#love love love lesbian being ignore after being promised more content

[serqphites]

can someone tell jac that it’s agatha all along and NOT billy all along, thank you!!!

[olderthannetfic]

One of the worst cases I’ve personally encountered of “if you don’t like X ship you’re [insert-here]phobic” is believe it or not in the damn Monster High fandom.

One of the most popular ships is Draculaura X Clawdeen. In the movies and webisodes, Clawdeen vocally has very little interest in boys and dating, so it was a popular headcanon for years that she was a lesbian. A couple years ago the creator of Monster High, Garrett Sanders, did a QnA session on Instagram and one of the questions was whether or not Clawdeen was a lesbian. Garrett said straight out that Clawdeen was not written to be a lesbian, they just wanted a character on the main cast who wasn’t boy-crazy, but that he was fully in support of headcanoning her as gay. And that’s all fine, people kept making their ship content, they kept supporting their headcanon, life went on.

A while later - I’m not sure when exactly because I don’t follow him on Insta - Garrett went back on what he’d said before (maybe not went back, he didn’t contradict the old statement) and decided that Clawdeen was lesbian, and like— that’s perfectly fine for him to do. They’re his characters, he made them. The problem is, this is years after he stopped working for Mattel. People can absolutely look to him as an authority on Monster High if they want because again, these are his characters and his world for the most part, he started it! But he has no legal rights over the property anymore. Anything he says is no more officially canon than anything I say about it, but unfortunately a very vocal part of the fandom either don’t realise that or don’t care, and by God, they are some of the most entitled people I’ve ever seen. Every other post on the MH official page will have comments like “lesbian Clawdeen when” “give Clawdeen a girlfriend”, demanding something that was never canon and was never intended to be canon. I don’t like Clawdeen X Draculaura personally, I like the characters, but I’m not into the ship. If it weren’t for those kinds of people, I would be neutral about it, but because of them I have a knee-jerk reaction whenever I see Clawdeen X Drac because a lot of people have this attitude of, like, “Well, who ELSE would you ship Clawdeen with? 🤨” You should’ve seen them lose their shit at the prospect of Clawdeen liking Deuce Gorgon in the gen 3 reboot.

What bugs me about this all the more is that there are characters who were ACTUALLY meant to be queer that Mattel shut down. Kieran Valentine, an energy vampire who romances girls and then breaks their hearts, was originally supposed to have an arc where he realised he was chasing fake love because he was ashamed of being gay, and he would eventually come to accept himself, with his coming-out being written in the diary that came with his doll. Mattel said “no” because it was “putting an LGBT person in a negative light” — even though he was created and his story written by, you guessed it, Garrett Sanders, the only out gay person on the team at the time. Neighthan Rot was confirmed again by Garrett to have been intended as queer, and Finnegan Wake was supposed to be “not straight”, but the powers that be wouldn’t let them do it. The fandom does acknowledge this, but I feel its so heavily overshadowed by this entitlement that people have towards their fave getting the sexuality they want, forgetting or wilfully ignoring that it was never promised to them in the first place unlike the characters that actually got snubbed. Gen 3 is already shaping up to be more diverse in regards to queer stuff, with Frankie being non-binary, Deuce having two mothers, and I’m sure more to come, but nope, some people just want to keep whining that Clawdeen isn’t the sexuality they think she should be. Frustrates me to no end.

--

[e3khatena]

I had an experience this week that brought me to the very precipice of a certain flavor of madness and ripped me out of it, returned to the Earth after but just a moment, and it has shaken me to my very core, fundamentally changed my entire being.

I promise you this is about my transition.

For the uninitiated, I was able to start feminizing hormone replacement therapy as of 16 December 2022, and at this point have been on it for just shy of four months. After an early wave of soreness in the first few weeks, I had not felt or noticed any major changes, and went to my endocrinologist after the first three months with virtually nothing to report, not even mental changes brought about by hormones. I was, somehow, a late bloomer to my own second puberty.

Despite that, I did not let that get in the way of acquiring a small outfit completely of piecemeal, cheap components. I bought a sports bra on clearance, a dress at 40% off, and used a prepaid Visa from my birthday to buy a skirt and some other accessories. The dress in particular has been one of my favorites, especially given the warm room I occupy, not aided by a large PC that I absolutely put through its paces. It provides ample ventilation while also just looking really cute to boot, and it has provided ample gender euphoria on the days I do wear it.

I sent this selfie to a friend of mine shortly after helping them out with a bit of money during one of their livestreams. I like helping my friends and also likewise enjoy sending along stuff like this as a nice bonus. “GOD you’re cute, dawww” was the response I got from them.

This was the first time anyone had ever called me cute, and it was a friend who I looked up to and felt was infinitely more fashionable and confident in themselves than I was about me. I shared this story with other friends, who also confirmed, and posted the selfie online, where someone DMed me to add to the euphoria. This part of the story ends here but we will return to it briefly.

This past Sunday, I purchased the indie game Unpacking. The title is a puzzle game in which you unload moving boxes of the protagonist’s stuff into new spaces as they move into new locales during their time in college and their adult life. In the penultimate level, a new set of boxes arrive, a character quickly discovered to be the girlfriend of our apparently-queer protagonist. In the final level, the two kinds of boxes are scattered around, and their contents are not specific to the protagonist or her girlfriend, but are completely mixed, and the ending song calls this out as part of the tender act of “unpacking a life”.

I cried. This is not new, I cried in a not-dissimilar manner after playing Gone Home, which featured a similarly wholesome lesbian romance, but I still cried regardless. I went to bed, and it’s clear that I was still dwelling on it all.

I dreamt that I had laid my head in a girl’s lap, sitting on a hardwood floor. She ran her hands over my body and told me I was cute, that she loved me, and that I didn’t have to worry or even think around her, it was okay to just breathe and relax, and I did. Her touch felt so real, so gentle and sweet, and for a moment the pretense of a dream faded away, it was real and it was so beautifully sweet.

I awoke Monday morning to the phantom of a comforting touch I had never felt in my life. I had an experience so real-feeling but so far beyond description that it had rocked me completely. I have zero experience with love outside of the platonic sort; the way I love my dog or spending time with my friends. I had second-hand knowledge of relationships based on accounts from those friends, but they never ended well and called me lucky I “didn’t get any of this”, as if my ignorance was a gift to be cherished and not just an integral hole in my being that had never even attempted to be filled.

