering as they were about to exit the front door of their manor. “I assure you, Mr. Y/l/n, your daughter will be in the utmost care this evening. I deeply value the trust you’ve extended to me.”

Though Y/n’s father maintained his reserved composure, he gave a measured nod. “See that you do.”

The sleek black limousine gleamed under the streetlights as Coriolanus Snow held the door open for Y/n. His movements were precise, every action exuding an air of control and authority. Y/n hesitated for the briefest moment, casting a glance back at her family standing in the doorway of the manor before stepping inside the luxurious vehicle.

The interior of the limo was nothing short of breathtaking, a haven of understated opulence. The soft leather seats were impeccably stitched, their deep, rich hue complementing the gleaming mahogany panelling that lined the walls. The subtle glow of warm, recessed lighting cast a golden hue over the space, illuminating the fine crystal decanters that held Capitol's most exclusive vintages in a small, built-in bar.

The faint aroma of expensive cologne mingled with the delicate scent of fresh roses arranged in an understated vase near the side panel. Every detail spoke of wealth and precision, from the velvet-lined armrests to the silent hum of the temperature-controlled environment.

Snow followed closely, settling into the seat beside her with a measured grace. His movements were deliberate, exuding an air of calm control as he adjusted his position. His tailored suit caught the light subtly, the fabric hinting at its impeccable craftsmanship, while his piercing gaze swept the cabin briefly before returning to her, his presence filling the intimate space effortlessly.

As the car began to move, the city lights of the Capitol streamed past the tinted windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the sleek interior. The glow of neon signs illuminated towering buildings, their facades adorned with holographic advertisements that shimmered like liquid gold. Streets were alive with motion, a symphony of luxury vehicles gliding past pedestrians dressed in extravagant finery.

Capitol elites wandered the bustling avenues, their laughter and animated conversations spilling into the night air. Women adorned in opulent gowns, encrusted with gemstones that caught the light, strolled arm-in-arm with men in tailored suits boasting rich, exotic fabrics. Groups lingered near gilded restaurant entrances, their expressions a mix of idle amusement and carefully practised airs of superiority, waiting to enter establishments where chandeliers glittered like starlight through tall windows.

The gentle hum of the engine was the only sound for a moment before Snow broke the silence.

“I trust your family approves of our outing this evening,” he said, his tone conversational but with an undertone of authority.

“They were… a bit surprised by your invitation, Mr. President,” Y/n replied, her voice soft and almost hesitant, her gaze flickering to meet his before dropping again.

“Coriolanus,” he corrected smoothly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “There’s no need for formality between us tonight.”

Y/n nodded, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The grandeur of the Capitol outside the window was both mesmerising and intimidating, but she focused on maintaining her composure.

After a short ride, the limousine pulled up in front of Le Marbre Étoilé, the Capitol's most exclusive dining establishment. The grand facade of the restaurant was illuminated with golden lights, its towering columns and intricate marble carvings radiating opulence. A valet immediately stepped forward to open the door, bowing slightly as Coriolanus exited the vehicle.

He turned to offer Y/n his hand, his gaze unwavering as she placed her fingers lightly in his. His palm was cool but firm, his grip tightening around hers with a subtle yet possessive strength. “Welcome to Le Marbre Étoilé,” he said, his voice carrying a note of pride, each word measured and deliberate. His touch lingered as if to ground her amidst the overwhelming grandeur surrounding them, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers, commanding her full attention.

The restaurant’s entrance opened to reveal a grand lobby adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and towering arrangements of fresh roses. The murmured conversations of the Capitol elite filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet playing in the corner.

Snow placed a hand lightly on the small of Y/n’s back, guiding her through the crowd. Heads turned subtly as they passed, whispers rippling in their wake. Y/n couldn’t help but feel the weight of every gaze, but Snow walked with an unbothered confidence, as though the entire evening had been orchestrated solely for them.

A maître d’ appeared, bowing deeply. “Mr. President, your table is ready,” he announced, gesturing toward a private section of the restaurant.

“Excellent,” Snow replied, his tone clipped but polite. He glanced at Y/n, his icy blue eyes momentarily softening. “Shall we?”

Y/n nodded, allowing herself to be led further into the gilded halls of Le Marbre Étoilé, the quiet elegance of the setting only heightening her sense of anticipation.

The dinner began with a glass of sparkling Capitol wine, its bubbles shimmering like liquid gold in the crystal flutes. Y/n’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the glass, stealing a glance at Snow from beneath her lashes. His every movement was deliberate, and precise, from the way he swirled the wine in his glass to the subtle tilt of his head as he observed her.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, breaking the silence that had settled over their secluded corner of the grand restaurant.

Y/n’s cheeks warmed, and she placed the glass back onto the table with care. “I suppose I’m not used to being in places like this,” she admitted, her voice soft.

Snow leaned forward slightly, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows over his features. “And yet, you carry yourself as though you belong here,” he said, his tone almost disarming. “Your poise betrays any claim of unfamiliarity.”

Y/n glanced down at her plate, feeling the weight of his words. “That’s kind of you to say, Mr. President.”

“Coriolanus,” he corrected smoothly once again. “You’ll find I prefer a more personal approach during private engagements.”

She nodded, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile, though she didn’t trust herself to speak again just yet. Her shyness was a strange comfort in this setting; it shielded her from the vulnerability of meeting his gaze too often.

The meal was a parade of Capitol extravagant appetisers of delicately arranged seafood, main courses of tender meat paired with rare vegetables, and desserts that looked more like works of art than food. Each dish was introduced with an air of reverence by the maître d’, and while Y/n appreciated the effort, she found herself more focused on the man seated across from her.

“Do you often dine with guests in such an... exclusive setting?” she asked cautiously, breaking the silence as she carefully cut into her entrée.

Snow’s lips twitched into what could only be described as a shadow of a smile. “Rarely,” he admitted, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers. “I value my time too greatly to squander it on idle company. This, however...” He paused, lifting his glass in a subtle gesture toward her. “This is a notable exception.”

Her heart fluttered, and she quickly dropped her gaze, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. “That’s... flattering,” she murmured, fumbling for the right words.

