#like his more white than blue like the rest but i put pcs away in my binder in age order so bg is in the middle so it’s fine ❤️‍🩹

[doyunhos]

waited forever for these but the pcs are so cute i don’t think i even care 😭

[wafflebloggies]

the long con - part 7/7

a Don't Feed The Muse/Captain Disillusion crossover story. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

*

The Captain stood in the middle of the Mayhew’s front hall, letting the door swing slowly to behind him. In the warm darkness, his sharp eyes sought a point up and to the left, moved away, found the deeper vacancy ahead where the foyer led to the second floor. The hallway was high and open, with a long transom of square panes above the door and a thin sidelight window like a straight slatted backbone to each side. The streetlights cast a tall golden gateway, surprisingly bright, framing his shadow and stretching across and along the glossy wood floor.

He put out a hand, found a switch. The illusion was broken, warm light picking out an ordinary, tidy, two-story space, with pictures on the walls and filling a sideboard of heavy red wood, an open room to the side mostly taken up by a big dining-table, with all of the chairs pushed neatly in. Faith, said a little wooden ornament hanging from the ceramic keyplate by the door, in painted letters. Be Joyful Always, Pray Continually, advised the big dark span of barnwood, directly under the transom, in a looping, light-hearted font.

Precious Memories, said a long picture-frame directly across the hall, busy with a collage of photos of two children- no, three, as the Captain took another closer look he saw that Anthony was there too, in several photos with Mark, from kids barely school-age to teens to two grinning adults with their arms draped around each other.

The Captain looked away from the pictures and up the wooden staircase, to the darkness where the banister gave a sharp right-angled bend around a hidden corner, disappeared into shadows. He removed his other hand slowly from his jacket pocket, cleared his throat.

“I come in peace,” he said.

The house seemed unimpressed. That it seemed to be anything was a peculiar feeling, that the Captain would have been more than happy to chalk up to his hyper-awareness, to the extremely weird day he was having, to anything other than the fact that there was a sluggish heaviness to the air and that his head had started to hurt again, dully, as soon as he’d stepped over the threshold.

He climbed the shadowy staircase. The first half was easy, with the hallway lights at his back, his shadow dark and jagged up the treads in front of him as if it was in a hurry to get there first. Past watercolours and a framed cross-stitch, to the turn. The darkness beyond, up to the landing, was heavy, like a physical curtain barring the upper floor from sight. It felt, to the Captain, like it was daring him to come any closer.

The Captain was irritable enough, by this point, to take it straight up on the offer. He snapped his fingers, and a screen shaped itself above his hand, lighting the way. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that it was playing the sewer scene from IT, and he tapped at it impatiently until it settled down into a featureless, even light. As he continued to the top of the stairs, it bathed the walls, the farmhouse-style shutter on the landing window, the surprising spindly shape of a side-table, in a uniform white-blue glow.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his voice. “You can drop the slasher movie act. I know you’re here.”

The hallway was as tidy and scrupulously clean as the rest of the house. He turned left, through a panelled door, and found himself in a mid-sized bedroom. Here, the methodical upkeep seemed to have faltered. It didn’t feel so much like the result of a messy nature, than simply a creeping lack of care. The bed was unmade and the floor was scattered with clothes. DVD cases were piled everywhere in untidy stacks, and a PC stood on a cluttered, dirty desk littered with discs and papers.

The Captain glanced at everything, seemed to pay attention to nothing in particular, missed very little. There were more photos pinned here and there between the collage of movie posters that covered the walls, several stuck up near the bed. A dark-haired woman with smiling eyes and a fretful-looking guy with a snub nose and glasses. Mark and the other, older kid. Mark and Anthony, again, in matching track shirts, beaming at the camera.

He looked at the photo, at all of the photos, at the only movie poster in a frame, on the wall next to the closet door.

“The original trilogy was better,” he said.

As if this was a password, the closet door cracked open, just a tiny bit. The Captain stepped back sharply, his screen sputtering for a second before it regained its form. He stood, facing the slatted door, a bright yellow shape in a sea of blue and white and dark slanting shadows, and he didn’t move again, not even when a low, liquid sound like a burbling laugh seeped slowly up his spine and rose, like black groundwater, into the back of his mind.

“Oh, no. I don’t do the whole ‘telepathy’ thing. Come on, it’s only polite, if you want to have a conversation, use your words.”

...my words?

The Captain blinked. A very small amount of black, almost indistinguishable from the thin streaky line that held his mask in place over the chrome, started to wind its way from his nose. He sniffed it away, sharply.

“There you go. Much better.”

you. shouldn’t. be here.

“Yeah, well, I was invited. What’s your excuse?”

The feeling of laughter again, sluggish and thick.

we thought. our host was. more reliable. but… he still has. so much. to lose. our methods always work. in the end. he only needs. a little more

motivation.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about your methods.” The Captain folded his arms. “Enough to be pretty sure I don’t like them. I can’t say I understand what your endgame is here, but you nearly got two people killed tonight, and that’s definitely not the way to build a lasting partnership. You can’t ‘motivate’ humans to make art by making them miserable. And, I hope you don’t need me to spell it out, but you can’t be someone’s creative inspiration if they’re dead.”

He dropped his voice, his tone serious, earnest. “Listen, let me give you the low-down on this, okay? I know these people. I know how they work. I’ve been here, learning about them, living with them, for a long time. Well- not literally with them, a few thousand kilometres above them most of the time if you wanna get specific- but the point is, I know how you feel right now. You’re small, you’re scared, you think you’re all alone on this weird planet, and I know you probably think this is the only way you can get what you need, but it’s not. All these lies, all this- manipulation, trying to cut this poor kid off from the rest of his species just so you can coerce him into swallowing your screwed-up version of reality, it’s- it’s not gonna fly.”

no…?

The closet door moved again, as if stirred by a breath. There was a new note in the voice, now. Curdled and laboured still, even as it halted and pawed slowly and thickly through each word, it sounded chillingly gleeful.

it seems. to have worked. for you.

“Alright, that’s it-” The Captain stepped forwards, grabbed the handle, and in one move threw the closet door wide open.

It was empty.

Or, not quite empty. As the Captain stood, confused, looking into a shallow space with a few hangars still bundled on the rail, a few boxes stacked on shelves above, he could make up a dark, spreading splotch in the lower corner. By the light of his screen he could see it, like a burn, a sludgy Pompeii cast, the shadowy shape where something had been for a while and was no longer. The impressions of fine lines, like fern fronds or fungus, crawled across the carpet and the walls, radiating outwards, etched like the marks of something that had been clinging on for dear life with a grip that stained and scarred.

The Captain looked at it, and a shivery crawling ice-cold sensation travelled slowly all the way up to the top of his head. It was the feeling of adjusting ideas. He’d been quick to point out, earlier, that Mark’s ideas were not set in stone, that his certainties could still change and that being open-minded was not just necessary but healthy, a vital critical skill. He was, on the whole, a huge fan of the concept. What he was not a fan of was the simple difference between knowing, on Mark’s advice, that the thing was in the closet and couldn’t move, and now knowing that yes it could and it might be anywhere.

A sound, low and somehow sticky, just above the threshold of silence. The Captain turned, sharply, looked up. Flung up an arm, the bright screen at his shoulder flaring and scattering apart as his concentration broke-

-and the light went out.

*

pathetic.

The voice, slow and satisfied, in the darkness.

you thought you were. the only one who could see. these humans. how they really are. you thought. you have. the insight… to understand… us?

from them?

or.

from you?

It felt like drowning, bodiless, a sinking scrap of flotsam in a sea of black ink. It felt like dying. It felt like falling, hurtling through space, without the strength to stop or save himself, bright stars burning above, black earth below. It felt like-

small. scared.

The voice was laughing.

alone.

Somewhere, a million miles away in the physical world, he knew his body still existed, still moved and breathed. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see anything but the blackness and the terrible awareness of the thing that had been playing with Mark Mayhew for months, the ghastly enveloping consciousness of a thing that was bigger, somehow so much bigger, than any gluey spitball lump in a closet had the right to be.

He had been wrong. He had tried to think, he had wanted to think, that the thing felt huge because it had such a strong hold, that it seemed so vast and looming because of how much it overshadowed Mark’s mind, how much it had gorged itself on the ideas and energy of the human it had chosen. Now, too close and too late, he felt the full scale of it, the sense of many, the voice in his head just one swollen tendril of a gargantuan, interconnected whole.

so weak. so limited. so much. like us but… so much less. you attached yourself to one human. one host. to survive. his ideas. gave you form.

The feeling of intrusion, of this careless amused thing pawing clumsily through his memories, was an obscene assault on all of the senses he had left. He would have screamed, if he’d still been in control of anything to scream with.

his power to create. yours. his identity. yours. such short-sighted… waste. to chain yourself to one. finite. human. when every idea in this world. could be yours.

you chase. their approval. try to influence. their minds. always afraid… that they will stop. giving.

that he will forget you.

A long, complacent, unbearable breath. Wet, slow, full of teeth, the sound of a wide, wide, jagged smile.

humans forget. so easily. our host. will not know. what became of you. in time. he will give us. his ideas. his channel. his friend. his mind. in time. he will give us. everything he has left. and with Reconnection… everything he was. will only be another part. of us.

of all. of us.

of MOTHER.

Eyes and teeth, teeth and eyes. A world, a whole world of nothing but heaving black and gold, hunger and hatred.

With a horrendous effort, the Captain looked back. Made himself look. To remember he had a mouth, a tongue, a voice of his own, that he knew words, that he had something to say, these things felt like the most arduous impossibilities in the world, but to remember them was to grasp that they were real. That if these things were real-

-so was he.

“You… forgot…” He had to stop, gather strength. Every word felt like it weighed a ton, his voice weak, thin, like the echo of something only half there. But he could hear it, he could hear himself, the reassurance of the sound existing in a physical space, an incontrovertible reality.

As if his voice was a locus, a signal in the dark, he began to grasp some sense of what kind of a space it was. Wood panelling, clean stone flags, copper pans and utensils hanging from the ceiling like strange fruit, a door somewhere to the left with thick, dimpled glass. Not the place he’d lost himself in. Perhaps he’d wandered down the dark, creaking stairs without knowing it, perhaps he’d been drawn mechanically down, closer, the cellar door a yawning black mouth at the kitchen’s end. He couldn’t know for sure, but it mattered very little as long as he could sense that there was movement, here in the darkness. Something besides himself.

He tried again.

“… forgot something…”

The voice was amused. It couldn’t hear, or maybe it was deaf altogether, to the sharp bright sound that was growing clearer by the second in the Captain’s mind. He could feel the sluggish thing gathering itself, maybe bored of this game, maybe too hungry to resist much longer, even for fun.

oh? tell us.

The Captain’s gloved hands felt numb and a billion miles away from his body, but with his rising sense of where he was came control, and with slow groping fingers he found the pocket of his jacket, felt inside. Brought out Alan’s phone, the screen bright, the call-time ticking.

And then there was a click, and a sick, squishing, suckery smack, and as light flooded across the kitchen Mark was at his side, his pale bloodless face full of fury and loathing, his own phone clattering to the floor as he grabbed and held the thing, his Muse, tightly clamped in both hands.

“I heard everything, you slimy little shit.”

In the blinding yellow light Mark’s Muse was a pathetically small thing, barely a double handful of writhing tendrils and beady little black eyes, screaming and yammering up a hail of noise in both of their minds as it flailed in shock and outrage. Inky goop ran bubbling and dripping, twisting down Mark’s arms to the elbows as he raised it, holding it at revolted arms-length away from his chest, ripping every frantic hold it had on walls and skin and clothing loose in one savage yank as he strode away across the kitchen.

no no no no no! Mark! please!! your m-

The voice broke off into a horrendous wail, as Mark slam-dunked the squirming mass straight down into the sink, slamming the button with one bony elbow and stuffing the shrieking thing right into the hungry buzzing throat of the garbage disposal.

A spray of black ichor, a terrible gloopy crunch. The mechanism struggled for a moment or two, getting to grips with such an unexpected, unwieldy meal, but after a heart-stopping cartilaginous crack and a couple of deep munching growls it evened up into a nice, even, disengaged purr. A little inky water rose, filling the sink to barely an inch, before it rippled quietly back down, and the water ran clear.

*

It was barely dawn on the morning of the next day. A fine, blue summer morning, already hot, the rain still lying in puddles and glittering in the grass, ready to be baked out of existence by the day’s heat.

Alan, about as awake as anybody would be, jangled abruptly out of sleep by the doorbell, stumbled to his front door as if the remains of his vivid and troubled dreams were tumbled about like an obstacle-course, getting in his way. The feeling of unreality failed to entirely go away even after he had gotten the door open, and squinted sleepily out with a hand up to shield against the soft rising sunlight, because the Captain was standing on his front path, with every appearance of having rung the doorbell himself. At least, there was nobody and nothing else in sight, although Alan took a bewildered look up and down the length of the potholed driveway that ran along the side of the building, towards the road.

It wasn’t solely that the Captain didn’t generally do doorbells, or knocking- though he didn’t- or that he looked distinctly uncomfortable- though he did. It was unusual and alarming enough that he was here at all, let alone here, so weirdly still and awkward-looking and lacking any immediate, demanding motive, at stupid o’clock on a Sunday morning, with nothing to explain himself apart from a small cardboard tray.

On a normal, day-to-day basis, the Captain barely acknowledged that Alan had a life beyond Disillusion Industries. Although very far from the way he’d been, a long time ago, it certainly was the way he navigated things now. If faced with evidence that Alan did not exclusively pop into being whenever the Captain required him to exist, that he was an actual person who had to do boring human things like eat and sleep and pay taxes, had family, friends, a home- he tended to handle it poorly. Alan had slowly come to accept this selective blindness as a good thing, on the whole, given that when the Captain did manage to co-opt some other element of Alan’s life into Disillusion Industries, his approach could be… less than careful. The last time he had ever come anywhere near this quiet suburban street, on a certain memorable occasion nearly six years prior, he’d entered Alan’s apartment through a window, and left through the roof.

Seeing the Captain standing on his narrow little strip of a front walk, therefore, made Alan nervous. The roof was long since fixed, and he really wanted it to stay that way.

“Captain?” Alan stifled a yawn so strenuous it nearly made his jaw pop. “I- I know you said early, but it’s not even six yet…”

The Captain hesitated, then dug in his jacket pocket with his free hand. There seemed to be a quantity of dull black staining, like dried ink, in an arterial spray across his front, making him look as if he’d stood in the way of a minor printer malfunction.

“Here’s your phone,” he said, awkwardly, passing it across. Finding it sticky with the same dark congealed goop, Alan took it very gingerly between finger and thumb, and with no better idea of what to do with it, wiped it off on the hem of his shirt.

“…Thanks.”

Leica, a small, lithe bundle of calico fur and curious ears, padded around his legs and greeted the Captain like an old friend, her coat a vivid hodgepodge of orange-black-white-orange as she twined happily around his ankles in the early sun. The comforting normalcy of her presence made it easier for Alan to go on.

“What happened last night, Captain? Why did you make me promise to go straight home from the hospital? Why did you need my phone? Is- is everything alright?”

The Captain stooped to scratch Leica in the sweet spot, the fluffy white bib under her chin. She leaned into his touch, squinting her large green eyes. Here, her confidence had the advantage over Alan’s, in that she had known the Captain her entire life, and had never known him to treat her with anything other than affectionate respect.

“I brought coffee,” he said.

Alan was thrown enough by this extraordinary statement, without immediately being faced with proof that it was true, as the Captain straightened up again and handed him a takeaway cup from the little cardboard holder. The fact that it was stone cold (unsurprising, as it originated in a café chain located several hours to the north) barely registered with him. It always used to be, he remembered, vaguely. Regardless of all the difficult scientific realities he understood without a hitch, the Captain had never quite managed to grasp the concept of thermal entropy over time.

“Wh-”

“Alan, if you say ‘why,’” said the Captain, in a headlong, completely desperate voice, “I’m going to lose my mother- hecking- mind. We need to talk about so much- like, all of the things- and I have no idea how to start. I have no idea- how- to explain myself.”

(what happened? i don’t remember what happened. does it matter? we’re okay, aren’t we? we’re both okay.)

“I mean- I’ve never had any idea how to explain you,” said Alan, cautiously. “If that helps? And we… we kind of agreed we wouldn’t try, didn’t we? Right at the beginning.”

The Captain shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

Now that Alan was awake enough to look closer, see more, the Captain definitely looked as if he’d been through something. The splattering of black goop was worrying enough, considering he was the only person Alan knew (or had ever known) who bled black, but he didn’t look hurt anywhere- just exhausted, like something since the hospital had completely floored him and he’d only just made it back upright. It wasn’t just that, either. The Captain looked terribly shaken. He was always so quick to ward off any idea that he wasn’t one-hundred-percent perfect, hiding any real weakness or bad feeling under a million layers of prickly dramatic deflection that made it impossible for most people to even tell if it was genuine or not, that Alan couldn’t feel through to any way of asking if he really was alright.

He didn’t look alright, and he’d ignored even the least direct approach to the question, and there the options dead-ended. The best Alan could do was ask something else, something that at least got close.

"What was it, Captain?"

"Something... here from somewhere else."

This at least felt like a straight answer, if not exactly a complete one. "Like..." Alan hesitated. "Like you?"

The Captain flinched. "No. Nothing... nothing like me."

“Are those kids going to be okay?”

“Kids? Come on, Alan, they’re like twenty-five.” When Alan only continued to look at him, the Captain sighed. “Yes. Probably. More okay than they’d… well, that’s probably something else we need to talk about. I told you I have no idea how to start. But I- I couldn’t risk you getting caught up in the whole thing. I needed to know you were a really long way away, or I couldn’t have…”

“I mean, I understand that,” said Alan.

The Captain looked at him with some amount of surprise, and enough relief to make Alan suddenly not at all certain he understood anything at all. “You do?”

“Sure? It was superhero stuff, it’s not like there was anything I could have done.” He waved his free hand vaguely at the Captain, who wasn’t helping his confusion by watching him with a sinking, anxious kind of disappointment in his half-silver face. Falling back on self-deprecation at least felt safe, not as strange or as unsettling as the growing realisation that the moment in the shuttle the previous day might not just been a painful one-off piece of weirdness, that something between them could actually have changed and stayed changed.

“You’re Captain Disillusion, I’m just… the guy that does your laundry.”

“That’s not true. It’s- never- been true. Alan, I…” The Captain struggled for a moment or two, like he was wrestling with something big and painful stuck in his throat, then ran a hand across his face, scrubbing off a few dried flecks of black from his nose and dragging a finger gingerly under the line of his mask, as if all of a sudden it was bothering him. He glanced up at the sun, still rising above the thin fence of palings that ran the length of the driveway, and then looked at Alan, directly, his sharp bright eyes defiant, vulnerable, sorry, bewildered.

“… Can I come in?”

Alan blinked a couple of times, then smiled. He reached out and took the Captain’s coffee, still in the little cardboard holder, and tucked his own cup in the space next to it.

“Of course. Come in, Captain. Let me heat these up a little, and… we can talk.”

[springvaletales]

((Session 61 is wrapped!))

It’s official: We’re splitting the party.

Ena’s player has classes that run until 8, and is insistent on not holding the rest of us up, and Asahi’s player doesn’t want to get separated from her newly-proposed-to-wife, so Ena and Asahi will be leaving the ship de to Ena’s intense seasickness and having their own (landlocked) adventures with Michael, Vashael & co.

Meanwhile, Bagelby, Thiori, Sir Carl Jaeger and possibly Lex (her player is traveling today and can’t attend) will be continuing on with the ship's crew toward Pirate Island.

I’ve decided that the ship needs more crew than just the six PCs - especially since they’re immediately losing two - so there’s now a bunch of Warforged, green dragonborn, and dwarves on board as well. Not a single one of them has a backstory yet.

The session started with Ena and Asahi being escorted back to the port via rowboat while the main ship waited for a signal to sail ahead from a lighthouse at the edge of the port. They’ll have their own adventure where poor Ena won’t have to be constantly throwing up, I promise.

Bagelby is quickly befriending Captain Rip N’Tear with all of his questions about the Gourman Sea Haze, the lighthouse and it’s weathermancers, and the inky black and razor sharp coral that forces ships to sail through ‘channels’ all throughout the sea.

Bagelby also showed off the palantir while rambling through a series of increasingly implausible events that Actually Happened to the party in the last three months.

While holding the palantir with his bare hand, Bagelby got the distinct feeling of something large and dangerous passing him by; like a rowboat being passed by a freighter in the night, and getting caught in its wake. He quickly put the palantir away.

I’m making up all of this coral lore on the fly I did not plan for any of this and that is my problem.

Bagelby decided that he Needed to own a piece of the coral, so he used Mage Hand to reach down under the water and break off a piece.

The chunk is only the size of his pinkie finger, but it’s black 3.0 with little blue-white crystal flecks throughout it like stars.

Bagelby badgered a Dragonborn crew member into giving him a small (and empty) bottle of alcohol, which he had Thiori fill up with seawater before dropping in the coral piece and corking it like a little terrarium.

He then went back to looking at the lighthouse through a spyglass he’d ‘borrowed’ from the captain, because lighthouses are, apparently, Bagelby’s Rosebud.

The lighthouse signaled the ship that it was clear to sail on while Bagelby was looking right at it, and he got blinded for several minutes.

As the ship sailed forward, it sailed out of the haze and into a channel of clear air, which appears to follow a channel in the coral beneath.

The lighthouse keepers waved to the crew as they passed, and Thiori waved back with all four arms.

The party sailed for three days, following channels in the coral, breathing through masks, and making friends with the crew by starting sea shanties (Bagelby), braiding broken ropes for Warforged with no fingers (Sir Carl), and getting adopted by the rigging crew for having four arms and the highest strength stat on the ship (Thiori).

Thiori, who is immune to all types of poison as a class feature, scraped the aggregated crystal off of the railing of the ship and ate it to know what it tasted like.

It tasted like menthol and pineapple, with a bitter aftertaste.

On the morning of day three, the ship had furled its sails and switched to Warforged rowing power, and both captain and crew were on the lookout for the “Teeth of the World Beast”, which Bagelby curiously asked the navigator about (as well as “what is the World Beast”, which threw the navigator for a look to cover my own ass as I scrambled to gather up the right lore notes).

The “Teeth of the World Beast” are massive, towering chunks of Vesnali crystal that jut up from the seafloor, and rise as tall as skyscrapers above the water.

They were supposedly raised like splinters from a cannonball through the hull (“an accidental cannonball!” the navigator was quick to add while shooting a nervous glance at the first mate) when the World Beast kicked at the planet from within, causing a volcanic eruption which pulverized a large pocket of Vesnali crystal, creating both the Teeth and the haze that has hung over the Gourman Sea for thousands of years.

Bagelby failed the perception roll to see the massive spire of crystal appearing out of the haze some hundred feet from the ship, and didn’t see it until Thiori physically grabbed him and turned his head.

Overcome by the undeniable urge to do something chaotic in Ena’s name, Bagelby cast Mage Hand, and used it to slap the crystal spire as the ship rowed past.

“If we have Warforged at the oars…isn’t that the same as having a motor?”

The crystal tower made a ringing sound upon contact, and Thiori suddenly and sharply remembered the tune Skaadi, Mother of Dreams, had sung for him in the Dreamscape three nights before.

Thiori: “Bagelby, slap that rock!!!” Bagelby, winding up another Mage Hand: “Aye, aye!”

Sir Carl has just been vibing for the past three days - he had his 20 minute meeting with his squire in the Dreamscape on night 1, as was promised by Vatun, and now he’s just along for the ride (and to make sure Bagelby and Thiori don’t die).

The ship then rowed through a simple maze, following narrow channels in the coral and smacking crystal spires with spells to follow a goddess-given tune that only Thiori could confirm.

The crew is growing increasingly nervous with the captain’s decision to entertain these strange folk who wanted to sail in search of a mythical island…

Only Sir Carl seems to notice that the notes created by the crystal spires aren’t fading away, but are hanging around in the haze and creating a soothing, almost hypnotic droning sound…

Out of the party, only Thiori succeeded in his Con save; Sir Carl fell over like a piece of lumber, sound asleep, and Bagelby - who had been hanging over the edge of the ship’s railing to smack the crystals - almost fell overboard.

Thiori had caught Sir Carl when he first started to fall, but immediately abandoned him to try to catch Bagelby when HE started to fall.

Thiori botched his rolls, tripped over Sir Carl, and smashed his face into the deck instead.

It’s okay though - Bagelby was grabbed by the shins by two Dwarven crew members before he could fall fully overboard. I don’t have plans for what happens if someone falls overboard into the contaminated sea/coral, so we’re not gonna do that today.

The party members started to feel better and more awake, and gathered together to try to figure out what the heck just happened?

They quickly noticed, however, that the rest of the crew seemed to be fast asleep (or frozen, in the case of the Warforged); even the captain is asleep at the wheel, though the ship is, thankfully, still sailing straight down a corridor of coral.

Said corridor of coral is….oddly straight at the edges, actually.

The party abruptly then saw Skaadi standing on the deck, now far smaller than she’d been in the dreamscape (though she was still taller than Thiori).

Sir Carl Jaeger asked how she could manifest in the real world, as he passed the knowledge check to remember the mythos about her being ‘eternally asleep’, and Skaadi cheerfully told him that she couldn’t - they’d fallen into a trance from the droning harmonies of the crystal spires, and were standing on the edge of the dreamscape once more.

Skaadi congratulated them on figuring out the mystical tune and finding the correct paths, and then told them to be careful…most mortals who made it this far came to ‘unfortunate fates’. Skaadi would not elaborate on what ‘unfortunate fates’ entailed.

Just as quickly as she’d appeared, Skaadi vanished, and the party woke up to see that the ship had broken through into a dome of clear air within the crystal haze.

The crystal spires are even more numerous here, and the black coral appeared to stop at the edge of the dome, as well, giving way to a sandy bottom instead.

The ship made landfall on one of the outer islands within the dome to take stock of damage after scraping a little too close to one of the spires, and we left off with the crew making camp on said island.

[nullvoid868]

Dusty wings and sleep deprivation (G/t fluff)

This is something I wrote to try to get a feel for some new OC’s, and original content in general. its just a fluffy G/t story, with a moth based species of borrower. enjoy!

   Chion’s wings twitched uselessly, unable to lift his tiny body away from the burning electric flame, the metal underneath him searing with heat. His whole body felt like it was burning into dust. The bulb began to flicker, sending out a resounding noise as it did. The entire lamp seemed to ring over and over again rhythmically. 