I’ve had debilitating social anxiety my entire life, the kind that gives me paralysis and chest pain around the girls in middle and high school that I wanted to know better, the kind that felt ashamed and terrified when Valentine’s Day in 9th grade had us fill out surveys to ultimately aid in matchmaking in our school, the kind that looked at prom only as an expensive catered meal in another town and nothing more (my prom apparently sucked but that’s a story for another day; I spent the night playing Fallout New Vegas and had a better time for it). This anxiety had never gone away, I had never grown out of it, and my teenage creed to prove myself “better” or “more mature” than my peers by not getting engaged with romantic social matters had only ever made me less confident, less mature, and worse off for my adult years than those same peers.

And now here I was, spending most of Monday too distracted by this yearning I felt to be held, to be appreciated, to be *loved* the way I had been in that dream, and entirely unable to comprehend the emotion I had felt. I described the sensation of having my brain replaced by a “sickly sweet mush” and spent the whole day with a deeply emotional pining gripping at me, a sensation far surpassing my traditional touch starvation, a craving so deeply personal and so foreign to me, but so heartfelt and strong that I still feel it more than a day later, even as I write it.

I know nothing socially. I’ve never even gotten to hold another lady’s hand, let alone be told I was loved by one, and I’ve never felt the need to even bother vocalizing those mannerisms because they felt weird and gross of me, after having been so avoidant for so long, but now the feeling welling inside me is so strong that I’ve had to let them spill, if for nothing else than my own sanity. At long last, after more than a decade of post-pubescent life, I’m finally absolutely starved of romantic and sensual love and it’s eating at my recently estrogen-flooded mind and body.

I don’t know how to proceed. Like, part of me knows the answer is to find my fellow local queer folk and make friends and such in there, to actually be vulnerable around them, but I have zero experience with that all and have no idea where to turn. If you made it this far and have any ideas regarding this, I’m open to hearing them.

Thank you.

[sevlgi]

hit and run

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a  shit ton of angst, some fluff

contents: idol!rosé, actress!y/n, closeted!rosé, costar!au, slight enemies-to-lovers, unhappy endings because i’m a bitch, a lot of attempted cinematic parallels, italicized dialogue is when they’re speaking as their characters

warnings: slight homophobia

synopsis: There’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved with a costar who you should hate by all accounts. But of course, you manage to forget that love is usually more like a hit-and-run than a cruise ship. 

a/n: while i was writing this, i  imagined this as what happened before rosie sang “gone”, so maybe you can think of it like that too? i’m honestly so terrified of this flopping lmao... 

for a little background on the film: Y/N plays Luna, a pirate captain who unknowingly sacrificed her family in order to have the power to fight the regime that Rosé’s character Helen is a part of. Helen approaches Luna, determined to help her bring justice, but Helen is unable to choose between the benefits of staying with the regime, and following what she knows is right and destroying her life as a result.

word count: 6.8k

The last thing you want to hear on the morning of your first script reading is that the actress playing your love interest in the film has changed.

“What?” you say loudly, straightening in the backseat. Your manager frowns, and you sit obediently, but the scowl doesn’t leave your face. “What do you mean the actress changed?”

“Yeah. She had to leave the movie at the last minute,” he sighs.

Sooyoung was chosen alongside you, after lengthy interviews testing whether the two of you would be able to handle your characters’ dynamic. It took weeks for the director to decide that you were the pair that she wanted, so the news that you’ll be meeting your costar for the first time in front of paparazzi is quite the shock to your system. “Shit. Then who’s the replacement?”

Your manager presses his lips together firmly before answering, “Park Chaeyoung. She’s an idol.”

You groan and slump down again. “Great. Another idol actress? Please don’t tell me that this is her first role too. Oh god, is she straight?”

“Yes to all of the above,” Chan says tensely.

Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it’s honestly a big deal. It’s the first leading role you’ve bagged, especially in a mainstream LGBTQ+ movie, and Sooyoung was the best costar you could’ve picked. You’ve never met Park Chaeyoung before, and you already know that all your plans are going to be messed up.

Chan pulls the car into the parking lot, and you scowl when you realize that most of the paparazzi have arrived. “We’re going around the back. Y/N, promise me one thing: don’t make a scene, okay?” your manager pleads. “I’m not happy about it either, but Chaeyoung has a good reputation. You’ll just ruin yours if you blow up at her.”

“I promise,” you answer through gritted teeth. You slip through the open side door as soon as you get out of the car, ignoring Chan’s call after you to have a good time like you would’ve.

To make matters worse, you don’t even get a chance to talk to the director or Chaeyoung before you’re swarmed by a crowd of reporters, even if that ‘talk’ would’ve consisted of more yelling than anything. “Y/N, Y/N!”

“Okay, let her up!” Seulgi shouts, pushing her way through. She grips your arm to lead you towards the cast table, whispering under her breath, “I’ll explain later. But just run with it, okay?”

You have plenty of problems with idol actresses, but you’ve never been inclined to say all those problems to their faces. Until now, that is.  Now, you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a girl you know has absolutely no credentials to be playing the other role in your upcoming movie, resisting the urge to ball your script up and throw it in her face.

There’s nothing wrong with Park Chaeyoung as a person-- she’s admittedly gorgeous, probably sweet, and you’re sure she isn’t a bad actress in any sense. The only thing wrong with the situation is that she’s painfully straight and auditioning to be your love interest in what might be Korea’s first mainstream lesbian film, and that you have never spoken to her before.

Chaeyoung avoids your stare with a clenched jaw, and in normal circumstances, you would already be apologizing profusely for making her uncomfortable. In this circumstance, though, your obvious grudge against her only contributes to the dynamic her character is supposed to have with yours.

“Miss Kang, is it true that the actors were only picked today?” 

The director grimaces, and the both of you turn to look at the cameras flashing by the sides of the room. It was never the plan to allow paparazzi to sit in on the first reading that you and Chaeyoung would be doing together, especially since it’s true that Chaeyoung was only chosen hours ago, after the original actress bailed. Even though your grudge should be against the girl who left, it’s easier to glare at the one sitting next to you. “Not exactly. Y/N has been confirmed for the role of Luna for months, but we recently added Chaeyoung as Helen. But we can assure that their chemistry will be wonderful,” Seulgi reassures the audience. What a lie.

Yet another reporter calls out, “How much of the script will we be seeing today, and when will the trailer be released?”

“Since the casting was changed today, the trailer has been delayed,” Seulgi says. You can hear the panic in her voice, and clear your throat. “As for the script… we’re only doing part of one scene that will show up in the trailer today, so we’ll just let them begin. Y/N?”