“You’re being modest again,” he replied, his tone gentler than she expected. “I find it refreshing, truthfully. The Capitol is so often a place of excess, of posturing. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t demand to be noticed but commands attention nonetheless.”

The compliment left her breathless, and she focused on her plate, her appetite fading as nervous energy took its place. “I’m not sure I deserve such praise,” she said finally, daring a glance at him.

Snow set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, studying her with a piercing intensity. “That humility is precisely what makes you deserving,” he said quietly, as though it were an irrefutable fact.

For a moment, the room seemed smaller, the grand space folding in on itself until it was just the two of them. The orchestra’s music faded into the background and the clink of glasses and murmured conversation from the other diners echoed a distant hum.

Y/n took a small sip of her wine, her fingers gripping the glass tightly as she tried to steady her nerves. There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her—not unkind, but calculated, as though he were peeling back her layers and uncovering secrets even she didn’t know she had.

“You’re quiet again,” he observed, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

She managed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I suppose I’m still not used to this.”

“Then allow me to make you more comfortable,” he said smoothly, raising his glass. “To new beginnings, Y/n.”

She hesitated before lifting her glass to meet his, her smile tentative. “To new beginnings.”

As their glasses clinked softly, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this dinner was more than just a meal. It felt like the start of something she couldn’t quite name—something thrilling, terrifying, and inescapable.

[orcelito]

Ok I got to actually looking at my classes for next semester. Reorganized things a little bit into clear categories. See the thing is, the 3 classes I thought I was gonna choose 2 from? None of them are being taught anymore lol. It's just that my enrollment term is so old, it's showing the old requirements. So I'm choosing 3 classes from the general list of classes, which makes me glad I picked out so many potential ones to choose from!!! So the 3 categories I've sorted these classes into are:

Quality assurance: "six sigma data quality" is the 1st choice, "quality engineering in IT" is 2nd choice

General theory: "policy, regulation, and globalization in IT" is 1st choice, "advanced systems development methodologies" is 2nd choice

Coding/computers: "applied machine learning" is 1st choice, "UNIX administration" is 2nd choice, "front end web coding" is 3rd choice

(Putting commentary under a cut bc it got a lil long)

'Cause how my school does scheduled now, we submit a list of requests & they compile them all and then figure out what classes work best for everyone. And u wanna include multiple options for each class slot in case the first doesn't work out for some reason. So that's why I have 7 choices, despite only needing 3.

As for the actual sections. I wanna make sure that my semester is as well-rounded as possible. I wanna get at least Some kind of coding in, to make sure I get some more practice before leaving. I have applied machine learning listed first for it bc I really know very little about how machine learning works, & with the way the IT field has gone, it's a little inevitable that I'll be working with it some. Best to learn about it now so I know what I'm doing later. But if I can't take that for some reason, I have the UNIX administration which would honestly kind of suck to take, but it'd be useful. And then front end web coding is less generally useful, but could still be a good skill to have.

The policy, regulation, & globalization in IT is one that I think would be very good for me to take. More of a theory class than a tech class, & it's focusing on learning about technology's effects on the world in economic, social, cultural, and ethical dynamics. I already have taken an ethics of IT sort of course so I've got some context for that, but I still think it'd be important to learn more about globalization. If for whatever reason it's not available tho, then another systems development class could be useful.

& then the data quality thing. Six sigma put at priority here bc it's smth ppl always talk about but I just don't know that much about it, outside of how it's supposed to help improve things. By taking this course, I'd also get a certificate in SS, which could only help in job searching I think. Then quality engineering in IT after that, which I don't know that much about but it seemed about in line with the goal of Data Quality stuff.

[alabasterwasps]

The only solid birth year we get from ANYONE is Tim, who was born in 1988.

We get this info from the doxed records, and he shares a birthday/year with his actor. So it’s safe to assume everyone else also does, at least the year.

Alex’s birthday is April 4th but his Joseph’s is May 21, 1988.

Jay’s actor Troy was born May 17th 1988.

Brian’s actor Brian was born April 17th, 1989.

(Collected info from online, idk how correct they are).

According to Jay, Alex started working on MH in 2006. The extent of what had started we don’t know. I would guess either script writing or early filming.

They were all only 18-19 in 2006, and depending on how old they were when they left highschool only one or two years into college.

Alex is technically the oldest with Jay following only a few weeks later, I would imagine they probably have gone to college the fall after graduating so they could’ve started as early as 17, maybe 18, entering college in 2005.

Tim is complicated because he didn’t go to highschool. According to his records his last year of school was 2nd grade when he was 7/8 years old. So he would’ve been schooled in the care hospital he was placed in until he turned 18. If he was a year ahead of Brian, it probably wouldn’t have mattered because they probably schooled him longer?

So they entered college at the same time in 2006.

Depending on course requirements, assigned student films are given a semester or school year to complete. However it isn’t unheard of, if someone is taking an extensive film major that may take a couple years, to have a larger film due at an end of the course which could be 2 to 4 years. It’s not common but not unheard of.

If this is the case for Alex, it’d make sense. In 2005, He’d have been given maybe a semester of learning how to direct and film and write, then come spring of 2006 be given the project. He writes the script over summer break and by fall he does casting and he has all year to film. Filming starts late Winter 2006 and runs into Spring, it’s why the earliest shots seem to have mostly dead woods.

Back tracking just a bit, Brian enters, seems like he knows Alex. It’s possible they went to highschool together, honestly very likely the town they are in is a small one. Maybe they were even in a drama/theater club together but that’s totally speculation. They knew each other before college.

Brian knows Tim at this point, presumably having several classes with him and them having their slowly growing friendship. It’s possible they were roommates. It is possible Brian met Tim earlier but we don’t know how strict Tim’s hospital care was as a teenager and how much he would’ve been allowed out but it could be possible they’ve known each other a few years too. But whatever is the case, he knows Tim. So, when invited to the auditions he brings Tim.

Alex’s film has a year of work time, starting in the cross over of 2006/2007. It is due by the first class of the following fall/start of school year, 2007. He gets all year and all summer to film.

