#life is good but I do wish I was married.

[lostsoulofdragon]

Hey, aroace here! I’d like to share my view of this issue here.

so, I mostly identify as female, and a super close friend of mine as male. Normally, many, MANY people around us started to see us as a couple, that probably dated in secret.

truth is, no, we’re just best friends. Even my other bestie shipped us (but she didn’t press us to show how ‘together’ we were, it was more of a joke with her, and that is something I personally don’t mind to much). But he just helped me out of a really really fucked up part of my life. I was suicidal, probably depressed, tried to end it, and I was practicing light SH.

he got me out of there by simply being a friend, supporting and listening to me.

we had little to no contact before that, and suddenly, we were bestest of friends. then the rumors set in. “Oh, you’re a cute couple! You’re a couple right? No? Well you should be!”

even my family, who I’ve stated to multiple times that I’m NOT interested in a relationship started to ask me if he was my boyfriend, and when I declined, they went ‘that’s a loss, he’s a nice guy!’

I don’t understand why platonic love and friendship are so underrated, almost seen as invaluable in this society. I’ve always felt pressured to get a relationship, and when I did get into one, I could not manage to take it seriously. To me, it was just weird. Why should I kiss and hold hands, when I’m perfectly fine with the occasional hug or just a playful shove? Why do I need to strive to be married when it just means sharing rent and blowing money on a ceremony? Why should I push my friends, who I’ve grown to like- REALLY REALLY like- into the background for someone who could leave even easier than them? And why should I then be heartbroken over it?

I just don’t get it. I wish we as a society would start accepting that no, friendships and platonic relationships are NOT necessary. Love and sex are NOT mandatory for a fulfilled life. If you want that to be a goal for you, it’s TOTALLY FINE. Just don’t go and try and press it onto others, that have different goals.

((a song that does a good job explaining how an especially Aromantic person feels about this is (in my opinion, which is NOT what you should take as a norm) ‘Aromantic’ by Mike Fonzarelli Roberts.))

Normalize super close friendships instead of assuming there must be a romantic and/or sexual factor—friends are a wonderful treasure!

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

If you feel up for it, wedding headcanons? (like the ceremony, who is attending, do they cry, etc)

Gallagher, Blade, Wriothesley, and Jing Yuan please!

These are rather short but I wanted to write something for this since it's been so long and I need some sweetness in my life :D

Gallagher

I feel like with Gallagher his eyes get misty but he doesn't cry until he sees his to be spouse come towards him but even then it's just a tear or two before he's good.

Anybody close to his spouse is definitely invited and some of his close coworkers are invited if they're free but other than that he'd honestly prefer a private wedding just between him and his to be spouse.

Since Penacony can be easily changed in the dream to suit their needs they can have the wedding venue of their dreams but if his spouse would like something more simple he's not opposed to that at all.

Blade

Doesn't cry but does get misty eyed after he seals things with a kiss.

With his highly wanted criminal status it'd be hard to have a huge wedding with everyone they want invited so his spouse would have to be very choosy on who they invite and if they can be trusted to not you know report him during the wedding to the IPC. So as for guests it'll be a mix of the other Stellaron Hunters(provided they aren't on missions) and trusted individuals from his to be spouses side.

There really is no limit for where they could hold a wedding so long as they make the proper precautions to not get caught. Blade doesn't care much for how the venue is decorated or what sort of wedding his to be spouse would like so that'd be up to them.

Wriothesley

Thinks he's not gonna cry during the ceremony but absolutely does cry especially when he's doing his vows. He has to take a moment to compose himself to even finish them it makes his to be spouse tear up and cry too.

Definitely invites Sigewinne because she's basically his family and perhaps Clorinde and Neuvillette if they aren't too busy as well as anybody his to be spouse wishes.

Doesn't know too much about weddings and can get a bit overwhelmed during the process of planning one but it's definitely one that respects both his and his to be spouses cultures and desires for the wedding. Would even be open to having their wedding in another nation.

Jing Yuan

Another one who doesn't cry much during his wedding but his tears definitely come later when the ceremony is over and done with and he's holding is spouse in his arms as they sleep.

I'd say he has two weddings: one which is public to the masses since it isn't every day an Arbiter General gets married and another more personal private wedding where only close loved ones are invited. Yanqing is definitely invited and so is Fu Xuan but she only shows up briefly deciding to cover for him so nobody bothers him during his wedding day.

If they plan carefully they can manage to have the private wedding anywhere and any way they like. He'd definitely be interested in having a wedding styled to suit his spouses culture since the public wedding would be from his own.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving

Summary: This year, you’re going to ask Santa for something only you have been able to give you thus far. Orgasms.

Square Filled: Christmas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Normally, the mall is a place you and your friends avoid during the holiday season, but you heard that they were hosting auditions for Santa this year. Rumor has it, that someone super attractive got it. Again, you’re not one to go man-hunting at a crowded mall with children and families running everywhere, but here you are.

Your dating life hasn’t been all that great. It mostly consists of hookups and one-night stands that can never get you to orgasm. Only your pink ice cream clit vibrator has ever been able to do the job, so you’re hoping to come here and maybe meet a willing Santa to take home. Maybe if you sit on his lap and wish for orgasms, he’ll be inclined to give you one.

It’s worth a shot.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this,” your friend, Beth, says.

“What? Men who audition for Santa usually aren’t men from this town. They’re all married and they don’t want to take the joy away from their kids. Whoever it is, is from out of town, which means he can be hot, single, and eager for a hookup.”

“I thought you were done with those.”

“No, I am done with hookups from men who only think about themselves. I’ll be able to take one look at this Santa and know if he can jingle my bells if you know what I mean.”

Beth laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think parents would allow their children to sit on a sexy man’s lap.”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.”

The area where kids are meeting Santa is already crowded with families, and the line is already three stores down from the start. When Dean heard about the Santa auditions, he put in his name when he was drunk. What harm would it do if he decided to be Santa for a night? On one hand, he can make a lot of children’s days by being Santa. On the other hand, he could meet a kid’s single mom or their sexy aunt and take them home. It’s a win-win.

“Okay, I thought you were joking before, but you’re really going to do this?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean pulls on the red coat and smirks at his brother. “Hot chicks, Sammy.”

“Kids, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It comes with the job. Just go find something to do. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Dedicated, Sam,” Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and leaves the room. He decides to head back to the motel room instead of sticking around. Dean finishes getting ready and walks out with one of the mall coordinators. As soon as the kids see him, they cheer at the thought of being with Santa even for a minute. He stays true to his character and plays the best Santa he can be for the kids also while looking out for anyone single and willing to go home with him.

“Looks to me like he’s a regular guy,” Beth says to you as you inch closer to the front of the line.

“Beth, you are married so I don’t expect you to see this but I caught a glimpse of him as he was putting his costume on. I think he was carved by the Gods themselves.”

“You’re relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

“What? I am just trying to participate in Christmas traditions.”

“You don’t even have any kids.”

“I’m practicing…?”

“By asking Santa for,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Beth laughs, and you get closer to the front of the line. Dean takes a picture with one of the little girls who just asked for a pony when he locks eyes with you. For just a few seconds, it’s like time has slowed down just for the two of you. Even from where you’re standing, you can see how green his eyes are.

“Next!” the mall attendant yells.

“Good luck,” Beth whispers and steps off to the side where the parents wait.

The mall attendant gives you a weird look, especially when you step up on the platform where Dean is. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it even though you’re getting some dirty looks from parents in line.

“Well, who do we have here? What’s your name?” Dean drawls when you sit on his lap.

“Y/N.”

“And have you been a good girl this year?”

You smirk when you hear the double meaning in his words.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Dean’s eyes darken. “You know the deal. Bad girls don’t get presents.”

“Might you make an exception?”

He licks his lips, and you can’t help but watch his tongue. “I might. Depends on what you want.”