As you take a sip of water to prepare yourself, you almost hope that Chaeyoung messes up her part. It would be bad press, sure, and it would only contribute to Seulgi’s stress, but it would be satisfying for her to realize that she doesn’t deserve her part. She’s just an idol, after all, and she’s taking away representation from the people who need it.

“Are you saying you’re better than me?” you begin, your voice ice-cold.

You watch Chaeyoung’s throat bob, but her voice is steady and clear when she says her line. “No! I’m not saying that I’m better than you… but by all accounts, there’s no way you should have this power.”

“Would you be less scared then?” You pause, watch as Chaeyoung’s expression changes to the panic that her character’s would. “I’m kidding, Helen. I did things to get these powers, things that I’m not proud of.”

“Why would you do that? You’re strong… you don’t need them.”

“I’ve never been-- shit.” The tips of your ears start to burn, and suddenly, your lines are swimming before your eyes. Maybe all your hoping and wishing that Chaeyoung messes up has reflected onto you instead.

She attempts to remind you, “I haven’t always--”

“I know,” you hiss, but your voice is too loud in the silent room. Chaeyoung turns bright pink, too, but you still can’t seem to say your lines out loud. Shit, shit, shit--

“I’m just trying to help,” she sighs.

You whip your head to glare at her, and she winces at the daggers you send in her direction. “Shut the hell up--”

“Okay, the script reading will end here,” Seulgi announces loudly, and you bite down hard on your tongue. You don’t dare to look at the other cast members, don’t dare to think about how they must be guilting you for cutting their PR short. “Thank you everyone, please leave with security.”

You stay in your seat, staring at your script with burning eyes until you feel a hand on your shoulder and jolt. “Hey,” Chaeyoung reminds you, “we can leave.”

“Don’t touch me” is your only answer, and you storm out of the room. Alone.

The next time you see Chaeyoung is the next day, at a script-reading that the paparazzi knows nothing about. (You do see a friend request from a Park Chaeyoung the night before, but you ignore it.)

Seulgi attempts a smile, but it doesn’t hide the bags under her eyes. She claps and raises her voice to get the cast’s attention. “Okay, everyone. We didn’t get what we wanted yesterday, but that’s fine. Um… let’s try yesterday’s scene from Chaeyoung’s part, okay? From ‘you don’t need them’.”

Chaeyoung nods. “You’re strong… you don’t need them,” she starts, worry tinging into her voice.

“I haven’t always been strong,” you reply, your voice harsher than it should be just to stop yourself from messing up again.

“Still. Powers aren’t everything, Luna, it’s too hard to have them.”

You sigh. “Newsflash, princess. It’s harder not to.”

“But--” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Did you ever think,” you cut her off, “that I didn’t care that it’d be hard? Did you ever think that the rest of us are tired of you abusing the thing that you’re given, but we have to fight for?”

You look right to Seulgi once you finish, ignoring the part underneath that says you should look to Chaeyoung at the end of the scene. The director smiles anyway. “That was great, you two. I think you capture the tension perfectly, which is a relief.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “I know that changing our main cast so close to the actual production is really difficult,” Seulgi sighs. “And I’m really sorry to inconvenience you all. The schedule is really squished now, and we just have to work through it. Chaeyoung, Y/N, all I ask is that you try to work together, okay? I know you’ll be amazing together.”

Chaeyoung speaks, possibly for the first time besides her lines. “Of course, Ms. Bae. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure. We have to cut this short, again, but we’re scheduled for costume fitting right now,” Seulgi groans. “We have to at least get the outfits for the trailer to fit. Sorry, everyone. Down the hall, okay?”

Of course, you and Chaeyoung have to get fit together. The only sound in the hallway is that of her heels clicking on the wood, and you resist the urge to shout at her to stop. Luckily, you arrive in the fitting room before you can.

Your eyes widen at the dress hanging there. It’s incredible, even without the layers that would support the skirt-- you can’t even imagine how the beading and pink silk would look on Chaeyoung. Ethereal, probably. “Y/N, yours is here,” the costume director laughs, beckoning you over.

Even though your own outfit isn’t nearly as opulent, you can’t help but admire the gold detailing on the cuffs and the tailoring. “Thank god yours doesn’t take so much sewing,” the director grunts, pinning the side. “You know, the two of you are going to look fantastic in these, even if we have to spill all that blood on them to shoot the trailer.”

“Sooyoung would’ve looked better.” It’s mean, and it’s a low blow, but the director doesn’t take your bait.

She pokes her head out to where Chaeyoung’s being fitted. “Now? Okay, Y/N, go out there. We need to take a look at the two of you together.”

You can’t stop your jaw from dropping when you see Chaeyoung. She’s all candyfloss hair and gold adorning her tiny waist, and in all her glory, you can’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe she was made for the role. “You look really good,” she compliments softly.

Nodding stiffly, you turn for the seamstresses. Chaeyoung moves to fiddle with her gloves when she realizes that you have absolutely no interest in continuing the conversation.

Well, if there’s one thing you can nitpick about her, it isn’t how she looks; she looks absolutely perfect for the role of Princess Helen, maybe even more perfect than Sooyoung. 

One of the costume directors steps in. “Okay, you can get changed out, but you have to come back in a few hours,” she tells you. “We have to make a lot of changes, then fit you again.”

You step down from the podium, going towards your dressing room without a second thought until Chaeyoung calls for you. “Y/N? Do you want to have lunch later? In your trailer or something?”

“Sure,” you answer, barely glancing back. When you do, all you see is her with shiny puppy eyes, and in her giant gown, it’s eerily similar to the role she’s supposed to be playing.

“It’s nice. You’ve decorated it?”

You nod absentmindedly, clearing the narrow couch off for yourself to sit on, since Chaeyoung has taken the only chair that could fit in the trailer. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve had it for a few months, so.”

She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you frown. Chaeyoung apologizes too much, but at least she’s upfront about whatever she has to say.

Your costar sighs, “For usurping the role? You must’ve gotten attached to Sooyoung, and it’s got to be horrible for me to just… arrive like this.”

“You know… that’s part of it.” You can’t lie; a big part of the resentment you hold against Chaeyoung is the fact that she took a role meant for someone else, someone you were friends with. “The other thing… I don’t like idol actresses,” you tell her.

Chaeyoung’s brows furrow, and she leans forward. “Why? I mean, why don’t you?”

You pause to think about it. “Well… I mean, think about it like this. Sooyoung and my auditions went for weeks before we were chosen, as a pair. Didn’t you get this role because you were an idol? You had to audition, sure, but I bet you just flashed a few smiles and read the script and got chosen. How is that fair?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but you hold your hand up and continue, “And the other thing. You’re straight.”