DING-DING-DING-DING-DING

     He was thrust from his nightmare by the call of the pocket watch hung on his wall. Chion thrust his sheets out of his cocoon and awkwardly flopped out, slamming his palm onto the switch to silence the alarm. Rubbing his eyes and grabbing his borrowing poncho, Chion cringed a little as he recalled that tonight he needed to collect supplies.

    The LED’s in the ceiling, which Chion had hooked up to an inverted light sensor outside, had activated, draping a calm blue light over the intricate quilts and blankets that decorated his home. He took down his borrowing bag from the hook attached to the kitchen wall and fastened it to the huge button on the back of his poncho. After quickly scarfing down a cup of water he climbed down the ladder leading to the rest of the house, and once he reached the bottom, he summoned his wings and took flight.

    Chion glided through the air in the humans living room, occasionally landing on a wall to rest. The eye patterns on his wings darted their pupils from side to side, just as he did his, checking to make sure there were no signs of the human. The moonlight glinted off his unkempt snow white hair as he winged his way into the kitchen. Chion landed on the edge of the pantry, a massive cereal box looming above him. The only obstacle between him and his quarry was one piece of flimsy cardboard. From his pocket he produced a small multool, whipped out the knife, and began cutting through the side of the box. After a few minutes of sawing a square shaped hole in the cardboard, he had finally reached his goal - 2 or 3 pieces of cereal were enough plant fiber to feed him for a week. Chion grabbed onto a piece and slowly pulled it out from the tightly packed box, satisfied with his mission.

    It was then that chion realized his mistake.

    Cereal began to pour out from the hole Chion had made in the box, the wave of oats and grains pushing him off the side of the pantry. He managed to open his wings at the last moment, saving himself from a nasty fall, but strained them in the process. He awkwardly flopped onto the growing heap of cereal, more and more falling on top of him with each passing second, clinking lightly on the kitchen's tile floor. By the time Chion summoned the energy to move he was buried under a pile of cheerios™, Kellogs cornflakes™, and other standard breakfast fare. The weight held him in place, unable to move.

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

      A strange noise coming from the kitchen broke Risa’s daze after hours of staring into the glow of his PC. It took half a minute for him to register it, and another to notice that it was now pitch dark outside his bedroom window. He was up way too late for his own good, but despite his tired state he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep until he found out what the noise was. Rubbing his eyes, he awkwardly stumbled out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. Flicking on the light, he could plainly see the source of the issue. Cereal poured out onto the floor from a hole in the box, forming a pile on the tile floor. Risa picked up the box and set it on it’s side on the counter to stop the flow of cereal, and sighed as he grabbed a broom and dustpan and got to work. After a few sweeps of the broom he could see something fluffy and white poking out of the pile. Getting down on his knees, Risa scooped it into his hands to get a better look and was flabbergasted at what he saw. A small, humanoid creature with moth’s wings laid in his palm, wearing a tiny brown poncho. Its neck had a fluffy ‘collar’ around it and two antenne poked out of its head. Its wings, which a moment ago were paper white, were now bright red, and emitting a strange pulsing glow. The miniscule figure was crouched in a fetal position and shaking. Risa stared for a moment before coming to his senses.

‘W...what are you? Can you speak?’

    The tiny being shivered, saying nothing for a moment, and then squeaked out a shaky ‘y...yes’

‘Please let me go, I'll leave, I promise. Please don't kill me.’

‘Wha..what? I'm not mad at you, I'm just confused. I've never seen anything like you before...’

    Risa tried to carefully poke Chion to turn them over so he could see their face, but Chion flinched and jumped a bit, their dusty wings weakly flapping, trying to lift off before flopping back onto Risas palm. Their antenne twitched a bit before they froze once again, this time staring at Risa’s comparatively massive face, their tiny grey eyes overflowing with fear. Risa’s heart sunk with guilt, realizing that their thoughtless action had only scared the tiny being more.

‘Sorry.. I shouldn't have done that.’

‘......’

    Risa’s words were met with only the same fearful eyes staring up into theirs, as if anticipating death at any moment. 

‘I'm not going to harm you, I'm so sorry I scared you. My name is Risa, what is yours?'

‘I…’

‘...Chion’

‘Chion.. That's a pretty name. Well Chion, i'm going to put you down on the counter now, again i'm sorry I frightened you’

    Chion’s wings ceased their pulsing glow, and their blood red became a little more grey. The small being shivered a bit less, yet they still peered into Risa’s eyes fearfully. Risa carefully moved her hand over to the counter, and tilted it just a bit so chion would gently slide off of it. The miniscule being fumbled a bit as they sat down on the counter, now looking at Risa with more confusion than fear.

‘You.. you're going to let me go?’

‘I'm not going to capture you or force you to stay here, if that's what you mean’

‘I..Im going to go then’

    Risa felt a bit disappointed to see Chion leave so soon, she really wanted to get to know them better. But forcing them to stay and chat would certainly not make them trust her more. She watched as they fluttered off the counter and into the air, heading towards the door to the living room. 

    But as soon as Chion was a few inches from the kitchen counter a sharp pain shot through their body, making them lose the balance needed to fly. They had been so focused on their fear of the human that they had forgotten about spraining their wings. Chion began to plummet towards the floor below, closing their eyes tight in anticipation of the impact. They had survived being found and now they were going to die from a simple fall.

    But Chion did not collide with the cold, hard tile. Instead Risa’s hands shot out to catch them, and they plopped face-first onto the warm, fleshy surface. Chion simply laid there for a minute, face pressed into Risa’s hand, tears spilling softly from their eyes.

‘Oh my god are you ok? That was close!’

‘Y..yeah’

‘...’

’Thank you. For catching me’

‘You're very welcome. I guess you should probably avoid flying for a little bit.’

‘Yeah... trying to fly again is dangerous. But I need to fly to get back home!’

‘I might be able to carry you there!’

‘Ehh…’

    As much as Chion wanted to get back to their nest and lay down in their cocoon, every instinct they had shouted at them to not let the human know the location of their home. They winced a bit and shook their head.

‘Id.. rather keep the location of my burrow a secret, sorry’

‘Oh.. well i understand. You can stay with me for the night if you want, and hopefully you should be feeling good enough to fly in the morning.’

    Though Chion was still frightened a bit by Risa, it was either stay with her or try to find some hole in the wall they could reach and stay in until their wings healed. 

‘That.. that would be nice, yeah.’

‘Great! Ill get the supplies to try and set up a bed for you.’

‘Uh, before you do, could I get some food and water?’

‘Yes, of course!’

    Risa once again sat Chion down on the countertop while she rifled through a drawer, eventually picking out a 1/8th tablespoon measuring cup. She brought it to the faucet and turned the knob ever so slightly, so only a few drops of water flowed from it. She sat the now full measuring cup down next to chion, and fished through the cereal box for a few pieces of cereal. She sat them down next to Chion as well, who was already happily slurping down the water.

‘Thank you!’

‘You're welcome!’

    Risa watched as Chion happily nibbled on one of the pieces of cereal, occasionally taking another sip of water. After a while they lifted up the measuring cup to get the one last drop of water in the bottom, only for it to slide right into their face as one big drop, its surface tension breaking on impact and soaking Chion’s now rather surprised face. Risa giggled a little bit before tearing off a piece of paper towel from the nearby roll and handing it to Chion to dry off with. Chion timidly took it from Risa’s outstretched fingers and patted their face down with it before standing up.

‘Alright, I'm pretty tired. I guess take me to wherever you want me to sleep for the night’

‘Ok!’

‘Uh.. I think i'll have to carry you, if that's alright’

    Risa held her palm to the edge of the counter, waiting for Chion to climb on. Chion stared at it for a while, not sure what to do. They remembered the stories they were told by the elder moths as a child before being sent out on their own. Cold nights in some abandoned wreck of a house, huddled together with other young moths, an elder reading stories of humans thoughtlessly killing borrowers who got too risky in their borrowings. Now with Risa waiting for them to step forward onto her hand, they had no idea what to think. This human, who was supposed to crush them like a bug, had now saved them twice and helped them purely out of the kindness of her heart. The logical part of their brain told them that those old stories were probably just fabricated, or worst case scenarios. Fear-Mongering meant to ensure that they stay hidden. Humans might not be so violent after all. But another part of their mind still screamed those old stories in Chion’s ear.

    They shut their eyes tight, and stepped forward.

    Risa watched intently as Chion stepped onto her outstretched palm, trying to keep it as still as possible. Chion carefully took another step and planted their second foot onto Risa’s palm before sitting down, still shaking a bit and eyes still clasped shut. Risa carefully moved her hand from the side of the counter to the side of her chest, cupping the tiny figure close to her. Chion took a deep breath and stopped shaking. The small moth opened their eyes, and seeing that they were safe, laid down on the palm and sighed. They were exhausted, physically and emotionally. They could faintly hear Risa’s heartbeat, and Risa’s hand was warm and soft. Chion grabbed onto Risas shirt, cuddling with the warm fabric. By the time Risa reached his bedroom he found Chion fast asleep in his palm.

    Risa used his other hand to pick up a spare blanket and spread it over part of the nearby bed stand, and gently laid Chion on top of it. The tiny moth stirred a bit, but quickly drifted back into sleep. Risa picked up another, lighter blanket and laid it over chion, carefully tucking them in.

‘Sleep well, little one’

[hitsuackerman]

Soom Meetings (Hawks x Reader) nsfw

Prompt: Its quarantine time. You were preparing for a video conference with a few other heroes. Hawks, being the cheeky bird that he is, has other plans for both of you

Warnings:  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), cursing

a/n: this entered my mind since we have to do online meetings w/c are a pain in the ass huhuhu i just thought, what would Hawks do if he were added into the mix? Enjoy my self indulgence xD

Masterlist to my other fics :) here

Taking a sip of your coffee, you couldn’t help but stare blindly into space. It was quite early, at least for you. On a normal day, you would wake up at 10am. Gotta get that full 5 hour sleep heroes dream of. Today would mark the 80th day of quarantine and things were not going well.

The bitter goodness your coffee had to offer now began to circulate your system. The stinging sensation your eyes felt with each blink slowly went away. Yawning somewhat made things a little more tolerable. Staring at the view of your glass windows, you savored the clear blue skies and silence your unit had to offer.

At least for now.

With the steaming cup of coffee in your hand, you tiptoed to your room. A ghost of a smile on your face.

Slowly opening the door, you creeped closer to your bed. Careful not to step on any of the feathers scattered on the floor. Eyes darting to the messed up sheets, crimson wings spread out flat as his back rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His arm hanging limply on the edge of the bed.

Gently, you lifted one of his larger feathers and made space for you to sit down. His hair as messy as always. The tufts of hair splayed all over the pillow. Not a sign of stress on his sleeping face. Unconsciously, your finger began to trace his jaw.

His wings began to crest and his feathers began to fluff up. His hanging hand now blindly searched for you. When he felt the soft skin your thigh had to offer, you quickly placed the cup on the bedside table and waited for him to make his move.

A small squeak left your mouth when he easily maneuvered you back into bed. Bare arms snaking your waist as his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. Legs beginning to tangle with each other. One wing now protectively resting above you. There was no doubt in your mind. You adored mornings like this.

“Well, good morning to you.” You ran your fingers through his hair. The feeling of him tightening his hold on you felt lovely.

“I have to admit,” His voice was still raspy. Deep. “This quarantine makes me thankful. I get to spend more time with my favorite hero.”

“Oh… I’m your favorite hero?”

“Fishing for comments?”

“Perhaps.” You giggled. “You are ranked higher than me, though.”

“That doesn’t matter, Lovebird.” He chirped. “You're a rank below me yet you're underground. That’s literally an impossible feat.”

“I honestly don’t know how that happened.” Drawing circles on his back, he let out a satisfied hum. His eyelashes tickled your skin. Hawks was fully awake now.

“Well, we don’t have any patrols scheduled for today.” He shifted his position. Placing himself between your legs you willingly opened. His hands slowly grabbed your wrist and pinned them just above your head. Bringing himself closer to you, he began to trace the tip of his nose on your neck. “How about we continue where we left off last night, eh?”

The sudden grinding of his hip along your accumulating heat was enough to make you wrap your legs around his waist. Tilting your head, Hawks growled a tiny bit before sucking on your tender skin. As he sucked on your skin, he interlaced his fingers with yours.

His morning wood rather evident. He pushed himself on your clothed entrance. Lazy morning sex was something you would want. Hell. Just feeling Hawks inside you was something you would definitely want. BUT, you couldn’t.

“As much as I’d like you to fuck me lazily in the morning,” You managed to free your hand and pushed him away. Your foot resting on his chest, keeping his lust filled eyes at bay. He was pouting and this only made things worse. “I have a meeting in 20 minutes.”

Holding your ankles, he placed your leg on his shoulder and went back to his previous position. His chest now touching yours. His trademark smirk resting on his lip.

“I’m sure you can just turn your video off, baby~” He nibbled on your lower lip and grinded his hips once more. “Or we can just give them a show.”

Hawks felt a tugging sensation on his chest. He knew you were using your quirk on him. The next thing he knew, he was floating away from the bed. Your fingertips emitting a mahogany glow. Placing him on the chair, you sat on your knees and smiled. Acting all innocent. 

“We can do that later.” You stood up and went to the closet. Feeling his eyes following your every movement. You took out your hero costume’s leather jacket and white shirt dress. Used to his stare, you changed in front of him.

“You’ll regret teasing me, chickadee.” He threatened. He stood up and walked towards you. Buttoning your shirt when he was inches away from you. His hot breath brushing your face. When he finished, his hands began to wander your curves as you put on your jacket. “Better watch out, Number 3.”

This man would be the death of you. The way he smoothly held on to your chin while giving you a deep kiss was enough to make you weak. Screw the meeting, that’s what you thought, but this was an ‘important’ one based on the email.

“I’ll be in my office, Number 2.” You booped his nose and went your way. He did, however, smack your bare ass when you turned around. For a second, you played with the thought of grabbing a pair of his boxers but, nah. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious what his antics would be later.

Opening the doors (and leaving them ajar), you immediately went to your PC and prepared everything. When your wallpaper finally appeared, you blushed at the sight. It was one of your first photos with Hawks. Taken approximately 4 years ago.

Opening the Soom app, you let out a silent groan. Everyone was now online and currently waiting for the host to start the meeting. There were 8 green dots. A bunch of heroes that you were in charge of. Edgeshot being one of them.

The meeting was a simple one. A briefing for an upcoming mission to come in 3 months. As to why they chose this online platform still baffles your mind. Your eyes darted to the door when a stray feather began to float it and wander around your office. Right when you were about to call for Hawks, the call for the meeting began.

Straightening yourself, you put on your game face and observed each of the participants. The feeling of weight being slowly added onto your shoulders crept in. Somehow, you had managed to let the spotlight land on you. Because of that, you were given more missions despite not being tied to any agencies.

Teamwork was never your forte. But safety was. You always managed to coax yourself into being a team player by making sure each of them were far from harm.

As the minutes dragged by, the familiar pop of yellow peeked inside your office. Raising a brow, he took that as an invitation and led himself in. A plate of chicken nuggets on his hand. Looking at his wings, you saw how there were barely any feathers. Just the small soft ones.

Your eyes widened when he was just about to walk into your camera’s view. 

“Is something wrong, (hero name)?” Fatgum asked. His voice cutting the meeting. All eyes were on your video now. The corner of your eye twitched when Hawks moved your notebooks aside and sat down. One knee resting on top of the other.

“Nothing.” You faked a smile and your professional tone back. People were still clueless that you and Hawks were dating. The two of you had to thank you being an underground hero for that. “Please proceed.”

The meeting continued and this time you made sure you were on mute before opening your mouth.

“Whatever it is… do NOT.” You scolded him. Eyes not wavering from the call. But, your arm was extended just enough for you to pinch his thigh. The little wince of pain was enough to make you content. 

“Shouldn’t have done that, love nugget.” He took the wandering feather and made it hover around his finger. Instructing the small feather to creep behind your back, the small red thing did its job.

Your breath hitched when the feather brushed your exposed nape. Your body shivered as the feather did small back and forth movements. Yet, in the video, the feather was small enough to be deemed as non-existent. Clenching your fists, you tried not to be bothered by the sensually soft touches Hawks gave indirectly. 

Hawks was now walking away from you. The feather still doing its job. Your eyes were focused but he knew your peripheral vision was on him. Perfect, he thought. Now he was situated across from you. The same playful smirk on his lip. Lifting his hand, he motioned that he would keep his mouth shut.

You knew too well he was playful, cocky, and a tease. So when he began to take his shirt off, your eyes darted to his little strip show. It was not helping one bit that he was flexing his toned muscles. Your throat was definitely dry.

“So what are your thoughts about the plan, (hero name)?” Edgeshot asked. There was no response and all they could see was you and your eyes focusing somewhere else. “(hero name)?”

“YES!” You snapped back. Clearing your throat. “I think the plan looks alright. The division among heroes is compatible. But I am con-”

You jumped from your seat a tiny bit. Your hands held on to the edge of your desk. The feeling of his hands running up and down your thigh was making your core heat up. Having caught you off guard, Hawks managed to pry open your legs. His golden eyes clearly teasing you from under the table.

“I’m, uh, concerned about the entry?” Your hand now held on to his messy hair. Hoping that he wouldn’t go any further than that. The regret of not getting his boxers now flooded your system. Only being in your panties made things much easier for him. You were now biting your tongue and tried to even your breathing.

Hawks was now kissing your inner thighs. Poking his tongue out, he trailed it all the way to the hem of your panties. His teeth tugging the hem and releasing it with a snap. Seeing your jaw tighten and your chest heaving, it only encouraged him.

His finger now began to slide up and down on your panties. A wet spot indicating that you were turned on with his advancement. Spreading your legs further apart, another feather came swooping in and landed straight into his hand. Using the tip, he began to brush it on your skin. The grip you had on his head shattered. 

Using the feather, he sliced the corners of your panties. Looking down at him, you gave him a small pout. One not noticeable to those on the video. You liked those panties and now he just had to slice em. It was still hot though, no denying that. 

“Holy shit~ Keigo~” Thank quirks your mic was on mute. Feeling his tongue lick your entrance made you push your back to the chair. Blinking away the urge to end the meeting and have him take you on your office table. Which, come to think of it, has never happened. 

It was pretty evident that your cheeks were now pink and your eyes hazy. When he sucked on your swelling clit, you fisted some of his hair. Only pushing him and telling him to continue.

“Now that we’ve got that cleared. (hero name). We suggest that you hold another meeting to run through the details.” The chairperson said.

“Fuck, yeah.” It was more breathy than you intended. You mentally slapped yourself.

Both Hawks and your eyes widened. This was getting too interesting for the winged hero. Wanting to push it more, he inserted his middle finger and began to pump slowly. His teeth began nibbling on your lower lips and clit alternatively.

“What I meant to say was, yeah.” Your face was a blushing mess but stoic in their eyes. “Forgive the language. I was rather excited and pumped up.”

“Pumped…” Hawks whispered with a small chuckle. Sucking on your clit one more time, he inserted two fingers. His pace a little faster. Using his free hand, he trailed under your shirt and squeezed on your breast, tugging your hardened nipple.

Releasing the grip your right hand had on his head, you slammed the mute button once more.

“Fuck!”  You covered your mouth and hoped they saw it as a cough. “Holyshitholyshitholyshit!”

Your back was now glued to the back of the chair. Lowering your body a bit, you gave him easier access and he happily licked and sucked your engorged clit some more. Knowing the mute button was doing its magic, he too let out a moan. He was starting to become frustrated. The throbbing sensation in his caged cock was getting out of control.

“When will that meeting be over, baby?” He asked. His fingers doing the work for him as he palmed his cock. His eyes blew up with lust. 

“Shh…” You reassured him. Meeting his gaze, you gave a soft smile. “It’s almost over.”

With hints of frustration, he fully exited his fingers away from your wet pussy. Licking the juices off his fingers, he crawled out from under your desk. All he wanted to do now was to show himself in the video and put an end to his suffering. Taking his boxers off, he stuck his tongue out and tossed it over your head.

No one noticed it except for one.

Your chat box pinged and you opened it.

MT. LADY: GIRL! WTF WERE THOSE BOXERS?!

(h/n): Are you seeing things, Yu? :p

MY. LADY: Dont think I didnt see yer face. Im not as blind as the others.  Who? Do i know him? You dating someone? How did i not see this coming?!

(h/n): Hmm… ;)

That’s all you replied and you closed the chat. Your eyes traveled to Hawks, who was now hovering behind your monitor. Palming his throbbing member. Winking at your flustered face. 

“C’mon baby bird…” He mouthed. He wiped a fake tear away from his eye.

Finally, the chairperson spoke and wrapped things up. When he finally dismissed the meeting you practically left the room without saying farewell. Pushing your chair back, you opened your arms and immediately felt his warm body against yours.

Both your lips crashed into each other. It was the perfect definition of a hot, steamy, and messy make out session. Lifting you up, he placed you on your desk. Your hands pushing any obstacles that lay in your path. Quickly taking your jacket off, you tilted your head as Hawks began to leave a trail of kisses and hickeys.

Impatience won and the winged hero practically ripped apart your shirt. Pushing both your bodies, you felt the cold surface touch your back.

A loud moan escaped your mouth as he began to suck and nibble on your hardened bud. His other hand entering your wet hole. 2 fingers in while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit.

“I want you now, Keigo…” You whimpered as he began moving downwards. Leaving behind sloppy kisses till he reached your abdomen. Taking his fingers out, he used the juice and began spreading it on his cock.

Teasing you with the tip, he brushed it against your clit. Your legs instinctevely wrapped around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. Before he would put himself in you, he glanced at the door and red blurs came swarming in. Attaching them to the base of his wings. Once all of them were in place, he stretched them to their full span. He knew you were always turned on when his plumage was full while he made love to you.

Resting his elbow beside your head, he gave you a deep kiss. His tongue asking for entrance as he slowly slid himself in. Your back arched with pleasure as he nibbled on your lower lip. Your wet hungry pussy feeling full from his shaft.

Roaming hands found their way to the base of his wings. Giving them a bit of massage before digging your nails into his skin. He let out a growl mid-kiss. Thrusting harder, he earned a loud moan from you. The kind of moan that immediately pushed him to the edges.

His hands found their way to your hips. His grip firm, keeping you in place as he began thrusting into you faster and deeper. The carnal look in his golden eyes slowly ate the coil in your stomach away.

Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. The hickeys now fully visible. The only sound inside your office were the sounds of skin slapping against each other, moans, pants, and loud cursing from sheer pleasure.

“Kei…” You were close and you were not sure how long you could last. “Fuck~ Harder, baby~”

Placing the bend of your knee on his shoulders, he leaned closer towards you and kissed you once more. His thrust much more deeper and he felt his cock twitching. His sinful mouth found its way to your earlobe. Tugging it ever so slightly and nibbling on it.

“Cum for me, Pro-Hero #3.” He whispered. “Show me just how much I can break your walls.”

The last thrust he gave you snapped. You nails dug into his skin while your legs pushed him in even deeper. A wave of heat began to flood your body. Each thrust Hawks did as he rode out your orgasm made your body shudder. Not soon after, Hawks grunted and bit down your neck as he let his twitching cock release inside you. Feeling your pussy milking his cum was overwhelmingly delicious.

Collapsing on top of you, he chuckled.

“You need to have more online conferences, nugget.” He lifted his head and peppered your face with light, feathery kisses. The afterglow evident on your blushing smiling face. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Keigo.” Your leg began brushing his. “Shall we prepare lunch?”

The two of you shared a giggle as his feathers flew out of the room to get some towels and clothes. In your mind, you were already plotting your revenge. Two could definitely play this game.

[curiousconch]

Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Series Synopsis: Dr. Heather Song, Edenbrook’s newest diagnostician, gets embroiled in a plot of revenge against Boston’s top politician. Together with FBI Special Agent Rafael Aveiro and rising star prosecutor, Bryce Lahela, they try to uncover a web of conspiracies far greater than their imagination. Can they stop the attack in time? Or will their entangled hearts eventually become caught up in the crossfire?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) x Bryce Lahela 

Words: 1.3k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied violence

Author's notes: I'd like to thank the following for inspiring me to do this series:

@eleanorbloom​ - her awesome works made me see that there’s so much more to Bryce Lahela than being a meathead and a scalpel jockey

@kat-tia801 - for the captivating AU worlds she built with her TRR series, please check her works here. 

Finally, @alwaysmychoices​ - the same emotion you put into the stories of Charlie & Ethan is something I aspire to achieve with the characters of this fanfic series. 

Without these talented writers, I wouldn't be able to get this work out to the world.

PROLOGUE

"Here's the copy of the MRI you requested for Room 502, doctor," a blonde nurse dropped an envelope on the pile already in front of her.

"Thanks Kaley," she smiled and nodded briefly from the patient charts she was finishing in the nurse's station, her brunette bangs slightly rustling at the sudden movement.

She went back to the mountain of paper work she was trying to finish, her Johns Hopkins Montblanc pen squiqqling as she went. On the bottom of the last page, she wrote her full name: Dr. Heather Song, along with her medical license number. 

She opened the envelope containing the scan results, and examined the writings on the sheet of paper. No tumors - meaning that the patient's headaches were probably caused by a genetic, albeit irritating migraine. She prescribed a relaxant, and handed it to Danny, along with the rest of the clipboards. 

She bit her lower lip as she tapped on her fitbit: 8:39 pm - another 14 hour shift. It was another day at work in the diagnostics team. Thankfully, she loved her job, so she has no complaints for the long hours.

Scrolling, she checked the rest of her messages. Her frown turned into a smile as she read out a text from her boyfriend:

I'm done for the day. Pick you up in 20 minutes?

She took out her phone from the pocket of her white coat and texted him back, agreeing to the said rendezvous.

With a friendly nod to the night shift nurses, she stood up and walked towards the Diagnostics office, her white sneakers squeaking along with her steps. With the door behind her hissing closed, she went to her table and retrieved her sling bag. She shoved her ID badge and her phone inside, while she shutdown her PC. She retouched her lip gloss before shrugging off her coat, revealing a blue crew neck shirt, neatly tucked into her dark jeans.

She freed her shoulder length hair from the tight bun that she usually wears at work and brushed off the few loose strands. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her belongings and stepped out of the empty room, making her way towards the elevator bay. 