You lean in so that your mouth is close to your ear. You don’t need everyone in the mall to hear this.

“Orgasms.”

“Bad girl or not, I think I can help with that.”

“I’d hope you would,” you grin.

“Meet me after in front of Barnes and Noble.”

You forgo the picture and leave to give the kids what they came here for. Dean shifts in his seat to hide the erection you gave him. He’s not trying to scar any children or piss off any parents.

“Did you ask him?” Beth asks when you walk away from the place.

“Yes. God, he was so much more attractive up close. He was so… firm. I’m going to meet him after he’s done. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I have to get back to Jared. He already started drinking eggnog without me.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you wink.

You wait anxiously in front of Barnes and Noble until the very last child has had her turn with Santa. The more you’re by yourself, the more you psych yourself out. Was this a good idea? You don’t even know the man. He could be a murderer for all you know. Okay, maybe not that but he could have dark secrets in his closet.

Before you can convince yourself to leave, a man who you believe is Santa walks over to you wearing flannel, jeans, and a black jacket.

“So, have you decided if you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Whichever is more fun,” you grin.

“Naughty it is.” He holds his hand out and you take it. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N, but you already know that.”

He even has a hot car. Once you see the shiny black Impala, you decide you’re going to milk Dean for everything he’s got before he leaves. He might very well be the best one-night stand you’ll ever have.

Dean takes you back to his motel room where Sam is reading a lore book. He looks up when the door opens, and he shakes his head when he sees his brother isn’t alone.

“Out, Sammy.”

“Dude.”

“Would you rather watch me fuck her?”

“That’s something I’m not opposed to if you’re into that sort of thing,” you say.

“No, thanks,” Sam pouts. “I’m going to get a room far from yours.”

As soon as Sam leaves, Dean pulls you into him and presses light kisses down your neck.

“So, are you going to unwrap me?”

“Damn right, I am, and I’m going to take all night to do it.” Dean lays you down on the bed and runs his hands down your legs. “Are you wet for me?”

“Undress me and find out.”

Dean practically rips your clothes away, and you don’t even think about needing them tomorrow at the moment. All you want right now is his mouth and fingers on you. Dean cups your pussy and runs two fingers through your slit to confirm that yes, you are wet and ready for him. He falls to his knees and you spread your legs open wide for him.

He grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed before burying his face between your legs. Some of the men you’ve been with hated going down on you, so you haven’t had a man down there in a while. Just the simple act of Dean sliding his tongue through your folds is enough to bring a squeal out of you.

“Fuck, Dean, that feels so good,” you moan and grab his hair.

“Good. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Dean massaged your clit with his tongue before sliding down to your entrance. He tongues you rapidly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can’t come unless your clit is stimulated, but you honestly think Dean could just lick you and you’d explode for him. Maybe you’ll test that theory later tonight when you go for another round. Dean is the kind of man you go multiple rounds with.

“Shit, Dean, that feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over my face.”

You don’t wait another second before exploding around his tongue, and he laps up every drop you’re giving him.

“God, you taste like Heaven,” Dean moans.

He kisses your clit once before standing up. You stand and kiss him even though you can taste yourself on his lips. You undress him until you’re both naked, and he turns you so that you’re facing the bed. He gently pushes down on your back until you’re on your hands and knees, and he grips your hips and tugs you hard enough for you to lose your balance. You fall face first on the bed with your ass in the air, just how he wants you.

He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent his release from coming too soon. He pumps twice before sliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips.

“Dean, skip the formalities. Please, fuck me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He grabs both sides of your hips and slides into your pussy slowly so that you can feel every inch. You gasp from the stretch but he doesn’t stop until you’re completely full of him. You grip the sheets and push back into him as much as you can from your position. Dean pulls out only to slam back in, and you can’t help the loud moan from coming out.

“Fuck, Y/N, how are you so tight?”

“You feel so good, Dean,” you moan.

Thankfully Sam isn’t next door or else he’d hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and your beautiful moans.

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself closer to the edge. I want to come with you.”

You reach down and rub your clit in fast hard circles. It’s been so long that you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d thought you would.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m close again.”

“Come all over my cock.”

You do as he says and explode all around him. You squeeze his cock several times which brings Dean over the edge. He slows his thrusting to ride out both of your highs until neither of you can give anything more. He pulls out of you and falls onto the bed next to you.

“I hope you’ve got more than one round in you.”

He smirks. “Baby, I can go all night.”

You love Christmas time.

x

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[agoodflyting]

A lot of Thoughts about Enver Gortash and the text of Richard III

Ok so William Shakespeare's character of Richard of Gloucester is very much the archetype for the Tyrant in western literature and I just have SO MANY THOUGHTS about the way Enver Gortash wears that particular crown... (Not to mention how the fangirl in me just loves some of Richard's dialogue and could easily see it coming out of Gortash's mouth, and I'm trying so hard NOT to write a whole ass fic just so I can get Gortash to say, "I am not made of stone.")

WHO IS RICHARD III?

In real life, he was the last Plantagenet king of England, and a controversial figure, but I'm just talking about how he's depicted as a character in William Shakespeare's play Richard III (and to a lesser degree in Henry VI) . In Shakespeare's plays he is written as the quintessential scheming, backstabbing, duplicitous tyrant who will stop at nothing to gain and keep power. He concocts a massive plan in which he will manipulate the whole of the English aristocracy into crowning him king, by creating a situation in which they will be so desperate and angry at an imagined enemy that they will beg him to assume power over them. Sound familiar?

"Since I cannot prove a lover (...) I am determined to prove a villain." They have different backgrounds, but with both Richard of Gloucester and Enver Gortash there's a driving current of otherness compared to the ranks of the nobility that they're manipulating. Gortash is from a working class family but clawed his way up to join the ranks of the well-bred elite through cunning and ingenuity (and lots of crime). Richard was born into a noble family, but is physically disabled and is often mocked or insulted for it. In context, Richard uses the phrase 'since I cannot prove a lover' less as a complaint about his love life and more as a general example of how he has doesn't fit in with his peers. Basically, "You don't accept me? I'll make that everyone's problem."

"How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown..." Both of them survived trauma and violence, which was directed at them by people against whom they were powerless at the time. Gortash was sold to Raphael as a child and spent years as a target of every kind of abuse his master deigned to throw at him. Richard saw his father and brother brutally tortured, then murdered by the queen of their country, while he could do nothing to stop it. In both cases they internalized at a young age that violence = power = safety.

"Was ever woman in this humour won? (...) I, that kill'd her husband and his father, to take her in her heart's extremest hate (...) and yet to win her, all the world to nothing!" Both Richard and Gortash are platinum-tier smooth-talkers, who are skilled at getting other people to act the way they want through use of charming words. Richard shoots his shot with Anne despite the fact that she knows full well he murdered her last husband and she literally spent the first half of the scene wishing death on him. But by the end of the scene he's convinced her to marry him. Gortash, similarly, can talk the player character around to siding with him against the Elder Brain in spite of having just spent the first 2 act of the games trying to unravel his evil plots. Why? Because they're both just. that. smooth. They both have a way of manipulating others with a smile and good cheer - they sound so reasonable, even when you KNOW you shouldn't listen to them.

"Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself." Both of them have are underestimated partly because of their ability to be charming, and partly because of their status as outsiders. Gortash because of his working class background, and Richard because of his disabilities. In both cases, there are people who find them repulsive but generally toothless (Queen Elizabeth and Ulder Ravengard respectively) who live to regret it. In both cases there are also people who ring the alarm bell that this creep is up to no good, but who aren't heeded soon enough.

"And thou unfit for any place but hell." "Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it." "Some dungeon." "Your bed-chamber." They both have a little bit of that freak in them and seem to get off on trying to fuck people who want them dead. See: Richard with Anne. Durgetash in general.