Chaeyoung chokes on air at that, spluttering, “What? You hate me because I’m straight?”

“No,” you say incredulously, “Well, I don’t hate you. But you being straight, and landing the lead role in a film like this… you’re taking away representation. And that’s kind of shitty of you.”

The air inside the trailer becomes suffocating, and Chaeyoung’s fiddling with the jacket in her lap finally stops when she throws it aside and stands up. She sounds like she’s about to cry when she says quietly, “Have you ever considered that I’m not straight? It’s not… it’s not that easy to be out about it--”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you groan. “Look, I apologize for assuming, but if you want to act in lesbian roles, you can’t pretend to be straight. It’s all for your fans, isn’t it? Another part of being an idol--”

She stands up, then storms right out of the trailer without another word, the door banging closed. The only thing you can do in response is sigh and utter a quiet, “Shit”.

Perhaps it’s just your luck that the first proper scene you have to film with Chaeyoung is your culminating kiss scene.

It shouldn’t be in the trailer at all-- according to the scene schedule, the two of you would’ve filmed your scenes together in chronological order, and the kiss would’ve been at the end, hopefully after a reconciliation between the two of you. However, for some inexplicable reason, it’s going to be the first one you do, without a single second of rehearsal.

You’re a one-take wonder, and you always have been, but you can’t help but think about how impossible it’s going to be to pull off such an intense scene with someone you just fought with. Sighing, you lean over to fiddle with your hair; it’s slightly tangled now, and there’s a fake scrape on the side of your cheek. 

At a side, Chaeyoung is similarly beat up, fake blood smeared on the left side of her face. Her long hair has been put in an updo and then taken down, and parts of her dress are ripped; to you, she looks more like Helen than herself now.

“Okay, everyone, are we ready? Positions, please!”

You arrange yourself on the ground where you should be, holding a handkerchief to your cheek like instructed as Chaeyoung stands by the camera to run to you. Exhaling sharply, your eyes meet hers for the first time in days. “Action!”

Chaeyoung sprints to you as soon as she’s cued, falling in front of you in a heap. “Luna,” she gasps, reaching a gloved hand out to the ‘injured’ half of your face.

“I’m fine,” you smile weakly. The camera hovers by Chaeyoung’s shoulder, and you soften your gaze as much as possible as your hand comes up to hers.

The other girl only moves closer, her eyes scanning yours and her dress surrounding the both of you like a sea of gauze. Her nose is almost brushing up against yours, and you mutter softly, “Be careful. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

“Well, what do you want?” Chaeyoung implores, almost inaudible. Her breath quivers, and you feel it when you reach forward to cup her jaw. “Luna, what do you want right now?”

“I’m not making a move until you tell me to,” you shake your head. 

The blonde’s hands slip off your face, and she braces herself on your thighs instead. She laughs breathily, “Coward.”

“Your coward, huh?”

Chaeyoung pauses, scraping her teeth across her bottom lip. It’s so quiet that you think you could hear a pin drop, and the torches held up by the crew flicker across her face so naturally. “If you want to be.”

There’s probably another line that comes after, but with Chaeyoung so close to you, it swims blurrily in your mind. So instead, you just lean up, pull her down, and connect your lips.

She plays along, thankfully, stumbling slightly in her character’s eagerness to get a little closer. The only thing you can hear is Chaeyoung’s slight gasp when you let your hands wander down to her waist, and it’s almost scary how absorbed you are in the scene.

“Okay, cut!” Seulgi’s shout breaks you from your trance, and you hold your hands up as if in surrounder. Chaeyoung’s cheeks are red yet again when she sits up, staring anywhere other than you.

Your director hops off her chair to run towards you, a huge grin on her face. “That was perfect,” she shouts. “Y/N, I think you forgot a line? But it worked out amazingly. The one-take wonder, right?”

You grin when she pats you on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary. Apparently, all your worries were for nothing, as you and Chaeyoung stand to monitor your own shot in the screen next to Joohyun.

You can’t even hear all the praise she showers on the two of you, and you pay no attention to all the details she points out that apparently showcase your perfect chemistry with your costar. All you feel is a slight squeeze on your hand, hidden in the mess of fabric by your side.

You jolt awake at the sound of your phone ringing loudly by your side, finding an unknown number as the caller ID. Accepting hesitantly, you greet, “Hello?”

“Y/N? Did Chan give me the right number?”

Oh. It’s Chaeyoung. “Yeah.” You clear your throat in an attempt to sound a little less drowsy, then repeat, “Right number. Why’d you ask Chan?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to find you when you never accepted my request,” she laughs quietly. “Um, I have to record the OST today, and I was wondering whether you’d want to come watch? Chan said you didn’t really have any scenes later today.”

“Um. Okay. I’ll ask Chan to bring me,” you answer, then hang up. Your head swims slightly, partially due to the fact that you woke up to the piercing sound of your ringtone and partially because you just don’t understand why Chaeyoung’s reaching out again. You should be the one apologizing, after the tangent you went off on, and you highly doubt that your kiss scene doubled as an apology. Of course, you’ll take it.

Your manager is more than pleased to pick you up this time, but thankfully, he doesn’t question you. If he did, he’d probably be the one you shouted at.

The studio is honestly too small for two people, probably hastily set up, but you recognize the recording equipment from a video of Chaeyoung recording one of her group’s songs. And you recognize the girl already standing in the recording booth, waving you over. “Hi,” she smiles, and for all you try, you don’t see a hint of malice.

“Hey,” you mumble, taking a seat. “Uh… I’m sorry.”

“Wow, straightforward,” she tries to joke. “What for?”

You scratch the back of your neck, sighing, “For assuming, for blowing up on you, for… I don’t know, kind of everything. I’m an asshole, even if what I said wasn’t wrong.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, fiddling with the mic. “I mean, I appreciate the apology, but I wasn’t great either. You definitely had some truth behind what you said, even if it was kind of too to the point.”

“I know. You were just trying to apologize and help us become civil, and I kind of ruined it,” you hum. The other girl adjusts the lyric stand as you continue, “But I’m hoping you understand why I had to say what I did?”

“I do,” she agrees. “You’re definitely right that it’s not good representation at all, I just wish you had heard me out.”

You nod uncomfortably, changing the way you sit on the couch just to distract yourself. “So… you’re gay? I’m just asking because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it, and I’ve seen plenty of your interviews.”