But then stuff with the Operator starts happening. It also means that Seth, Sarah, and Brian are all missing or presumed dead in 2007.

Alex either never turns in the film or he edits it together like we see glimpses of and something not finished to his vision is turned in, it doesn’t matter.

Months go by, after Alex stopped inviting people over, stopped talking to people, plans on moving, is when Jay calls him about the tapes, about wanting to preserve them or finish them, or just have them. I would again guess by what little we see of outside this is fall/winter of 2008. This is that scene we see with Jay at his house getting bags of tapes. Jay is the last person Alex has contact with other than Amy, but we don’t hear much about her during this time as she likely lives with her roommate Jessica here.

That’s when Alex shoves the tapes into Jay’s arms and tells him to leave (and then beats the snot out of him after).

It’s a couple months later, after Alex totally goes MIA, that Jay starts watching the videos, compiling them, and that’s when he starts posting in 2009. The events roll out as we know them there.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 21st of December, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 21st of December, 2024

Question: Is Queen Camilla envious and/or jealous of Princess Catherine?

Interpretation: Yes. Kind of. Queen Camilla resents anyone who gets attention and praise from the public that she (Queen Camilla) sees as attention and praise that should be going to herself.

I'm going to start this reading with the underlying energy, because everything in the reading springs from that.

Underlying Energy: The Empress in reverse

The Empress is the card for Queen Camilla in her role as queen. It is also a card that represents beauty, abundance, fertility, charm, creativity, the mother, the divine feminine etc. In represents the planet Venus, the planet of love, female beauty, charm, attractiveness, generosity etc.

Here, the Empress is in reverse. This tells me that Queen Camilla is feeling overshadowed and /or she is acting out of her shadow side. No one is praising her looks, her charm, her generosity, her way with children etc (apart from obvious PR pieces) and she is upset about it. The energy from this card is one of 'I am The Queen, I expect to be praised to the skies' and of someone being very, very upset that this is not happening and that being The Queen has not magically erased her past from people's memories or changed how they see her. Along with this feeling of outrage at not getting the praise and attention that she thinks she deserves, there is a nasty, sulky, spiteful energy that is hidden behind a layer of 'being nice', and that energy is directed at people that Queen Camilla thinks are getting the praise and attention that she herself deserves.

On top of this energy and powered by this energy is the reading itself, as follows:

Card One: The Ten of Swords

This is a card of despair, betrayal, hitting rock bottom, and the energy from this card is a very strong energy of betrayal. Queen Camilla is feeling betrayed. She expected something different from when she was queen, and whatever it was that she expected, she is not getting it. She is disappointed and upset and feels betrayed - the energy is of someone who felt they were promised a lot of things that have not been delivered (It's almost as though she thought she could walk straight into the place that Her Late Majesty left vacant when she died, and just give it a few little tweaks so it fit her perfectly).

Fair enough, a lot of us have had the experience of wanting something and working for it and then when we get it, finding out that it is not what we imagined and in fact it was not worth the effort we put into gaining it.

However, there is a nasty, 'scorched earth' energy to this card as well as the betrayal energy. It feels like that Queen Camilla is reacting to her sense of betrayal by lashing out and cutting down anyone that she sees has having more than her, i.e. as 'taking' what is 'rightfully' hers as Queen (i.e. all the attention, all the praise, all the flattery and grovelling etc). There are many other ways to deal with a sense of betrayal, but it appears that this is the way that Queen Camilla has chosen to deal with it - basically to throw a tantrum and hit out at everyone around her because what she has is not what she thought it would be like.

Card Two: The King of Swords in Reverse

This is a continuation of the nasty energy I felt in the Ten of Swords

The King of Swords in reverse represents being a dictator, being irrational, being cold and inhumane, someone who is controlling, oppressive, ruthless and dishonest.

This card tells me that Queen Camilla is out to destroy people that she thinks are taking what belongs to her. Queen Camilla is being manipulative, controlling, cold, and ruthless in her attempts to regain what she thinks should go to her because she is Queen. She is being dishonest in what she is saying and doing. The aim seems to be to tear the other person down so then she can shine brighter and have all the attention and admiration that is going to that other person (or so Queen Camilla thinks). It won't work - the card in reverse tells me that this is not going to work - but Queen Camilla can not see that. She thinks that if she gets rid of the other person by ruining their reputation etc, then all the attention that the other person gets will automatically go to her.

This is giving me Princess Diana marriage flashbacks. I think that Camilla behaved in a similar way then, and what that behaviour got her was the place of the most hated woman in the UK, but for some reason she thinks that it will work this time around. There is very much an energy of repeating the past here, of doing things that didn't work in the past but somehow expecting them to work now).

Card Three: The Three of Cups in reverse

This is what Queen Camilla wants and is not getting.

The Three of Cups is a card of friendship, gatherings, community, celebrations, being a part of the festivities, having people glad that you showed up, having a warm welcome at events, being an integral part of the community, etc. It's about celebrating the good times together in an atmosphere of joy, getting a success of some sorts (graduation, work promotion, finishing a project etc) and throwing a party to share your joy with others. In this deck it is also my card for weddings, as the picture shown on it is a wedding.

This is what Camilla wanted - a big wedding, a big celebration, all the attention focused on her, for everyone to look at her when she goes into a room, to be the centre of events, the centre of attention, everyone overjoyed to have her at an event, etc.

It is not what she got.

The card is in the reverse. Instead of the big wedding, warm welcome, people delighted to see her where ever she went, being the centre of attention at events, what Queen Camilla got was more along the lines of what the Three of Cups in reverse represents: isolation, failure (nothing to celebrate), gossip, scandal, not being welcome, not being part of the community, getting little to no attention, and/or not having the time to have a social life because of your work commitments, and/or doing things to excess because you feel isolated and alone.

Queen Camilla expected that people would be far happier to see her than what they are, she expected all the scandal of her past to somehow vanish once she was queen, she wanted a big wedding (and turned the coronation into her second wedding imo), she expected every event to pivot around her and to be the centre of attention where ever she went, and she did not expect to have to work as much as she does or to have so little time for her private pursuits. What she got was something very different - more work, more expectations and making nice to people in social situations, continued gossip about her past, less time for her own pursuits, and less attention and praise than she wanted.