"I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, and entertain some score or two of tailors." Gortash and Richard are both exceptionally well-dressed, to the point of vanity. Gortash is described as handsome in the game, but even fans who dig him can admit that he has a very unconventional style of attractiveness. His teeth are discolored, his skin is blotchy, he's pushing late middle age, and he's got the sort of flat features that other fans have pointed out are typical of boxers and other people who've gotten punched in the face a lot. Similarly, Richard is described as hunchbacked and with features so deformed that 'dogs bark at (him) as (he) passes by'. Yet, despite not being conventionally pretty, both of them seem to spend a lot of money on their clothes. ... this is getting long, so I'm going to end this here. Might do a part 2 later if the brainrot is still upon me.

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

So... I see this a decade after i decided to simply... Stop instigating conversations because i felt like im simply burdening others with my presence and that they actually felt annoyed having to hear from me and wished i wouldnt send messages.

The thing is that none of them ever approached me afterwards. When we saw each other after a while we would be ecstatic but there was a wall between us already and i dont know if its simply life going on and us being very different than back then, or that they truly didnt see me the same as i saw them (as my besties).

One time i met one of them (this one specifically was my best friend from first grade until twelve basically) on the street and i see that she's married and walking with her husband. Turns out the wedding was that sunday and i wasnt even notified of it happening or of the engagement. I wasnt mad about not being invited, but i was hurt for not even being notified! She then turned to her husband and said that im a friend of her from high school.

Its been a decade from high school so i can see why she said that, but that hurt me so badly that the moment i waved them goodbye and they disappeared around a corner, i collapsed and just sobbed. I was so heartbroken. It seemed that i was the only one who still thought of her as my old school's bestie or had thought of including her in any future milestones simply because she was so important to me.

So i dont know how i feel about this post. I understand where you guys are coming from and its in good intentions, but the main issue is that many kids who become the sole instigators were never shown that they can be vulnerable in front of their friends about this matter. It felt like its your duty and how you contribute to the group. And when it became harder and harder, the friends never questioned why you pulled away or asked for your wellbeing. It turned into a situation when you feel more like a nuisance than a leader.

Fortunately, i have now friends who instigate so much more than me and i keep telling them how i appreciate it and apologise for how terrible i am at texting back and that its never because i dont want them to text me. Its simply because texting or answering messages had become so hard for me and so mentally taxing i sometimes shut down when i see messages i need to reply to.

So rambling aside, as much as i appreciate your sentiment, i think a different approach would be helpful.

My approach (which is not better or worse, just a different approach) is to get comfortable with a 'friends for one day' reality. I go so many times to so many places and meet so many amazing people, we always say we'll contact one another and keep in touch and then never contact one another again, and that's alright.

You have to be comfortable with being friends without focusing on the 'keeping the friendship going' let people come and go. Those who truly want to stick around will stick around, and they usually have a much deeper connection with you that isnt dependant on who instigates the conversations.

My friends are those that mostly text in memes and reels since we dont see each other often. And i do the same in return. Its easier and relays so much more. We have proper conversations here and there, but our actual interactions happen physically. And they instigate meetups much more than i do and i always make sure that they know that i appreciate it. One of my friends and i also have some differences in opinions, so we have some long discussions.

I also have a friend who i dont text to at all but invites me to shabbat meals once in a while and i come over and its like no time had passed. I invite her back for bbq or shabbat as well, but thats also once in a blue moon.

Another friend is across the ocean so its mostly photos and small comments and talks about our lives and since the war began, she keeps checking if im alive and well.

Another friend is also across the ocean and we mostly speak about our realities of being jews or squeal over her precious daughter or make plans for when she finally comes to Israel.

So my friends arent part of one group but many branches of different aspects of my life. I would say i have around seven/eight of them that arent my current co workers (work friendship is also temporary and i accept that fully and enjoy our time together) and im truly blessed because i had let go of the desperate need to keep my friends together.

So please dont call us a bitch for not willing to talk about it. And we're certainly not mini community leaders, we're just people who are friends with those that never cared about reaching out first or affirming our friendship in any kind of way. Its not fair to put the expectations of reaching out onto the one who constantly did that. Friends who truly want to keep up a friendship will attempt to do so when they see that the other side isnt as present as previously.

Sorry im all over the place, im on my phone and its harder to articulate on it

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 22: Shivering Certainty

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under), Judge Turpin (Sweeney Todd) Relationship(s): Turpin/Mary (OC), Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: implied smut

Based on The Eternal Summer

AN: Inspired by Truly Madly Deeply, because I watched it and knew immediately who else would grieve a moustachioed Alan so hard that his ghost popped up :D Part 2 tomorrow!

Read on Ao3 or below:

At first, Mary thought she must have been going mad.

But it was real. He was real.

She reached out hesitantly to place a hand on his chest, and sure enough, he was as warm and solid as she’d ever known him.

“Elliott…” Mary gasped, looking up at him with eyes wide in wonder. “I don’t understand… how…?”

“I don’t know either, darling,” he replied, and Mary thought she might cry to hear his voice again, the voice she thought had been silenced forever. “All I know is I was in your arms, and then… I was here.”

“Oh, Elliott!” Mary sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. “How I’ve missed you!”

Elliott wrapped his arms around her tightly, and for the first time in a very long time she felt safe again.

“Shh, it’s alright, Mary… I’m here now…”

She sobbed profusely into his chest, neither of them caring that his shirt would no doubt be soaked by her tears. Elliott stroked her hair soothingly, even rocking her slightly, and he managed to coax her to sit down on the edge of the bed as he comforted her.

“How long has it been?” Elliott asked once he thought she seemed to have calmed enough to talk.

“F - five months,” Mary replied, sniffling as she raised her head to look at him. “The worst five months of my life.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

“It is! I couldn’t begin to describe… losing you was… oh, it killed me, Elliott. I might as well have died with you that day.”

“Don’t say that,” said Elliott sternly, cupping her face with his large hand. “Don’t you even think that, you hear me? I need you to live a long and healthy life for me.”

She nodded emphatically.

“I will, El. I almost… I did almost join you, but…”

“What?! What are you talking about? Did someone try to hurt you? I swear, if it was William —”

“No! No, he’s - he’s been so good to me ever since… since I tried… stupid, really… a bottle of arsenic, or so I thought… the apothecary must have watered it down…”

“Are you mad, Mary? What good would that have done anyone?”

“I know, El, I know! I’m so glad it didn’t work, because… well…” She sniffed, but she was smiling through her tears. “Gosh, how many times have I wished I could tell you…”

“Tell me what, darling?”

Mary wiped the tears from her face and took Elliott’s hands in hers.

“Elliott, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot up, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless. Mary giggled.

“I’m certain he’s yours. I can just feel it. I’ll never tell William that, of course, I daren’t think what he might do if he believed he wasn’t his, but… he agreed that we can call him Elliott for you.”

“…Mine?” Elliott repeated. “Do you really believe so?”

“Yes, yes, I do, he’s yours, El, I just know it!”

Elliott sunk to one knee on the floor and placed a gentle hand over her belly, as if worried touching it might harm the tiny life growing inside her.

“Do you know how much I fantasised about this?” he said softly, looking up at her reverently. “Marrying you and filling you with my child… oh, Mary, if only I could give you more, we’d have a litter of children…”

He leant forward and placed a soft kiss to her belly.

“I suppose he’ll be Elliott Turpin,” he said with amusement. “Not a name I ever thought I’d come across.”

“Oh, but El, what - what happens now? I mean… do you - will you stay?”

“I don’t know,” Elliott said as he sat back on the mattress with her. “I’d like to. But there are limitations. Don’t ask me how I know them, but I do.”

“Such as?”

“Nobody else can see or hear me, I don’t think. And I can’t leave this house. I don’t know whether it’s because of you or something else, but I can’t follow you outside.”

“But you… you’re solid, I mean… I’ve heard stories of apparitions, but never a ghost that you could touch.”