“So you watch my interviews?” Chaeyoung teases. When you scowl, she just smiles, “I can’t say specifically, but I am confused. You said last time that it’s just another part of being an idol, and you’re… you’re right. It’s taboo for idols to be gay, even though Korea’s opening up to it a bit more now. So even though I want to, I don’t think I can ever be out about it.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

She swallows, throat bobbing. “Thank you. Hey, Y/N… would you mind singing with me?”

“What?” You stare up at her incredulously; it’s not like your singing would make the other girl faint on the spot, but you definitely don’t possess an angelic voice like hers, either.

But maybe it’s an olive branch. “Just… can you match this note?” She hums, and you attempt to create the same pitch. “Okay. Can you do the chorus part in that key, while I do it in the main one? We’ll sound better like that,” Chaeyoung offers.

Against your better judgement, you stand, and shuffle into the recording booth next to her. “If this sounds bad, you’re taking the blame,”  you warn, and she giggles while twisting the stand so you can see.

You do sound good together, maybe to a level that you would’ve never anticipated.

You know that something’s off when Chan doesn’t wake you up bright and early on your birthday, even if Seulgi already promised that you wouldn’t have to go to work on the day of. After spending many a birthday with him, you’ve already gotten used to him tugging you up just to take you outside and celebrate somehow.

You know something’s especially off when you hear a female voice cursing from your kitchen, and smell something burning.

“Who the shit-- Chaeyoung?”

The girl turns in surprise, caught red-handed with a piece of burnt toast pinched between her fingers. “Um. Hi?” she offers weakly.

Suddenly self-conscious, you cross your arms over the faded sweatshirt you wear. In your own apartment, Chaeyoung is leagues more put-together in the summery dress she wears, her dyed hair tossed in a braid and glitter shining at the corners of her eyes. “Hello?”

“Chan said you wouldn’t be awake for a few hours,” she sighs, shaking her head as she tosses the toast in the trash. “And I wasn’t supposed to burn the toast.”

“What were you supposed to do?” you question, stepping closer. There’s a cake box on the counter, as well as a couple suspicious tubes of icing right by it, and you think you know what’s going on.

Chaeyoung huffs out an exasperated breath. “I was supposed to surprise you. Chan has something going on at home, so he sent me to supervise your birthday instead. Obviously, I messed that up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug, taking a seat at the counter and reaching for the icing. “I’ve always wanted to decorate a cake anyway.”

She looks surprised at that, but a smile breaks out across her face. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. It’s partially a lie, but you’re decently sure that Chaeyoung will refuse to let you do most of the work anyways. “Uh. I’ll just change first, and then we can get that going?”

“Yeah,” she grins, and you take it as your cue to scurry off to the bedroom.

By the time you come back, there’s a plate of not-burnt toast on your counter, and Chaeyoung’s pouring out two glasses of the juice that you can never bring yourself to buy because of the price tag. “I hope you like it, this is one of my favorites.”

“Like it? I love this,” you gasp, surging forward to pick up one of the glasses. “It’s expensive as hell, though.”

“Well, I couldn’t get you a gift, so I thought a nice morning would suffice,” Chaeyoung laughs. She unties the bow on the cake box to reveal a completely bare vanilla cake, a few packets of sprinkles that you hadn’t noticed now lying next to it. “Do you want to start?”

“Oh, sure.” You choose the blue icing after a bit of debating, and pick up the spatula that your costar offers you. “You didn’t have to, though, I would’ve been okay on my own today.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, “I mean, I didn’t have anything else to do, and I wouldn’t like to be alone on my birthday.”

“How do you usually celebrate?” you question, glancing up at her.

She pauses to think, then answers, “Well, I do live with my members, so we’ll get something to eat. Sometimes, we’re on vacation, so we just do what we can, but I like staying in the dorm to receive the things that their families send me.”

“It sounds sweet.”

“It is,” she grins. “I honestly don’t know what I would do on my own, it seems lonely-- Oh. I’m sorry.”

“What for? It is kind of lonely,” you admit, squeezing a glob of icing out. It’s definitely not as graceful as you would’ve appreciated, and you catch Chaeyoung stifling a laugh. “Chan lived with me at the beginning, but he eventually moved out when I got a girlfriend. Obviously, that didn’t laugh.”

“Sorry,” the other girl repeats again, and you wave a hand out. “When was that?”

“She moved out two years ago,” you answer. “And I’ve been alone since. Or, lonely, not always alone.”

Chaeyoung nods just so that you know she heard you. She accepts the icing tube when you hand it to her, making a spiral that’s infuriatingly better than yours. “How about you? I know you said you aren’t out, but have you dated yet?” you question.

She shakes her head, admitting, “Not yet. I don’t really know how to, you know? You assumed I was straight when you first saw me, so I think everyone else does too.”

“Sorry,” you say, an echo of her.

Your costar doesn’t respond, only setting the spatula down once the basic blue icing is smooth. “I think we’re supposed to refrigerate this before decorating, right?”

You grimace. “Well, I don’t know. I stopped watching cake videos years ago, so I’ll just listen to you.”

Chaeyoung hums and ties the box back up. “Okay, then I’ll just do it. Um, do you mind ordering chicken or something while we wait?”

“Sure.” Reaching for your phone, you ask, “Would you be opposed to romcoms?”

“I’m never opposed to romcoms,” the other girl answers.

You have to remind yourself to order two servings of chicken, something that you haven’t done in a while. But it’s comforting, in a way, to not be alone again.

“Can you believe we’ve only got a week left of filming? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

You wince guiltily, even though you know that Yerim doesn’t mean it. Acting with your friend was originally a huge incentive for you to accept the film’s role, but the two of you quickly discovered that you had almost no scenes together, and with your push-and-pull with Chaeyoung, you forgot all about it. “Sorry, Yerim.”

She makes an incredulous expression, swatting your arm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m happy you’re pursuing love and all that, and besides, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to act together.”

Blinking, you set your cup down on the counter. “Pursuing love?”

Yerim raises her eyebrow and says, “Yeah. Aren’t you and Chaeyoung together yet? We’ve been filming for two months, I’ll be shocked if you still haven't kissed and made up.”

“Uh. Well, we’ve kissed, but I don’t think it counted,” you frown. 

Your friend sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s all too used to how dense you are, and apparently, she’s finally gotten tired of it. “You’re an idiot. You literally met the morning of your first script reading, and you knew each other for… what, a week before you had your kiss scene? There’s got to be something there.”

“No.”