Conclusion

Queen Camilla expected to have a very different life as Queen - more time for her own pursuits, more praise and admiration, the scandals of her past to vanish, people to make her the centre of attention etc (I'm getting the impression that she expected the public to give her both what they gave to Her Late Majesty and what they gave to Princess Diana). When this did not happen, she felt betrayed. Instead of e.g. accepting what she had, or doing what she could to change the situation, she decided to lash out and destroy any other person that she saw as having the admiration, attention etc that 'rightfully' belonged to her.

So far, The Princess of Wales has been retired from the public eye this year and Queen Camilla has had the stage all to herself. In that time we have seen articles come out that actively put down The Princess of Wales to elevate Queen Camilla, indicating that Queen Camilla sees Princess Catherine as someone who has the attention, admiration etc that Queen Camilla thinks belongs to her. Once the Princess of Wales is back in her public life, if Queen Camilla continues this behaviour, then I would expect to see both covert and overt undermining of The Princess of Wales as well as using her to boost Queen Camilla's popularity and to present a public image of 'close friends'.

This may not happen. Queen Camilla may change her behaviour. However, if Queen Camilla continues along this path, especially with the King of Swords in reverse as as indicator of her behaviour, then I would expect to see malicious, underhanded, deceptive, back biting behaviour towards Princess Catherine as Queen Camilla tries to 'reclaim' what she sees as 'rightfully hers' in terms of the public reaction to the two women. This would include things like deliberately setting up the Princess of Wales to look bad, lying about incidents to make herself look better when talking to the press, giving the Princess of Wales the wrong information about things and then denying that she had done so, etc. It's going to be Camilla versus Diana all over again.

I hope this does not come to pass, but that depends on how Queen Camilla choses to act in the future - whether she decides to indulge her nasty streak or to rise above it and be a better person.

Edit: This is not a personal vendetta against Princess Catherine. It's how Queen Camilla seems to be reacting to anyone who gets attention or praise that Queen Camilla sees as belonging to her. If Princess Beatrice got the attention and praise, the spite and malice I feel would be directed as Princess Beatrice. If Princess Anne got the attention and praise, the spite and malice would be directed at her. It's not any attention and praise, either - the spite and malice is directed towards people who Queen Camilla sees as getting attention and praise that belong to her as the Queen (i.e. what she expects to be given to her because she is the Queen). She doesn't care about people getting other kids of praise and attention. She only cares about the praise and attention that she thinks belongs to her because she is the Queen. I hope that makes sense.

[pucktoxicity]

If u know it could u summarize the whole Jack and Pia (girl who pretended to be his girlfriend for like a year or smth) story? I can’t watch all of the Tik Toks I need to read it. And pics does anyone have pics of her?

OH YES. i got this one, because i know the deep stuff of it, but i will definitely summarize it for you!!!

pia was in/around nyc, hoboken and jersey city where most of the younger and single devils players live

she claimed that she was hooking up with john marino (rip i miss you john come back to new jersey), and later claimed she was hooking up with someone else she called "sex eyes" who went to harvard and played for the devils... so... also john?

she started telling people around spring of 2023 that she was dating jack, and that he flew her out to carolina for the canes series (the truth: she bought herself the tickets for the series and flew out on her own)

she claimed that trevor was interested in one of her friends and that she'd set them up, and this girl starts talking to "trevor" (truth: it was her on a fake instagram she claimed was his "private account" for just friends, family, etc.)

when she set up this girl with "trevor," the girl ended up moving away, and then suddenly stopped speaking to their friend group entirely, and wouldn't say why (truth: the girl knew something was up with “trevor” after a while and moved away anyway, but never said she had a feeling it was not trevor ahead was talking to/it was actually pia until everything exploded at the stadium series)

she was telling her friends "oh, jack got us these tickets at madison square garden for their game against the rangers" but they'd never actually see or talk to jack (truth: again, she was buying these premier seats on her own, claiming he bought them)

any time her friends were where she claimed to be with jack, they'd go to look for her and they suddenly "left" or went to a place at an event or restaurant or whatever that only VIPs could enter, so her friends wouldn't be able to see her (truth: because she was there alone and not with jack, luke etc., or because she was not even there at all and photoshopping things and pretending she was)

pia told her friends (and showed them) her wag jacket. NOW, YOU GUYS: if you remember last fall when the devils wag jacket painter posted the one w jack on the back, which we all thought was the wag jacket soft launch.... PIA BOUGHT THAT FOR HERSELF. SHE PAID FOR HER OWN WAG JACKET LIKE SHE WAS ONE. THAT WAS NOT FOR ANY OF OUR ACTUAL WAGS.

she also created "private accounts" for luke, quinn, and cole caufield, pretending to be them as well to "talk" to her friends they were "interested in"

her friends didn't really speculate that it was all faked because she was posting photos with the guys, and with the hughes' family (truth: she was finding their families' social medias and facebooks to find photos, and then photoshopping herself into said photos)

she was getting the same goodies and PR packages as new jersey devils wags (truth: she would screenshot was one of the wags posted and then manipulate and photoshop it to look like a different angle, and like she'd actually gotten one)

this went on for a long time, until the original girl who'd gotten set up with "trevor" finally said like, hey something's up. this isn't trevor, i think pia's lying, and they started to get suspicious of her but kept it to themselves

SO, when jack brought sammy to the stadium series, and the pictures came out all over the internet, pia started panicking, telling her friends that jack was "cheating" to cover her tracks, and this and that, and luke "tried to warn her" (truth: he didn't know her psychotic ass existed at all, and he can't cheat on a girlfriend who's been pretending to be with him)

they finally got pia to open up and admit everything was faked. she was the one talking to them on these "private" accounts. she wasn't getting pr and clothes and things at all. she wasn't dating jack, or luke, or anything at all, she was just LYING, and when the girl she'd set up with "trevor" called her out, she wanted to leak their messages and conversations and embarrass said girl in front of their friends to avoid her telling them pia was a liar

all in all, she's insane, and there's way more to this than the very summarized version i just gave. i hope jack, luke, quinn, trevor and cole have some sort of restriction against her so she can't get near them, and same with jesper bratt's fiance, who she claimed was her best friend, and who she talked about a lot to her friends and said she's been to her house, etc., etc.