As she walked through Edenbrook's ground floor hallways, her pale skin glowed against the fluorescent lights. She crossed the atrium and bid her goodbye to Bobby, the hospital's security guard, then went outside, into the cold night air.

A green bomber jacket caught her sight, and her heart immediately skipped a beat. The tall, dark figure had a backpack slung on his left shoulder, his right foot tapping along a mental beat.

"Hey, handsome," Heather slung her arm around Rafael's, tiptoeing to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Missed me?"

Rafael chuckled, as his eyes glistened in the dark, humming in agreement. He returned the compliment with a quick peck on her lips.

He gazed down at her, "Hungry, Dr. Song?"

Heather nodded in excitement. She loved his cooking, but she missed the gelateria near his place.

Fond memories flooded her, making her smile. 

A year ago, Rafael first whisked her away to the same Italian ice cream shop to decompress, seeing how stressed she was with the investigation. It was the night after she called in Travis Perry to the authorities. 

Ed Farrugia was just one of those patients her team took in to increase Edenbrook's struggling funds. He was Massachusetts' most popular Senator, and the media mileage he gave the hospital prevented it from going under. 

But what they first thought as just another day in the job took a turn when Heather diagnosed the politician's illness as lead poisoning. By midday, she was able to confirm that the chemical element was not coming from his newly-purchased house. A quick search engine lookup returned a suspicious article about Travis, his aide. Not wanting to make conclusions without concrete evidence, she raised her own suspicions with her mentors, Dr. Ramsey and Chief Banerji. Collectively, they decided that the best course of action was to quietly alert the authorities. 

That day was the first time Rafael walked into the hospital's hallways.  He got assigned to the case once Dr. Naveen called the FBI Boston field office. Rafael's discreet but valiant efforts foiled the perpetrator's sinister plans - of releasing a deadly airborne poison into the hospital room of the unknowing Senator. 

He was able to stop the attack and prevented deaths, including Heather's. They later found out that the attacker wanted to take revenge on her due to her earlier attempts to treat the senator. Travis Perry admitted to sprinkling lead in the politician's assorted drinks over the years. 

With the criminal charges filed and the case handed over to the district attorney's office, they were able to focus on the budding attraction between them. Several dates and a couple of samba lessons later, it bloomed into a full-on romance. 

Heather easily fell for him. He was an easy guy to love. His ways are simple, uncomplicated. 

He was a welcome reverie from the chaos of her first  year as a junior fellow of Edenbrook's premier Diagnostics Team. It was Rafael's sweet charms that made the unbearable, bearable. His tenacity to crack the cases he was assigned to matched her own. But his motive - of always being more than willing to serve others and his community, regardless of danger, never failed to amaze her. 

When they became an item, his whole community took her in. It was a sincere group of people consisted of his grandmother, his colleagues, and the elderly at the senior center where he volunteered. Rafael also frequently hung out with Heather's friends. Sienna, Elijah, Aurora and even Jackie were nothing but supportive of their relationship. 

Snapping out of her head space with a gentle nudge from Rafael, they began to leave the front steps of Edenbrook. They hadn't walked far when��a familiar voice calling her name stopped them in their tracks. 

'Heather. Dr. Heather Song!"

Both turning around, they saw a tall man approaching them hurriedly. She had to raise her head to gaze at him as he neared.

"ADA Lahela," she saluted him in a greeting. She gave him a polite smile, letting Rafael go briefly to shake the hand of the man in the gray suit. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Something very urgent. I wouldn't spoil your RnR, but this really can't wait until tomorrow." Bryce Lahela, the rising star of the Boston's District Attorney's office, nodded back at Raf, catching his breathe.  "Ah, Agent Aveiro, hi. I believe this also very much concerns you." he also waved at Rafael, a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. 

She tried to recall the last time she saw Bryce. It was 3 months ago, on the last day of the trial of Travis Perry. The fierce young lawyer eagerly took on the case of Senator Farrugia, who single-handedly put Perry behind bars for the rest of his life. 

Her head perked a little, sensing the quick falter in the young prosecutor's greeting. She waved off his apology, expressing she didn't mind the intrusion. She trusted him enough to make the judgment that this couldn't wait. They were friends after all. 

"There's been a new development in the Ed Farrugia case," the assistant district attorney clutched his leather shoulder bag and pulled out a peculiar looking paper.  "Someone sent a blank message to my office email address an hour ago, it included this file attachment," he handed the page to Heather, a look of concern crossing his face. 

Beside her, Raf tensed.

The black and white printout, with words spelled from cutouts of magazines, knotted Heather's stomach in a million ways. 

It's not over, Dr. Song.

The sinister note made her skin crawl, unleashing a wave of terror within her. 

She immediately knew right then that the mirage of her quiet life threatened to crumble. She just didn't know how much. 

Tagging also @choicesficwriterscreations for #fics of the week.

Chapter 1 to be posted tomorrow.

[katasztroka]

Two weeks later than this: https://katasztroka.tumblr.com/post/615193559211081728/something-new-i-dont-have-a-taglist-but-if

I don’t have a taglist, but if anyone wants to be added, I will make one.

Trigger warning: masturbation, sexual attraction, drunk Ludwig

- 

Ludwig was training, as he did every morning. But this was different. He wanted to empty his mind as much as he could, because he wanted to get rid of his thoughts about Roderich. For two days now, he had been craving the Austrian’s skilled, soft kisses, wanted to hold him close and bury his face into the other’s statue-like alabaster skin.

And obviously - or at least he thought - this was not about Roderich, this was purely about the absence of Feliciano. Although, he had once loved this man, he didn’t think  what he was feeling now was genuinely for Roderich. Thus he had to get rid of these thoughts. He couldn’t break Roderich’s heart. Not again. Not after all he had done for him during the past few days. This man comforted him, fed him, gave him shelter. He said Ludwig could stay as long as he wished, because he knew full well that the German needed a break from all the country work. Thankfully, Gilbert would do the work that needed personal presence and Ludwig did the rest online.

Ludwig did his daily trainings twice even though Roderich told him to slow down a bit and made sure Ludwig would feel safe when he wanted to talk about the break-up. But he didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want Roderich to hear all his thoughts, even if he knew how the Austrian was really good at handling relationships.

Now he was just about finishing his first training for that day and the sun was rising. He decided to have a shower and then make breakfast for Roderich to show some gratitude towards him for everything. So he went up to the bathroom - the only one in the house he had ever used - and took a shower. This was the same bathroom that Roderich used, so he could smell the other’s countless amount of beauty products that Roderich somehow managed to match in fragrance. Ludwig had always been amazed by this.

While he was taking off his clothes - which somehow resembled military uniform - he decided to wash the dirty clothes. He quickly sorted out the whites and threw them into the washing machine - once again he wanted Roderich to see how grateful he was for letting him stay. The shower was fast and short and he didn’t gel his hair this time. It wouldn’t have mattered, since he wanted to train once more that day and he intended to shower after that one, too. He walked back to his room, only wearing the towel around his waist, since he thought Roderich would still be asleep. But he was wrong. The Austrian stood in front of him, face flushed a bit pink, lips parted slightly in surprise. He was still wearing his pajamas.

‘Good morning.’ Roderich muttered.

‘Good morning. Sorry.’ Ludwig blushed deep red, though they had seen each other naked many times before.

‘It’s fine.’

‘I will dress up. Roderich…’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you let me make breakfast today?’

‘If you want to, yes. But I’ll make coffee.’

‘Of course.’ Ludwig hurried to his room, leaving the surprised, embarrassed Austrian alone.

This was Roderich’s turn to have a morning shower, but first he made coffee. After that, he picked a dark blue shirt and black trousers for the day, considering he would have a meeting with Chancellor Kurz in the evening. Then he occupied the bathroom. He usually spent about thirty minutes in there, having a shower, washing his hair, using face masks, making every single lock of his hair stand perfectly. But today he tried to be faster, so it only took him twenty minutes. When he finally decided his appearance would be good enough for that day, he left the bathroom to have breakfast with Ludwig.

Of course, the kitchen was perfectly organised when he arrived and Ludwig has just finished cooking.

‘Thank you, Ludwig. For cleaning up, too.’

‘I wanted to show some gratitude that I can always come to you when I need some peace.’ Ludwig answered.

‘Of course, you can. You will always have that room whenever you want to use it. At least, I won’t be alone.’ Roderich smiled, but Ludwig had the impression that he was sad. ‘Don’t you think I’m pathetic? Clinging on to every chance of having someone to talk to.’

‘But you talk to Basch everyday, don’t you?’

‘Not anymore. He didn’t like the idea of me joining the EU.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry.’

‘Oh, Ludwig. You shouldn’t be listening to an old country complaining.’ Roderich shook his head. ‘What are your plans for the day?’

‘I thought I would go out in the evening. Do you want to come with me?

‘I wish, Ludwig, but I have a meeting with Chancellor Kurz at seven tonight.’

‘Fine. Can I use your PC today? I need to video call Merkel.’

‘Of course, you can, as always.’ Roderich nodded, taking some of the omelet to his plate. ‘This smells delicious.’

‘Thank you. I hope it tastes as good as it smells.’ Ludwig sat down in front of him. ‘Do you want some more?’

‘No, you can have the rest.’

‘Sausage? Toast?’ The German offered.

‘I will have two slices of toast. What did you put in this omelet? It tastes so good.’

‘I added some cheese. I’ve never tried it before, so I was hoping you would like it.’

‘Delicious.’ The Austrian nodded. ‘Thank you.’

They ate silently. Ludwig had always been surprised that Roderich ate so little. Maybe that was the secret that kept him so slim and fragile. But the most surprising for the German was the fact that Roderich ate that small amount of food for the same amount of time, he ate his own.

‘Roderich?’ Ludwig spoke up, while packing the dirty dishes.

‘Yes?’

‘Do you have time today to play on the piano for me?’ Ludwig asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ Roderich’s smile was  obvious, though he didn’t smile that much.

‘I know I can play the piano, but I would love to hear you playing.’

‘You will. What do you want me to play?’ Roderich asked, already opening the folder on his iPad that contained digitalized music sheets.

‘I want you to choose. I’d be glad to hear your favorites.’

‘Oh, so you want me to play more than one piece, don’t you?’ Roderich asked teasingly.

‘Yes, if you have time.’ Ludwig blushed a little.

‘I have.’ The Austrian nodded. ‘But there is something we need to clear up. I don’t have favorites. Choosing between the piano pieces would be like choosing among my children.’

‘Obviously.’ Ludwig nodded in agreement.

Roderich scrolled through the music sheets until he found what he was looking for. ‘Debussy?’ He asked finally.

‘Perfect. That fits you.’

‘Great. Come, you can finish packing later.’

Ludwig had a terrified last look on the kitchen. Should he leave it like that? Roderich didn’t even seem to mind it, so he followed the Austrian.

The music room was a beautiful, airy room with perfect acoustics to it, built exactly for playing any instrument  ever made. Roderich sat on the bench and placed the iPad on the piano.

‘Can… Can I sit next to you?’

‘No, you have to stand next to the piano.’ Roderich rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, you can. It would be preferred.’

Ludwig took a seat next to him, but he decided to keep distance for two reasons. One, he wanted Roderich to have all the place he’d need and secondly, he didn’t want to smell him, because that would lead to disastrous consequences. He waited quietly until Roderich got ready to play and when the Austrian took a deep breath, he closed his eyes, knowing full well the other would finally start playing.

But then, just as Roderich started to play, Ludwig felt the need to open his eyes. Roderich’s eyes were closed. He looked so beautiful and Ludwig wanted to kiss him or at least touch him. To run his hand down his back or bury his face into Roderich’s hair.

Roderich finished Debussy’s Arabesque No.1 and Ludwig was already out of his mind, thinking about this man, sitting next to him, playing the piano.

‘Do you want to hear another piece?’ Roderich asked, his voice sounding heavenly.

‘Yes, if you don’t mind.’ Ludwig answered blushing.

The Austrian nodded without opening his eyes. He started to play Debussy’s Clair de Lune. Ludwig didn’t understand why Roderich still used the sheets, because actually, he didn’t. And this was something that Ludwig thought was really impressive. And of course, listening to this man playing the piano, Ludwig started to feel like his pants were too tight. But no way, this was happening. He couldn’t wait until the end of the piece. He jumped up and headed to one of the doors, but Roderich’s worried voice stopped him.

‘Ludwig, is there something wrong?’ He asked.

‘No, I just… I need to go to the bathroom.’ The German muttered, blushing.

Roderich nodded and Ludwig could hear that he closed the cover of the piano and suddenly an even worse feeling hit the German: it was guilt. He knew he had to ease himself, so he rushed to the bathroom and closed the door. It was fast and - just for an even worse wave of guilt - he couldn’t think of Feliciano. His memories of Roderich came to his mind and those pictures made the whole process become even faster. He cleaned himself up and decided to avoid Roderich for the rest of the day - this palace-like house would be a perfect setting for this - so he closed Roderich’s study to himself.

The next time they met was before Roderich left for the meeting. He knocked on the study ’s door.

‘I hope everything is fine, Ludwig.’ He said, not even entering.

‘Yes, sorry. I got carried away with work.’

‘You should sometimes be a bit easier on yourself, Ludwig.’

‘I will try to.’

‘Right. Now, I need to leave for this meeting. Have fun going out, I don’t know when I will be back. I put keys on the drawers in the hall for you.’

‘Thank you. Good luck, Roderich.’

The Austrian nodded and left. He sat in his car and left for the downtown of Vienna. The meeting was long enough for him to start wandering, because he wasn’t really able to concentrate for too long. Or at least, not on country business. There was a point where he started to scroll through his phone. Luckily, because he got a text message from Ludwig, saying he left to go out. He was both surprised and happy that the German felt like letting him know.

When the meeting was finally over, he texted Ludwig, asking if he would want to come home with him, but the answer was no, so he drove home alone. He closed the door and took a shower, but decided to wait for Ludwig awake. He went back to the music room and played Chopin’s Spring Waltz.

Ludwig arrived at the end of the piece. He was visibly drunk and Roderich decided it was a good idea to help him with getting into bed. The drunk German walked into the music room and stood next to the sitting Austrian.

‘Roderich.’ He stated, voice heavily influenced by the amount of alcohol he drank.

‘Yes, Ludwig?’ There was no answer, so he decided to continue. ‘Come, you should have a shower.’

‘No. I have to tell you that you are beautiful.’

‘Thank you. But you really need to shower.’ He stood up. ‘Come with me.’

The German followed him without any need of support, but just before they entered the bathroom, Ludwig started to keck.

‘Oh, come on. Just keep it in, it’s just some more steps, Ludwig. Come.’ Roderich guided him towards the toilet bowl, and he arrived just in time. ‘You did well.’ The Austrian softly stroked back his hair, while taking a seat next to him. ‘Let it all come out.’ He tried his best not to start vomiting himself, because of the smells, but kept on caressing the blond locks.

When it seemed like Ludwig had emptied his stomach, Roderich handed him the toothbrush.

‘Do you think it’s safe to sleep in your room?’ He asked, helping the German up.

Ludwig shook his head and Roderich decided to stay with him during the night. He wasn’t sure whether the German would - unwillingly - hurt himself, so he wanted to take care of him.

‘Fine. Then I will sleep here with you. We would need blankets and pillows, right?’ And he immediately left the bathroom.

While picking up bed sheets, he was thinking about this situation. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him, a once-great nation, who ruled over Europe now sacrificing all his dignity for this beloved German who has left him to die more than once before. Still, he couldn’t say no and he would do anything Ludwig would ask for.

Finally, he got all the stuff he thought they would need and headed back to the bathroom. When he arrived, Ludwig was already asleep, curled up as he did in his childhood, fists pressed together as if he was trying to get hold of something in his sleep. Roderich couldn’t help himself and smiled, shaking his head. Then placed a pillow next to the bathtub for support, sat down, and pulled Ludwig’s head into his lap. He wrapped his bare feet into one blanket and he used the other to cover the German’s body.

‘Everything is fine.’ He whispered, caressing the pale face once more. ‘Sleep now, you need to. Hopefully you won’t get a terrible hangover tomorrow. Good night, Ludwig.’

Roderich fell asleep slowly, his hand placed on Ludwig’s face, knowing too well that he would get a horrible backache in the morning. He was a bit cold, too, but he couldn’t care less about it, he was too tired and only caring about Ludwig sleeping well. It was fine like that.

[manaquisition]

In Hushed Whispers: Briefing and talk with Alexius

Cullen: We don't have the manpower to take the castle. Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and go and get the templars. Cassandra: Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand. Josie: The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap.

We need to stop arguing [2] How nice of him: Isn't that kind of him. What does Alexius say about me? Alexius made his move

- [2] Leliana: He's so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you. Josie: Not this again. Cullen: Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you'll die and we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it. Leliana: And if we don't even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep. Josie: Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An Orlesian Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied! Cassandra: The Magister-... Cullen: Has. Outplayed us.

There must be a way: We can't just give up. There has to be something we can do. I don't think it's over Let's get the templars

Cassandra: We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution.

[1] Contact the Arl: Where is the arl of Redcliffe? I'm sure he'd help us get his castle back. This isn't worth the trouble We need another way inside

[1] - Josie: After he was displaced, Arl Teagan rode straight for Denerim to petition the crown for help. I doubt he'll want our assistance once the Ferelden army lays siege to his castle. Leliana: Wait. There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route, for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through. Cullen: Too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister. Leliana: That's why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly. Cullen: Focus their attention on [PC] while we take out the Tevinters. It's risky, but it could work.

Dorian opens the door rather forcefully and marches into the room as if he owned it. Scout Jim is trying to catch up with him. Dorian: Fortunately, you have help. Jim: This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander. Dorian walks up to the Inquisitor's right and looks around the war table. Dorian: Your spies will never get past Alexius's magic without my help, so if you're going after him, I'm coming along. Jim stands in the open door like he wasn't sure how it worked. Cullen (to the Herald): The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't in good conscience order you to do this. We can still go after the templars, if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you.

- The scene fades to black and shows the 'confirm operation' dialogue with Leliana giving the UI the side eye -

[Note: Choosing the mages will make it impossible to work with the templars] Redcliffe Castle and the mages who could close the breach are under the control of Magister Gereon Alexius, a Venatori cultist with an unhealthy interest in [PC] and the power to reorder time itself. He has 'kindly' invited [PC] to the castle - alone - to negotiate. It's an obvious trap, but Leliana and her agents can infiltrate the castle and remove the Venatori threat while Alexius's attention is diverted. A dangerous game, but it's our best chance.

The herald and her party members except Dorian walk away from a wooden double gate (around 4x3m) with two regular-sized doors. For some reason the gate is adorned by a huge Inquisition symbol, the door opens right through the symbol's centre on the blood channel of the sword. Two member of the Venatori await them, they're wearing the same outfit as Alexius earlier, just that their hoods are white and the armoured parts are copper. On top of their faces they're wearing black masks with some sort of antlers or perhaps plumbing. There is low-key ominous background music.

Herald: Announce us.

A blonde human (blue eyes, dark eyebrows, clean-shaven, young-ish) in a blue tunic and green breeches walks forward. "The Magister's invitation was for [Mistress] [Herald] alone. The rest will wait here."

1. Then I'll stay here 2. They're negotiators 3. They go where I go - "Where I go, they go"

- 3 - the man looks at the Herald, who hints a shrug and doesn't move an inch. Then he nods his head, bows lightly after that. The party of 3 follows him, a third Venatori falls in behind them from next to the door and the two with the masks following after.

The herald walks over a green carpet and ascends a set of flat steps towards a throne under a dais leading to a balcony that is flanked by two elephant statues. Fiona is standing on foot of the stairs to the right, Alexius is on the throne, and Felix is standing to his right on the left side of the arc to his father's right hand. The blonde civilian keeps himself to the far right of the carpet. The Venatori guards distribute themselves among the pillars to the side of the room.

Servant: My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived. Alexius, whose right foot is resting over his left knee, gets up, the chair creaks. Alexius: My friend! It's so good to see you again! <He walks forwards until he stands on top of the first flight of stairs> And your... associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.

Fiona steps forward: Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate? Alexius: Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you would not trust me... with their lives.

1) Perhaps we should include her: If the Grand Enchanter wants to be a part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition. Fiona: Thank you! <she sounds a little surprised> 2) Because you simply ooze trust 3) Let's get to business

Alexius turns around and faces his throne, takes a few seconds to demonstratively seat himself again. Felix looks towards him and seems uncomfortable Alexius: The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach and _I_ have them, so. What shall you offer in exchange?

1. We have connections: The Inquisition has many backers among the Orlesian nobility. I'm sure we can find suitable compensation. Alexius: I'm not sure what the 'Orlesian nobility' have to offer that I don't already possess. 3. Tell me about the Venatori 4. Nothing 5. I know you want me dead 6. Let's talk about time magic.

Felix: She knows everything, father. Alexius: Felix, what have you done? (in a tone as if he had told him the police might come calling)

1) He's concerned about you: Your son is concerned that you're involved in something terrible. Alexius: So speaks the thief. Do you think you can turn my son against me? (he sounds a bit paranoid) You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don't even understand, and think you're in control? (the pitch of his voice is different, he seemed pretty reasonable in the Redcliffe tavern, but went full super villain while no one was looking)

2) Your trap has already failed 3) Why are you really here?

The Herald takes a step towards the throne, Alexius takes a step towards the herald, background music is still ominous, Felix keeps looking at his father but has changed from uncomfortable to unhappy

Alexius: You're nothing but a mistake.

1) Who killed the Divine? 3) What was supposed to happen? 6) What is the mark? - If you know so much, enlighten me. Tell me what this mark on my hand is for. Alexius: It belongs to your betters. You wouldn't even begin to understand its purpose.

Felix steps forward. Felix: Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like? Alexius half turns to look at Felix while Dorian appears from next to a pillar from the side. Dorian: He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be. Alexius: Dorian (he does not sound surprised, more tired or annoyed) I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.

1) Who is the Elder One? - That's who you serve? The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage? Alexius: Soon, he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more, we will rule from boric oceans to the frozen seas. 3) You're a fanatic 6) What kind of power?

Fiona: You can't involve my people in this! Dorian: Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this? Alexius stands in front of his throne and looks down Felix: Stop it, father! Give up the Venatori! Let the southern mages fight the Breach and let's go home. Alexius: No. It's the only way, Felix. (He reaches out for his son's arms, upping intensity rather than volume) He can save you. Felix: Save me! Alexius turns away from Felix and towards the throne Alexius: There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised, if I undo the mistake of the temple... Felix: I'm going to die. You need to accept that. Alexius gestures with his left. Alexius: Seize them, Venatori. The Elder One demands this [woman/man]'s life.

Stabbing noises, behind every column a Venatori is being assassinated by an Inquisition scout, 5 in total. Alexius backs off a little, looking agitated. Herald: Your men are dead, Alexius. The music changes to something rather more dramatic Alexius: You... are a mistake. You would never have lived. He raises his right palm and conjures up a green cube on a chain. Dorian counters with something green and formless that looks almost like a rift. Dorian: No! He throws his pell at Alexius, whose hand turns into green crystal. Alexius is thrown off-balance and his spell goes off premature. It's a greenish ripple effect that spreads out, then the scene fades to black.

[strawberry-lemonade]

guys on pc you can literally copy entire posts that are side by side, look

Daminette Day 15: ‘If Only’

@daminette-december2019

This one’s going to be a little sad. Be mentally prepared!

—

Damian rarely hesitated.

But because he did, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.

And overtime he gazed wistfully into the distance, a single thought crossed his mind.

If only he had said something.

—

24 December,

One day before Christmas. Christmas Eve. Yes, the time of the year where snow was everywhere and Gotham became black to white. Well, maybe grey. Okay. Irrelevant.

“When’s Marinette arriving?” Jason whined, leaning against the chair. “I can already barely taste her macarons on the tip of my tongue.”

“Oh shush, Jason. Damian’s nervous enough. Be quiet.” Dick chastised, sending a worried look in the green-eyed boy’s direction, to which the boy ignored. He didn’t need pity. He wasn’t nervous.

Okay, maybe he was a little nervous.

Maybe very nervous.

But Grayson didn’t need to know that.

“Guys!” The bright voice of the bluenette shot through the sitting room, and she beamed at all of them, her arms full off bags filled with presents.

“Mari!” “Cupcake!” “Nette!” His brothers greeted her happily, immediately getting up to hug her or kiss her cheek.

“Hey.” He murmured. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

She smiled brightly at him- If only that smile was reserved just for him. Perhaps.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” He asked, scratching his head.

“Of course!”

He lead her out of the sitting room, into the hallway. She looked patiently at him, waiting for him to speak.

I like you. He wanted to blurt out. But he just… Couldn’t.

“Your scarf… Looks weird with your coat.” He ended up saying. He wanted to kill himself when he saw her face drop. Was she expecting something else?

“Um… Damian? I…” She looked like she wanted to say something, but-

“You should take your scarf off.” He interrupted, immediately seeing the effect his words had on her. No, no, no! He wanted to cry. That wasn’t what he meant.

Her face fell, and he suddenly felt like he had crushed her heart. She headed to the front to set down her scarf, and when her back was turned, he mouthed to himself, I love you.

—

He was a mess. He had returned to the sitting room after, only to find that Mari had went out for a quick walk.

“I’m thirsty.” He announced, ignoring the weird looks Tim and Dick were giving him.

How was he going to tell her? Just- I like you? Love? No, would that be too… Sudden? But would she think that he was insincere? God, he had never been this nervous in his entire life.

“Need water for nerves, master Damian?” Alfred asked coolly, already handing him a glass, to which he took gratefully. Once he’d finished, Alfred took the glass from him, washing it up quickly before gesturing to a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. “I had that prepared, just in case you forgot.”

Of course! How could he be so stupid? Flowers were essential. Yes, he could give them to her, explain what he actually wanted to say, and then… He nodded gratefully at Alfred, thanking god that the great man named Alfred Pennyworth was the Wayne’s butler.

“Thank you, Pennyworth.” He smiled softly, caressing the roses. The silence fell in the kitchen, and then Alfred gave him an encouraging look before turning back to the dishes.

“Now get going. I don’t want you breaking any of my dishes before Christmas dinner.”

Damian took the flowers out, avoiding the sitting room where his brothers were, and headed out to the front door. Slowly trudging towards the gates, he caught sight of a particular bluenette and… Was that Couffaine?