She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. He was warm, his facial hair prickled against her skin… he was as real as if he were alive.

“Do you breathe? Eat, sleep? I can touch you, but…” Her eyes flickered down to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Elliott smirked. “Perhaps you should test it.”

Tentatively, Mary leant up and pressed her lips to his.

Yes, she could kiss him! She could kiss him, she could hold him… and he could kiss her back. His moustache rubbed against her skin just as she remembered, and when her lips parted for him, his wet tongue could explore her mouth just as he’d done before.

Elliott wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, being careful not to place any pressure on her belly between their bodies.

“It seems you can most definitely kiss me,” Elliott murmured with a satisfied smirk. “And it seems I can kiss you too.”

Mary shivered slightly as a cold breeze came in through the window, and Elliott immediately took his jacket off to wrap around her shoulders.

“How are you enjoying the Australian winter?” he asked with amusement. “Is it odd to be cold in August?”

“A little, but English summers aren’t always hot, so it’s not that much of a change really.”

“Perhaps you should get under the covers.”

Mary looked up at him coyly. “Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr Marston?”

“Oh, I don’t need trickery to get you into bed,” Elliott said with a mischievous grin. “That belly of yours is proof enough of that.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, and carefully guided her onto her back so he could kiss her on the bed.

“What would your husband say if he could see this, hm?” Elliott purred as he kissed her neck, his body weight shifted to one side to avoid her belly. “Oh, hello, darling, welcome home. By the way, I snogged your dead cousin in our bed today, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Stop it!” Mary giggled. “If he knew anything of this, he’d have me sent off to the asylum instantly. Gosh, how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing you’re there?”

“You have a spare room, don’t you? Tell him you want to sleep alone because of the baby, then sneak into bed with me. How scandalous would that be, hm?”

Elliott took the skin of her neck between his teeth and teased her with a soft nibble.

“El! Be careful, you can’t leave a mark!”

“Can’t I? He’s left enough of his own. Who’s to say the mark’s not from him?”

Even so, Elliott didn’t try nibbling her again, opting instead to leave gentle, loving kisses over the top of the bruises she had from Turpin.

He moved down her body, his kisses travelling across her collarbone and then down her clavicle, until he reached her swollen breasts.

“Mmm, look how full they are… all ready to feed my son…”

He cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs ghosting over her nipples through the fabric of her dress, and Mary squirmed slightly with sensitivity.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Elliott said softly. He placed a delicate kiss to each nipple, then said, “Are you leaking yet?”

“Not yet. But they’re sensitive.”

“And getting bigger, too, that’s for sure… fuck, Mary, you really were made for this. Pregnancy suits you.”

“I wonder, El… if you seem to be able to do everything you could as if you were alive… can you…?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her patiently.

“Can I what?”

“You know,” Mary said with a blush.

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

He was lying, and they both knew it, but he wanted to hear her say it. If they’d had more time - oh, the things he would have done for her - but the first thing he’d have taught her would be to ask for what she wants. She was too kind for her own good sometimes, too selfless, never doing anything for herself. But he wanted to give her the world, and she needed to ask for it.

Elliott shifted himself up the bed so he was face-to-face with her again, and planted a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Tell me what you want, Mary.”

“Make love to me,” she breathed, melting under his touch as one hand explored her body, tracing a route down her hip towards her thigh.

Elliott smiled.

“Anything you wish.”

Turpin arrived home late that evening, as he’d been playing cards with some of the other judges in Perth. He was a little drunk, but not debilitatingly so. The house was dark and quiet, so he surmised Mary must be asleep in bed.

She must have been very tired indeed when she went to bed, because she’d left the curtains drawn, but at least it gave Turpin some moonlight with which to admire his sleeping wife’s form.

He spotted something strange about her nightgown, so he pulled down the covers to reveal… she was wearing a man’s jacket, he realised with a frown.

He didn’t recognise it - it certainly wasn’t his! The worst case scenario immediately springing to mind, Turpin took her by the shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position so he could remove the jacket from her and, hopefully, find out who it might belong to.

The movement caused Mary to wake up, and she blinked her eyes open, looking around sleepily in the semi-darkness.

“Whose is this?” Turpin demanded, holding the jacket up to her. “This jacket is certainly not mine, so whose is it?”

“Elliott,” Mary mumbled. She looked around, blinking, as if she thought he might be around.

Turpin sighed. Elliott. Of course it was bloody Elliott’s. The man was five months dead, and still he lingered like a ghost haunting his wife’s heart.

“Go back to sleep, Mary,” Turpin said. “I’ll put this away.”

Mary wanted to protest, but what could she say?

Instead, she closed her eyes as she laid back down on the pillow, tugging the duvet back over her to stop herself from shivering.

A few minutes later, the mattress sagged as Turpin joined her, wrapping an arm around her to hold her close to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his tone hard to interpret, somehow both a comfort and a firm reminder.

Yes, he was here - and Elliott wasn’t. Mary remembered falling asleep in his arms, having determined that he most definitely could still make love to her as a ghost.

That had happened, hadn’t it? She hadn’t gone so mad with grief that she’d imagined her dead lover returning to her?

No, it must have happened… how else would his jacket have ended up around her shoulders?

She shivered in the cold night, and her husband held her closer, doing his best to give her what warmth he could from his body.

Elliott had been warm too… he must have been real. He must have.

But where was he now?

[azuredawn81]

cherry jubilee with macklin!!!

'tis the damn season taylor

road not taken | macklin celebrini x ex gf!reader

♡ summary: everyone dated someone in elementary school. these relationships never lasted. macklin and y/n were no different. after all, their “dates” were just going to the park and drinking caprisuns or sitting on his couch watching pokemon. their “relationship” was just playing together at recess and y/n giving a short kiss on the cheek after his games. but even after their “break-up”, they were still good friends, until he moved in 2019. it’s been years now, with no contact, but now he’s coming back to vancouver to play the canucks.

♡ pairing: macklin celebrini x reader

♡ content: fluff, angst, insecure!macklin

♡ word count: 3k

♡ warnings: none

♡ prompt: ‘tis the damn season - taylor swift

♡ note: this was written with interspersed breaks of holiday inflatables.

♡ taglist: @devilinpradaheels @Summert158 @lekkerfrikandelletje @camiesully

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“so, hometown game,” will began, “how are you feeling?”

“i don’t know. it’s been my goal to be in the nhl, but now, i’m playing against my childhood team.”

“on your other childhood team.”

“the sharks don’t count.”

“i mean, you were a kid when you moved here.”

“the sharks don’t count.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin sat on the couch, with y/n. it had been such a big day. they had just wrapped up sixth grade, the end of elementary school.

“whatcha thinking about?” she asked, looking up from where she nestled at his side.

“us.”

“specifically?”

“i don’t know. i just like being your friend.”

“i like being your friend too.”

“it’s nice.”

“remember when we got married in your backyard?”

“y/n, don’t remind me.”

“you called me mrs celebrini for a month, until you forgot.”

“didn’t you ask aiden to help you divorce me?”

“maybe.”

“but look at us now.”

“do you wanna go run in the sprinkler.”

“is that even a question?”

she grabbed his hand and they ran next door to her house, into her backyard. her little sister was already playing in the sprinkler, overjoyed to see y/n and macklin.

it was going to be a nice summer.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

he had grown used to the mics all around him, all the time. that was the nature of being 1st overall, a star rookie, a standout player. he had grown used to the world knowing all about his life, his family, feeling like they were entitled to know more than what was already out on the internet.

“macklin! how do you feel about playing the canucks tomorrow?”

”were you excited about going to california?”

“did you miss vancouver?”

“are you excited to be back?”

“i never wanted to leave.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

“macklin, you’re so weird.”

“no, i’m not!”

“yeah, you are. you’re always with y/n.”

“and?”

“is she your girlfriend or something?”

“not anymore.”

“not anymore? so not even she wants to date you?”