[bluebasie]

Hashira Character Analysis Sexuality head canons!!

Since the canon sexualities of the Hashiras were never confirmed and will likely never be confirmed, I have taken it upon myself to come up with a sexuality head canon for each of them based on scenes from the anime, manga, and fan books, etc. This is a pretty large task and analyzing every piece of Demon Slayer media is a huge task so please forgive me if I miss a piece of information that could be interpreted as information suggesting a character’s preference for love! Keep in mind that these are just personal head canon that I wanted to share, and I will include some non-canon ships to show cases of interest. Also, disclaimer, I will not be adding a head canon for Muichiro because I genuinely don't know about him, and I don't think there is enough information about his character loving another and I also don't feel comfortable speculating about his sexuality given his age. But anyways, I will be using a series of quotes, scenes, and situations to come up with each potential sexuality for each Hashira and some may be more detailed than others due to a surplus of scenes or personal bias causing me to pay a little more attention to my favorites. Sorry in advance but I'll try and make it not as noticeable!

Starting with the Water Pillar, Tomioka Giyuu!

Starting off the bat, I really don't think that Tomioka has an interest in women. Let me explain. A huge example of this can be seen in Tomioka’s attitude towards a relationship between Shinazugawa Sanemi and Kocho Shinobu. From season one we can see Kocho’s attempts and friendship with Tomioka and just how unreceived they are despite Kocho's adamant insistence to the point of annoyance. While one could say that he just doesn't like her, it is mentioned during his soba eating contest with Tanjiro in the anime that he definitely does worry about her. Despite this he treats her like an annoyed older brother with an annoying younger sister who likes to pretend they don't care about each other but actually do. Regardless of this dynamic, Tomioka has made it clear he does not always enjoy her forced company, and he has clearly shown a reluctance to try and form a deeper bond with her. On the other hand, while Tomioka is known for being socially avoidant, he actively tries to befriend Shinazugawa where he genuinely breaks his emotionless mask that he's had on for years at the thought of closeness with Shinazugawa. He is shown to genuinely have a deep fascination with Sanemi as seen in his conversation with Tanjiro in the Light novels where they talk about Sanemi and a situation where he asked Giyuu out to eat and he rejected him because he had just eaten. After understanding why Shinazugawa had gotten angry afterwards, he smiles at the thought of Sanemi wanting to eat with him. There is also the fact that in the fanbook when it shows what each hashira thinks of each other for mitsuri it says that he thinks she shows too much skin implying that he thinks it unsafe for her without regard to the sexual implications of exposing her chest and legs due to the skirt. Also, it is said in an extra chapter looking at what each character was doing after the war, it is said that Giyuu and the Uzui family frequent the hot springs which if you didn't know are common in Japan to soak in without clothes. When in the panel at the hot springs it can be seen that Giyuu sits alone away from all of them. This again shows a small glimpse into his potential disinterest in women. Then there is the entire Sabito situation. While it is not said in Demon slayer that Giyuu and Sabito were romantically involved, it is implied throughout giyuu’s entire character story of the impact that Sabito and his death has had and continued to have on his life for years. Giyuu’s interest and want for closeness for both Sanemi and Sabito throughout the Franchise shows his preference for relationships with men rather than women in general. Because of this I would say that my head canon for Giyuu would be that he is definitely a gay man. I don't really think he’s bi just because of his lack of interest expressed in women at all in the entire franchise so I think he is exclusively attracted to men. However is implied in the final chapter that he had a ‘descendent’ implying that he ended up with a woman, he has other family as seen when we was taken away by extended family after his sister’s death and I frankly don't think it’s in character for Giyuu to find and leave a woman pregnant within the three to four years he has left with the demon mark seeing as he has little to no natural charisma and social skills as well as the fact that it would be terrible to leave a woman alone to raise a baby by herself with no close family in the 1920’s but I digress. Overall, I think that based on character interactions my final head canon for Giyuu is that he is gay.

Now onto my girl the Insect Pillar, Kocho Shinobu.

Throughout the franchise it is seen that Kocho seems to have no romantic attraction to any characters in the entire manga, anime, etc. She also is shown to have no want or need for romantic connection due to her priorities is not only demon slaying but also running a hospital and planning her own death after being blinded by the idea of revenge on the demon who had killed her sister. It is also seen that her character largely revolves around family unlike Giyuu’s character revolving around friendship/love for others. Shinobu’s motives and relationships revolve around her sisters, Kanae and Kanao, as well as Aoi and the butterfly triplets. She also seems to hold a connection with Inosuke as a sort of mother figure. Clearly, we can see that Shinobu places a higher emphasis on family, including found family, which shows her character prioritizing care for platonic relationships. She also seems to not care for romantic relationships for the future because she never planned a future for herself with her plan being to sacrifice herself to kill Douma to avenge Kanae. It is clearly shown that her priorities lay in the family she has collected over the years and creating justice for the family she has lost including her sister and the fact that her reasoning for becoming a demon slayer was the impact of her parents' death. Overall Shinobu does not have any romantic feelings for others being too clouded in her mission to kill the one who had killed her sister, and she never planned to find a partner one day due to the fact that she never planned for another day after the infinity castle. Because of her preference for platonic relationships, lack of interest in romance, and opposition to sexualizing herself as seen when she burns the original female uniform given to her, I think she is aromantic asexual. This head canon is very dear to me despite not actually being aroace myself because of her serious priority to her family that just isn't seen often in shonen media with girls who are never shown to be interested in romantic love and instead have their own story and goal to focus on. If you couldn't tell at this point, I really love Shinobu’s character.

Now I'm moving onto the Sound Pillar, Uzui Tengen.