He was holding a small rose, ten times smaller than the bouquet he had in hand. The turquoise eyes of the boy were shining with affection as he spoke to the bluenette, who blushed more and more by the second, and Damian was confident that it wasn’t the cold causing it. While he was far away, Damian could distinctly lip read the words that Couffaine spoke.

‘Will you be my girlfriend?’

He was supposed to be the one saying those words.

Not Couffaine.

He was supposed to be the one giving her flowers.

Supposed to be the one who blushed as he took her hand in his.

Supposed to be the one who kissed her softly as the first snow of Christmas Eve fell.

Supposed to be the one who flicked a snowflake off her nose as she giggled with a smile only for him.

He dropped the bouquet in the garden, letting snow collect on it, the roses’ bright red slowly giving in to white.

If only he had made a move sooner.

Sitting in the fairy-tale like setting, he felt a pang of guilt shoot through him.

He watched as his own father lead the bluenette down the aisle.

He watched Couffaine standing on the podium, eyes softening at the sight of the beautiful girl walking towards him, the white dress draping against her skin perfectly.

He watched them hold hands, both answering an eager ‘Yes!’ before dipping in for a passionate kiss.

Would he have been the one marrying her, if he had made a move sooner?

Would he have been the father of their two kids?

Would he have been the love of her life, if he had been the one to ask her out that Christmas Eve?

If only.

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Fluff

Daminette December Day Ten

Marinette was used to people being fascinated by her baking technique. She herself remembered the childhood wonder at how her parents were able to turn eggs and flour into ornate cakes and delicate pastries. It was a thing of beauty to watch, after all. She just wasn’t used to this level of enthusiasm from a grown man.

Marinette had first noticed him because of his dominating presence– when he walked into a room, everyone noticed. He was massive, almost as tall as Papa, and intimidatingly buff with black hair and a single white streak. But his eyes fixated on her baking, and they hadn’t strayed from her once. It would have been intimidating if it hadn’t been for the sheer childlike wonder in his eyes.

The man had been in there for at least an hour when the door crashed open to a boy around her age cursing in a variety of languages before spitting, “Todd! We’ve been looking for you for hours! What the–”

“Hush, your foul language will ruin the fluff,” the large one said, putting a hand over the boy’s mouth.

“I-is everything okay over there?” Marinette asked hesitantly.

“Fine, just keep doing what you’re doing,” the big one said, despite the squirming boy in his arms.

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Teen Titans AU Part 6

Hi! I’m so excited I was able to update at the end of the day today (phew barely made it). Hopefully you like this chapter, it’s mostly setting up for the plot (and climax soon) but I also added some Daminette fluff. Here you go!

VI

“Are you kidding me Kori?!” Asked Damian, “We’re not going back to the tower! We have to find Deathstroke!” Starfire shook her head at Damian, internally she was freaking out, she even wished Dick was here to help her lead this. “Damian, if we go now we’ll be underprepared and Slade is aware of your rashness, he’ll be expecting us. We’ll be pummeled and Marinette will go back with that psycho.” Kori responded. Jamie nodded at Starfire’s statement and sat down on the couch with Garfield. Team meetings normally weren’t so tense and they probably wouldn’t have been if Marinette was there to keep the peace, but Kori sent her to her room. The poor girl had gone through enough and she needed sleep. Damian and Jon were understandably furious but Jon saw Kori’s point, “She’s right you know.” He turned to his friend, who had his normal annoyed expression. Jon continued, “If we try to find them now we’ll be going in blind. I don’t want to send Mari away, but they know she’s here. What should we do Starfire?” Kori thought about it, “I-“ she was interrupted by a scream, Marinette’s scream. “I’ve got it.” Damian said running as fast as he could to her room after checking the camera they put in her room just in case. Nobody was in her room, she was just having a nightmare. Damian understood, sometimes he’d have nightmares about his grandfather. But Ra’s wasn’t coming back unlike Marinette’s tormentor. He quickly opened her door and tapped her until she woke up. “Did-did I do it again Damian?” She said with tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry Marinette, he’s not coming back. And if he does I’ll kick his ass, I’d die before I let anything happen to you.” He whispered into her ear. He felt relieved that the other Titans were in a meeting and couldn’t hear him talk to Marinette. He squeezed her tightly as she sobbed into his arms. “Dam-Damian?” She said looking up at him staring at him with her wide blue eyes. He couldn’t do anything when he looked into her eyes, he was intoxicated. Bluebell eyes continued to stare at him and he looked back at her with his piercing emerald ones. “Yes malak*?” She breathed deeply before asking, “Could-could you stay with me tonight? I feel safer with you.” Damian couldn’t say no to her, he already knew that, “Yes, I will.” He remembered he was a gentleman though and added, “Where would you like me to sleep?” Marinette paused and gathered up some courage, “could you stay here?” She said motioning to the bed she was on. “Are you s-sure?” Damian asked. He didn’t know what to make of it, he knew he would never take advantage of her, but he was surprised that after the Agreste kid she wasn’t afraid of sleeping in the same bed as a boy. Marinette nodded, “I-I am. I trust you Damian.” Damian nodded back to her and laid down. He didn’t mention that she had also trusted that idiot cat partner of hers, but he knew he would never hurt her and if he did, even just emotionally, he would never forgive himself. Damian held marinette as she slowly drifted off to sleep, he ruffled her hair soothingly, “I swear nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m alive.” He whispered and he too, fell asleep.

The morning sun peeked through the windows of Titans tower. The team, aside from Damian and Marinette were awake for most of the night. Garfield turned on the TV to see if there was any news about the whereabouts of their blonde model. If this kid was really as famous as Kori had mentioned he knew there’d be news about him, and sure enough an anchor with dark hair and chocolate skin was talking about it, with a picture of the smiling blonde model on the TV.

“If you have any tips about where Mr. Agreste might be, call this hotline right now. Now to Mindy with an interview with one of Adrien Agreste’s classmates.” Lila and the interviewer panned onto the screen as Jon walked in. Lila spoke in perfect but choppy English,

“Oh I just hope he’s found soon! I don’t know what Id do without him, we’re such great friends, unlike some people…” The interviewer took Lila’s bait, “Who would be ‘some people’?” Lila put a hand to her head dramatically, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s been obsessed with Adrien since day one, she probably kidnapped him, or worse. She was always so jealous that he’d rather spend time with me instead of-“ Jon growled at the liar on TV, “Turn it off.” He told Gar. “But-“ “Turn it OFF!” Jon yelled. Garfield obliged and the other Titans trickled into the room, except for Marinette and Damian, they were still fast asleep. “Should we wake them?” Tara asked, motioning towards the camera that was taping Marinette’s room. It showed the bluenette and Damian sleeping side by side, with Marinette’s arms placed on Damian’s chest. “No.” Kori said, if the stakes weren’t so high she would even call the display cute, “They deserve a little rest.” Tara nodded and sat next to Gar on the couch. The two had gotten much closer since Marinette arrived, Gar had even told Jamie that Tara and he had kissed. Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was happy for his friend. The team sat on the furniture as Starfire got up to make breakfast.

Damian was awoken by the ringing of a cell phone in his pocket. “Just five more minutes.” He heard Marinette mumble. Adorable, he thought. He slowly got up from the bed and answered the phone. “Yes Alfred?” He said in a hushed whisper, as to not wake up Marinette. She sat up anyway watching Damian speak. “No? Is anyone hurt? That’s good. Yes, I think that would be a good idea… today? In TWO HOURS?! Yes, yes sorry Alfred. I’ll be there, do you mind if I bring a friend? Good. We’ll be there.” After hanging up Damian sat on the bed stroking Marinette’s soft, beautiful hair, “My family has offered us their house in Gotham for the time being until we have a good plan to find Deathstroke and Agreste. They could use a little help with Gotham villains, and I think a change of scenery might be good for you anyway…We’d leave in two hours, on a plane. Is that ok?” Marinette nodded, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little happy about going with Damian to another place, far away from Adrien. She thought it would be a good distraction to meet his family. “Ok, malak. Unfortunately you’ll have to get changed and we’ll have to leave almost right away.” Marinette looked puzzled, “Damian? What does ma-malak mean? I heard you say it last night too but…” Damian chuckled a little, “It means angel in Arabic. (*courtesy of google translate) You don’t mind me calling you that do you?” He asked, suddenly self conicous. He only called her that because he thought it described her perfectly. Marinette blushed, “I don’t mind, not at all! I-I-I ummm. CHANGE! I should change!” Damian held in a smile as the bluenette sprung out of bed and ran to her bathroom.

When Marinette was safely in her bathroom, she pulled out clothes from her closet (don’t question it) and woke Tikki up from her makeshift bed in the closet (Tikki wanted to let Mari have some space). “Oh my gosh Tikki, I’m hopeless.” Tikki giggled, “Is this about Damian?” “What how’d you know?!” “It’s obvious, you look at him lovingly, he actually smiles around you…” Marinette turned fifty shades of red, “I- uhhhh. I’m going to change now!” She shut the closet again and changed quickly into some warm clothes, she didn’t know a lot about Gotham except that the weather was generally colder there. She opened her closet once more and pulled out some luggage and packed as fast as she could. She took her purse and motioned Tikki inside. She grabbed her luggage and walked out of the bathroom. She didn’t see Damian, so she assumed he went back to the main room. She headed there too. The Titans had congregated in the main room when they got wind that Damian and Marinette would be in Gotham for a while. Jon didn’t want her to leave but he knew it was safer since only the team and the batfamily knew about them leaving. He wanted Marinette to be safe above all else.

Damian had packed and gathered in the room at record speed, Marinette was close behind. “So I guess you heard…” she said. The team nodded. Marinette was never any good at goodbyes, even temporary ones. Damian looked at his watch, they would have to leave soon if they wanted to get to the airport on time. “I wish you all the best in Gotham, you two.” Kori said. “You’re going to love Gotham,” Garfield jumped in, “Very inspirational.” Marinette nodded, it was awkward, these people had seen her at her worst and seen her laugh so hard she cried. She took a deep breath, “I know it’s only temporary but I’m going to miss all of you so much.” Jon sighed, it was going to be even harder to let her leave. “Don’t worry Mari, we’ll chat all the time. Maybe video calls?” Jon looked at Damian for his approval and he nodded. “I’m sorry Marinette, I know it’s not ideal but it’s the best temporary fix we have while we come up with a plan to beat Slade and Agreste. Plus, I’m sure my family could benefit from the help of a certain spotted heroine.” That made Marinette smile slightly just like Damian thought it would, nothing cheered her up like helping others. Jon pulled Mari in for a tight hug, Garfield, Jamie, Kori, and surprisingly Raven followed suit. Tara stood by Damian and when Marinette was released from the group hug she walked up to her and gave her a small farewell and good luck hug, nothing long but Marinette could tell she cared. Damian said a quick goodbye to his team and walked out of the tower, luggage in hand, with Marinette.

Damian took the Titans smaller car that was used for personal reasons, not Titans business and drove off as the two heroes waved goodbye to their friends. Marinette looked at him as he drove, she was content to let drive in silence, it felt like she didn’t need words at all with him but then she suddenly remembered, “Damian, what villain does your family need help with?” Damian sucked in a bit of air, “The Riddler and his son, normally they’re not much of a threat, but they’ve escalated and are appearantly planning something big. My ‘sisters’ are on a girls trip so my father asked for me to come back and help.” Marinette nodded, “it’ll certainly be a desired pace from Adrien.” She seemed to wince at his name, “and I can’t wait to meet your family, if they’re as g-g-great as you I’m sure I’ll love them.” She blushed. Damian blushed too, she thought he was great! He pulled himself out of his thoughts with a coughing fit, “We’re here.” Damian said pulling up at a small airport. Damian stepped out of the car and opened the door for Marinette, causing a whole new wave of blushes. They walked into the airport together and when they were cleared through security, traveled to the gate just in time for boarding. The Wayne’s had bought them tickets in first class that were next to each other. A TV and a small set of earphones were attached to the back of the seat in front of them. Marinette took the window seat and looked out the window as the plane started to take off, she looked slightly nervous. “Is this your first time flying malak?” Damian asked. “Y-yeah, at least for the first time when I was awake.” Marinette responded. Damian placed a hand over hers, “Is this ok?” He asked. Marinette smiled, “Thank you.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a while until they experienced turbulence. Marinette shut her eyes tightly and Damian came up with an idea. “How about we watch a Movie? It’ll get your mind off the flight.” Marinette nodded and reached for an earbud as Damian reached for the other, their hands touching briefly sending sparks and blushes through the teens’ bodies. They placed their respective earbud in and Damian searched for a movie. Marinette saw her favorite on the dashboard, “How about Enchanted?” Damian looked puzzled, “Sure. I’ve never seen it but-“ Marinette looked at him with wide eyes, “You’ve never seen Enchanted?! That’s it we’re watching it.” Marinette pressed a thumb to the movie and it started to play. Marinette seemed pretty engrossed as the movie went on and Damian found himself looking more at her than the movie. Soon it was over though, and they landed. “You were right Damian, that helped a lot.” She said looking gratefully at the dark haired boy. Damian gave her a slight smile, it was nearly impossible not to smile when she was around. Damian took her hand gently and led her off the airplane, she was awed by the sight of the city and thought of new sketch ideas right away. Gar was right, the city was inspirational. Damian looked at her and her dumbfounded expression and smiled a bit more, “Welcome to Gotham Marinette.”

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A message to Anti’s

From your friendly Maribat server under the cut.

Fair warning, this is salt and while this may be fanning the flames a bit, I frankly have no sympathy for any anti browsing this tag that comes across this. So while I’m responsible for tagging this correctly and with only two tags and this warning I think I have, you’re responsible for curating your own online experience! If you’re old enough to be on Tumblr you’re old enough to take accountability for what you read.

This is meant to show you our prospective. It is not in any way a callout post directed at anyone in particular. DO NOT TAKE THIS AS A REASON TO HARASS ANYONE OVER THEIR OPINIONS. We can all stay happily in our own lanes.

Daminette shippers have been getting a lot of harassment lately, frankly the bullying is outrageous so while I myself have really outgrown the stage in my life where I give a fuck about anons who tell me to kick the bucket, several of the people in the fandom aren’t so for simplicities sake every name is blacked out save my own.

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anonymous  asked:

Are there any relationships in the pack besides Marinette/Damian?

Yessss! While PACK AU is not very focused on romantic relationships, there are still couples.

They are: Daminette, Chlogami, Kimdine and Lukadrien (which I am wondering if it turns into a poly with Jon later).

Max is Aromantic Ace!

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anonymous  asked:

Can you do Angst 11 with Daminette please?

Not gonna lie I’m reallllly proud of this, favorite one yet.

Marinette sat alone at the coffee shop. She stirred the coffee she bought and sipped it every so often. She noticed the pitying looks the baristas gave her, and even some customers. She didn’t care.

“You still waitin’ for him doll?” A caramel skinned beauty asked in a New York accent. Marinette smiled weakly, “Oui, I’m sure he’s just late.” The barista gave her a hopeful smile before going back to her station.

The bell jingled which caused Marinette to perk up. Instead of her Dove she saw a lanky teenage boy. She slumped in her seat and began to drink her coffee again. This time when the bell did it’s signature chime Marinette didn’t look up. She heard the scraping of a chair which caused her to stop drinking her coffee and look across from her.

Damian, her Dove, was finally there.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.” She stated dryly. Damian sighed, “I know Beloved. I’m sorry, I was just-“

“I’m your fucking wife Damian.” Marinette hissed. She took a long swig of her coffee, liquid courage if you will. “You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”

“Angel I’m sorr-“ Damian softened when he saw the bags under his Beloved’s eyes.

“Godammit Damian,” she said as tears welled in her eyes, “You don’t know what it’s like wake up in an empty bed and be wondering what happened. You’re a son of a wealthy man, fuck you’re a vigilante!” Marinette whispered before returning to her normal volume level, “So many things ran though my mind, were you in danger, was somebody else, fuck, could you be dead?!” She choked up and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve before taking another sip of coffee. Damian reached out to Marinette.

“You know my life Angel. I should’ve told you, I’m not going to try to justify myself. I know you retired a long time ago, but for me, I don’t think I ever can. I know it’s not ideal, I know I’m not ideal, but I also know I love you. I love you more than words can express, and I can’t promise you much but I can promise I’ll never leave you.” Marinette started to cry as she stood up from the table and Damian wrapped her in a hug. “Oh Damian,” she sobbed and embraced him, overwhelmed with love.

“You know, once you said you’d never leave me.” Marinette said plainly as she sat in the dewy morning grass picking at the flowers. “You told me you loved me, and then you said you’d never leave me.”

Marinette took a deep breath before facing Damian.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

Here lies Damian Wayne: Devoted husband and brother

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some of y’all call yourselves daminette stans but do y’all wake up at 5:30 am everyday to catch up on daminette fics? YA I DIDNT THINK SO .

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anonymous  asked:

why is Adrien an omega and Marinette an alpha?

Because I wanted something different from the traditional omega x alpha.

We have a “traditional” omega x alpha couple that is Lukadrien (who will probably become Jonlukadrien).

And we have a non-traditional alpha x alpha couple that is Daminette.

Chlogami are betas, Kim dates someone out of the pack and Max is not interested in dating/romance.

So besides all the “ABO it’s only for miraculous bearers” I also have a nontraditional abo.

Now other than that, I also believe that Adrien (if the abo were a reality on the show) would be an omega. An omega prime (maybe) but an omega. I can’t see Adrien as an alpha in any reality of the plot. It does not enter my head.

Marinette I can see it as omega, but she always gave me an alpha idea despite her anxiety and being clumsy.

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Daminette December day 17 baking

@ozmav @maribat-archive @daminette-december2019 @ladysblackcat @thesunanditsangel @caffeinetheory @yamadochie @captainmac6 @theatreandcomicfreak @sonif50 @emjrabbitwolf @vixen-uchiha

Damian was brilliant at everything and anything he put his mind to.

He was an amazing swordsman, had excellent balance, a master with animals and professional with a paintbrush.

So it was not a surprise that he was also good at baking. You never knew what you would need as a cover.

However, when it came to decorating the cake, he was only good at basics.

The stuff Marinette was doing, he struggled with.

At least he was still doing better than Grayson.

His cake was at least still masterful if simplistic. Buttercream wrapping around the cake was smooth and bubble free, with sharp straight edges at the top to show his steady hands.

Damian was unsure who had more icing on them, Grayson’s cake, or Grayson himself. But if the bright smile on the eldest brother’s face was anything to go by, he didn’t care for how poorly his decorating and baking went, just that he did it. Drake’s cake was also simply decorated, though he attempted with brown edible paint to paint coffee beans onto the icing around and on the cake, and had actually come off really nicely. Marinette’s cake looked like it belonged in a cake shop with the icing on the sides, and the carefully iced flowers and all neat and pretty, Damian approved of her skills that come from being in a bakery her whole life.

Todd however, shocked Damain with his cake that looked as if it should stand alongside Marinette in the cake shop window! It had chocolate dripping down the sides, buttercream iced around on top in small decorative measures, fruit and cocoa powder. Todd had grinned at his look and spoke smugly,

“Alfred and I bond over cooking and baking. It’s a nice way to just get out stress or anger actually.” Damian proceeded to sulk until Marinette kissed his cheek.

“It’s okay dove. You’ll get better at it with practice. I’ll help you learn. And failing me, we’ll talk to my parents, the experts in creating eye pleasing goods for a living.” He gave a smirk as she soothed him and turned to Todd as if to challenge him.

“Decorations mean nothing if it tastes nasty. Let’s test that!” The boys happily dug into their cakes claiming their own to be best while Marinette rolled her eyes. Damn her boyfriend accepting nothing but being the best, even over matters that didn’t matter.

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All I Want For Christmas is You

@daminette-december2019

Day 3- Decorating.