“it’s not like that!”

“do you wish you were dating her?”

“i- she’s my best friend!”

“guys, macklin’s in love with y/n!”

“no, i’m not!”

“loser!”

macklin was quiet the whole car ride home from practice. everything said was true. he was weird. y/n was not his girlfriend anymore. not even she wanted to date him. he did wish he was dating her. he was in love with y/n.

“mom?”

“yes, dear?”

“how did you know you were in love with dad?”

“well, we went to school together and he was just super sweet.”

“would you be sad if he had moved?”

“macklin.”

“mom, it’s an honest question.”

“of course i would’ve been sad. he might not have gotten the chance to tell me how he felt.”

macklin let out a quiet sob. clearly, his situation was hopeless.

“what’s wrong, dear?”

“we’re moving in a few months. and i’ll be in c-california and y/n will be here.”

“i know she’s your friend, but you can make more friends down there.”

“mom, i have a crush on y/n!”

“oh my. now, that’s different.”

“and i can’t do anything about it because we’re moving!”

“mack, don’t start that. you know how much your father’s new job will help our family.”

“i’m her best friend too! she’ll have no one!”

“that’s not true. y/n is a little social butterfly.”

“i can’t leave her here.”

“i get that you’re having all these feelings, but you’re 12. you’ll meet other girls.”

“they aren’t her.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin sat on his bed in the hotel in vancouver. will was setting up his toiletries in the bathroom.

“it’s nice of them to let us stay a little bit after,” will said, trying to lighten the mood.

“yeah.”

“mack, are you okay? you’ve been moping this whole time.”

“it’s weird, will. this was my team. some of these guys were playing when i still lived here. i’ve seen quinn hughes play here.”

“and now you’re playing against him.”

“it’s weird!”

“there’s something else bugging you.”

“i’m fine.”

“mack, you can talk to me. we’re best friends.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

mom: look what i found

mom: attachment: one image

mom: i heard she’s going to be there

mack: ok?

mack: i haven’t talked to her since middle school.

mack: i don’t care.

mom: don’t give me that

mom: you two were best friends

mom: you should care a little bit

mack: i don’t

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

“c’mon, let’s go explore.”

“i don’t need to explore. i know this city.”

“how long has it been since you’ve been back? c’mon, macklin, let’s go.”

“fine.”

macklin and will made their way out of the hotel, ready to go out on the town.

“do you think you’ll recognize anyone?”

“i hope not.”

will must’ve spoken that into being or something, because right as they turned that corner, mack walked right into someone he knew.

“oh my god, macklin???”

“y/n?” his y/n. “are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m okay.”

“you guys know each other?” will asked, looking between y/n and mack.

“yeah… yeah, we do.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin couldn’t breathe. y/n had her head on his shoulder, her hands fidgeting in her lap. they were laying in the grass of her backyard, looking up at the vancouver sky together for the last time.

“do you really have to go?”

“i’d stay if i could.”

“you could stay with my family.”

“i don’t think your dad would like that.”

“it’d be fine.”

“he’d make me sleep on the porch.”

“that’s better than you being in stupid sacramento.”

“san francisco.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s not vancouver. it’s not next to me.”

“it’ll be good for hockey.”

“really? leaving vancouver will be good for hockey?”

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

“it’s fine.”

“no, it’s not.”

“macklin, you leave tomorrow. i can’t do anything about it.”

he laced his fingers in hers. “i’m sorry.”

“do you want to spend the night?”

“tonight?”

“well, you won’t be here tomorrow night.”

the two kids giggled as macklin pulled y/n to her feet and they ran inside.

“mom!”

“what is it?”

“can macklin spend the night?”

“tonight?”

“mom, he’s leaving!”

“i suppose. make good choices.”

she took his hand and walked upstairs to her room, the fairy lights creating a warm, inviting feel.

“i don’t have my pajamas.”

“lucky for you, you can’t remember to bring your stuff home.”

y/n opened a drawer, full of his stuff.

“that’s where it all went!”

he took a hoodie and pair of shorts and went to the bathroom to change. y/n put on one of mack’s big shirts, the fabric swallowing her whole. his dad had bought it a few sizes big on accident and never got around to returning it.

“y/n? are you decent?”

“yeah!”

macklin came back in. “remind me to steal my clothes back.”

“nah.”

“you’re the worst.”

they climbed underneath the fluffy pink duvet and just couldn’t stop giggling. “you’re my best friend.”

“you’re my best friend too, mack. always have been.”

“always will be?”

“nah, you’re ditching me and for what? the sharks?”

“y/n, please be serious.”

“of course, you’ll always be my best friend. will i always be yours?”

“duh.”

and there they laid, in y/n’s bed. they just talked and talked, planning visits and to reunite after high school. macklin shared how nervous he was, how badly he wanted to stay with his team, his home, her. y/n listened, her fingers tracing flowers and stars on his arm.

“what if you forget me?”

“like anything else is worth remembering.”

“i’m being real.”

“i won’t. but i have a real concern about you forgetting me.”

“i could never.”

“whatever you say, mr. hockey star.”

“y/n, i could the next mcdavid and wouldn’t forget you.”

“you say that now.”

“not even crosby could forget someone like you.”

“i’m sure he did. cole harbour is a lot smaller than pittsburgh.”

“he definitely visits.”

“yes, but everyone knows crosby. everyone knows mcdavid. everyone knows gretzky.”

“no one knows celebrini.”

“they will. but no one knows l/n.”

“i do.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

somehow, he’d ended up across the table from y/n at a little coffee shop. her hair was longer, her cheekbones more defined. she was more grown-up, but at the same time, the same girl he left here.

“so, what are you doing back in vancouver?” he asked, not looking up from his water.

“winter break.”

“where are you going to school?”

“university of toronto. great psychology program.”

“nice. i’m here for the game.”

“i know.”

“you do?”

“everyone knows, macklin.”

“so you knew i was on the sharks?”

“i didn’t stop following hockey when you left.”

“you never said anything after the draft.”

“what would i have said? hey macklin, sorry i haven’t reached out since we were thirteen. congrats on going first.”

“that would’ve been something.”

“i’m not the one who gave up.”

“are you saying i did?”

“i’m saying maybe the u14 aaa junior sharks had a little something to do with it.”

“don’t act like that, y/n!”

“you know, i thought for the longest time, maybe hockey just kept you busy and i shouldn’t take it personally. but then i saw that blonde in all your posts.”

“y/n, you don’t get it.”

“this is stupid. why did i bother? you’ve changed, i’ve changed. can’t expect a guy to remember you when he’s got a new toy.”

she stood up and took her espresso with her. “bye mack.”

“no y/n, come back.”

“why?”

“you can’t villainize me for dating someone else. we were friends. and you definitely dated people too.”

“so, let’s call it even. fresh start. i’m here for a few days. let’s catch up, clean slate.”

“i’m going home. you know where to find me.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

“dude, you got a date or what?”

“or what?”

“is it with that girl.”

“yep.”

“who is she?”

“y/n l/n. my best friend.”

“ouch.”

“sorry, will, she came first.”

“bros before hoes, mack.”

“will, there’s pictures of us in her bathtub in her mom’s scrapbook.”

“damn.”

macklin took a look in the mirror to adjust his tie. “how do i look?”

“snappy.”

“i’ll see you around.”

“use protection!”

“shut up, dude!”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

he stood in front of that familiar house, with the cream walls, the wrap around porch, and the brown door. mrs. l/n’s lavender bushes were still bright and vibrant, even after all these years. he raised his fist and knocked on the door. mr. l/n opened it, his eyes wide in shock.

“macklin?”

“is y/n home?”

he turned inside. “y/n! you have a gentleman caller!”

y/n appeared shortly after, in a little black dress and satin pumps. her makeup was perfect and her hair was in a cute half-up, half-down.

“speak of the devil.”

macklin quickly hugged her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. “missed you.”