Right on cue, a few of the other cast members arrive, Chaeyoung sandwiched between them. “Have you seen the articles?” Nayeon grins, waving her phone around in the air. She’s drunk, obviously, but you have to indulge her.

“Which articles?”

She shoves the screen in your face as an answer, and you cringe when you find a screencap of you and Chaeyoung. “You won’t believe the chemistry-- nope, I’m not reading that.” You hand the phone back to Nayeon, then press it in her hand when she doesn’t take it. Yerim sends you a knowing expression, one that you definitely don’t like.

“Aw, come on! It’s good press,” Nayeon whines. “And a great kiss scene.”

“Don’t be weird,” Chaeyoung warns. She doesn’t seem to be drunk at all, though she does look fantastic in the silver dress that she wears. Your eyes linger on her for an embarrassing amount of time.

Nayeon pouts. She’s bubbly-- you’ve learned that much through acting alongside her in a total of three productions so far. You note that your costar doesn’t seem to be so accustomed to her temperament yet. “You’re no fun, Chaeng. We all know you enjoyed it.”

She goes bright pink at that amidst Yerim’s joking coos. “The token straight, converted?” your friend gasps, and you elbow her to stop her from going too far.

Apparently, it already has. “I didn’t!” Chaeyoung defends herself.

“Prove it,” Nayeon demands, slipping when she attempts to lean on the counter next to you.

Chaeyoung goes silent at that, apparently unable to find a way to ‘prove it’. You finally sigh, “Okay, I think that’s enough teas--”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve long since memorized your entire script book, you would almost think that Chaeyoung reaching forward to tug on the front of your shirt is a scene between your two characters. After all, it’s perfectly in character for your eyes to widen comically as the other girl kisses you right on the lips. 

It’s also in character for Nayeon to start whooping next to you when your hands wrap around Chaeyoung’s waist to pull her in closer. You part at the noise. “You certainly look like you liked it,” Nayeon grins. 

“Yeah, get a room,” Yerim follows, and you shove her.

“You know what? Maybe we will.” Ignoring your friends’ jeering, you grab Chaeyoung’s wrist and lead her down the hallway, though not to a bedroom like you joked you would. “Hey. You okay? I didn’t know if that teasing crossed a line,” you whisper worriedly.

She bites down on her lip, but instead of answering you, Chaeyoung tilts your face up and leans closer, only stopped by your hand on her wrist. “Chae…”

“I’m sorry, this… this isn’t what you want, is it?” She steps back, mouth already opening to apologize, but you stop her from leaving you alone in the hallway.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” With the flashing neon lights echoing in her eyes, you can’t tell what Chaeyoung’s feeling, and you can’t tell if she’s willing to answer you properly at all. “I’m not making a move until you tell me to.”

Still, you don’t hear her say a word, until your grip starts to loosen on her wrist. “Did you drive here yourself?” she finally asks, barely audible. You nod hesitantly, and Chaeyoung’s voice grows firmer when she says, “I’m telling you to make a move.”

“I thought you were questioning?”

She swallows hard and takes your hand. “Not anymore.”

You don’t taste any alcohol when you lick your lower lip, and so, you nod. It’s stupid, especially considering how quickly your time together is about to end.

But for once, you know what you want.

“Good luck out there, Chae,” you smile, arms wrapped around the girl’s waist. 

“Thanks,” she hums, adjusting her hair yet again in the mirror. “We’re almost done filming, I have to promote us well so that we have enough money to at least put the damn film out.”

“Mm.” Your thumb smooths over the sliver of skin exposed by her top, and you place your chin on her shoulder to look at the two of you together.

She glances down at you. “What? Are you thinking about something?”

“Sort of,” you shrug. “I just can’t believe we’re almost done, but we… we just started this. You know, this thing between us.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a thing. But it doesn’t have to stop with filming,” Chaeyoung says offhandedly.

Raising an eyebrow, you question, “Doesn’t it? It’s going to be suspicious for us to constantly be seen together after filming together, I’ve seen the way your fans behave. Especially while you’re not out.”

“I think I can negotiate that with my company,” the other girl shakes her head.

You joke, “What, you release another two albums if you get to come out about having a girlfriend?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Chaeyoung responds immediately. Her ears pink endearingly, and you wait for her to clarify, “In secret for now, obviously. But… one day, I’ll be out about it. I promise.”

“Don’t make empty promises, okay?” You press a kiss to her bare shoulder and let her go when you hear a knock at the dressing room door. “Do good!”

“Alright, Chaeyoung, it’s about time that we ask you some questions about your upcoming film, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” your costar smiles, and you raise your head from your phone to watch the screen. She’s sitting cross-legged across from some of the most famous idol interviewers in Korea, absolutely poised and natural even in front of the crowd that cheers over the interview.

The woman behind the podium clears her throat. “A huge talking point in Korea right now is your chemistry with your costar, Y/N. How exactly do you pull that off, since you’ve never experienced a relation like that?”

Chaeyoung laughs nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Oh. Well, um, I don’t have much experience with relationships at all, so--”

“Really? A pretty girl like you must have had a boyfriend or two before.” You despise the way that the interviewer leans in conspiratorially, as if the prying questions weren’t completely scripted. “But you seem a little to pretty to have experienced that, am I right?”

The crowd laughs with her, but Chaeyoung glances behind the scenes, probably to where her own staff sits. “You know, you can tell me if you ever felt… uncomfortable during filming,” the interviewer continues on. “Y/N has been out for years, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, she has…” You’re practically fuming, but you also can’t seem to pry your eyes away from the screen. All of Chaeyoung’s practiced idol-charm has seemed to dissipate into thin air, and she’s practically blending into the wall as she sits there.

The Chaeyoung you know-- no, the Chaeyoung that you’ve come to know, wouldn’t stand to hear something like that. You’ve watched her argue with a scriptwriter, and you’ve watched him get fired because he said something incredibly offensive, even though it wasn’t about you. But here, she sits still and just listens to the interviewer discuss you behind your back, and she says nothing about all the disgustingly backhanded comments.

The thing is, you don’t care about Chaeyoung not being out. You were closeted for enough time yourself, and you know how hard it is, so you’d never wish it on her; but watching her completely let go of all her personal principles just for a stupid interview is just another reminder that you’re letting go of your own. Chaeyoung won’t ever speak up, you realize, because her career comes before anything else. And you can’t stand for that.

“I’m leaving,” you tell the guard standing outside of your door. Only increasing your anger, tears start to burn in your eyes, and you scrape your sleeve across your face as roughly as you can. Chan picks up on one dial, and you say furiously, “Pick me up. It’s over.” In more ways than one.