Ahhhh sorry I haven’t done one yet, I’ve been a little busy! This is just a short little blurb today!

~~~~~~~~

bitch.

[howlingheartdemigod]

my sister sent me this list of post breakup aus and i was like “oh cool angst” and she was like “do one that’s not angst” and I was like “??? i can’t do that” and she was like “try” and i was like “eh” but then the next day i referred to a salamander as a ‘pokit frien,’ implied this was sustainable if i just ‘put watr in pokit’ and called a salamander ‘watr snek with leg perfect goblin frien’ and she stopped emailing me so i had to bribe her by giving her PC in our DnD game more money, she's a rogue so this is always effective, and promising to write this so. in case you were wondering. prompt of  “are you?? sabotaging?? my dates?!?!?” courtesy of @followthebraingrape​

thank you for editing and for kicking me when i say mean things about myself. you’re a good big sister.

title from sara bareilles’ if i can’t have you

thankful that i held you at all

The first time must have been a coincidence. Beau told herself it was a coincidence. Yasha didn’t even like going clubbing. Beau had a very vivid memory of Yasha pulling her close in their- no, Yasha’s kitchen. Beau had never technically moved in, not hers, never hers- twirling her slowly to music only they could hear, telling Beau she liked a different type of dancing better.

“Face to face, body to body,” Yasha’d told her, voice low. “Skin to skin.” Beau remembered shivering with the words. Yasha claimed she wasn’t good with words, but she always had the ones to make Beau’s knees go weak.

So, a coincidence. A fluke. A completely unfathomable mistake that Yasha was at the same club she and Vorsah had come to. She must have been there for work. Must have been called in to work as a bodyguard, or… Beau wasn’t sure. She couldn’t possibly be standing there because Beau had posted about waiting in line on her snapchat story. Yasha barely used her snapchat. Coincidence.

Beau was staring at Yasha, who was sitting at the bar, eyes searching the crowd, until a blue blur came and wrapped her arms around her. “Beau!” Jester shouted, voice cutting through the loud music. “I didn’t know you came here!” Jester pulled back, taking Beau’s hands, wide smile, indigo curls bouncing with her movement, eyes glinting with trouble.

Beau returned Jester’s smile, shaking her head clear. “First time coming here.” She replied, the light and music coming back into focus, the feeling of sweat hanging in the too warm air. Beau glanced back to the bar, finding Yasha looking at her. ‘No, at Jester. Clearly that’s the only reason she’s here. No one can say no to Jester.’ She told herself. “What are you doing here?” she asked Jester, pretending that she hadn’t seen Yasha. Pretending she didn’t know Yasha existed, in fact. She’d never seen Yasha before in her life, why would she care?

“Oh, you know. I wanted to dance. Yasha came with!” Jester said around a mouthful of mischief. “Fjord is out of town visiting Vandren, and Molly was busy, and Nott is busy with wedding stuff, and Caleb and Caduceus are boring and never want to do anything fun. And you didn’t respond to my messages, so it’s just me and Yasha.”

Beau shifted a little, looking back where she’d left Vorsha, waiting for a drink. “Oh, yeah, uh, sorry I saw them but I… I’m here on a date so I didn’t reply.”

Jester bounced a little, letting out an excited squeal. “Who with? Can I meet her?” Jester’s eyes scanned the crowd behind Beau’s shoulder.

“Oh, uh,” Beau turned her head to find her date looking somewhat annoyed, staring at them. Beau shot her an apologetic smile, and gave a shrug. This was complicating things. This was a hookup, not a date. Jester always wanted things to be like in one of her romcoms and this… was not. This was physical. This was nothing like what she’d had with-

“Oh Yasha!” Jester’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Beau turned her head to see Yasha joining them, looking like a dream. Beau couldn’t help the way her heart skipped, seeing the amazon-esque woman approach.

Get your shit together, Beauregard. Beau commanded silently, dropping one of Jester’s hands. You are not a teen with a first time crush. You are experienced. You are a damn delight. Yasha not seeing that is not on you.

“Hey Yasha.” Beau said, chin lifting a little.

“Hello, Beauregard. Fancy seeing you here.” Yasha’s smile was soft, something in her eyes making Beau want to kiss her.

Beau swallowed, turning back to Jester. “You wanted to meet Vorsah right?” Beau said, “Follow me.” She pulled Jester along, pretending she didn’t care if Yasha followed. Pretending it was all fine and good. Pretending she didn’t give a rats ass about if Yasha was jealous or not. Still when Beau dropped down next to Vorsah, and turned her head to find Yasha had trailed along with, she felt a little spark of victory. This was a chance, an opportunity to make her jealous. It was perfect. “V, this is Jester, a friend of mine. And this is Yasha.” She said, waving vaguely, at them, angling her body towards the silver haired woman she was with. Take that Yasha. She’s hot as hell and she wants to fuck me. Who cares if you don’t.

Beau put her hand on Vorsah’s thigh, trailing her fingers back and forth, putting on her dumbest, most vapid smile. Tracy, the alter ego that was all too easy to put on.

Vorsah looked at Beau, then Jester, who was moving to sit down on the purple velvet lined couch on Vorsah’s other side, then to Yasha, who, Beau realized, now looked deeply uncomfortable, like she always did in clubs. Not relaxed like when she’d just been talking to Beau. “Hello,” Vorsah said, “Nice to meet you both. Did you remember my drink?” Beau stiffened. She hadn’t. She’d been so caught up in the idea of making Yasha even the slightest bit regretful she’d forgotten that the goal was to get drunk and get laid.

“Oh my gods, I’m an idiot.” Beau said laughing a little. “I’ll be right back.” She pushed to her feet, letting her hand trail over Vorsah’s shoulder as she went. Beau weaved her way through the crowd, letting her shoulders slowly drop. What are the fucking odds that the one night Jester decides she wants to go out dancing, Yasha’s the only one available to go with her. And is the night that Beau’s out on a date at the same club?! Beau ordered the drinks, and two shots for herself, which she downed in quick succession, before turning to head back to their corner. That was annoying too. They were well on their way from dancing to making out. That was the whole point of the dark corner, the couch, the drinks. Beau loved Jester, but she was also firmly in the Ban Jester from every club camp.

What do you need a club for anyway, Jes? Beau thought at her loudly. You don’t even drink.

Beau returned to find that Yasha sitting on the small table in front of the couch, taking up more space than was strictly necessary. Vorsah had angled herself towards Jester, to accommodate.

Beau put on another fake smile, this one tinged with a smirk, and went to drop next to Vorsah despite Yasha’s knees knocking the couch. Beau just tossed her legs up over Yasha’s, her thighs resting on Yasha’s knees. She watched, out of the corner of her eye, Yasha’s lips part, her breath catch. She knew this move. Beau would do this, or some variation, to draw her out, to pull her in. Watching movies on the couch, she’d drape herself across Yasha, after long hikes she’d dramatically throw herself into Yasha’s arms. Beau liked touch more than Yasha thought to give her, so Beau would go out of her way to find it. And Beau knew, looking how she looked; flushed, sweaty, hair mussed from dancing, crop top twisted, she knew that she looked like all those nights she’d go grab them some waters from the kitchen and come back to bed and throw her legs over Yasha’s to keep her from running, from pulling away. She handed Vorsah her drink and looked to Jester, who was chattering along. “What we talking about?”

Jester looked to her, a devious sparkle glinting in her eyes. “Oh, I was just telling Vorsah all about the Traveler, and how he’s so cool. And how much fun he is. And-”

All of Beau’s hopes about getting laid went out the window, for two reasons. One, when Jester started talking about the Traveler, that was the end of the night, lights out, go home. Jester could talk about the Traveler for hours and not get bored. Beau even thought the Traveler seemed like a chill dude, (Was it disrespectful to call a god a chill dude? Beau still wasn’t sure,) but he wasn’t exactly the topic she’d pick to set the mood.

And reason two... Reason two was a calloused hand rested on her knee, a rough thumb tracing impossibly soft paths back and forth across it. Beau glanced to Yasha, who’s gaze was steady on Jester. Beau swallowed, and she saw, almost imperceptibly, the corner of Yasha’s mouth lift, and then it was gone.

Beau didn’t get laid that night, and Vorsah, hot as she was, didn’t get a call for another date. Not when all Beau could think of was Yasha’s hand on her leg.

The second time it happened seemed a little more suspicious.  Beau wasn’t a particularly paranoid person, but in two weeks, two different people had stood her up or flaked out on her and it was starting to feel like a pattern.

So, when she finally was out with someone, it was just one step too weird that Yasha and Molly were getting lunch at the same damn fucking dinner.

When she saw them enter and sit, she let out a long sigh, sinking down in the red and white booth.

“What… What are you doing?” Avantika, an ‘old friend’ of Fjord’s, was squinting at her from across the table. Avantika was undoubtedly hot, and though she’d been a little bit of a bitch off the bat, there was a certain amount of asshole behavior Beau could overlook if the offender was also super hot.

Beau wondered if she herself was hot enough for Avantika to overlook that she was acting like a hot slice of crazy.  Beau grimaced, and laughed a little. “Uh, just, well…”

“Beauregard!” Molly’s voice cut through her flimsy excuse, sweeping towards them with his arms out. “What are the odds!?” He dropped down next to Avantika, the smirk on his lips leaving no question that he knew he was being a dick.

“Mollymauk.” Beau replied, scowling. She was so caught up in her annoyance with him she didn’t notice Yasha had followed until she was leaning against the booth, smiling fondly at Molly. Beau’s eyes caught on her, unable to pull away. She looked fucking great. Beau heart skipped when Yasha looked to her. “Hey.” Beau managed.

“Hello.” Yasha replied, her gaze piercing. Beau’s lips pulled into a smile involuntarily, and Yasha’s grew in return. It was instinctive, the joy, a long ingrained habit she’d never shake.

A delicate accented voice across the table called Beau, and it took her a second to pull her gaze back to her date.

You are on a date, you nightmare. Beau reminded herself. Not here to make eyes at a woman who doesn’t want to date your disaster ass anyway.

“Friends of yours Beauregard?” Avantika asked, brow lifting.

“Oh, goodness, Yahsa how rude we are. Where are my manners-”

“You never had any.” Beau muttered, earning a snicker from Yasha as she dropped into the booth next to her.

“I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to my friends.” He offered a hand with a flourish, and as much of a bow as he could manage in the booth.

Avantika looked at his hand, at his signature bomber jacket, then his face, and turned away. The look on her face left a sour taste in Beau’s mouth. “And you?” She asked, gaze directed at Yasha.

The pale woman’s brow lifted, glancing to Beau. “Oh, I’m, uh…”

“This is Yasha. ‘nother friend of mine.” Beau said, gesturing vaguely. “Yasha, Molly, this is Avantika. Fjord set us up.” Avantika stiffened, gaze flicking away at Fjord’s name, but Beau continued regardless. “I know these two from… Well, it’s… kinda convoluted how we know each other, and sounds dumb saying it.”

“We met at the carnival.” Molly said with a toothy grin.

“At the school carnival.” Yasha corrected. “Freshman mixer.”

“Yeah, I already knew Fjord and Jester-” Beau began to smile, thinking of all their antics, but Avantika cut her off with a raise of her hand.

“As fascinating as I’m sure you all find this story,” She purred, voice low, her gaze making Beau feel like she was a mouse making a cats job too difficult. “If we’re going to continue this, I’d like to continue it alone.”

Beau felt a little flame of annoyance spark up. Avantika had already been a bitch, then she acted like Molly’s meer presence was a distasteful (which, come on, she was the only one allowed to be a dick to Molly,and that’s after years of actual friendship,) on top of cutting Beau off mid sentence.

“Then I guess we won’t get to continue it.” Beau said, looking down her nose at Avantika.

The redhead sputtered a moment, then slid out the opposite side of the booth and stormed towards the door.

“Well she seemed just grand.” Molly said, scooting over to pick through Avantika’s fries.

Beau let out a little groan. “Two minutes, I think that’s a record in how long it takes you to ruin one of my dates.” She said, scowling at him.

“Oh, no way.” He argued. “I once dumped a drink on that girl’s shoes, she peeled out of there so fucking fast, oh what was her name.”

Beau scowled. “Eliza?”

“Ellie.” Yasha said, taking a sip of a soda Beau only realized was hers once it was back down in front of her. “That’s not your record, surely. There was that time you invited yourself to our first date.” Beau’s eyes cut over to her, shocked to hear her mention it. They hadn’t spoken of their relationship near each other since it ended.

“Well, that didn’t ruin the night, it enhanced it.” Molly replied, leaning towards Yasha, signature smile on.

Yasha’s laugh was enough to let Beau ignore the butterflies kicking up wind in her stomach.

Later, she couldn't even be mad at Molly and Yasha for crashing. She was mad at Molly for sticking her with the bill, though. She felt justified in that.

The final dagger in Beau’s “there’s a conspiracy against me getting laid” theory came when she was hanging out with Keg.

She’d already gone on two more failed dates at that point, one of them interrupted by Nott needing her to come help with something immediately which turned out to be a question about which buttons to use up the back of her wedding gown, an event Yasha also happened to be called in for. The next one was even more of a disaster. In the time it took to call asking for the wait time at the restaurant and getting there, every table had been reserved with a cash advance. The hostess apologized, and told Beau about some celebrity woman needing the venue for the evening. Which sounded like exactly the sort of thing Marion Lavore, or someone doing a great impression of her, would do. Yasha being at the restaurant next door, picking up takeout, icing on the date ruining cake.

But those easily could have been coincidences.

Could have been, but she doubted it. She was of the opinion that Nott, Molly, and Jester were all conspiring together to keep her single until Yasha decided to take her back which was, frankly, ridiculous. Yasha had always been too good for her. Beau knew that was always going to be the inevitable end. And why would it have been their business anyway, it’s not like Beau stuck her nose into their love lives. If and when she did she was totally justified. She’d been right with Nott and Yeza, and Fjord and Jester. This was totally different. Totally completely different.

And if she kept telling herself that she might start to believe it.

Keg was the best person Beau had known in high school, and the only person she’d dated. She was the only person she’d kept in contact with from home when she’d cut off contact with her parents four months into sophomore year, the only person she’d wanted to. Keg had been her sanity trying to figure out being queer in a small town with homophobic parents. Keg was also bat shit crazy and a horrible influence.

She was an asshole. Most of Beau’s friends were assholes, it’s how she liked it. She had a two non-asshole rule, and between Caduceus and Jester, those slots were full.

She was also just that, a friend. Beau and Keg had agreed that them dating was so nonfunctional the first time, it wasn’t worth ever trying again. Breaking up had been less upsetting and more the agreed upon conclusion to the mess they were. They were still friends, of course, so as soon as she found out Keg was going to be in town they made plans, but not a date.

A distinction she didn’t make clear when she told Jester, Molly, or Nott. She needed to test her theory.

She and Keg were playing pool when the door opened, a Zemnian accent floating to her ears despite the distance and the chatter. She could clock Caleb from miles away. He’d never been subtle in his life.

“Fucking hell.” she muttered, glancing toward the door, watching a gaggle of familiar people enter. “Those absolute fuckers.”

“Hm?” Keg replied around a sip of her beer. Beau tracked her gaze to a tall blonde in the corner. Beau hit her with the blunt end of her cue stick. “Hey!” Keg replied gaze flicking back. “I’m listening, asshole.”

“Oh, what did I say then?” Beau’s gaze was still tracking her group of friends, all of them, and Yeza, which was especially rare these days with the business picking up. She saw the small smile on Yasha’s lips, watched the tall woman’s gaze flick about the bar, then saw it stop on her. Beau didn’t break her gaze, instead hitting Yasha with a soft smile. The look of shock on Yasha’s face was enough.

“Something about fucking, I think.” Keg replied, leaning on the table. “Which, I thought we were on the same page about, but I guess not.”

“Shut up.” Beau set down the cue, turning to lean herself, facing Keg. “You remember my college friends right? Just walked in. I think at least a few of them are trying to ruin my love life on behalf of another one of them.”

Keg’s eyes shot over, taking the motley crew by the bar. Beau turned her gaze just in time to see Yasha look away. “Is Nott here?” Keg asked a fond smile on her lips. She and Nott had met one weekend when Keg was in town, and had disappeared for hours, coming back the next day with a story neither would tell. “Nott’s the best.”

“Nott is one of the ones trying to ruin my chances of getting laid.” Beau replied arms crossing.

“Yeah, yeah, big deal.” Keg replied, waving a hand at Beau. “Are we going over there are are you going to keep bitching that your friends love and care about you?”

“They… You are… making a lot of assumptions without much knowledge.” Beau sputtered.

“They want to hook you and the tall, hot one back up.” Keg replied, turning her gaze back. “I agree. You’ve been a fucking downer since that ended.”

Beau opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but a familiar voice called out, “Keg!” and before she could, a small dark blur of color flung itself at Keg.

Beau sighed, setting her cue down, leaning on the table as Keg returned the hug in her typical bad-at-this manner.

“Nice to see you too Nott.” Beau lifted her drink in a greeting.

“I saw you yesterday.” Nott replied, instead of dignifying Beau’s annoyance with a proper response.

Beau let out a little sigh, heading over to the bar without another word. Her friends, the nightmare of color she called her family, were gathered around one edge of the bar. Caleb and Fjord were mid argument about who knows what, while Molly, Caduceus, and Yasha were locked in a quiet conversation, Molly and Yasha looking intense, Caduceus looking confused. The three fell silent as Beau drew near, Yasha’s eyes on the floor.

“Oh, Beau!” Jester was spinning on the stool as Beau drew near, a soda in hand, smiling wickedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Mhmm.” Beau replied, brow lifting. “Sure Jester.” Jester smiled at her sweetly, and Beau scowled. “You’re ridiculous.” she said, “You too, Mollymauk.”

Molly put a hand on his chest offended. “Beau, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Fuck you, Molly.”

“Fuck you too, Beau.”

“Molly.” Yasha’s voice was soft, nearly pleading. It drew Beau’s gaze to her face. She was flushed, flustered. Yasha was almost never flustered. Beau shook it off, looking back to Molly and Jester.

“You both, and Nott for that matter, need to cut the crap, alright? Yasha do you even know the nonsense they’re up to?” she asked, brow lifting.

“What we are up to?” Molly replied, looking to Yasha. “How’d blame get shifted to us?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t my idea!” Jester replied, straightening up.

“The execution was all you.” Yasha replied, pointing at her. “I was kidding.”

“You don’t kid.” Molly replied, looking at her through his lashes. “And the second time was your idea too.”

“You all continued the… Okay, well you know I was in the right on that one.” Yasha replied, arms crossing.

Beau’s eyes flitted between them confusion in her gaze. “What?”

“That Avantika was a character though. Fjord must have been on something strong back then.” Molly mused, drawing Fjords glare briefly, before he turned back to his and Caleb’s conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?” Beau repeated.

“If you had just turned off twitter notifications we probably would have stopped. It was just so sad seeing you get  annoyed when ever your phone dinged.” Jester continued to Yasha with a pout.

“What the fuck?” Beau said, voice raising. “You…” she pointed to Yasha. “You’re the one sabotaging my dates?”

Yasha went still and silent, lips parted, staring at Beau like maybe she’d forget the conversation if Yasha didn’t reply.

“You thought we were messing with you of our own accord?” Molly asked, brow lifting.

“Come on, Beau.” Jester replied, head tilting. “You know my pranks are less destructive than this.”

Beau’s gaze was on Jester when Yasha started to move, a step back, then turning, then rushing towards the door.

Beau’s lips parted in offense. “You… You’ve got to be kidding me.” She muttered, before turning to chase Yasha out.

Beau caught the form of Yasha around the building and sprinted to catch up with the taller woman. At the edge of the parking lot, summer air hot and sticky, the sun starting to slowly set, she managed to get a hand on Yasha’s wrist. “Hold up,” She said, planting herself on the asphalt. “Just, come on Yasha.” she said, head shaking, a pained smile on her lips. “What… the fuck. You dumped me.”

Yasha turned back to her, framed by clouds and orange and pink light, eyes not quite meeting Beau’s. “I… am aware of that.”

“So…” Beau prompted when Yasha didn’t elaborate.

“I was trying to come up with a way to… fix that.” She said, eyes flicking over Beau’s face then steadfastly over Beau’s shoulder. “In my defense I was kidding when I told Jester we should crash your date. And when I told Molly that we should get lunch where you and that horrible redhead were.”

Beau nodded a little. “How about when Nott called me, or when the Ruby suddenly needed a venue? All someone else's idea?”

Yasha’s lips pressed in that way they did when Beau caught her in  a lie. “I can’t… say that exactly.”

Beau shook her head, then reached to pull Yasha down by her collar, kissing her without another moment of hesitation. “This is the dumbest plan to win me back ever.” she muttered against her lips.

Yasha’s hands found Beau’s waist, and Beau could taste her smile. “Maybe.” She admitted.

“Definitely.” Beau replied, pulling back. “Just to clarify, you don’t have to ruin our dates going forward. You should make sure your helpers know that too.”

Yasha laughed, and pulled Beau into another kiss. “I’ll let them know.”

[harryandmolly]

like the back of my hand - 2020-2021 (final)

Summary: a relationship within a collection of moments

Warnings: language, NSFW, light BDSM

Word count: a hefty 12k

January 7th, 2020

“C’mon, if I don’t get pics of the boy, I at least want pics of the car,” she whines, shivering a little when she feels Shawn’s hand brush over her inner thigh. He’s looking down at her skin fondly, tracing her stretch marks. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in the back of his hair, making him smile wistfully.

“Google BMW i8. It’s white,” Lauren responds with a nervous giggle.

She takes her hand back from Shawn’s hair with a mumble of protest from him. She obeys Lauren’s instructions and gasps into the phone. Shawn glances over and does the same.

“This is his fucking car?!” Shawn whines.

“Yo, dude, is he loaded?!” Lilly cries.

“I know, it’s crazy, people like, wave when he drives around in it.”

“That is the sexiest car I’ve ever seen,” Shawn declares, squinting at it on the screen, “Does it have gull wing doors?”

“Yep,” Lauren confirms. Shawn’s grip tightens on Lilly’s thigh. She exhales sharply and looks down. He tilts his glance up to her devilishly. She watches his face as his fingers dance closer to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing shudders. She lifts the phone away from her mouth, but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t know what Lauren is saying anyways.

“He asked me to be his girlfriend,” Lauren giggles. Lilly does hear that, managing to look away from Shawn as he runs his middle finger down the center of her thin Hershey’s Kisses boxers.

“Oh, Lo, yay! We have a boyfriend!” Lilly squeals, smiling up at Shawn. He nods placatingly, focusing on the task at hand. He traces the trail of skin above her boxers, dipping just his fingertips underneath.

Suddenly, he rolls on top of her, his body covering her legs. She slaps a hand over her mouth, listening carefully as Lauren tells the story of her new boyfriend’s family barbeque. Meanwhile, Shawn busies himself by tugging at the waistband of her shorts until she lifts her hips obediently. He pulls them off and kisses a jagged, wet line up the inside of her right leg until his face is above her underwear. She’s breathing heavy again and running a hand through her hair.

“Lo, babe, I’m sorry, I gotta call you back later. Shawn’s face is literally between my legs and I can’t concentrate. Ok. Bye.”

She hangs up as Shawn’s surprised laugh bubbles up from deep in his chest. “I can’t believe you just told her that.”

She shrugs, “You know how we are. Plus, you started this, bucko. You got turned on by a car.”

He nods, lowering his lips to her center that has partially soaked through her pink and white striped panties. “Fair.”

++++++++++

January 18th, 2020

She holds Shawn’s hand tighter as they round the corner and he knows it’s more for her than it is for him. Her other hand is separating some hair out over the front of her shoulder and tightening the line of her lipstick around her mouth. He snickers.

“Stop primping,” he orders, widening his eyes at her playfully.

“I just want to make a good impression on your friend,” she teases, bumping his upper thigh with her hip. He shakes his head and lets go of her hand in favor of swinging an arm around her shoulders. He tells himself it’s not possessive.

Niall is standing toward the back of the green room with a Stella in one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other. Lilly thinks it feels Irish in here, but maybe it’s just because she likes the idea of that. Childish Gambino is playing from the speakers but is only barely audible above the rowdy room. Since it’s LA, the guest list is larger than usual and there are more friends around. Lilly is prepared to wait her turn to talk to the Irish prince, but Shawn, ever so politely, moves them up to walk right into Niall’s story as he finishes telling it.

He’s shorter than she imagines, probably because she’s used to toting around Shawn the jolly green giant. His hair is done for the show and he’s in smartly tailored grey trousers and a navy short-sleeved button up. His attention falls to them immediately. Lilly’s heart smashes against her ribs when his big blue eyes turn on her.

“Ay!” he chirps, looking up from her face to Shawn’s. Shawn releases her to complete the bro hug transaction before holding Lilly out as an offering.

“This is Lilly, my girlfriend. You probably guessed that,” Shawn chuckles awkwardly, unsure how this interaction is supposed to go. Niall puts his fan face on and reaches out for a hug.

“Nice to meet ya, thanks for comin’, love.”

“Thanks for having us,” she says, managing to keep her voice level. His eyes are so blue. She suddenly has an unwelcome flash of her history of stanning Niall from her carrot days shrieking at their cover of “Use Somebody” on the Up All Night tour to imagining him sweeping her off her feet while she backpacked across Europe after graduating college.

“So you’re “Her,”” Niall giggles, tilting his head at Shawn with a dare in his eyes. Shawn laughs.

“I am she,” she confirms, face going red.

“’S a great album. Or, what I’ve heard of it. I’m so stoked to do the song. Have you heard it yet?” he asks her. Another flash of a video she has on her phone of him doing the famous crotch grab during “Heart Attack” in Boston.

“She hasn’t heard any of it,” Shawn pipes up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as it got stuck in her bright pink lipstick. Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, interested.

“Because I want to be surprised. I want to hear it all when it’s done. I want to sit down with my man and a bottle of wine and cry through the whole thing,” she laughs, reaching up to lace her fingers with Shawn’s on her shoulder.

“You’re not even going to listen to the singles when they drop?”

She shakes her head, looking back at Niall with a giggle in her throat.

“Wow, that’s… actually really romantic,” Niall admits with a bob of his head, tugging back a sip of beer, “So Shawn tells me you’re a Directioner.”

Shawn grins, ready for “let’s embarrass Lilly” time. Lilly huffs a sigh, nibbling her lower lip before she remembers the pigment she doesn’t want on her teeth while meeting one of her heroes.

“I… dabbled,” she jokes hopelessly, unable to sell it, “Huge fan. Crazy fan. I mean, I never stalked you at airports and stuff but, y’know…”

Shawn’s shaking his head, his chest rumbling behind her. She’s making it worse than he imagined. Niall’s used to it and pleased to hear it at a normal volume and from a pretty girl.

“We’ll get back in the saddle again, I promise you.” He nudges her arm and she swears she’s on fire.

He offers them drinks and she’s surprised by how much attention they’re getting given how many other people probably came to see him. Niall asks about DC, about college, about LA. He asks a couple curious questions about how she felt about the album morphing into a concept album about their relationship. She doesn’t give her usual PC answer.

“It’s a little scary. I’ve told him this. God forbid we break up and there’s just this… ode to me hanging over his head for the rest of his career.”

Niall nods. “’S brave. Also a good reason not to break up.”

She looks over her shoulder to Shawn who is enjoying seeing her like this. She blows him a kiss. He winks at her.

“Not worried about it right now,” she admits, cocking her head at Niall and laughing to herself. If her 16-year-old self could see her now…

“You two are adorable,” Niall murmurs a little wistfully. Lilly blushes hard, nodding.

“I’m the luckiest woman alive.” She says it with a sincerity that rocks her own boat a little. She’s sort of glad Shawn’s engaged in conversation elsewhere.

The pre-party gets the wrap-up signal from Niall’s tour manager. As people are saying their last goodbyes, Shawn reaches out for Niall’s arm. “Hey man, can we take a picture?”

Niall agrees quickly and they nudge Lilly in between them. Shawn hands his phone off and they take a few.

“God, I hope my face isn’t beet red, my heart is pounding. Fuck, my inner teenager is having a fit,” she admits, ducking her head in shame at Niall. He bursts out laughing at her honesty and brings her into his arms. He rocks her gently as she covers her face. Shawn takes more pictures.

“Thanks again for comin’, enjoy the show. I’ll see ya soon. We should go out when we record the song, yeah?”

Lilly nods eagerly, waving at him as he’s swept away for pre-show rituals. She turns back to Shawn, shaken and taking deep breaths.

“You did pretty good, I’ve definitely seen worse,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss. It’s quick and gentle because they’re still around people. She swipes the color off his lower lip as he makes a face.

“Bad choice of lip color, sorry,” she murmurs.

“Had to look good to meet your mans,” he shoots back, looking smug instead of threatened.

“I can’t believe I just met him, I could cry,” she squeaks, pressing her face into his chest, “I’m going to feel the aftershocks of this star-strike for weeks.”

Shawn laughs and leads her toward the group of green room-goers that are being led to their VIP section. They spend the concert in each other’s arms and he forgets for a while how big her crush on Niall is until Niall spots them in the crowd and waves. She tightens up against him and almost actually swoons. Later that night, she sucks him off and he comes so hard he tears up.

+++++++++

March 22nd, 2020

Shawn’s been gone for two weeks doing album press so when he gets home, Lilly wants to show him a good time. She’s been dreaming about making him squirm underneath her, willing him to submit even though he’s got over a foot of height and at least 40 pounds of muscle on her. She doesn’t know if he’d be into it but her dreams are hers and they make her miss him even more.

When he walks in the door to his condo, she’s waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She doesn’t get a word out before he’s swinging her up over his shoulder and racing for the bedroom.