“missed you too, big guy.”

“y/n, honey, did you arrange this?”

“yeah, we ran into each other earlier.”

“i see.”

“bye, dad.”

“make good choices.”

she stepped outside, her car keys in hand. she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and switched her keys to the other hand, so she could hold macklin’s.

“so, lily had to use the car for some outing with her boyfriend.”

“so…”

“we’re taking the truck.”

“that’s your dad’s baby!”

“i’m his baby, thank you very much.”

macklin helped y/n into the cab of the truck. “why’d he spring for such tall tires? he works in finance.”

“i barely understand the guy.”

she put the key into the ignition and put her bag in macklin’s lap. “thanks for being my passenger princess tonight.”

“yeah, your dad would kill me if i touched the wheel.”

after she turned the headlights on, she looked over at mack. in his eyes, she saw the same boy who held her hand under the stars, who threatened the playground bullies, who kissed her in order to steal the last cookie. she shook her head like an etch-a-sketch to erase the thought.

“where do you want to go?”

“we could just ride around.”

y/n put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway, turning onto the street.

“you’re trouble, celebrini.”

“yeah, but you love it.”

“i missed it.”

“what’d you do without me?”

“cried.”

“actually?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry.”

“blame your dad.”

“hey.”

“not like you wanted to leave anyway.”

“i missed you a lot too. california’s got nothing on you.”

“don’t lie.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

“y/n, did you hear?”

“hear what?” ”macklin’s supposed to be the top draft pick.”

“who?”

“celebrini? our old neighbor?”

“oh, him? cool, i guess.”

that was all anyone ever talked about. her mom, still close friends with robyn would never stop gushing about how great macklin was at hockey. the other people in her grade were thoroughly impressed that someone from little vancouver was going first, as if connor bedard hadn’t done it last year, as if macklin still lived here.

“didn’t you guys date?”

“yeah, in fourth grade.”

“but weren’t you friends?”

“not anymore.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin celebrini and will smith - two peas in a pod

celebrini and smith - star rookies and best friends

will and macklin - how their friendship is shaping sharks hockey

“i can’t believe this.” y/n said, flopping onto the bed in her dorm. “i’ve truly been replaced.”

“when did you last see each other?” lena, her roommate asked.

“not the point.”

“what’s the point then?”

“he said i’d always be his best friend.”

“didn’t he say that he’d never forget you too?”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin was chatting with will during warm ups when he noticed a sign with his face on it. the sign read “hey #71! i’ll trade you a kiss for a puck!” and had many, many hearts drawn on it.

he skated up to them and said “i need to see your face first!”

they dropped the sign reveal y/n. she made half of a hand heart, which macklin completed.

“meet me by the player tunnel after. name drop me. i’ll get you that kiss!”

“good luck! score a goal for me!”

“i’ll score five!”

macklin did, in fact, not score five goals. he scored two, which was good enough for y/n. she was let into the area by the locker rooms and waited patiently for macklin. eventually, he came out, his hair wet with water from his post game shower. his tie was askew, but that didn’t matter. this macklin - her macklin (not that she’d say that out loud) - looked the same as that macklin, the one who insisted she come to all of his games. he had that same glimmer in his eyes, the same smile when he say her.

“so about that kiss?” she said, batting her eyelashes.

“i have something to say first.”

“i have something to say too.”

“one?”

“two.”

“three.”

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

“you are?”

“since when?”

“y/n, i’ve been in love with you since we were ten and you asked me to be your boyfriend after grayson julian said she wanted to be my girlfriend. i remember you saying you couldn’t lose your best friend to someone mean like her. i loved you through every bad test, every argument over google slides templates for projects, every mile we had to run in pe. i loved you every mile i flew away. i loved you with every goal i scored, every assist i did, every pass i made. i loved you in san francisco, i loved you in minnesota, i loved you in chicago, i loved you in boston, i love you in san jose, and i love you here, in vancouver, if you’ll have me.”

“macklin celebrini, i am so extremely mad at you.”

“you are?”

“you ghosted me a week after you landed in california!”

“i didn’t know how to manage a relationship at age 13, much less a long distance one!”

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i know, i feel really stupid.”

“but you’re my idiot.”

“i am?”

“mack, i’ve been in love with you since we were nine and we were drinking caprisuns on my couch. i couldn’t get the straw to poke a whole and you took the pouch and did it for me. i was in love with you when you lost games and tournies, when you got picked on for being bad at math, and when we watched the stars in the backyard. i never stopped loving you.”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

macklin couldn’t breathe. y/n had her head on his shoulder, her hands fidgeting in her lap. they were laying in the grass of her backyard, looking up at the vancouver sky together.

“i didn’t want to leave. but i couldn’t stay.”

“mack…”

“if i could’ve stayed, i would’ve. i would’ve slept on your porch and given up hockey if i meant i could stay here, with you.”

“you don’t need to do that.”

“but i would. if i had a time machine, i’d go back and convince my parents to stay.”

“no.”

“what?”

“if you did, things would be different. yes, we might’ve dated in high school, but we also might’ve lost each other.”

“i guess you’re right.”

“aren’t you glad you kept your options open?”

“yeah,” he kissed her cheek, “i really am.”

“the road not taken is looking really good right now.”

“does it?”

“mhm… he’s tall with perfectly tousled hair and probably abs.”

“i’ve got abs.”

“prove it.”

“you’re terrible!”

“you love me!”

“yeah, i do.”

“we could just sleep out here.”

“it’s december in canada. we’re going inside.”

“sounds good, babe.”

“babe?”

“you like it?”

“love it.”

and with that, he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. he slipped one hand behind her head, the other one to her waist.

“i think i still owe you that kiss.”

[more-than-a-princess]

While Eira listed off her litany of family members, insisting she had plenty of them, Sonia gave her a soft smile in return. She had no idea, she thought, how terribly wealthy and fortunate she was: so many siblings, so many cousins! Surely in such a large family she could easily create a group of friends for life, and loneliness was something she rarely felt. Sonia envied her a little, but felt much more joy and relief for Eira.

Even though, coming from such a large family, she probably liked the solitude that came with living alone in her own flat.

"My mother's family is rather the same, she is the youngest of five siblings," Sonia offered, in her attempt to give sympathy. "She is also the only one only to have one child, whilst her siblings have had many. It is rather a sore point in my family, and the country for that matter. Not that I wish to give her much credit or understanding, but it should be kept in mind." Or so her father had explained: much of her mother's vitriol had come from the fact she'd disappointed her family and country simultaneously by only being able to have one child, and a girl at that. Five centuries of ruling kings and no one wanted a queen: the last time that had happened, it had been a disaster for Novoselic.

But she did understand family and tradition: the difference for Sonia was that family and tradition was the family business: they were intertwined, one and the same, something that could never be separated. "Goodness, your mother actually vocalizes her worries of becoming too old?" She gasped, eyebrows raised in alarm. "Mentioning the 'o' word in reference to my mother is all but illegal, pretty much! Unless you truly wish to get on her bad side, you never mention that she is..." A pause. Thousands of kilometers away and out of earshot and Sonia still had trouble saying it. "...old. Mine just wants me to have children to fulfill both mine and her duties, and in the hope that they won't be as big of a disappointment as I am." Having sons would be praiseworthy enough, but figures she couldn't nitpick and interests that were favorable amongst her social circles? All the better, alongside little disregard for the rules.

Suddenly, sipping the vodka and a single shot at that didn't seem like nearly enough. In an effort to keep up with Eira, Sonia took the rest of her shot in full, setting down the glass with little reaction to the liquid heat that warmed her belly. Flinching at imbibing spirits was hardly appropriate for a princess.