Chaeyoung shivers at the top of the hill, where she’s supposed to be filming her closing scene with you. She hasn’t seen you for the past week, and after how disastrous her interview was, she’s pretty sure she knows why.

“Where’s Y/N?” she finally asks her makeup artist, giving in to her own curiosity.

Felix shrugs, reaching to mess with the blood on her hairline. “I have no idea, honestly, I haven’t seen her yet. She’s never late, though, you don’t have to worry. You’ll get your scene done.”

“That’s…” Chaeyoung sighs. That’s why she should be worried. “Right.”

“Okay, can we start?” Seulgi shouts. It’s started to rain, but with the excited look on the director’s face, Chaeyoung figures that it suits the scene even better than the gray clouds that had been planned. “Great. Chaeyoung, Y/N!”

Your hair is plastered to your forehead with the rain, and water makes your blouse cling to your curves; with the grim expression on your face, Chaeyoung could easily just mistake you for your character. “Hi,” you mutter, taking a seat on the grass right next to your costar. You say nothing else.

When cued, Chaeyoung takes a deep breath before her line. “Luna. I love you.”

For a second, Chaeyoung thinks you won’t respond, but the rasp to your voice proves her wrong. “No. No, you don’t.”

“I think I’m the one who should be deciding that, don’t you?” The blonde raises her eyebrows, reaching forward hesitantly for your shoulder.

Of course, you dodge it. Blinking the rain out of your eyes, you’re resigned when you ask, “You have your birthday gala tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes, but--” Chaeyoung swallows, lets her hand make contact, then continues, “I’m spending as much time as I can with you, aren’t I with you right now?”

“But you’re going.” It feels like you’re staring right into Chaeyoung’s soul when you speak, as despondent as your voice is. She nods, and you stand, her hand slipping off of your shoulder and into her lap. “Then go. You’re still a princess at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

“At the end of the day, yes…”

“You can’t do that. You sneak out onto my ships, get my people to love you and protect you, and then turn right back to your family to stay safe while we die for you. You can’t say you support our cause and then go back on it when it’s inconvenient for you, it doesn’t work like that!” Chaeyoung flinches at how intense you sound; at this point, she barely knows if it’s still acting. She can only hear her own heart in her ears, can only see your chest heaving from how quickly you spoke, and it all feels too real.

“What, do you want me to get found out?” Chaeyoung demands, getting to her feet as well. The rain becomes harsher, angled so that it perfectly blurs her vision of you. “I’ve saved your ass just as many times too, don’t pretend like I’m not a valuable part of your ship!”

“You’re still pretending.” Realizing that it’s not the right line, Chaeyoung opens her mouth to stop you, but your voice chills her into silence when you speak again. “You’ll always pretend, as long as it benefits you, won’t you? You can’t do that, Helen, not if you ‘love me’. Putting a crown on your head doesn’t mean that you’re a princess. Until you realize that, and until you’re willing to embrace it, you don’t love me. and I don’t love you.”

None of it is the script. None of it is the scene that you rehearsed a thousand times together in your trailer, but somehow, it makes Chaeyoung’s heart quaver in her throat so much more than the original lines ever did.

And when you drop your gaze to the ground, turning to walk off into the rain alone, she knows that to you, your entire relationship is already done.

[satanourunholylord]

Love and Love Making Among the Vikings

Below is an infodump post which focuses on these topics:

Courtship: The Viking Way

Good Personal Hygiene

Sex Before Marriage

Homosexuality being Acceptable (with limits)

Some Viking Marriage Customs That Survive Today

Viking Sexual Euphemisms

Acceptance of Adultery in the Viking Age

Viking Women Divorcing Their Husbands

Vikings in popular culture are often viewed as the brutes of the Dark Ages, robbing, raping and pillaging people and goods. However, an analysis of their personal lives shows a much different side. Family life was important to Norse men, and every proper, upstanding Viking aimed to marry and have children. And although their parents arranged their marriages, Norsemen liked to court their ladies- and made a special effort to impress them with their appearance.

As for Norse women, although they had to put up with their husband’s affairs with live-in mistresses, slaves and even other men, they had the right to divorce their partners for violence, neglect, and various sexually related issues. In fact, Norse customs of love, marriage, and sex set a high standard in their time- and some even survive to this day.

Courtship: The Viking Way

Courtship wasn’t strictly necessary in Norse culture as marriage was more about alliances than love. The prospective bride and groom’s families would command the negotiations, to create a match that would bind the two clans as allies – and sometimes end feuds. Many brides were promised as "peace pledges" to smooth troubled waters between rival families. Although the couple in question could voice an opinion, it was fair to say they had little choice but to go ahead with the match.

That didn’t mean there was no romance -but Norse men had to handle it carefully. If a potential groom was too slow in making advances to his prospective bride, the lady’s relatives could take this as a slight and seek blood vengeance. Eighteen courtships in the sagas ended in this messy fashion. On the other hand, it also didn’t pay to move too fast or stretch out the courtship too long. If the couple liked each other too much to wait for the wedding night, matters could become complicated by an unwanted pregnancy.

So attempts to cultivate what the Norse called ˜inn matki munr’ (‘the mighty passion’) were intricate and involved specific rituals. Meeting and talking was one way to forge a relationship. But some odd practices were also employed. For instance, if a girl wanted to show her man she liked him, she made him a shirt. As for Viking men, they would go out and handpick their lady a bunch of purple flowers- and then slap her around the face with it!

Love poetry, although a favorite of the Norse gods, was viewed with suspicion. In fact, Icelandic law forbade skalds to compose Mannsong, (‘maiden songs’) for women who were not married to them under the threat of outlawry or death. This suspicion came about because the Norse believed that the poems could act as spells to seduce and bind women. Worse still, such praises could suggest that the skald or his patron knew the lady more intimately than he should.

Even if they were not in love before the wedding, the couple would try and cultivate it afterward. Husbands would seat their wives next to them if they wanted to show affection. Couples could also express their closeness by sharing the same drinking horn. If a husband were feeling very affectionate, he would ˜put her on his lap’ where he and his wife could indulge in “kyssir hana’ – a kiss and a cuddle. Or he would put his head on her lap, and she would stroke his hair.