“Guess what I finished reading on the plane?” he pants, tossing her roughly on the mattress. Her eyes blow wide open.

“The Windflower?”

He nods, a look of sleepy lust on his face as he starts tugging at the buttons of his shirt. She makes a low whining noise and sits up to start at his belt buckle. He removes her hands gently but purposefully. She looks up and audibly gasps at the simmer in his eyes.

“No, my little windflower, tonight you’re mine to ravish.”

On anyone else’s lips, the words would sound cheesy and hollow. Maybe she just missed him too much. But when he says it, her head falls back a little, overwhelmed.

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she purrs. When she musters the strength to look back up, he’s shedding his jeans and staring at her like a starving man. She whimpers.

He reaches for her feet and pulls her down the bed to him. He drops one leg to the mattress and she’s so in shock that she bounces a little, boneless and all too willing for him. He lifts her delicate foot to his lips, pressing his mouth to the tattoo on her cool skin. She closes her eyes, relishing the feeling of his detailed attentions, giggling when his teeth graze the soft flesh under her knee cap. When she opens her eyes again, he’s there hovering over her, hands planted on either side of her head.

“You’d make a very sexy pirate lord,” she comments, embarrassed by her ragged breath. He gives her a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, milady.” With that, he lowers his body onto hers and gets to work, making her feel every inch the lady she is.

Later that afternoon, when the sun is hot even through the curtains and they’ve abandoned the sheets in favor of lying naked together above the blankets, she looks up at him. He’s lying there looking like the goddamn statue of David, all curls and bone structure and hard-earned muscle. She runs a finger down his thigh to get his attention. He looks up from his study of the pillow under his arm and smiles placidly at her.

“What do you like, Shawn?”

He looks surprised. “Hmm?”

“We’ve spent months exploring my sexuality. And I realize now I don’t think I’ve really asked you what you like.”

He swallows, going just a shade pink. “I dunno. I like you.”

She breathes a laugh against her resting place on his stomach and watches the muscles contract deliciously.

He chews on the inside of his lip. It’s true, their crusade had been pretty centered around her. She was entirely in control of every situation, guiding him to please her as she became ready, unfurling in his hands like soft ribbon. He had never been a part of something like that before, that careful exploration, simplified and broken down to such innocence that kind of took his breath away. He was happy to be there for her that way, but he found something in himself he didn’t know was there.

He liked being at her disposal. He liked her using his body and his love to find herself. In fact, as she found herself, he did the opposite. He got lost in it and that clouded lack of focus somehow brought him clarity. He didn’t have to do anything other than be there and watch – he didn’t have to make decisions or voice opinions. This process of theirs wasn’t meant to be for him, but it served him, nonetheless.

“I like… being there for you. I like—” he stops to take a deep, shuddering breath, “I really like being under your control.”

The words stop her in her tracks. She keeps her eyes down on the plane of his chest, tracing her fingers up the inside of his arm to watch the muscles twitch. She blinks. She likes it, too.

“Has that been something you’ve tried before?” she asks, rolling her head so her chin is propped up on his sternum. He brushes his fingertips through the hair at her crown.

“No. I mean, a little. There were… maybe two one night stands where I took a back seat. But nothing like what we’ve been doing. I… really like what we’ve been doing.”

She lets her eyes graze over the large, gorgeous man underneath her, feeling him shiver under the weight of her gaze. When she reaches his face, he’s vulnerable and honest and she wants to swim in it.

“Do you want me to take care of you, Shawn?” she asks him quietly, feeling her heart race against his stomach. His breath catches. He nods.

She carefully lifts herself off his torso, tracing the rosy pattern her weight leaves against his skin. He lies there still, waiting for her. She’s deciding how to proceed when he clears his throat.

“Do you… I mean, would you want to tie up my hands?”

Her eyes snap up to his. The same vulnerability has multiplied. His heart is resting in her hands. She nods eagerly.

“Is that ok?” she whispers.

“Yes, please.”

She pushes herself off the bed on both hands. He goes to sit up and stops when her hard blue eyes meet his. “Stay there.”

He swallows and lies back down. She wanders naked into his closet where she’s left some things over the last few months. She pulls a short black satin robe off the hanger and slides it on, flipping her waist-length hair out from under the sheer lace back. She pads back out and finds him where she left him. She bites her lip, a little drunk on the power.

As she meanders back to the bed, slowly to make him sweat a little, she starts tugging on the black satin sash that tickles her legs until it releases from the rope’s loops and rests in her hands.

“This ok?” she asks him. He croaks something in assent, feeling the blush percolate under his skin when she reaches the edge of the bed. She climbs up on her knees and he admires the taut skin over well-worked muscle of her thick thighs. He finds his hand brushing up against the outside of her leg. She quirks a grin.

“Touch me now, babe, because you won’t be able to for a while.”

His heart stomps against his ribs. He giggles shyly and takes his hand back, lifting his arms over his head before she has to ask him. She looks pleased with his willingness. She scoots up the bed to cross his wrists over one another, looping the soft fabric around a couple times before she begins fastening the ends to the wooden headboard. He tilts his head back to watch, growing even a little harder at the sight of himself in restraints. He wonders if she’s wet yet and realizes with a short groan that he won’t know until she wants him to.

She leaves the robe on and climbs over him, straddling his hips, watching his body heave with the effort of his labored breath. She starts with her curious fingers, tracing patterns around his hairline, down his temples, massaging gently. His eyes shut and his lips part. He feels her nails graze over the end of his nose, making him smile until her fingers dance over his lips. Instinctively, he opens his mouth and her ring and middle finger drop in to the knuckle. He lavishes them with his tongue, opening his eyes to see her shocked and a little shaky with arousal as she perches over him.

“Holy shit,” she mumbles weakly, eyebrows pulling together at the sight of him like this, all pink and breathy and willing and sucking on her fingers. She lets him for as long as she can stand it, taking her hand back and shifting her legs down his lap. His cock is hard and waiting for her on his stomach, but she has a long way to go and a lot to admire before she’ll get there.

She drags her wet lips down from his temple to his jaw, hearing him pant in her ear while she traces the throbbing vein in his neck to where it disappears under his collarbone.

“Can I mark you up?” she whimpers. His eyes slam shut, brow wrinkling at the tone of her voice.

“Uh huh.”

She lets her whims guide her, leaving rosy ovular shapes wherever she feels like it – on his left shoulder, the inside of his right bicep, the ridge of muscle where his pectoral meets his ribcage. She leaves no inch of skin unloved, but now he thinks she’s completely lost in him and he has to start begging her or he’s gonna lose it.

“Baby, please,” he moans, shuddering when her fingers again bypass his aching length as they venture up his inner thigh to his belly button. The darkness of her eyes when her gaze snaps up to his makes him realize she was not lost, not at all. She was careful and calculated and he should’ve known. He knows her meticulous nature as well as his own.

She does get curious, though, and runs a fingertip so lightly down the underside of his cock that, if he wasn’t so absolutely fucked for her, he might not even feel it. As it is, the air whistles out his nose. He looks down to watch her sink her teeth into his inner thigh, sliding her tongue against the skin. He cries out, rutting up hard into nothing. She plants her hands on his hips and shoves down, pinning him.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” she assures him, her voice secure and level. His head falls back and he stares up at his wrists, bound for her.

She leaves soft, plucking kisses over his intercostal muscles while her hand whispers down over his hot skin to wrap around the base of his dick. He gasps at the contact and bucks up into her hand a little. She raises an eyebrow at him, her lips pursed.

“Sorry,” he croaks, shaking his head a little, “Sorry.”

She runs the pad of her thumb up the same trail she took before, shifting her hand to grip the head and squeeze. He turns his face into his arm and mumbles unintelligible profanities.

Suddenly, her hand is gone and she’s holding his shoulders for leverage as she repositions her body up over him. He’s blinking, wondering if he could really be so lucky as to—

The thought cuts off hard and cold in his brain when she lowers herself so her core, soaked and ready for him, rests on his cock.

“Oh, Lil,” he moans helplessly, feeling his toes curl.

She flicks her hips so her wetness swipes up and back down again, too quickly for any real relief. He’s gasping air desperately and she’s got her hands planted on his chest for support as she watches herself tease him. He’s being so good, keeping his hips on the bed even though she can see him straining for release.

“Are you ok?” she whispers, tilting her head at him. His wide eyes, all pupil now, look up into hers. He nods gently, assuring her it’s not too much, that he trusts her, that he wants this.

After a few more teasing strokes, Lilly getting the stimulation she craves from grinding her clit on his length, she knows she can’t stop herself anymore. She sits up on her knees and takes him by the base again, positioning him at her entrance.

They both watch, entranced, as her body accepts the tip of his cock. As she inhales, he exhales. She clenches around the head experimentally.

“Oh my fucking god,” he hisses, body tensing. She slides down another inch and does the same. By the same he’s fully sheathed in her, he’s hiccupping swears into his arm.

She takes what she needs from him, sliding up and down slowly at first, getting used to him filling her out as beautifully as he does.

“God, Shawn, you feel amazing.”

He whimpers in return, still so obedient, putty in her hands. She thrusts faster, digging her knees into his mattress and throwing her head back. He watches her hair soar, catching the light and throwing gold strands over her arms. It doesn’t last, though, because she’s lurching forward to change angles and press her chest to his as she fucks him and her hair falls forward again to tickle his stomach, adding to the overwhelming litany of sensations.

“Lilly, Lil, please, I’m gonna come.”

She moans at the raspy growl his words take on. She lifts her face from the crook of his neck and that devilish look from before is back and better than ever.

“Not before me, you’re not.”

She swings down on him with purpose, racing for the finish line. He’s immersed in watching her until she stills her hips, mouth falling open as her eyes snap shut.

“Oh, oh Shawn!”

He’s reeling from her pleasure and isn’t ready when the wave of his orgasm knocks him down under her. He screams and it’s like nothing she’s ever heard. He’s out of control now, hips bucking wildly up against her until she loses her balance on his chest and flattens on top of him. As he roils beneath her, she hastens to untie him, unable to stand the absence of his hands anymore. As soon as he’s loose, he rips his hands from the constraints and holds her fast against him. The storm has passed but he’s twitching and sputtering breath and she’s soothing him as much as she can with soft pecks against his neck and warm caresses down his arms.

He falls silent and she lifts herself away, smiling at the noise of discontent they both automatically make at the loss of contact. She stumbles into the bathroom for a damp washcloth, cleaning herself up and making her way back to him to do the same.

He’s never felt more satiated in his life as he lies there limp, watching her wipe him up. She tosses the washcloth away, making a “swish” sound when it lands in his hamper. He barely has the energy to chuckle.

She’s perched next to him, cross-legged and flushed from head to toe, eyes sparkling.

“Was that too much?” she asks, resting a hand on his chest. He flinches a little and her eyes dart to his.

“That was so perfect,” he promises, “Thank you. Thank you for… doing that for me.”

“I really enjoyed that, if you couldn’t tell,” she chuckles, folding herself down beside him and resting her head inside his arm.

“I have a question,” he murmurs after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Shoot.”

“Do you still have your Catholic school uniform?”

++++++++++

May 16th, 2020

She’s plucking curiously at his 1959 Taylor, sitting on the edge of the air mattress, the only thing left in her room. He’s leaning on the mantle of her fireplace looking around at the naked walls and clean floors. He sighs and slides his phone back in his pocket, pitching himself off the wall to climb onto the bed behind her. He cradles her between his legs and smiles at the memory of the first time they sat like this and the electricity he felt positioning her fingers to play his song.

He hears what’s supposed to be “Surface,” one of her favorites that didn’t make the cut for his upcoming album. It doesn’t sound the same because she doesn’t know the notes and can’t play the instrument. He likes watching her anyway. When she exhales and goes to move the guitar out of her lap, he latches onto it, trapping her between himself and the instrument. He sits up straighter and slides an arm around her hips to drag her flush against his chest. He starts playing around her, feeling her laugh as the guitar’s vibrations sing through her torso.

She tilts her head back onto his shoulder and watches his face as he mouths the words and head bobs his way through the melody he worked so hard on. When the last note fades out, she noses at his jaw for attention and greedily accepts the kiss he offers.

“Last night in your house,” he whispers, his eyes wandering the room again.

She’s quiet for a minute. “Is it ok that I’m sad?”

He nods. “You get sad when the landscapers cut the coconuts off the palm trees by the pool. I’m surprised you’re not sobbing into my chest.”

She half-smiles wistfully. “Everything happened here. I took a little tiny life in Virginia and brought it out here and it grew and grew into something… something I know that I could tell my 13-year-old self about and she’d be so fuckin’ proud of me.”

He moves the guitar off her thighs and cuddles her close.

“She’s not the only one,” he murmurs into her neck, kissing a fading mark he left there days ago.

They make love on the air mattress that night and Lilly cries a little as he snuggles her to sleep. They wake up, make one last batch of coffee in the French press she’s broken half a dozen times and he sits downstairs and finishes packing her suitcase while she shares an emotional goodbye with her roommates of the last two years. Sammi will be by to help unpack tomorrow with her new boyfriend that Lilly and Shawn haven’t gotten to grill yet. The others will be women she knows she won’t see again soon.

They pack up the last few Goodwill bags and leave her key inside. He drops her suitcase in her trunk and walks back up to find her staring at the empty pool, clutching the wing of the gold dragon in her hand, looking studious. He notes the slice of thin plastic superglued to a hole in the wing she repaired on the day of the 4th of July party.

“That was a good patch, it held for two years,” he points out. She nods listlessly.

“I love this pool,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I know.”

“This pool brought me you.” She covers her mouth as the tears gather heavy in her eyes. He stands beside her at the edge and threads a hand in the back of her hair. He rubs her scalp gently as she tries to compose herself.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

She looks over at him as he shuffles his phone out of his pocket and opens the camera app.

“Let’s take a selfie in front of the pool, where it all started.”

Her heart swells. She nods and steps in next to him as he decides on the best angle. After some muttering and shifting, he pulls her into his chest by her shoulders, arm wrapped over her hair securely. He holds the phone high to catch as much of the pool in the background as possible. They smile and though she complains her eyes are red with tears, they agree it’s cute. He posts it on Instagram with the caption: this pool’s been good to us. Peace out, Burbank!

He decides to wait until they’re at their new house in Hollywood to tell her he’s already inflated the replica of the golden dragon he ordered. It’s waiting for them in their new pool.

++++++++++

Rolling Stone Magazine, June 2020

My first thought upon entering the warm and comfortable, but still sprawling Hollywood Hills home is this: Shawn Mendes has got it made.

At 21-years-old, he has four multiplatinum records under his belt and has played for over 120,000 people at once in festivals thousands of miles away from his hometown of Pickering, Ontario. It’s a far cry from his start covering artists like Ed Sheeran and John Mayer on the now-defunct 6-second video app, Vine.

But what he’s really enthusiastic about right now is this house. He greets me at the door in his now signature second skin-like black jeans and a Maple Leafs t-shirt. He’s built and beautiful, his face cherubic in its innocent perfection, and it’s easy to see why he leaves a mob of shrieking girls in his wake wherever he goes.

He gives me the grand tour and it is stunning. I comment on how remarkably put together it looks, considering how recently he and his girlfriend moved in. He’s proud of that and offers little anecdotes about hanging art and moving furniture as we make our way through the 6 bedroom home. I might’ve expected something more outrageous for a 21-year-old pop star, a la Justin Bieber, but knowing Shawn for five minutes gives me enough context to understand he wouldn’t go for that.

I see hints of her, one of the main reasons I’m here, throughout the house – a tiny pair of gold flip flops by the pool, family photos of a smiley strawberry blonde in Disney World, a box of nail polish on a coffee table. She is conspicuously absent as Mendes’s team warned me she would be. When I asked him about it, he doesn’t hesitate to explain.

“She’s busy, she works a real job with real hours,” he laughs, settling into a very comfortable but expensive looking sofa overlooking their pool deck. He sets a gorgeous acoustic guitar in his lap and fiddles with it, “She also doesn’t feel the need to be a big part of the press for all this. She doesn’t want to become a personality for the sake of the album.”

Titled “Her,” it’s a 24-track concept album in chronological order according to the events of their relationship, separated into acts by locations: Burbank, Barcelona and Malibu. Simplified, the album weaves a tale of a slow-burn romance. He met her at a 4thof July party at her house and was swept off his feet immediately. She shut him down, politely and sweetly, he promises, and their friendship blossomed. Eventually, inevitably, it became something more.

When asked about the acts as told by locations, he smiles.

“That was her idea, actually. I wanted a way to sort of map things out and I liked the idea of dividing the relationship on the album into meeting, friendship and love. She pointed out that certain significant things for us have happened in certain places. She was living in Burbank when we met and I didn’t have a place in LA so when I was in town, I was usually hanging out with her there. Then she visited me on tour in Barcelona, which is when we got together. And Malibu, Malibu was the tough one because early on in our friendship, we drove out there to the beach and had this, like, perfect day. And we kept going back every chance we got. So Malibu representing the current state of our relationship feels right because that’s our favorite place.”

This album is the ultimate love letter from Mendes to his girlfriend, Lilly Parker, 26, a native of Northern Virginia who transplanted to Los Angeles only weeks before meeting Mendes. Heart-rending without being lovesick or melodramatic, he says this album challenged his storytelling skills in a way that pays homage to her.

“She’s a writer, too, actually. A lot of short stories and a few screenplays.” He says it with a proud, if smitten, smile.

Like his last album, “Her” embraces a mix of genres, touching on Sheeran-y love ballads, blazing rock anthems and funky R&B. His beating heart is emblazoned in song (on CD and vinyl and, of course, your digital retailers) with unapologetically honest lyrics about falling in love with his best friend. I asked him what her reaction was when he admitted to writing more than an album’s worth of songs about her when they weren’t even an item yet.

“It was scary. I didn’t want her to feel guilty about it. She knew from the beginning of our friendship that all she had to do was say the word and that would be it, I’d be all in. It was kind of a weird power imbalance that I know bummed her out. But she was ok with it [the album]. I could tell she was curious about what the tone of it was, if it was broody and tortured, but she didn’t really ask. She just said she looked forward to hearing it.”

Mendes has been a sex symbol for the One Direction set since 2016 but this album has made him a romantic hero. Beyond the ins and outs of their relationship, every song gives us a piece of Parker to the point where Mendes’ fans, the self-appointed Mendes Army, feel like they know her as well as they know him. If he is their king, she is their queen, greeting her subjects through the medium of Instagram Stories that range from her babbling about breaking her beloved French press to thanking them whole-heartedly for supporting her boyfriend’s career. Having waded through dozens of these saved into compilation videos on YouTube, she is clearly as genuine as he is.

Their other window into her life, of course, is through Mendes. He writes about her earnestly and in a way that isn’t entirely through a love-drunk lens. He writes about her own insecurities, specifically her challenges with an eating disorder, in a way that is both respectful and completely selfless.

“Her” plays like a romantic movie with an ending that will break the hearts of all Mendes’ young female fans because he is very much off the market. He’s downright domestic at this point. She calls him as we’re wrapping up the first meeting of our interview to ask what he wants to order for dinner. He looks as enchanted as the day they first met and tells her he was just talking about her. I get the sense he tells her that pretty often.

+

When I return to the Mendes-Parker home, she’s there to answer the door. Barefoot and bare-faced, she’s as likeable as she seems without an ounce of falseness. We chat easily as she leads me to the pool deck where Shawn is on a patio chair strumming a battered acoustic. She has lemonade and lunch ready – her Italian father’s lasagna recipe – and I ask her if her hospitality is a result of her southern upbringing.

“Oh, no, not at all. I don’t consider myself southern. No, this came out of the Reese Witherspoon playbook. Doing stuff like this makes me feel like a grown-up, which appeals to me now that we have a house and everything,” she responds, gesturing to her cheat sheet, a hardback copy of “Whiskey in a Tea Cup,” Witherspoon’s 2018 lifestyle release.

“We tried to throw a grown-up dinner party last week, too,” Mendes says with a chuckle. She laughs at the memory and plants herself on the armrest of his chair. They graciously let me in on their inside joke.

“It started out very adult-y. We had wine in decanters and appetizers and stuff. And then it devolved into a drunken pool party,” Parker explains with an eye-roll.

Their shared childlike exuberance over getting to play house is very endearing. Despite their age difference, they rest on the same plane of emotional maturity that, with the exception of their use of words like “grown-up” and “adult-y” is beyond their respective years.

Parker, to her credit, seems exceedingly normal in a very stable, raised-well-on-the-East-Coast sort of way. She’s not around a lot during my time with Mendes because she works a steady job as an assistant in film production. She lends backing vocals on “In Her Skin” and even boasts writing credits on “Purple” but when she says she has no musical ambition at all, you believe her. She drives a 2016 Jetta, wears Vans and is so polite you assume upon meeting her she must be Canadian, too. It’s not hard to see why they’re compatible.

While we eat our delicious homemade lunch, I ask about their routines. Predictably, they explain that it depends heavily on his schedule. When he’s away, she has a tight-knit group of friends to call on so the house doesn’t feel quite so large and empty. When he’s in town, they are homebodies. They admit to venturing to hip new restaurants on occasion (she’s a lifelong foodie and converting him) but rarely hit up bars or clubs. Their favorite activity is roadtripping out to Malibu where they have their favorite spots and beaches and no, they won’t tell me where.

Looking around, I can see why they don’t leave the house often. It’s in a quiet, not-too-flashy neighborhood. It’s private without being completely withdrawn.

“I sit out here and write all the time,” Mendes says, gesturing around him to their tastefully elegant pool deck.

“We both do,” Parker pipes up. She nods to a set of chairs on the other end of the deck. “He’s there with the guitar, I’m here with the laptop and we ignore each other.”

Mendes laughs and agrees.

Parker excuses herself after lunch. She offers me a warm hug and explains her best friend is flying into LAX and she’s off to pick her up. She leaves Mendes with a peck on the cheek and a lingering look of affection that stirs something even in my old, cold heart. Below is the rest of my interview with Mendes.

Writer: So why a concept album?

Mendes: There are plenty of other things I could’ve written about. I have a ton of songs I have written that aren’t about her, or us. And for a while, that was the plan. I was going to write another album of mixed ideas and talk about stuff like touring and running around with my best friends, or about the anxiety that comes with all of this sometimes, kind of more in the same vein of my previous albums. But the songs about her were just… better. I tried to ignore it for a while. It felt like a bad idea at first.

Writer: Because it might not last forever?

Mendes: Partly, yeah. It is something that, god forbid if we ever broke up, it would be this big piece of my music that I couldn’t just shove under a rug and never play anymore. And that could be really painful, to keep playing it and keep revisiting this part of my life. But also because I was worried it might not be that relatable. That’s the thing about making an album with lots of different tones and stories – there can be something for everyone. But when you’re using an album to tell one story, and many sides of that story, about one relationship, I worried people might not get that and might not be into that.

Writer: What made you decide to go for it?

Mendes: Once I had all the songs written and a rough idea of the way the album would work, like with the three acts and the chronology of it, I played it for people. I played it for Camila [Cabello] and Ed [Sheeran] and Niall [Horan] and they all agreed it was the album I needed to release at that time. I told them my concerns and they reminded me that a good story speaks for itself and I shouldn’t question that.

Writer: Another thing that drew a lot of attention to this album was your music video for “In Her Skin.” Whose idea was it to include her in that?

Mendes: The director pitched the treatment and I said no pretty quickly. I didn’t think she’d have any interest in doing that. I was surprised when she said she was up for it.

Writer: Why did she say yes?

Mendes: Well, she also liked the treatment. She saw the vision. She knew it was going to be sexy and beautiful and tasteful and really commemorate us in a nice way.

Writer: What was it like to shoot?

Mendes: Tense at first. It was weird. We were supposed to just be us in bed but on camera. We both had a hard time with it. But Angela, the director, she just dragged us out of our own heads and made us feel really comfortable. I feel like, watching it now, it was exactly what we wanted it to be. It’s really beautiful, she did an amazing job. And now Lil and I have that forever, which is cool.

Writer: You have a tradition of getting a new tattoo to mark the release of each of your albums. Have you gotten your “Her” tattoo yet?”

Mendes: I haven’t, no. I have it planned, though. And before you ask, it’s a surprise, so I won’t tell you.

Writer: Does Lilly know?

Mendes: She doesn’t, no. She wants to be surprised, too. I love surprising her.

++++++++++

July 3rd, 2020

“This stuff smells really good,” she mumbles, rhythmically thumping her heels against his bathroom cabinets as she sits atop the counter. He stands next to her at the sink washing his face. She’s staring at the container in her hand when he emerges from a towel to look at her.

“That’s one of the reasons I like it,” he confirms, taking the container from her.

“Wait,” she says suddenly, narrowing her eyes at him. He stares back at her.

“Can I do your hair?” she giggles, grabbing his arm and guiding him stumbling in between her legs. He holds onto her thighs to right himself, rubbing his thumbs into her sore quads.

“I dunno, Lil, it’s a scientific process and you haven’t had practice.”

“I’ve seen you do it a thousand times. Plus, you don’t have that much hair, it can’t be that hard. C’mere, show me how much of this stuff you use.”

He knows he can’t resist her flights of fancy and he’s about to leave for tour again so having some time dedicated to her running her little hands through his hair doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Shaking his head with a smirk, he drops the container of hair paste in her waiting palms.

“Here,” he offers, dipping his middle finger into the tub and spreading the paste in her palm, “Rub your hands together. Then… just do what I do.”

She follows his instruction and hooks her legs around his waist to pull him in tighter so she has more control. His groin juts into her lower stomach, making her smile and him inhale sharply. He watches her face as she distributes the paste through his curls. She’s making a study of it, starting at the front of his head and running her hands backwards toward his neck. He’s impressed by how closely her movements mirror his – she must watch him more attentively than he realizes. The thought makes him blush. She sees it start on his bare chest and work its way up to his rosy cheeks. Her heart leaps in her chest at the notion that she can still have this effect on him. She decides to take advantage of it.

She slowly leans in toward him, cupping her sticky hands behind his neck and exerting control. His lips part expectantly as she brushes over them. Before he can gain any traction, she’s trailing her mouth up his cheek bone, kissing his closed eyelid. She maps out a route to his eyebrow, up to a little childhood scar at his hairline, down to his left ear, circling back down toward his jawline and hovering over his lips. He releases a shuddering breath like a chuckle, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers. She closes her eyes and lets the thought infuse her. The tour will be long and she’ll need those words in that voice with this feeling of him here under her hands, at her will.

“I love you more,” she says, the smile evident in her voice, though his eyes are still blissfully shut.

He makes a disapproving noise and hooks his hands under her thighs, lifting her to head back to the bed they just left. She knows she should remind him of their pre-tour to-do list. But now he’s doing that thing on her earlobe with his tongue that makes her forget her own name and definitely makes her forget that he has to do that last load of laundry to finish packing. She sighs, raking at the curls at the back of his neck as he lays her down on their bedspread and she feels so loved and cared for and cherished that it makes some emotion bubble up in her throat. She chokes out a breath and he lifts his attention from her soft ear.

“You ok?” he pants gently, tucking a hand under her neck and smoothing his thumb down her throat.

“’m ok,” she sniffs, “I just… love you. It hurts sometimes. Like it’s trying to bust out of me and I can’t hold it in. I think I only get like this when you’re about to leave again.”