But the clatter of Eira's glass against the table was startling, causing Sonia to straighten in her seat at her friend's reaction of incredulousness. "But of course you shall attend!" Sonia exclaimed, chuckling. "If you should like to, of course. As I mentioned you will always have a standing invitation to my homes and any events. It's just that...it will always be more about the story my marriage will tell, rather than the person I marry or the marriage itself. Fairytale endings soothe the souls of the people and attract tourism: in my family, it doesn't really matter if I'll love him or not. As long as he is, as you say, 'the most boring cookie cutter of male marriageability.'"

It didn't matter if she'd look amazing or not. There would be a team of stylists and makers, not to mention some important couturier, to see to her gown, her accessories, her hair and makeup. It wasn't about how Sonia felt at all, just how she'd appear in video, in print, in paintings, in photographs, for the rest of her life and well beyond it.

"When I was younger, it was so easy to declare that I wouldn't make the mistakes of my parents," Sonia sighed. On an empty stomach, another shot of vodka was unwise. Yet she gave the bottle a longing glance anyway. "Make decisions about my personal life for the sake of the crown instead of my own happiness. That marrying for love would be easy for me and I'd do it just so I wouldn't hurt my future children the way I have been. And yet now it seems easier said than done: the older I get, the same social circles I must keep, and everyone seems so shallow and tiresome-"

And if by the grace of God, Eira's doorbell rang: the food had, from the gentle smell of curry wafting even from underneath the door, arrived. "Dead animals and familial commiseration!" Sonia said, getting to her feet. "That's enough to work up an appetite for anyone. Shall I get the door?"

"Only child, hmph, sometimes I wonder what that may have been like." Eira ponders, though it's far from a wishful tone. "By the time I was born. My oldest brother was already engaged. Stefan was dating his now wife. I have nieces that are almost as old as I am. Though they're more like cousins, really. And I have plenty of those aside, too." She observes after taking a shot of the vodka.

No, she would not be sipping it. Her family would balk at the visual.

"But... I'm still their only daughter, and I don't think it's possible for my mother to have enough grandchildren the way she talks about some of my siblings. Can you imagine? If all my brothers had six children like she and father did?" Eira laughs, an expression of incredulity. Thankfully she knew it wasn't possible. Her brother Gav who received a similar form of treatment as she did about his marital status, was even less likely than she to have a family.

Thirty nieces and nephews. That's far too many.

"So no. It's not about the business or anything like that, it's the family and some semblance of tradition. She's particularly set on getting to spend time with mine before she's too old. If I didn't sunset this chapter of my life any sooner she may have ... ugh, I don't know. Something."

All this rambling and she had only one healthy toss of the liquor, what a night may be ahead of her. Hopefully not one of the same caliber as the first she had spent with Sonia. Passing out in undignified fashion was bad enough when she was a guest, but doing so here with Sonia at her own condo was another thing entirely.

"Not as joyful as your coronation?!" Eira balks at the other's words. The empty shot glass finding a loud purchase back on the table next to the bottle. "Well, I would see to that. Because I will be attending, and I will bring about some manner of festivity. Even if you do have to marry the most boring cookie cutter instance of male marriageability." A horribly disappointing law of her life, that Eira can only sympathize with. Her only retaliation was looks and biting remarks from her mother. Sonia had the country. Still. "It will still be a day about you. Certainly more than your coronation would allow for. And. You'll look amazing." Eira huffs with confidence, arms folded and smile bright.

"But that's a given. Isn't it?" And she would know- she's a veteran of these sort of things, attending for family and friends since she was an infant. "I'm sure there's at least one person out there that you would want to marry. It's just a matter of..." A thought back to earlier, how the narrow windows of their schedules had already written off several plausible duo vacations. "Finding the time to meet then, I suppose. Or rely on them meeting you. Tch. And how do you filter that out from the garbage suitors women of our caliber deal with?"

[deadinarussianelevator]

I turn 31 tomorrow

[rosekasa]

there is something so. intensely frustrating about feeling incapable of showing up for people the way that they want you to

[fitzrove]

Not only have several of my former classmates gotten married, just found out that now one is having a kid?? 😭😭 just reiterating: i cant believe some people my age are doing that dklsldls. Where do they find time to work/study AND develop intricate crown prince rudolf headcanons once they do that

[burnnouts]

"It seems there is much I might learn from you." The words were, in part, simple flattery; that was, after all, the purpose of this ball, this meeting--to bring peace between their new nations, to settle old disputes and let the bad blood dry at last. But there was truth there as well. They had lived very different lives, seen different lands, and met very different people along their journeys. The North was adamant that the Southerners did not--and could not--understand their traditions, but Robb understood that this went both ways. The North was secluded. Even when it had been part of the Seven Kingdoms, it had truly been a land of its own: its own gods, its own customs. There was much about life in the South they simply did not understand.

When the war had begun, when his men had first declared him King in the North, Robb had naively believed they might live forever in a sort of self imposed isolation. That they might cut the South off for good and he might never have to worry again about the lands and people beyond his own borders. Now, he saw how foolish that was. They had gotten their independence, but neighbors they remained, and understanding the South was the first step toward prolonged peace between their new nations.

"No," Rob agreed. "Survival is to win the war. When the war is over, you still must live in the world you have created." Had they created a good one? He had asked himself that same question every day since the war had begun. Was he doing the right thing? Had he truly avenged his father? Were his decisions as king the right ones to protect his people and keep the North safe? And right there was part of the problem: he had spent so long worrying about keeping them safe; now, he must make sure they were happy.

He was quiet as she spoke of her time in Dorne. He had not dared to ask, but he could not help but wonder about her time in that land, about the marriage she had almost had. It was clear in her words that she was happy there. He, too, had been happy once. Happily married, expecting a child. And he had lost it all in a single night. Had that been his sacrifice, as she'd said? "I am sorry you had to leave. It sounds as if you were happy. I wish you did not have to give up such things, though it is our duty, I suppose, as you've said. You are braver than I. When given the choice, I chose what my heart ached for." A girl he was not meant to marry, a vow that broke his oath. And it had nearly cost him everything.

"I do not regret it, but I regret that others were hurt in the process. I regret that it was a choice that had to be made." He cleared his throat. He would rather not think about his late wife. He wondered if she felt the same when she spoke of Tristan--that tearing pain in her chest, that ache. "My father taught me that fear was part of ruling. He said he woke with fear in the morning and went to bed with fear in the night. I didn't believe him. I asked him, 'How can a man be brave if he's afraid?' That's the only time a man can be brave, he told me. If you are afraid, I believe you must be doing something right."

He smiled. "I might melt." Yet, he was not a full Northener. He had the Riverlands in his blood just as much as he did Winterfell. Walking through the sunshine, feeling that warmth upon his skin, had been the best part of the war.

He took her hand as it was offered. "Lead the way, Your Grace."

Myrcella   smiled   at   Robb’s   words,   the   soft   glow   of   the   hall   casting   delicate   shadows   across   her   face.   There   was   a   certain   tension   in   his   awkwardness   that   she   found   endearing—an   echo   of   the   Robb   Stark   she   had   heard   stories   about,   the   young   lord   who   had   fought   so   fiercely   for   the   North   and   now   wore   a   crown   as   heavy   as   her   own.   The   Queen   of   the   Six   Kingdoms   held   herself   with   a   grace   learned   in   the   courts   of   King's   Landing   and   honed   by   the   trials   of   rulership,   but   she   had   never   forgotten   her   time   in   Dorne.   It   was   a   part   of   her,   just   as   surely   as   the   Baratheon   blood   in   her   veins.

“War   has   taught   us   many   things,”   she   said,   her   voice   light   but   not   without   meaning.   “But   it   is   peace   that   teaches   us   how   to   live.   The   dances   and   feasts   I   once   attended   seemed   so   frivolous   in   the   wake   of   battle,   but   I’ve   come   to   realize   they   have   their   place,   too.   They   remind   people   what   we   are   fighting   for.”