To start us off with the obvious, Uzui is polygamous. This is cannon and not a head canon so we can add that as a fact so moving on to beyond his polygamous status I guess I am mainly interested in if he is only attracted to women or also men. Right off the bat, purely based on speculation, I would say that he would be open to something like that just due to his openness to ideas that were not common during this time period or in his communities as well as his preference for the extravagant, in his words flashy. This can not only be seen with his polygamous relationship but also with his insistence that his wives put their own lives before others which was practically unheard of in the shinobi communities that they all had grown up in. While this took a long time to adjust to for Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru, Uzui was open to this new life priority seeing as he was the one who had come up with it. He is also seen to be open to multi-gendered bathing in the hot springs with his wives and Giyuu which could further the point that he has no preference for gender or things like that and that he just wants to have a flashy time. One final thing that could possibly point towards his lack of preference could maybe be the fact that he puts a lot of emphasis on his looks. While during this time period men usually didn't wear makeup, jewels, paint their nails, and wear shiny clothes, Uzui disregards social norms to be the best self that he can so this could possibly point towards his lack of care about love between the same gender because those things just would not matter to him. Because of his supposed ‘lack of care for gender’, I definitely think he likes both genders, but I also do think he has a slight preference for women for whatever reason due to the fact that he has three wives obviously. For Uzui’s final head canon, I would say that he’s bisexual with a slight preference for women.

Now going on to the Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyojuro.

There also isn't much to see about relationships between Rengoku and other characters but based on his dedication to his family's traditions through Hashira lineage, breathing style, and estate, I do believe that if Rengoku was to stay alive that he would have wanted to find a wife and settle down at some point like his family before him. He is shown to love being around his mother and taking care of his brother so I can definitely see him growing to be a huge family man who just loves his wife a lot. There was a small quip in a fan book where Rengoko refers to Tomioka as handsome, but it honestly just felt like a supportive bro thing where he doesn't feel ashamed to compliment his friends. Rengoku’s relationship with mitsuri could be somewhat evidence that he does not feel much attraction for women but obviously he's not just going to be into every woman he sees, and he clearly views mitsuri as a younger sister. This only proves his family man status even more with his care to those who are younger than him. Due to his constant support of others and traditions of a traditional family I feel confident in saying that Rengoku is the number one Straight ally. He would totally be supportive if any of the Hashira ended up getting together with a person who is the same gender as themselves.

Moving on to the Wind Pillar, Shinazugawa Sanemi.

Shinazugawa is one of the characters who have seemed to show interest, whether romantic or other, but interest nonetheless in both men and women. It is seen in the fan books and the light novels that he was interested in Kocho Kanae when she was alive stating that being with her made him remember his mover and his infatuation with Tomioka over the span of the series with him getting distracted by the sound of his voice, getting visibly worked up over even the smallest of actions that he does, encouraging him in the war, and being seen having a close relationship after the final war arc. Sanemi is shown to be a very expressive individual who feels a lot of feelings towards others and some of those feelings I would say are feelings of attraction, infatuation, and even love. Sanemi is also shown to be very defensive of his feelings as seen when Tanjiro walks in on his and Tomioka’s fight which is seen to be very unguarded and raw with it being a direct expression of everything Sanemi was feeling and everything he wanted to express. However, when Tanjiro views this exchange Sanemi immediately jumps to the conclusion that Tanjiro was ‘spying on them’ as if this fight was meant to be hidden and private not for the eyes or knowledge of anybody besides Tomioka. It seems to me that Shinazugawa clearly knows what he feels about Giyuu and he is scared of it and tries to hide it from others and also himself. He ends up losing this guard after the war though when it is seen that he goes out to eat lunch with Giyuu after sorting out the miscommunication between them over the years. Because of his intense feelings towards people who are both genders, I would say that he is definitely bisexual. I don't know if he has a preference and what preference he would lean towards if he had one but for now I'm just going to say that he is bisexual.

Moving on to the Stone Pillar, Himejima Gyomei.

This one is pretty simple, I think. Gyomei is a Buddhist monk so that means he is celibate. This essentially means that he would not have a romantic partner or have children in an attempt to forward his path to enlightenment. He has never shown romantic interest in anyone throughout the span of the series, so I think it's safe to say that he is Unlabeled? I don't want to say that he is aroace because I don't know if he has romantic feelings but just doesn't act on them or if he doesn't have them at all, but I guess it would make sense if he was on the aroace spectrum. I think either aroace or unlabeled would work here and are headcanons that would make a lot of sense.

Next, we have the Love Pillar, Kanroji Mitsuri.

In connection to her breathing style, Mitsuri is a very expressive and loving person to people of all types. This does also include women as well. In her character introduction in the first season this is explicitly shown where after every character introduction of the other Hashiras Mitsuri would include a small quip about some words of admiration, she has for them including Shinobu. While Kanroji did join the Demon slayers for a husband, I think that she actually does have love for everyone regardless of gender and she just really wants a husband specifically because of social norms and the fact that she wants somebody who is stronger than her and while there are very few men who are stronger than her there are few women who fit that standard as well. Other than that, I don't think that the LOVE Hashira really has a preference for gender, and she just feels a small attraction towards everybody. I think that she could be pansexual or at least under the bisexual umbrella if anybody believes she has a preference towards one gender, but I think she just feels a good amount of love for everybody and everything with a high surplus for Iguro and therefore pansexual!

Finally, we've got the most difficult to understand in my opinion, The Serpent Hashira, Iguro Obanai. 

Iguro has got quite the history with a distaste towards women due to the trauma he had endured during his childhood. His lack of romantic affection had been carried with him for his entire life until meeting Mitsuri when he fell head over heels for her. Iguro’s love for mitsuri has frankly made it pretty difficult to understand or come up with a headcanon due to his disinterest in literally every one besides her. I don't think he would ever love another woman or show affection to another man which makes it difficult to come up with something. I guess I could say that he is unlabeled because he literally does not love anybody and has never loved anybody besides Mitsuri before. I could also say that he is Asexual because as seen in his entrapment, the fascination the snake demon had of him, her watching him at night, and his family overloading him with overwhelming food he did not want. This could all be seen as an allegory for sexual assault and/or grooming as a child and that might have caused him to want to avoid anything sexual and therefore I think it could be very possible that he could at least be under the asexual umbrella. 

That was a lot of writing so thank you if you read this far! Keep in mind that these are head canons and if you disagree on anything please don't start a war in the comments or anything. Please. Anyways I would love to hear your own head canons and what you think of this small character analysis! 