His eyes drop to her necklace and he licks his lips. She doesn’t complain much about his leaving (if you could even call this complaining) because she can see instantly where it goes in his head. He tucks it away and lets it prick at him when he needs it the least. She feels a responsibility to shield him from her pain most of the time. It’s not a big hardship usually, it’s really the beginning and end of tour when it’s hardest. She tries to focus on their resilience when they’re four months into a six month romp and sometimes he can only shoot her one text in the middle of her nighttime and she doesn’t hear his voice for three days but she’s ok and she’s not falling apart. That strength, wherever it comes from, doesn’t come to her right away and it slips through her hands at the end.

Now it’s their last morning waking up together before he’s alone in a bunk or on a private plane, wondering if she’s sleeping in her shirts or his. He presses a tender kiss to her sternum, feeling soft skin over solid bone, reminding him that even though she feels perfectly sturdy and stable beneath him, having him gone for so long is as hard on her as it is on him. He mouths at her chest lovingly, deciding to leave her some marks to make her smile in the mirror over the next few days. She sighs and her hands are back in his hair and he’s pulling at the boxers she’s wearing, smiling until his face hurts when she kicks them off impatiently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers earnestly into the skin above her belly button. Her abs contract as he noses his way lower, dragging his fingertips inward from her knees down to her quickly spreading inner thighs. He lifts one innocently probing finger to her folds and inhales as she hisses.

He slides further down the bed until he feels his knees fall off the mattress. He’s sitting cross-legged and focused, scooting her down to meet him by pulling on her calves. She giggles a little but is quickly hushed when he brings her level with his face and suddenly all she can feel and think about is his hot breath. She gnaws on her lower lip with anticipation. He takes inventory of what he notices about her like this, this perfect limbo moment between emotional pleasure and sensation. When he’s ready, and can hear her breathing start to break down from excitement, he separates her lips with his tongue and is ready to hold her jumping thighs down. He blinks in surprise when she makes that little “ooh!” sound she does.

He feels his cock stir in his boxers, but it’s a secondary concern. He takes her inner lips into his mouth, suckling gently, moaning a little at the taste of her. She’s quiet, apart from labored breathing, which isn’t unusual for her. When he’s done lavishing her inner labia for the moment, he swipes up around her clit, feeling her tense beneath him again.

“Oh,” she almost cries. He takes another lap around the same circuit, watching her fingers scrunch their sheets in her hand.

He makes his way around once more, adding a sharp flick over her clit. She practically purrs and it stokes his fire. He notices she’s starting to grind into the mattress, so he tucks a thick finger inside her and watches her double back the other direction, back arching off the bed.

“Oh, Shawn,” she moans like it’s the only word she knows. He wants her to hold on but by the looks of it, she’s so close and he doesn’t really want to play with her right now. He just wants whatever she wants. He slides another welcome finger inside and curls them toward her stomach, humming around her clit, which gets it done every time. She’s thrashing and whimpering and he’s watching her like the ending of his favorite movie.

She’s boneless and affectionate when he crawls back onto the bed and over her body, shedding his underwear on his way. She brings him crashing down onto her with a strong hand to his lower back. He makes a hmphf noise into her neck and chuckles, knowing she feels secure with his weight resting on her. He eases off enough to meet her needy lips, relishing the warmth of her tongue and its familiarity. She’s still a little shaky from the power of her orgasm and he’s happy to nibble on her collarbone until she’s ready. In the meantime, he nestles between her legs and brings eager fingers up to toy with her nipples.

She’s sure she’s the luckiest woman on earth. He’s clinging to her like she’s life itself, still not ready to stop pleasuring her in between stellar orgasms. She stares over his shoulder down the firm, hilly plane of his back. She lifts her heels and digs them into his ass. He laughs into her tender, throbbing skin, which will be all shades of bruised in the morning, and brings himself up to kiss her hard. She loops her arms under his and clutches his shoulders as he guides himself into her, swearing when he bottoms out. She wiggles underneath him teasingly as he’s getting ready to start moving. Propped up by his big, beautiful hands, he shoots her a look and she giggles, she actually giggles, and fuck, there’s nothing like being inside a woman when she’s laughing.

She laughs harder at the look of stunned pleasure on his face from the sensation. He latches onto her right leg and hitches it around his hip, driving in hard. She grunts with him, eyes slamming shut, not so cocky now. He grins, giving her another good thrust like he knows she likes. She tips her head, eyes rolling back as her jaw drops. He whimpers innocently at her expression, committing it to memory.

“God, baby, you’re perfect,” he promises her, smacking a wet kiss on her neck as he starts in earnest, letting the sound of sweaty skin meeting skin overtake them.

She’s never been particularly vocal in bed, so he swallows every utterance like a starving man. She’s meeting him thrust for thrust, gripping his shoulders. He knows she knows she’s leaving marks on his back. She likes that. He decides to up the ante, lowering himself onto his elbows so he’s driving his pubic bone into her clit with every stroke. Her head falls back again, this time with a keening whine. He’s so enthralled, he hardly notices himself peel one of her clawing hands off his back and pin it to the bed above her head, his fingers laced with hers. The intimacy draws her back from a plane of solely physical pleasure. It only intensifies her feelings of desire and overwhelming love. His eyelashes are fluttering on his ruddy cheeks. His lips are at her ear so she can hear everything he’s feeling.

“Shawn, I’m close,” she announces. He hears a reluctance in her voice, a tinge of sadness from the notion that this will be one of the last times they get to do this for a while (but, hell, they do have the whole day). He picks up pace and soon, sooner than he’d like because he swears he could go forever for her, she’s bursting like a ripe berry in his arms and he’s soaking her in. Her clenching, stuttering walls milk him for all he’s worth. A few strong swings and he’s stilling his hips against hers, crying out shamelessly into her shoulder.

A few moments after the strongest orgasm he’s had in a while, he feels her stroking through his hair again.

“I totally fucked your hair up.”

++++++++++

May 16th, 2021

“I just think we’re idiots if we don’t tarp it. I’d say if we were here all the time, we would just check the water levels and don’t worry about it but we’re not. It’s fine, ok? They make those easy retractable tarps and they don’t look too awful.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the other hand on the wheel. “That’s fine, babe. I just don’t want to worry about replacing those filters every few months.”

“Agreed,” she hums, settling into her seat and looking out the window as they wind down the tight mountain lane from their new weekend home in Malibu.

It’s early, just past 6am on a Saturday morning. They’re both a little hungover from the night before, having met their friends at their new house off Kanen Rd. for more than a few drinks. She woke him up puttering around their master bedroom searching for her wetsuit in one of the dozens of boxes that surrounded the bed.

He lured her back to bed with a cup of coffee and his assurance that her wetsuit was definitely in that bigger box in the kitchen labeled, rather unhelpfully, “STUFF.” When the coffee was drained, he persuaded her to stay a little longer, digging through her nightstand with one hand while she sucked relentlessly at his pulse point. When he came up with a close replica of that little purple vibrator they once got to know very well, she laughed. He shut her up quickly by flipping it easily into the base of his palm, turning it on with his thumb and pressing it between her legs.

They’re pulling up on the side of the road beside a handful of other cars. He helps her maneuver her longboard down off the Land Rover and argues with her briefly as she determines she can make it down the stairs by herself, of course she can, because he has to get his guitar and the beach bag. He rolls his eyes from the trunk when he hears her bump into a railing and swear. He gathers the beach bag and guitar successfully with one arm and hurries down the cascading concrete steps to hold up the other end of her board, which she acknowledges with a sheepish smile.

“It would be easier if my legs weren’t still shaking from the four orgasms you gave me this morning,” she snickers, glancing over her shoulder at his smug face.

“Orgasms are good for hangovers. It’s science.” She chuckles but doesn’t argue, realizing her head doesn’t hurt much at all anymore.

“You can’t be serious about shipping this thing to Hawai’i,” he comments as they reach the beach and smile at the half dozen or so other people catching surf this early in the morning.

She rolls her eyes and slides the wet suit up over her arms, holding her hair away as she yanks at the zipper. He plants himself on the beach towel he’s spread out and reaches for the bag with his water bottle.

“Buying this board was half the reason we decided to go to Hawai’i this year,” she reminds him, lifting the front end of it into her arms in preparation to head to the water.

“I know, I know,” he sighs placatingly.

“Plus, Mr. “I travel with 14 guitars everywhere I go,” you have no room to complain about my oversized baggage.”

He tips his head back and laughs. “Go get ‘em, Blue Crush.”

She grins at the reference and winks over her shoulder as she marches toward the crashing waves. “Call me if you need inspiration!”

She looks comical rushing out to the water with the longboard taller than she is trailing behind her. She bought it for herself as a “push present,” as she labeled it, for finishing her latest screenplay which is in development talks with a production company in West Hollywood.

He watches with a casual smile as she paddles out looking like something out of a Roxy catalog-inspired wet dream. He reaches for the guitar case and takes out the Martin, plucking aimlessly at it as something nebulously like a song starts forming in his head. He doesn’t bother to tell her as she’s headed for the surf that he doesn’t need her sitting there next to him to be inspired by her, that pretty much just comes with the territory of being her boyfriend. He winces when she takes a dive off the side of the board and feels a rolling sensation in his stomach until she pops back up safely, looking annoyed.

They’re miles from their old favorite haven, Zuma Beach. It wasn’t as good for surfing and word had started to get out that Lilly and Shawn haunted that place like ghosts every opportunity they got. They still go back sometimes either early morning like this or after midnight when they can walk in silence, hold hands and think. She prefers this little cove a guy at the Malibu Surf Shack entrusted her with the location of. It’s surrounded by craggy cliffs, making the descent to the actual beach tricky with any surfboard, much less the mint green vintage longboard she’s been fond of toting around lately. He likes the spot, too, though. It’s quiet and no one seems to mind that he’s always got his guitar. He’s got a whole host of songs ready for the next album, the heavily-anticipated follow-up to “Her.”

He smiles to himself when he considers it may be more of the same if he keeps sitting here staring at her while she frolics in the waves. Writing about her feels like a privilege and he takes every opportunity to do it when the mood strikes.

He turns back to the guitar and starts singing, knowing she can’t hear him from how far out she is, but she’s watching him all the same. He’s looking down at the strings but can feel her gaze as she bobs over the surf, waiting for her wave. She’s got a smile on her face -- he can feel that, too.

After a couple hours, she paddles back in, grinning as he wiggles into his own wet suit to join her. He reaches the water before she’s fully out of it and he helps haul her board back to their spot.

“You looked good out there,” he tells her, knowing he wouldn’t know the difference if she didn’t.

“I’m dying to get you on a surfboard, Shawn,” she sighs, throwing her salty hair over her shoulders and grabbing his hands. She’s pulling him back toward the cold spring Pacific looking mischievous.

“Not gonna happen, babe.”

She huffs and turns away from him, diving under an oncoming wave. He winces at the water temperature and follows her like a drunken sailor after a mermaid. They pop back up on the other side. He’s able to stand but she’s a little over her head. He pulls her in by her arms and wraps her limbs around him. She kisses his cheek and hangs there for a minute while he steadies them against the waves.

When she pulls away from his neck to look at him, they both smile goofily. He lifts a finger to those freckles he still loves on the bridge of her nose, tracing their constellations gently under his callouses. She says nothing and continues running her fingers through his sea-soaked curls, thinking absently he looks like a Beach Boys song.

“I love you,” she reminds him, kissing the pad of his thumb as it rests on her lips.

He grins. “I love you too, Lil.”

+

The real reason they bought this particular house over by Walnut Canyon is because of the tub.

A glamorous jacuzzi tub was not on the list they confirmed with their realtor as “priorities” for the properties they were looking at. It was merely a bonus that came with a house that matched their other, more grown-up requirements -- a three-car garage, a view of the ocean, and Lilly’s various kitchen specifications since she’s begun to fancy herself a Giada De Laurentiis wannabe. But when Shawn saw that tub on the tour of the home, he was a goner. She couldn’t argue with him, really, since he was the one making the actual purchase and she liked the house too, but his effervescent excitement about this tub stumped her.

Now, though, when they stumble in from the beach sometime after lunch at one of the beachside cafes, she’s so grateful for it.

Shawn curls an arm around her waist and kisses her hair, sticky with saltwater and sunscreen runoff. “Can I wash your hair, baby?” he whispers in her ear.

She closes her eyes, smiles and nods. It’s becoming a bit of a routine. They spend hours at the beach mostly away with their thoughts and return home for Shawn to run a bath while Lilly peels out of her wetsuit.

This afternoon, she strolls naked into the bathroom, attempting to brush through her almost waist length hair and struggling. He smiles at her from inside the bath, his chest and cheeks pink from the heat of the water he usually runs a little too hot. 

“Stop, I’ll do that,” he assures her, nodding at her to join him. She hands him the comb and joins him slowly, easing her sore limbs into the water to sit in front of him. He gently tugs at her hips, eager to pull her back against his chest for a few minutes while they acclimate to the heat.

Her eyes flutter as he kisses her neck, nosing at a mark he left a few days ago during their make-up sex after an argument they had about whether or not to attend an event Shawn was too tired for. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and she feels safe closed in against him.

It’s been a long time since she squirmed under his touch with anything but intense arousal. It’s only a memory now, the way she felt that night he got back from tour. Now she knows his body almost as well as her own. This idea occurs to her suddenly, the far away-ness of that time in her life. She turns her head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“D’you remember the day we met?”

He frowns a little, unsure why she’s asking. “Yeah, your 4th of July party. Why?”

She giggles and the water ripples around their interconnected bodies. He motions for her to sit up and she does. He straightens up behind her and starts lathering shampoo in his hands.

“I can't believe I didn’t know who you were,” she whispers with a smile into her knees that are tucked into her chest.

He grins and starts massaging shampoo into the crown of her head. She mewls gently, so easily satisfied by his hands on her scalp.

“If I had, do you think we still would’ve ended up like this?” she asks, turning her head as he reaches the base of her skull.

He shrugs. “I like to think so. Why are you thinking about this now?”

“Just... with what we were talking about the other day. I've been thinking about how far we’ve come since 2018.”

Shawn tries not to physically tighten at her words. One night last weekend when they were at the Malibu house on the couch stretched out, drinking wine and watching The Fast and the Furious for some reason, he mumbled something under his breath about being the one to pick the movies when they get married.

It wasn’t the first time one of them had made some kind of casual comment about their future in their three years together. But Shawn had followed it up rather than kicking it at her and running away, which was their usual pattern.

He looked at her, bleary-eyed and beautiful, and said, “When do you want to get married?”

She flinched visibly and he retreated back into the couch, face going red. She raced after him, yanking at his arm and desperately trying to pull him back out of his embarrassed hole.

“Stop, stop stop!” she whined, shaking her head rapidly and squeezing his arm, “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Do... do you actually want to talk about this?”

He stared at her for almost a minute before his face cleared up inauthentically and he shook his head as though she'd just asked him if he wanted an extra order of french fries at In-n-Out. “Nope, that’s ok.”

They were weird until they fell asleep that night on opposite sides of the bed but woke up as though nothing odd had happened at all. Now, a week later, she’s bringing it up again.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he murmurs, holding her weight as he dips her hair back into the water to rinse the shampoo. She stares up at his reverted face, still beautiful upside down.

“You really didn’t freak me out. You just... surprised me. I mean, this is a thing we should talk about,” she reasons, nodding to herself as he scratches at her scalp. He snickers.

“Very convincing,” he mumbles.

“Theoretically, we could have as long an engagement as we want. So it’s really a matter of when we actually want to get married, right?” she continues.

He stops with her head in his hands above his lap. He cocks his head down at her. “So... if I asked you now, you’d say yes?”

Lilly blinks at him, her eyebrows pulling together slightly. “Well... yeah?”

Shawn almost drops her head in the water but manages to pull her back up and start with the conditioner.

“I... uhm... ok. Good to know,” he stumbles, clearing his throat as he works the pasty strawberry scent through the ends of her hair.

“Just don’t do it weird,” she says after a moment.

“Do what weird?”

“The proposal. Don’t... like... oh god, please don’t ask me on stage. God, I’d die. I’d actually fall over and die. No public engagements, please, for the love of god.”

He tugs at her hair, tilting her head back to look at him. “Are you telling me how I am and am not allowed to propose to you?”

She beams. “No. I’m telling you under what circumstances I will say yes.”

He barks a laugh and pulls her back against his chest, her hair half conditioned and smearing on his stomach. She clamps her hands around his forearm as it straps across her sternum. They’re quiet for a second and Shawn smiles.

“What?” she giggles.

“I already know how I’m proposing to you.”

“What?” she asks again, no longer giggling.

He smirks. “I’ve had it worked out for months.”

She’s flabbergasted. “And?”

“And it’s a fucking surprise, Lil, I can’t tell you,” he chuckles, rocking her back and forth in his arms.

“But--”

“No.”

She huffs and leans her head back on his shoulder, eyeing him. He looks placidly determined.

“Fine. I think you should ask me next year, then.”

“Ok,” he agrees with a nod like that falls right into his plan.

“Ok?” she parrots.

“Ok.”

They’re quiet again. He pushes her out from his chest and finishes conditioning her hair, rinsing it under the faucet while he finger combs through it and she starts falling asleep in his hands. Ever so gently, he brushes a wet thumb over her cheek to wake her up, signaling it’s time to get out.

They stand up and dry off without another word, separating to their respective closets to change. They regroup on the bed for a midday nap with Shawn pulling at her drying clumps of hair and humming his favorite from the “Her” album, “Barcelona” under his breath. She passes out on his chest and it’s dreamless and perfect because he’s there and he always will be.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @crapri @smallerinfinities @blush-and-books @abigfatmess @charliesclout @ashotofblues @kitykatnumber @herecomethefeels @stillinskislydia

[kapanbenernya]

Path of Exile -- Daddy Diablo’s Little Hellspawn

 Do you remember Diablo? If you're a guy that's been playing the PC when LAN was still the best method to play together since the internet is still an undependable piece of shit it was before puberty hit it hard and turned it into digital cocaine, you probably do. That's right, how can you forget about Blizzo's isometric dungeon crawler? I still remember my first hit of Diablo II, it was in the computer lab of my middle school. I never tried it again since until my college days, when me and my 3 friends basically rushed through the story in 3 days straight, all while cramped together in a 3 x 4 metres room. I'll spare you the gnarly details, but one of them involved laying my legs on the bathroom floor just to make some room.

So, um, let me change the topic here: Do you LIKE Diablo? Well if you remember it and are still playing it's sequels to this day, I'd say you do. And you know who else likes Diablo?

These guys!

That's right, they like Diablo so much they made their own Diablo. They cloned Diablo, mutated its genes and gave birth to their own brand of grindy isometric RPG: Path of Exile and Torchlight, respectively. 

I've actually played Torchlight before, the first and the second. The first one was very simple: 1 town, 2 pets, 3 classes, and like, a billion enemies. The second one was more fleshed out with more towns, more classes, but I didn't like it as much as the first. I liked the first one because it doesn't try to emulate Diablo that much. It's got a more laid back cartoony style, which sets it apart from the competition because it's always demonic horrors with these kind of games. Don't wanna swing too far from under Daddy Diablo's hairy ballsack, eh guys?

That's about all I can say about Torchlight, so let's change gears and finally talk about Path of Exile.

Story is, you are a criminal of some sort in a city that seems to be filled exclusively by pompous assholes, and your sentence is --you guessed it-- being the person that rubs the King's left ballsack until it shines. Of course you fucking don't, it's exile. You are sent away into the wilderness before you stain all the marble and rugs with your filthy criminal hands. So on your way. the boat you are sent on shipwrecks because God feels like karma's been to slow these days and he wants to take control once in a while. You then awaken in the land of Wraeclast, filled to the brim with criminals, monsters, and other undesirables you might think of. And so begins your journey to find your path. As an exile. The Path of Exile, if you will (BOOM TITLE DROP). 

And that's about all the story you need. For the rest of them, you can make an effort and click on the NPCs. If you do want to bother yourself by reading all the flavor text you can access in the game, you will actually find a quite decent story of the city, the culture, their gods and progenitors, and why everything is fucked the way it is now. I personally couldn't be bothered because I know it’s going to be the same shit over and over again. In fact, let me summarize everything for you, the plot is basically "Everything's gone to shit, there’s demons everywhere, oh God somebody do something”. That's my mantra for the story of Diablo, and it works fine enough with PoE. Now let's talk mechanics

I promise you, this is where the section where the game shines anyway

Now I'm not gonna go into the details here because almost everyone knows the general mechanics of isometric RPGs: you click around to move, attack, use skills, pickup items, drop items, initiate conversations, end conversations, open loot, pay respects, and so much more. What I'm going to discuss is the one thing that I think is the unique selling point of PoE, which is the Skill Gems. In PoE, the skills are not tied to your class or level or any skill tree, it's tied only to the aforementioned skill gem. To equip a skill, you have put the skill gem into a socket in the equipment in accordance to their color: red, green, or blue. So if you happen to unequip an item with a skill gem, the skill becomes inactive and you can't use it. To me, this is a game changer since it changes the way you look at weapons and armors from the old traditional way. The old way was that the higher the number equals better weapon or armor and usually it's the one you want. But in PoE, this might not be the case since the skill system is tied to the equipment. And here comes the part where you have to think hard. Let's say you found some cool new bling to wear with higher numbers than the one you have, so naturally you wanna equip it right away, right? But what about the gem slots? The colors? The gem links? Does it accomodate your build? How about element resistances? Is it an armor armor or an evasion armor? It makes you choose between the mystic plate mail made out of virgin tears with a measly single slot or the plain white T-shirt with 6 linked slots. It's like making you consider going out in a Lamborghini that'll turn all the ladies' heads or a minivan because it can fit more whores.

While you're thinking about that, let me give you another headache: the passive skill tree.

Intimidating, isn’t it?

This is the reason why I decided against playing the game when I first heard about it from my friend. I can’t give you the numbers because I couldn’t find the total number of all the passive skills on the internet. And I think it’s a testament to how utterly ridiculous it is! I mean the internet’s got all kinds of information, so the fact that the total number isn’t available means that no one can be bothered to count them all. And you know that internet nerds would do anything just to get any semblance of productivity and sense of self-worth. Oh whatever, it’s not the numbers I’m here to talk to you about, because in the long run the numbers aren’t important. The important one is the passive build. If you’re not familiar, a build in RPG is kind of like a template or a preset that you plan in accordance to how you want your character to be. Or in other words, building your character. In the case of Path of Exile, your build is about taking the right passive skills that supports the active skills you want to use. Now that you know what a build is, here’s an advice to save you from tears: pick a build before you play. Well ok, maybe you’re a veteran RPG player or you just wanna go in blind and improvise (like me), but how about you think again? There are about 100+ passive skill nodes you can take from the God-knows-how-many are available, not to mention the active skills you’d want to use. I mean the numbers alone are terrifying, how about the synergy between the passives and the actives? What if you want to change your active skills and the passives are no longer compatible? Should you take the health node or an offensive node? How about the special nodes that grants you unique abilities? Would you like to invest in the socket node that buffs your skill gem?

OH GOD OH LORD MAKE IT STOP

So far I've listed the mechanics and the happenings of the game. So here's the last thing on my checklist before I draw my conclusion: do I enjoy it? 

Well, here's the part where it starts going sideways.

On my playthrough, of course I decide to go at it with my friend, since these dungeon crawlers are kind of made to be played that way. My friend told me to search for a build guide, but I decided I'm gonna be a brave boy and go blind on this character. For a while, we journeyed together, slayed together, get slayed together, and fought over the loot together. Then I went offline for several days and came back to find my friend had continued grinding for those days. The power gap had become too much of a difference to the point he coudn't flex his arms without a monster dying somewhere in the vicinity, and that's already after the party nerf. Turns out the stat nerf doesn't mean that much shit when he's already got most of the endgame skill jewels. So there I was just picking up the loot while he's busy mowing down the enemies. The most helpful thing I could do was cast a debuff spell to curse the enemies (as if they aren't helpless enough already). And it is in that moment that I thought to myself, "How am I anymore useful than the golem following his ass around?". It is at that moment where I stopped taking the game and its fancy ass skill tree seriously and just go at it for shits and giggles.

But of course, being a credible man of high-credibility and redundancy, it would be unfair to judge the game based on my experience with my friends. I mean how would I know that my friend didn't ruin the game for me? He turned me into a vestigial golem for fuck's sake, and I'd bet your ass that wasn't the intended game experience! (I mean maybe, I didn't check if there's a fucking build for that). I went off to set out on a lonely journey of my own; alone and without any companions 

ok I'll stop with the redundancy thing, I promise

So I made a new character to test out the game unhindered by my friends only to have it backfire on me because after half an hour of playing alone, all I can feel is the grind. I mean it made sense, at least when I'm with my friends I can still chat and crack jokes with each other. Take the social aspect away and in comes the grind, just like real life.

So finally I gave up on the new character and I'm about to give up on the game entirely. Or at least that was the plan until my friend suggested to take a look at my sloppily made character. 10 mins after he looked at my build, he told me that I got a lot of things wrong and that I'm a fucking waste of human life. He then proceeds to tell me which passives to get, which skills to throw away, and gave me his hand-me-downs. Afterwards, I took my optimized guy for a test drive, and I found out that he performs a lot better than before. And that's when the game feels great for me. No longer am I dead after I brushed elbows with a monster, and no longer do I have to spend 3 minutes to clear a normal enemy mob. It turned my dungeon crawl into my dungeon one way bullet train to Funtown. The grind feels less grindy, and that's about all I can ask for because I'm starting to enjoy the game proper. Or at least that was the case until I beat the final boss and my friends introduced me to the endgame content. I went in confident as hell, and I ended up getting 1 hit-KO’d once more. No. That’s too much. This has been an uphill struggle from the start and now that I’ve reached the peak, my reward is another mountain to scale. So no thanks buddies, I’m fully content with THIS mountain peak, it’s a good enough place for me to throw myself off the cliff.

In Brief

There's no easier way for me to summarize PoE. It always goes back to the Diablo comparison, so the conclusion is: if you like Diablo, I'm 90% sure that you'll like this one. The other 10% however depends solely on your tastes, and the differences lie in the skill gems and the passive tree which is the 2 things that defines PoE. Here's the cliffsnotes to help you with your decision so you can get on your way. If you think Diablo is too simple and you want a creative challenge in creating a build that feels unique to you, go get PoE. If you like Diablo as is and you think that the skill gem and passive tree appeals only to maniacs whose wrists should be broken with pipe wrenches for their own good, I'd suggest you buy an expensive mobile phone and keep your credit card nearby.

The one thing I learnt from this is that it's all about optimisation. It's either you go all-in and find the best build, skill, and equips or you'd better off not playing the game at all, because all that's left is the grind and pain. And fuck me if grind and pain is what passes for fun these days. Cause if it does, then I fear for the humans of the future and how they're gonna have to find a way to eat spaghetti with their ball-gag still on.

15/4/2019

[tayshipping]

All the disney couple asks for you and Arno? :3

Sorry, this took so long! Wanted to wait to do it on pc rather than mobile y’know?

Eugene and Rapunzel: Did you and your f/o get along at first? Yes because we had to lol. We warmed up to each other after a while obviously. 