Her   gaze   lingered   on   him,   his   stiff   posture   and   careful   smile   betraying   the   burden   he   carried   as   king.   She   understood   it   better   than   most.   The   Six   Kingdoms   had   watched   with   wide   eyes   as   she   legitimized   her   siblings—bastards,   some   would   call   them,   though   she   never   did.   It   had   been   necessary,   and   yet,   the   whispers   that   followed   her   every   step   had   grown   louder   with   each   passing   day.   “The   North   has   always   known   survival,”   she   continued,   “but   survival   is   no   longer   enough   for   us,   is   it?”

She   hesitated,   wondering   how   much   to   share.   She   chose   to   answer   a   question   he   hadn’t   quite   asked,   yet   one   she   felt   they   both   understood.   “I   miss   Dorne   sometimes,”   she   admitted   softly.   “The   warmth,   the   colors,   the   freedom   of   it.   Trystane.   But…   being   queen   means   making   choices.   Sacrifices.   It   means   always   looking   forward,   even   when   your   heart   aches   for   what   you   left   behind.”

“I   never   thought   I   would   rule,   and   now   that   I   do,   I   find   that   fear   is   my   constant   companion—fear   of   making   the   wrong   choice,   of   failing   the   people   who   rely   on   me.   But   I   suppose   you   understand   that   better   than   anyone.”   Her   eyes   found   his   again,   a   shared   understanding   passing   between   them.   They   had   both   inherited   crowns   they   hadn’t   been   born   for,   and   the   weight   of   them   was   not   easily   shared.

“Perhaps   one   day,   you   will   see   Dorne,”   Myrcella   added   with   a   faint   smile.   “Though   I   must   warn   you—once   you   feel   the   sun   on   your   skin   there,   you   may   never   wish   to   leave.”   She   let   out   a   soft   laugh,   one   that   felt   surprisingly   easy   in   his   company.   “And   as   for   dancing…”   She   stepped   a   little   closer,   offering   her   hand   with   a   playful   glint   in   her   eye.   “If   you   wish   to   remember   how,   your   queen   would   be   happy   to   help   you   relearn. ”

[silviakundera]

Haha I also used the dickless bore. I thought that only the two main characters came back didn't know he did as well. I still don't buy him ever being into her but that's just me I do wonder if he's going to try and kill her again. I do think Li Rong is treating him too well for my liking she should at least treat hit similarly or worse than she treated ML I want to see wet paper towel non stop suffer.

on one hand, imo a SRQ who is heartless doesn't work for the story the writer is trying to share with us. On the other hand, it's totally ok to decide to be a full-time hater towards a minor character, just because it's fun. I support haters! 🎉 \o/ 🎉

One thing that I think is relevant when comparing LR's reactions: if PWX had killed her, the motive would have been as part of his mission to have his childhood love Qin Zhenzhen's son become the next emperor. (Remember, he came over to threaten her life over that right before she died and called his ex Zhenzhen lmao) THE AUDACITY. In contrast, LR is viewing her murder at SRQ's hands as part of the revenge plan for the Su family's execution.

Some passages of Li Rong's POV:

After a few moments, she whispered: “Where did the scent on you come from?”

“If I say it, you might be upset.” Pei Wenxuan’s eyes had a hint of gloating at others’ pain.

Li Rong thought for a while and frowned, “Su Rongqing?”

“Yes.”

...Li Rong said nothing. She blankly stared into the fire.

Pei Wenxuan turned the fish over and looked at her with a smile, seemingly quite happy. Li Rong found that he had a fearless, unabashed look of enjoying a good play and couldn’t help but be a little fazed.

She believed everything Pei Wenxuan said.

---

Su Rongqing was someone that she saved with her own hands.

That year, Prince Su rebelled, and Su Rongqing’s elder brother spoke up for Prince Su. Later on, he was falsely accused of colluding with Prince Su, implicating the Su clan with treason.

At that time, Li Chuan was so furious that he fainted. He put the entire Su clan in prison without going through the Joint Trial of Three Divisions first and put the men to death and the women into exile. She disagreed with this decision and rushed to beg Li Chuan before the Su clan received their sentence. After being subjected to ten planks, with Pei Wenxuan’s intervention, she was finally able to ask for amnesty for the Su clan.

Even if the death sentences can be forgone, it was impossible to escape punishment while still alive. Even though the men of the Su clan could live, they would be subjected to castration. The others couldn’t bear the humiliation, so they all committed suicide in prison. When she arrived, there was only one man “desperate for life and afraid of death” left among the men of the Su clan, Su Rongqing.

At that time, she had told Su Rongqing that she saved him without the intention of asking him to repay her. She could give him silver and a position, so that he could continue to live a good life in the future.

Back then, she didn’t have any special feelings towards Su Rongqing. It was just that he had saved her before, so after he took care of her, bit by bit, she felt grateful, and…vague sentiments towards him.

For the most part, she sought to save the Su clan for Li Chuan and her own conscience. The Su clan was a prominent, noble family. It was difficult for her to sit back and watch if they died in such an ambiguous manner.

At that time, Su Rongqing refused to go.

...It wasn’t that she had never thought that Su Rongqing would not take revenge on her. After all, it was Li Chuan who ordered all the men of the Su clan to be beheaded and exiled all the female family members. It was impossible for anyone to forget this blood feud, let alone the formerly first and most outstanding gongzi of that year?

For so many years, she had never dared to give him real authority, observing him and guarding against him while still trying to help him live a better life. She couldn’t actually kill him because of her own conscience, but she couldn’t actually trust him and give him power.

In the end, he still decided to act. He killed her first, then successfully took her authority in the name of eliminating Pei Wenxuan. If she guessed correctly, he would not leave with the advisors. Instead, he would borrow the excuse of taking revenge for her and enforcing the will of the people to join forces with the Empress, assist Li Xin in ascension, and fight to the death against the remnants of Pei Wenxuan’s faction.

...

She had anticipated this possibility from the moment she took Su Rongqing in, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit regretful when it actually happened.

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)

[thebirdandhersong]

the way my parents talk sometimes it seems like they think the Worst Possible Timeline is the one where I don't get married and don't give them the grandkids they want lol

[lingeringscars]

layla's relationship with jordan is just so interesting. When they were younger, she was liv's best friend. liv and jordan were also best friends. and layla pretended like jordan was just some annoying guy that hung around. sometimes, that was truly what she thought. most of the time, he was her best friend's brother. and on other occasions, he was one of her closest friends.

he was probably her first crush, but in a way that was never discussed because he was eww a boyyy and liv's brother. she'd secretly be glad when he showed up, while making a show of how annoyed she was that he was interfering with their time.

she would make an excuse when her head turned looking for him as they got older, and he stopped hanging around as much. she'd roll her eyes when he was around, though secretly enjoyed it. and around the same time that it seemed clear that jordan was interested in everyone but her, she thought asher and her made more sense.

and jordan became someone she sometimes hung out with in a large group who messed around with anyone but her. their easy intimacy never disappeared, but layla's feelings did. she never fully addressed or admitted to them, even to herself, and she felt that could never happen anyway. asher was her boyfriend. and then spencer arrived, and she was immediately interested in a way she hadn't been with asher in a long time. she felt disconnected from him, and spencer brought back a spark she hadn't felt since her mom died.

jordan was no longer a focus, was barely considered a friend, and he was still her best friend's brother. but for all her work reconnecting with liv, she never tried with jordan because, well, they were never friends in the first place. a lie she got very, very good at telling herself.

until he did become her best friend. until it was him she was turning to in her darkest moments. it was him that brought her relief, and it was him that she fell in love with but, once again, could not admit to. he was her best friend this time, though. he wasn't just a person hanging around. he wasn't just liv's twin brother. he was her person. and once she admitted that to herself, the rest was over. he was never going to be anything less, and she would not lie to him about her feelings for him after that. she needed to protect herself. he had walls he still needed to break down to get to all of her, but once he had, he had all of her, and he will for the rest of their lives.