[prying-pandora666]

Who is Izumi’s Mom? Copium Edition

So we all know that Bryke have refused to confirm who Izumi’s mother is. Even when they released family trees, the conspicuously left Izumi’s mom blank.

So incredibly frustrating!

So since Bryke insists on baiting us and not giving us closure, here’s a dose of copium for all shippers.

First off! Izumi’s name means “spring fountain”. Remember that.

Secondly, she looks like this:

REASONS WHY YOUR SHIP OF CHOICE COULD STILL MAKE SENSE!

Mai - She looks the most like Izumi. She canonically dated Zuko (until they broke up AGAIN). The former comics’ writer believes they will make up. She and Zuko have a history surrounding fountains. Even with all the drama, she remains the most likely candidate.

Katara - It should be self explanatory why a child named “fountain”, as in water, may be a reference to the one water bender Zuko dueled with most. The two of them clearly developed a connection by the end of the show, and Katara once even offered to heal Zuko’s scar. This one is all but debunked due to Kataang being canon, but it’s still nice to dream! And no one can deny they look great together.

Jin - Zuko and Jin shared lovely chemistry on their one date. Zuko was even willing to risk getting outed as a firebender in the Earth Kingdom and imprisoned, just to make her smile. This scene is also significant because it involved a fountain. Considering the bulk of Zuko’s redemption happened in the EK and the plot continued into the comics dealing with the blended FN/EK colonies, I can see why this would be a good thematic choice.

Toph - A rarer pair but one that one storyboard artist snuck in a reference for! Toph and Zuko have a lot in common. They both come from families of status that abused them for their failure to conform. Toph was born blind while Zuko has a disfiguring facial scar that realistically should affect both his vision and his hearing to an extent. Toph also has a friendship with uncle Iroh and was the first member of the Gaang to successfully understand and comfort Zuko as well as she did. Some point out that Zuko’s daughter Izumi has vision problems (like Toph) while Toph’s daughter Lin has a facial scar (like Zuko). The name Kanto, the alleged father of Lin, can also be written with the characters for “crown capital” so some speculate it’s an alias for Zuko. Spring fountain could be a reference both to the Earth element’s season of spring as well as to a volcano, which is like a fountain combining fire and earth. This scene is the most telling, with two doves representing Zuko and Toph. When Zuko walks away from Toph, the two doves kiss, signifying that perhaps a romance between them is destined for the future. Luckily, Toph knows how to listen and wait. Everything that applies to Jin about making peace with the EK applies even more to Toph since she’s actually from a noble house.

Suki - A bit of a wild card since she’s dating Sokka! But the comics showed Zuko and Suki getting much closer. When no one else was on Zuko’s side during the conflict in the colonies, and even Mai dumped him over his desperate visits to Ozai, Suki stayed by Zuko’s side. She never lost faith in him and tried her best to be there for him. The two have clearly developed a close friendship and bond of trust. Some even see it as romantic, which spells bad news for our boy Sokka. However, seeing as the book Legacy implies Sokka and Suki broke up, perhaps Zuki shippers have more evidence to stand on than originally thought! Everything that applies to Jin about making peace with the EK would also apply, since Suki is also from the EK. Perhaps she could fan the flames of his passion?

Sokka - Okay we all know it’s not going to happen but they’re really cute and I get it. The fountain claim applies to Sokka same as it does Katara! Hey there’s always a chance! Korrasami proved that!

Ty Lee - Not a lot to go off here but it’s undeniable that the two have a weird, unspoken tension. Why is Zuko quietly beefing with his sister’s bff? It’s never explained. Something is definitely going on there! We just don’t know what it is. In the comics, Zuko does lament not playing with Ty Lee and the other girls more as a kid.

Azula - I mean… okay I get it. The features that Izumi has in common with Mai, she also has in common with Zuko. So it’s not impossible to see why some would think she looks like Azula too. But can we please not make ATLA into Game of Thrones? This certainly isn’t helping:

Jet - He’s dead now so it’s not possible. But did Jet actually have a thing for Zuko? You know… it was really unclear.

[cloudedmoonofficial]

Conversations at the Moonlight Meeting

We had our voice actors record conversations at the Meeting you can hear in the background of Chapter 1! See if you can pick out some of the conversations in the episode:

GROUP 1

Piketail sitting with Shrewpelt, Hailstorm and Swiftshadow.

Piketail: Hey, how’s the prey running? Good to see you.

Shrewpelt: Why do you always sit with us?

Hailstorm: *laughs* Oh hush, Shrewpelt.

Piketail: You’re so grumpy all the time Shrewpelt, just enjoy the gathering.

Hailstorm: We are doing well, how’s River Colony?

Piketail: The fish are plentiful as always…

Hailstorm: That good, huh?

Piketail: I shouldn’t say more, you know how Rainfall can be…

--

Piketail: *Quickly* Oh! Look, the Marsh-landers showed up… Hawkshell doesn’t look so good…

Hailstorm: I wonder what’s wrong.

--

Piketail: Go Redleaf! …Hm, I thought he’d choose Dawnfrost… I wonder how she’s taking it…

Shrewpelt: (displeased and jealous of Dawnfrost) *low growl*

Hailstorm: I don’t know, she hasn’t talked about it.

--

Frightened Murmurs:

*gasp*

Piketail: That badger wasn’t THAT big… That doesn’t make sense at all… Sunfire and Breezeheart could fight off a badger...

Hailstorm: Rip a Ranger to shreds?

Shrewpelt: That could be dangerous. Redleaf had better double our patrols.

Piketail: It looks like Hawkshell is about to jump Rainfall…

Hailstorm: That wouldn’t be good… Surely the Spirits wouldn’t approve...

Piketail: (under her breath) But they approve of Rainfall’s disrespect…*sigh* Sunfire and Breezeheart were always so fair at the border…

Hailstorm: Border patrol won’t be the same without them. I’ll miss them too...

--

Piketail: Looks like River Colony is heading out. I guess I’ll be going then. Hailstorm, you take care of this grumpy furball. *turns to Swiftshadow and smiles* Swiftshadow.