Kristoff and Anna: What do you and your f/o do when it snows? I like to stay inside all day because I don’t like cold weather. Arno doesn’t mind being outside though so sometimes he drags me outside with him. 

Shang and Mulan: Who is more protective/defensive of the other? Arno is a bit more defensive. I can’t blame him though because he lost Elise. 

Simba and Nala: How long have you and your f/o been friends? Well, we were friends for like two months before he asked me out.

Beast and Belle: What is a book you and your f/o would enjoy reading together? I’m not sure tbh. We both enjoy reading so there would be too many to choose from. 

Aladdin and Jasmine: Which places would you and your f/o like to travel to most? Arno and I only travel for missions it seems like. I wouldn’t mind taking Arno to America though. 

Eric and Ariel: Have you and your f/o gone on a romantic boat ride before? We haven’t had the chance to really.

Naveen and Tiana: Which of you is the breadwinner of the household? We both are since we do pretty much the same job. 

Quasimodo and Madeline: What is something one of you likes most about the other’s personality? I like that he’s determined when it comes to a goal. Arno likes how I don’t give up on him. 

Philip and Aurora: What are you and your f/o’s favorite colors? Arno likes blue and red whereas I like blue and pink.

John and Pocahontas: When was the longest you and your f/o were apart? Arno and I were apart for a month and a half before because of our missions.

Hans and Anna: Has there been an instance where one of you kept something important a secret from the other? We’re pretty good when it comes to communication between each other. 

Pacha and Chicha: How many kids would you and your f/o like to have? Well, we adopted Leon and I think he’s more than we’ll ever need. 

Carl and Ellie: What sorts of pictures would you and your f/o put in a scrapbook together? Vacation pictures, holidays, maybe even some of us trying to dance. 

Woody and Bo Peep: Have you or your f/o ever been too embarrassed to show each other affection in front of someone else? I’m really shy so it makes it harder for me to show affection in front of other people. Arno on the other hand, not really. 

Buzz and Jessie: Who fell in love first, and were they the first to confess? I was the first one to fall in love first but Arno was the first to confess.

Roger and Anita: What kinds of pets would you and your f/o like to adopt? Arno probably wouldn’t mind having a cat. I want all sorts of animals lol.

Ray and Evangeline: Do you and your f/o like to go stargazing? Yeah, sometimes we do. 

Thomas O'Malley and Duchess: What was it like introducing your f/o to your loved ones/being introduced to your f/o’s loved ones? Arno doesn’t have any family left so it’s just me and him. 

Milo and Kida: Have you and your f/o come up with a secret language or way of communicating just for the two of you? We don’t really have a secret language. We’ll communicate with hand gestures though. 

Hercules and Meg: What was a sacrifice you or your f/o have made for the other? Arno had to let go of Elise. It was really hard for him but I helped him get through it.

Kovu and Kiara: Has anyone ever tried to get between you and your f/o? Not really. Sometimes we get split up because of missions. 

Bambi and Faline: What were your first impressions of each other? When I first met Arno, I just thought “okay wow he’s a master assassin.” While Arno just saw me as a newbie. 

Tramp and Lady: How different are the places you and your f/o came from? Very different. We are from two different countries after all. 

Pongo and Perdita: How would either of you react to discovering you’ll be having kids? Arno would be surprised (but happy) and I’d probably freak out with anxiety. 

Florian and Snow White: What is a song you and your f/o would enjoy singing together? I’m not sure because Arno isn’t much of a singer. 

Henri and Cinderella: Do either of you like to dance together? We like to dance from time to time even though I’m no good at it. 

Jaq and Mary: What’s something one of you has done in an attempt to impress the other? I’ve tried cooking a meal I’ve never done before and it was kind of a disaster. 

Robin Hood and Maid Marian: How do you remind each other that you love each other?  I always tell him first thing in the morning and at the end of the day. I also hold his hand whenever I can. Arno will rub circles on my shoulder with his thumb if he thinks I need comfort. 

Bernard and Bianca: Who’s the shyer one in the relationship? Ha. me without a doubt.

Bert and Mary Poppins: Who’s the more goofy one in the relationship? Again, me without a doubt. 

Tarzan and Jane: Where do the two of you go to get away from the rest of the world? There’s a secret room in the Cafe that we go to enjoy ourselves. 

Donald and Daisy: How do you calm each other down? Arno will pull me to the side to let me know everything is alright. I will coax him with words as best as I can and when the day is just about done, I’ll give him a rub down if he wants it. 

Mickey and Minnie: Do you like to wear matching outfits? Not really. We have our own assassin outfits which are close enough I guess.

BONUS

Oswald and Ortensia: Do you and your f/o like to brag about each other to others? We’re not much of the bragging type. We also like to keep our relationship on the down low. 

[zombiiesque]

Nocturne Alchemy Summer Limited Reviews

Originally published on 7/2/2019

Yikes. So I never finished my Vaults, did I? Well, I'll have to come back to it! Right now, I have a few reviews I wanted to get posted from the Nocturne Alchemy Summer Limited Collection release. I'm also including a brief review of the PC Eternal Egypt, for reference purposes! I chose three perfumes, and they sent me one of their choice because I won a giveaway on their business FB page. So what I have here, in the picture, is Eternal Egypt Summer, Eternal Egypt Ambre, Chamomile, Vanilla & Spice Tea, and Apricot Sugar. The sample is Kashmir, which is the free sample while available, that they send along with orders. Any of you who have been following me for a while know that Kashmir is one of my favorites! Let's hop right to it, shall we?

First off, I want to talk about one of my desert island scents - Eternal Egypt. I'll be brief, but I think it's helpful for comparison to the two special versions I picked from the Summer LC. The NA site has this description: Eternal Egypt (Signature Blend): White Amber, Red Egyptian Musk, Egyptian Amber and the sands of Egypt.

I started off with a sample of this many moons ago, and at first I was a little leery - I had ridiculously bad luck wearing ambers. Smelled like baby powder on my skin. I think I wound up putting the sample in my box for about six months, and one day I dug it out and waved it in front of Jody's nose. Win. He was instantly a fan, and he remains one to this day - it's one of his favorites on me and he can name it when I wear it. I think it's the only one he knows, even though he has others he loves, too. It truly is a signature scent. I graduated from the sample, to a 5ml, and now I have a 10ml I'm flying through. The white amber gives this almost a coconut vibe? This is very bright and fresh, and that sandy note, I don't know how they do it, but this is just such a classy scent. It feels like a high end perfume, but at the same time, it's very easy to wear. I must say this is pretty perfect to represent Egypt - when I wear it, I am transported. I feel like the red musk gives this just the slightest bit of sexiness. If you've tried Crimson, I think that's the red musk here, or something similar, as it's not the bold red musk style of Kashmir. It's clean and a little spicy, and very appealing. The combination of the musk and amber is just totally perfect.

I've added a picture of Eternal Egypt Summer and Eternal Egypt Ambre side by side, so you can see the height difference. Ambre isn't as big as my 10ml original EE, but it's definitely larger than the standard 5ml.

One thing I want to mention, about a lot of Nocturne Alchemy perfumes, and particularly Eternal Egypt: these do get travel shocked. So a little caution note, a little imploring: Please do not judge these by what they smell like when you first get them - and please, please try them on your skin before you dismiss them. They change quite a lot with some rest, and what you smell in the bottle can be very different once it melds with your skin and warms up. Eternal Egypt variations in particular seem to do a lot of "filling out" with age; they get richer, more beautiful - the notes seem to meld and really reach their full potential with a little time in your possession. So my initial reviews will stand, but it's like they're amplified TL;DR? Give these some time. It's summer, it's hot, they've traveled a distance to get to you.

Eternal Egypt Summer is part of the sub-collection Eternal Summer. Notes are: White Amber, Labdanum, Crystalline, a little eNVie saphir Amber, Copal, Guaiac wood, Lavender, NA Chypre accord. I opened this fresh out of the mail (not advised, ever, I have to say, but I have no self-restraint) and I swooned a little. This is pretty different than the original. It's got a cool feel to it. I gave it a few days to rest before I tried it on my skin, but I could kind of tell right away I was going to love this. Converse to the cool feel, there's a warmth here from the copal, a sweetness from the guaiac. The lavender isn't a star, but I think rather blends with the chypre, which is absolutely lovely. I usually like chypres, and this is no exception. You can definitely tell that there's an essence of Eternal Egypt to this, but if you're worried you might be getting a dupe, you're definitely not. How does this make me feel? Like I'm at the beach. It's a perfect, sunny day, the water is a sparkling turquoise, and there's a cool sea breeze on my sun-warmed skin. Yes, this feels like summer to me.

Eternal Egypt Ambre is a part of the 13th anniversary collection. NA says this: Eternal Egypt Anniversary Collection – a reinterpretation with exclusive notes, beautiful blue pearl bottles but most importantly celebrating thirteen years of the original perfume blend from Nocturne Alchemy in four new iterations and limited to 75 bottles each. From the elegant label art to the carefully chosen bottle and the exquisite ingredients, the owner & creator of Nocturne Alchemy (Emerson Hart) wanted the create something to honour the first perfume created at Nocturne Alchemy thirteen years ago. Aging these perfume will bring out the resins and natural notes.

The notes for Eternal Egypt Ambre are: Bastet’s Amber Absolute, Labdanum, Cedar essential, Palo Santo essential, Black Patchouli, Benzoin, Heliotrope, Smoked Balsam of Peru, Italian Lavandin, Black Pepper and White Amber Absolute. Oooof. Well, y'all already know how much I adore Bastet Amber, and here we have my two desert island scents? Okay, that was an obvious gimme. This, too, is pretty obviously different from the original Eternal Egypt. The bottle is GORGEOUS, as is the label! When I first got this, it was far more travel shocked than Eternal Egypt Summer. I couldn't really tell what was going on, and there was almost a black licorice note in the bottle sniff. What? Turns out, that's the palo santo note. It can smell like anise, or minty...but I gave this a good bit of rest before I tried it on my skin. Four days. The anise had calmed down, and I could get an idea of what this was going to be like on my skin, I thought - except, it was so much better than I could have imagined! It absolutely transformed once it warmed up and melded with my skin. Wow. This is more complex, and sexier, than Summer. I'm having a hard time picking out individual notes, that's how well blended this one is. If Summer is bright and fun, a day at the beach - Ambre is a sultry summer night, a slinky black dress, and low slung heels. The palo santo gives this a cool feel, as does the white amber.

Honestly just so glad I chose both of these, I have several variations of Eternal Egypt, because I love it that much, and these are two wonderful additions to my collection. Backup worthy, really.

One of my favorite things Nocturne Alchemy does for their Summer Collections are the Summer Tea and Tea Service. You can read my reviews here, although I've added more that I haven't reviewed from previous collections. The Summer Tea Service reviews are separate, you can find them here. Y'all, it's hot in Florida. And it's hot from April right through December these days. I find myself craving the Summer Teas as soon as it warms up, so they get a lot of wear from me. Green Tea Crimson is easily in my top five all time favorites, ever.

Last year I missed out, but my good friend Heather grabbed Apricot Sugar, and absolutely adored it. So I promised myself if it came back in the Resurgence, I would for sure have to nab it - it seemed like everything she wore it with was perfect, and of course, it was wearable alone. So I chose that for my third bottle, and as I mentioned, I won a giveaway (thanks, y'all, SO much!) on the Nocturne Alchemy business page, for a free bottle of their choice from the LCs. They chose Chamomile, Vanilla & Spice Tea for me. I had already eyed it, because it sounded delightful. The notes for this are: Blue German Chamomile, Bastet’s Ice Cream Accord, Vanilla Bean, Vanilla essence, Black Tea, Cardamom Spice and a little sugar. I love chamomile tea. I have one that's chamomile and vanilla, and it's so soothing, puts me right to sleep! And Jody's mom grows chamomile. This is very realistic. I guess this could possibly go a little floral, but they are such masters at blending, that never happens here. It's got a bit of a floral/herbal tinge to it, for sure, but it's reigned in beautifully by the vanillas. The cardamom is more of a supporting note on my skin, just a slightly spiced warmth, honestly, it's perfection. The balance here is superb. The black tea is something I utterly love, and it adds a little strength to this. Unfh. I've mentioned before, I didn't use to like tea notes, they would go bitter on my skin, but that's never happened with NA, and this is no exception. This is just so appealing! I could not be happier with what they chose for me, I adore it. The ice cream accord adds a tiny bit of foodiness, and it's at the perfect amount. Yum. Obviously, you can easily wear this alone, but I love to layer my Summer Teas with the Tea Service, it just is the perfect compliment. The first time I wore this, I added a little dab of Apricot Sugar, because that's what I had on hand, and it was delightful! I wasn't sure if it was going to wear well with this one, but I have to say if you have both of these you really should try this, it was a wonderful surprise. I've since tried Rice Milk and Sugarcube, and those are both easy winners, too. I haven't tried Sweet Santalum Milk or Coconut Milk, but I suspect those will work well, too - or even my original Bastet's Ice Cream Accord, if you want your tea to be a little creamier/more foodie.

Apricot Sugar: Apricot stone essence, Apricot Skin, Egyptian Sugar accord, Papaya skin and Vanilla fleck. Oh, how much do I love NA's sugar note. It's just so dang good! I have a couple of bottles of the original Sugarcube, and I have worn it alone, because I love it so much. There's almost a freshness to it, and of course sweetness - but it's not tooth-achingly sweet, if that makes sense. That base is pretty present here, more so than it is with Lemon Sugar. The apricot is bright, juicy and just a little tangy, and extremely realistic. I think the papaya skin is more of a supporting note, I've had it in other blends and enjoyed it, but I don't really notice it here. It may be adding to that juiciness. This is a simple blend, but it was meant to be layered, and it really shines when you do that. As I mentioned above, I wore it with Chamomile, Vanilla & Spice Tea, and I've also worn it with White Tea Vanilla, and Crystal, so far. I'm going to try it with Santalum White and White Ambre Ombre, because I feel like those will be great pairings, too. I think this is a very versatile layering perfume, and would be lovely with so many perfumes. Anything with vanilla, for sure. Bastet Ice Cream Accord, some Dinos, Eternal Ankh, really I think anything you think might work. I bet it would be pretty with Egyptian Musk, and definitely Diamond. I'm so happy I grabbed this! If you were a fan of, or yearning for, Love of Bastet: Pink Vanille, I think you should definitely get this.

I have Dimetrodon from last year, but I've run out of time, today, so I'll post that separately. It's currently available in the Summer LC Resurgence, in the Prehistoria collection.

What did you choose from this release? What are you looking at? I'm eyeing a Dino or two, and more Teas....always more Teas! I hope y'all enjoyed these reviews, and they helped you to make some decisions. As always, thanks for reading!

[cobble-stone]

don’t tempt me-

well you’ve tempted me here you go

OKAY so i mentioned that they have a 3-bedroom place, yeah? well.

the third bedroom is essentially a “hobby room.” that’s where they keep the PCs, there’s a bookshelf, there’s paints and an amp for the guitar-

there’s two desks lining the back wall, which is painted like a navy blue. they both have a PC setup on them. on the wall to the left of that is a window, with black curtains which are usually open. there’s a bookshelf on the other side of that, and a bean bag chair. along the wall with the door there’s also a shelf with a bunch of paints- there’s no easel in there because usually what happens is if any of em want to paint (i imagine bdubs and skizz do sometimes) they usually just prop it up against the floor. (does get paint on the floor sometimes. not recommended.) the remaining wall has the closet that was Supposed to be for the bedroom there, but instead they store various supplies and board games in there. also files and paperwork. very professional to have your taxes right next to three decks of Uno. there’s also LED lights in here, a combination actually, of LEDs and colored Christmas lights. the walls are covered in paintings and a couple posters, also a couple photos, unframed. the furniture doesn’t match in here because it’s just what anyone could find on Craigslist but most of it is dark brown wood (well. “wood” in quotations. definitely not real wood.) a solid 80% of the time there’s an inflated blowup mattress that someone forgot to put away- whether it be out from guests or because someone got in a petty argument and was kicked out of the shared rooms

the shared living space is kinda small! there’s a big couch, a sectional which is made of a soft dark brown material. there’s a couple pillows that’re are green and blue. they have a TV on the fireplace mantle, and a coffee table made out of metal and a lighter wood. there’s also a chair that belongs to Tango and Tango only- if anyone else sits in it they will have to face his wrath. the kitchen is kinda in the same area- white cabinets and dark grey countertops, and the backsplash is a cool grey tile. there’s lots of various appliances, and there’s a table with four chairs pushed against a wall under a window. (the table matches the coffee table in the living room). there’s also a smaller table on the side with a record player, and a small basket beside it with a bunch of vinyls. also lamps spotted around accordingly! i feel like the shared living space has a lot more windows too, most of which have these translucent white curtains, and are kept open. the walls are a pale cool greenish-grey, and the floor is uhhh. haven’t decided fully, but i think dark brown hardwood (darker than the couch- think like. dark oak and the couch would be the same color as spruce)

if it isn’t obvious, bdubs was put in charge of design for the rest of the house, which is why the scheme matches his and etho’s room pretty well. etho, tango and skizz got to do whatever they wanted for tango and skizz’s room and the third bedroom

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon with Team BEST!

oooo-

so obviously we know their living situation in canon last life. i feel like in say- a modern AU, it’s fairly similar.

they’d have a three bedroom house/apartment. one room is where etho and bdubs share, the second room skizz and tango share.

the rest is under a readmore because well. interior design is to me as to fashion design is to you ro dkhdkdjdh-

etho and bdubs originally had two twin beds, but at some point they reorganized the room and decided “fuck it, we’re pushing the beds together. gives us more room.” (this has resulted in bdubs falling between the cracks in the bed while he’s asleep on multiple occasions)

their room is the smaller of the two, having the two beds pushed together. there’s a closet but also a dresser, bdubs has the closet and etho just shoves all his clothes in whichever drawers they fit into. i feel like their room is only nicely designed because bdubs is one of the two people who live there- the walls are a neutral green, with lots of shelves where both of them store various trinkets. etho bought the two of them a lamp which looks like a redstone lamp, and it sits on what was formerly bdubs’ bedside table, which is now shoved into a corner. there’s only one window but it’s fairly big, and there’s some curtains which are like- a deep warm grey, with some stripes. they’re blackout curtains, as etho’s sleep schedule is messed up so he falls asleep during the day. the bedspread is also in the same color, and the pillows are a mix of white, brown, and green. there’s a handful of blankets too. two of the trinkets that they have is above the bed- an artic fox plushie and a glare one. they also have lots of plants in there! there’s also lots of sticky notes, usually etho reminding himself of things he needs to do. there’s posters as well and a couple art pieces

onto skizz and tango’s room!

they have bunk beds. skizz has the bottom one, tango has the top. skizz’s bunk has a little curtain he can draw (blue with red details,) and inside his bunk is the *coziest* space. he has so many pillows and blankets, most of it is like- a bright blue and red. he has a LED light strip down there too. tango’s bedspread is grey, he has red pillows and blankets, it’s a lot less detailed and cozy.

the rest of the room is usually fairly messy. there’s a dresser but it’s usually more so used to store random things, they also have a desk and a minifridge. most of their furniture is dark grey. there’s a blue rug, the same color blue that skizz’s stuff is. the room itself is mostly white walls, except for the red accent wall where the door is. there’s also only one window, but it’s usually kept closed. most of the time laundry can be find scattered around. they don’t have as many shelves, tango and skizz both have a couple posters around their bed, but the walls are fairly empty with the exception of the team BEST shields, and a couple photos of the four of them skizz has. there’s a guitar- it’s skizz’s, electric, red. tango borrows it from time to time but neither of them are really *good* at it. the room is usually fairly dark, due to the consistently closed windows and the fact that they don’t have any sort of lamp. (and we all know- Big Overhead Light Bad.)

if you want i’ll go into detail with the rest of the apartment- i gotta head to school now though dkdhjdjdh

[hoenn-hakase]

TPP Bronze: Day 8. The End

Where we last saw Fifer, she had just become Champion for both Kohto and Kanto and had begun to explore the lengths of her domain as she'd hardly knew anything about Kanto. Prof. Koa gave her a Cave Pass that allowed her to go through Cerulean Cave where she found and fought her toughest opponent yet: TPP's own, AJ. Unable to beat him, she returned to Kanto's mainland where she seems to be seeking the greatest treasure of all: Her Purpose.

We start the day bright and early in Vermilion City. Having never been in a port city, but having been in a train station, Fifer sure wanted to check out the docks. What would be found down there? A big fancy boat? A rare pokemon in hiding? A gateway to HELL? Well.... APPARENTLY! D8!

Going down the stairs to where the loading area normally would be, Fifer instead stepped out of the port and into the Glitch Worl!!! Which bizarrely enough, also seems to be the source of the Plague o' Rocks that's been slowly trying to encase Kohto for some time now. A stray NPC tries to ask her if she came from Johto and admires her rare Pokemon he wonders can be found there. Glitch Worl seems to be a pretty enclosed space, having the doors blocked and buildings too fragmented to hold anything. No treasure to be found... So Fifer heads back to the Lost Boy and decides to ask the.... clone? Yes, she didn't notice at first, but there's a girl in blue who turned toward Fifer when she tried to get the girl's attention, and... SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE HER???

The girl suddenly takes her through another doorway, (down the rabbit hole indeed...) where she found herself suddenly TRAPPED in a mess of world fragments and somewhere in the distance, a horn blows, signalling that they're being taken away somewhere. Even as she can feel the "ship" moving, she eventually manages to kick the door open and stepped out to find... she was still in the same place. In front of the fragmented gym of the town she departed from anyway. How strange. Talking to another girl this time, or what she THOUGHT was another girl, turned out to be some copy of her as well and the pair of Fifers decided to shove her back into the pocket dimension to seal her away.

Wriggling out the side door this time, Fifer seemed to be quite put out with this place, and these... "twins" and decided to see if she could just fly back to Cerulean City. Somehow... that worked? She eventually went back to do a bit of a test, and certainly the port still lead into the Glitch Worl. But she could leave it just as easily with Fly. Having learned this, she heads back to the League, presumably to talk with the council about barring off the docks until they figure out how to prevent people from falling into The Void.

After dealing with those bugs, Fifer decides to go beat up some real bugs and does a long grind session in the Viridian Forest where she stumbles across a fisherman who is mad about someone telling him there was a good fishing spot there, but only bugs!

Feeling her training is complete, it's time to rechallenge AJ! And fail. ... Multiple times. So instead it's BACK to training! Off to the League to again get the help and advice of her fellow League members. There's something troubling about all this, I'm sure. AJ is known destroyer. Has he only been going easy on her?

Things only turn weirder (and Glitchier? Come on, Bronze you were holding up so well....;o; ) as she has a total WHITE out

Perhaps the answer isn't just in sheer brute strength, but something... more. Remembering Sabrina's words in how the power of the bond Fifer has with her Pokemon, the love they share, is more powerful than anything, Fifer appears to be working on strengthening her bond with Lucy

Working her way through the LITERAL Maze of Trees, Fifer finds a hidden house that seems to be some kind of Game Corner... Only there's no games inside the building. Instead a shady man tells her CONGRATS on her excellent sleuthing skills in being able to find the Secret Room. His friend then proceeds to give her AS MANY MASTER BALLS AS SHE WANTS 8O 8O 8O The chat proceeds to get so many, the game goes into a sort of "hyper mode" where the music, text, and character movements all suddenly move at an accelerated pace to speed things up XD

Having been deemed a Master of Glitchcraft, Fifer decides to test her strength elsewhere. She eventually heads to the Kanto Power Plant, where she walked through the door into the Old Couple's house in the heart of Deep Cave. Stepping out of the house proved she was, in fact, still in the cave, so it wasn't that they were removed to the Power Plant, but that she figured out how to create a portal of her own. Digging her way out, she returned to the Power Plant entrance just fine. Magic~ 8D <3

Fifer seems very excited to discover such powers and immediately decides she MUST try this elsewhere to give herself confidence in this new ability. She returns to the Glitch Worl and proves she doesn't even need to Fly to leave this weird place, as she can just step back through the doorway she created to enter it. Entering and leaving Vermilion City Gym also appears to form a gateway, giving her a shortcut back to Memoria Town.

A new plan forges as she seems to piece things together, eventually setting up a gateway at the entrance to Dark Tunnel that would lead her directly into Cerulean Cave so she could bypass the guards and go more quickly after AJ. In the end it was a long, and hard fought battle but with a bit of luck and strategizing, we FINALLY CLAIM VICTORY! >O

AJ actually doesn't have much to say (not to US anyway XD) and just as mysteriously as he appeared to Fifer.... he vanished. Leaving one to wonder if he was ever truly there... The credits roll and the Chat cries and Fifer... Well Fifer managed to warp into the game's true finale. A mysterious lookout spot where she could see all of Kohto through a lense and found --?!! waiting for her with a happy Congrats on her completing all there is to do in their tiny home. She also meets with Freako, a strange man who thanks for playing "the game". One of Koa's aides is even there, saying the professor sends his regards. Everyone's so proud of her ;o;

As she talks to all the people, and takes in the sights, her ItemFinder starts going off. A... a treasure? It doesn't appear to be in the building, but stepping outside reveals the "lookout" is in a house by the sea. It... It's Cerulean Cape! I mean, Enders Isle. Fifer continues to look around the clearing it sits in, thoroughly cut off from the rest of civilization. The ItemFinder starts to react to something outside now... she follows... She follows until she finds herself back in the gateway to Cerulean Cave and a soft mist fills the area. The Voices leave, some sending hearts and well wishes as they do so. The game ends.

This was long but still kind of fun. I think if I do this for the next run, I'll start doing it from Day 1 so hopefully I won't be SO far behind as I started this when it was almost over. I know my points of interest are kind of wonky, but I hope I could at least make these info-dumps amusing at least. Thanks! <3

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

Okay, well since no one asked about it, here's a few bonus notes and lore ideas to come up while I was going through all this.

The PokeGear was back in full swing this run, and we had several numbers calling us at all hours of the day, but the ones that stood out to me the most were: Youngster Zach, Camper Nate, Lass Dana, and PokeFan Beverly. I suppose given the chat's reactions whenever one of them called had something to do with it. (Dana is Bae though apparently)

I'm not sure if it was a bug or what triggered it, but while we were in Viridian Forest, Mom called after EVERY. SINGLE. TRAINER. to tell us she went and bought something and it's in the PC. Whether she was pushing for PC use or simply seems to be gaining a bit of a shopping addiction due to just how much dough Fifer's been raking in through her battle and treasure hunting skills, it was really funny. I really do wonder if the same phone call just kept getting triggered even though she only meant to call us once, or if there actually was a new item in the PC for every time she called, but we'll never know.

For anyone curious, I believe I saw we had 171 Master Balls over the course of Bronze. According to Kelcyus: "and most Masterball'd mons: Master Alakazam, Master Golbat, Master Graveler, Master Goldeen and Master Tangela which was caught with the original masterball."

Speaking of, Kelcyus made a comic about the incident, but I didn't actually notice it since I was more or less skimming over events in my vid watching so while skimming I didn't see anything out of place with a trainer battle and the continuing on down Route 9 toward the Power Plant though knowing that the area was off limits now explains SO MUCH about the stuff that happened in that area. Like the gateways to different areas because nothing was programmed in place of the Power Plant and Rock Tunnel and so forth. If I calculated correctly, the Edna OH SHIT incident happened back on Day 7. While it's hilarious that after turning into a Magicarp, Edna accuses us of hacking, the truth is, the gate house to the underground between Cerulean City and Vermilion City was meant to block the path to Route 9. Instead it was about two spaces over, creating a one space gap for Fiver to simply walk through and then use Cut on the tree as normal.

While I keep making jokes about the Plague o Rocks that seems to be tormenting Kohto (that one village I never got the name for, Acre Forest, Cerulean Cape, ect all having the large square boulders blocking off places for seemingly no reason) and then finding them EVERYWHERE in the Glitch Worl, and the stray NPC still talking about Johto, (as well as a few others like in Saffon and in the Route 9 forbidden zone) I can't help but wonder if the random rocks are Glitchwork or actually (from a lore prospective) actually from the remnants from Brown when Johto was basically buried due to (I thiiiiink?) an earthquake. Seeing how Kohto and Kanto are directly connected, and both areas have these rocks to some extent, and Johto was basically destroyed, I wonder how far flung the effects of that disaster struck. o.O;

And that's all I can think of at the moment. ^ w ^