Hailstorm: *laughs* Always. Until next time, Piketail! Stay safe!

Shrewpelt: Farewell Piketail.

Swiftshadow: We’ll be seeing you Piketail.

GROUP 2

New-Claws sitting together. Peach, Moss, Grey, and Pool.

Peach: You said you just became a new-claw? Wow, and you get to go to the gathering on the same day?

Moss: Yeah! Rainfall says that I’m already a great new-claw.

Pool: *under his breath* That’s hard to believe…

Moss: She said to watch Swiftmask closely so I can learn what Rangers do.

Peach: That’s great! Good luck with your training.

--

Moss: Ripped to shreds, but how?

Grey: Hawkshell says it was big, maybe it was a wolf…

Moss: But Rainfall said it was a badger.

Grey: Rainfall may not be right about this…

Moss: Pff, Rainfall is right about everything!

--

Moss: Do you think they’ll fight?

Grey: I hope not…

Peach: Hawkshell is really angry…

--

Grey: Hopefully we’ll see you at the border Peach.

Peach: Please take care!

Moss: We will! We can fight off a badger.

Pool: It wasn’t a badger! Were you even listening?

Moss: *ignoring Pool* Coming Swiftmask!

GROUP 3

Cherryrill, Kestrelsnap, Crowstalker and Stagcharge sitting together, gossiping.

Stagcharge: Cherryrill, good to see you.

Kestrelsnap: Long time no see.

Cherryrill: How have your Colonies fared through Spring?

Stagcharge: Glad to finally see leaves on the trees. Stronger than ever!

Crowstalker: *in a cool tone* Of course they are.

Cherryrill: River Colony too. Rainfall named a few new-claws today, my Lily is one of them. Blueriver’s kittens are thriving and Mistyclaw’s kittens are due any day!

Kestrelsnap: That’s good to hear!

--

Cherryrill: Did you hear about the queen in Field Colony? Nightpool. We can’t figure out who her mate is.

Crowstalker: It’s rude to speculate.

Kestrelsnap: *much to Crow’s irritation* Do you think it’s Goldenpelt?

Cherryrill: Maybe, but I never see them together, he’s always on Spottedshadow’s tail.

Stagcharge: Why is Wildfur here?

Crowstalker: Hawkshell thinks he will be a better Colony Cat if she makes him a Mentor.

Kestrelsnap: As if training a new-claw ever made anyone less lazy. <.< Not to mention it’s MY son she decided to use as her little experiment…

Crowstalker: Now, now, Hawkshell knows what she’s doing.

Kestrelsnap: Wildfur is barely paying attention to my little Pool! He’s back there staring at that Field-lander bleeding-heart,--like some lovesick dove!

--

Stagcharge: Cherryrill, what’s the deal with Wolfthorn?

Cherryrill: *laughs* A similar situation, I guess. Rainfall just welcomed him back and then gave him a new-claw to train! Can you believe it? After he was gone for months?

--

Cherryrill: Oh! Redleaf will be great!

Stagcharge: We are glad to have him!

Kestrelsnap: Sorry to hear about Brackenfoot.

Frightened Murmurs:

*gasp*

Stagcharge: Did you see it?

Crowstalker: No, but they were shredded… It couldn’t have been a badger

Cherryrill: That’s awful… they were so lovely together…

Kestrelsnap: It’s a sad day for us all…

Cherryrill: Be safe on your way back. Rainfall doesn’t seem concerned, but…

Crowstalker: *gruff* Hawkshell is serious about this, Cherryrill. I saw their bodies...

Cherryrill: I am aware. I wouldn’t doubt her.

Kestrelsnap: I’ll try to leave word if anything else happens.

Cherryrill: Just be sure to stay away from Iceclaw’s patrols.

GROUP 4

Goldenpelt, Timberleg and Stone sitting together. Thrushspots and Clayfur in front of them.

Timberleg: Now, look just there Stone, That’s Elmtail and Rainfall.

Goldenpelt: The Captains of Oak Colony and River Colony.

Timberleg: It’s important that you know who they are. Below them is where the Seconds sit.

Stone: Who is that?

Goldenpelt: Pineclaw.

Timberleg: That’s someone you don’t want to confront on the border… If you ever see him...

Goldenpelt: Come get me or Forestleaf immediately.

Stone: *nods* Okay.

Thrushspots: *in an intense low voice, like she’s trying to scare him* That’s how Hazelfur got the scar on his ear.

Goldenpelt: *flat but strict* That’s enough Thrushspots.

Thrushspots: *straightening up* Yes, Goldenpelt.

Timberleg: *continuing* Over there is where the Herbalists sit. It looks like Orangebrook isn’t here again…

Goldenpelt: Gatherings might be difficult for him to travel to now, he is nearly an elder.

--

Goldenpelt: Redleaf is certainly… a choice.

Timberleg: I’m sure he’ll do fine.

Goldenpelt: As long as he keeps the Oak-landers off of our territory, we won’t have a problem.

Frightened Murmurs:

*gasp*

Stone: *scared*  Is it going to come to the Field-lands?

Timberleg: Oh! Of course not!

Goldenpelt: We can handle it if it does.

Stone: Those poor Rangers…

Goldenpelt: A Ranger defends his Colony to the death. Consider this a lesson.

Stone: Yes, Goldenpelt.

--

Timberleg: Well, I guess that’s it.

Stone: It’s over?

Timberleg: Sometimes meetings aren’t even this long. We will wait for Hazelfur and Forestleaf and then follow them across the tree bridge.

Goldenpelt: You go ahead, I’m going to wait for Spottedshadow.

Timberleg: Oh, good idea. ^^

GROUP 5

Piketail meets up with Swiftmask and Wolfthorn as they leave.

Piketail: Swiftmask, wait up! *low voice* Did you hear that?

Swiftmask: I’m not sure it was the same badger… Rainfall isn’t worried though…

Piketail: Yeah, I don’t think Rainfall cares. The deaths of two great Rangers...

Wolfthorn: Nothing is ever a big deal to her…

Piketail: What if it IS a big deal though? We should watch the border just in case… *trailing off*

Art by Snap