Good personal hygiene was a must

Central to making a good impression on a potential or actual partner was good personal hygiene and pride in one’s appearance. This practice applied to both men and women. Norse graves are packed with grooming essentials for the afterlife- regardless of whether they belonged to a man or a woman. Combs, toothpicks, tweezers and ear spoons were all familiar, demonstrating the Norse liked to be neat and tidy-and clean. The Arab, Ibn Fadlan may have felt horror at the Viking practice of sharing a communal wash bowl, but at least his Norse acquaintances washed their face and combed their hair daily.

In fact, the Norse were probably the cleanest people in the Dark Ages. According to the Saxon cleric, John of Wallingford, they bathed weekly, on a Saturday. Wallingford complained that this, and their habit of changing their clothes regularly, was to “ undermine the virtue of married women and even seduce the daughters of nobles to be their mistresses.” However, the Norse were not content merely to be neat and tidy. Ibn Fadlan also noted the Rus- Viking traders who occupied what is now modern Russia-favored bleaching their beards to a saffron yellow, using a strong lye soap.

This method was probably also used on the hair of men and women. Norse women would have been particularly keen on achieving the long, fair, shiny hair that was the feminine ideal, although the white skin that men also coveted was probably only managed by the wealthy. Men also favored long hair, as only slaves wore their hair close cropped. However, this did not mean they were unkept. Figurines show Viking men wearing their hair trimmed and their beards well groomed- either styled to a point or shaped as a goatee.

Finally, there was the question of clothing. When it came to making an impact, the Norse liked to dress to impress. As well as being clean, garments were brightly colored and adorned with the most costly array of jewelry you could afford. Cloak pins and arm rings all showed off status, impressing the object of your desire not only with your appearance but your wealth and prospects in life.

Sex before marriage was acceptable

It wasn’t always possible to marry the one you loved - or lusted after. The sagas make constant reference to “the illicit love visit.” In such cases, a young couple, forbidden from marrying would meet in secret. The sagas never mention sex occurring. However, it is highly unlikely the young man would risk a secret tryst simply to ˜talk’ to the object of his affections. The lovers, however, were said to ˜enjoy’ each other. A document detailing a wife’s dissatisfaction with her impotent husband because she couldn’t ˜enjoy‘ him suggests this is a term linked to sexual fulfilment.

Indeed, although female virginity was the ideal, it was just about acceptable for a woman to have had sexual relationships before her marriage-with certain provisos. First, she needed to have been discrete and not too prolific in her pre martial encounters. However, most importantly, she should not have had any children out of wedlock. This restriction was not for moral reasons. Illegitimate sons could become their father’s heirs- if he recognized them. Rather, society censured Illegitimacy because of the burden it placed on the maternal family, not because it was deemed wrong or shameful.

Illegitimate children were the responsibility of the mother’s family- and so a burden to it. It was they who ultimately supported the child. Even if the father acknowledged his child, he and his family were only obliged to provide two-thirds of its support. Worse yet, the mother probably lost all hope of marriage, as few men would want to take on the responsibility and expense of another man’s child. Thus her family would lose out further as she would gain no bride price and no family alliance. Thus chastity was often the safest bet.

For men, sex outside marriage posed no such strictures. They were free to indulge themselves however they pleased-as long as they submitted to marriage in the end. For to remain unmarried in Norse society was unacceptable. A man accused of shunning wedlock was said to be ˜fleeing from the vagina.’ Women who did the same were “fleeing from the penis.’ Such people risked becoming social outcasts because they were not fulfilling their ultimate role: the procreation of children for the survival of their families and society.

Homosexuality was acceptable- with limits

Pre Christian Norse views on homosexuality weren’t simple. On the face of it, Norse society accepted sexual relationships between men. However, there were restrictions. Firstly, such relationships could not interfere with any future or current marriage. So the man still had to marry- whatever his views on the opposite sex- and his wife and her family had to be prepared to ignore her husband’s male lover or lovers. It was most important that the man did not neglect his conjugal duties. He still needed to have sex with his wife.

More important was that no free Norse man was the passive partner in a homosexual relationship. Vikings would rape males and females when on raiding trips to shame, degrade and weaken them. To be penetrated was to be submissive. It was acceptable to gain pleasure from penetrating someone- but not from being penetrated yourself. One of the worst insults an enemy could hurl at a Norse man was “sordinn” (penetrated). Any man branded as such would fight to the death defend his honor. These conflicts led to Scandinavian law codes making such types of insult illegal because of the bloodshed, with the slanderer often outlawed- if the injured party didn’t kill him first!

However, if such abuse was believed or proven, it had grave consequences for the man in question. Although Norse myths tell of gods such as Loki and even Odin taking on a submissive role in sex, Norse mortal society did not tolerate passivity in men. The man in question would become a social outcast, branded "ergi” (unmanly). Such men were believed to lack the ability to be vital and virile members of society. They were deemed liable to be ineffectual as fathers and fighters- and as such of no use. Dominant homosexuals were quite another matter.

There is no mention of lesbianism in the tales. Nor are there any references in other Old Norse texts to female homosexual relationships, so we cannot gauge pre-Christian attitudes to female homosexuality. However, Icelandic Christian law suggests lesbianism did occur in Norse society. In the 12th century, Bishop Porlakr Porhallson decreed “if women satisfy each other they shall be ordered the same penance as men who perform the most hideous adultery between them or with a quadruped.”

The Eddas and some of the sagas also specifically mention Freja having sex with other women. In fact at a banquet Loki accused her of having slept all the other Aesir at one time or another, a claim which Freja never denied.

Some Viking Marriage customs survive today

The Norse held their weddings on a Friday, the day of Frigg, the goddess of marriage and fertility. The time of the year was also crucial. Late summer or autumn were the preferred times. This period of the year was harvest time, a time of abundance and plenty. A good supply of meat, fruit, and grain was essential to ensure an amply provisioned wedding feast.

One beverage was of particular importance. The ˜bridal ale’ was first consumed in a loving cup by the bride and groom at the marriage feast. The couple would use the mead-like brew to seal their union with a toast to Odin and Freya. The bridal ale was brewed with a good deal of honey, to ensure the fertility of the newlyweds. Their families gifted the couple with enough of this sweet beer to last them a month- a custom that gives us the modern term ˜honeymoon.’

Before the wedding, both bride and groom took a ritual steam bath. Although they did not wear special clothes for the wedding, both wore specific tokens on their special day. For the bride, this was a floral wreath upon her head. For the groom, it was a sword, purposely robbed from one of his family’s burial mounds (or an old family sword buried in a fake mound that he ritually disinterred.) This sword was presented to the bride at the exchange of vows, as a way of making her a custodian of his family line.

As is common today, the bride and groom exchanged rings- both finger rings and arm rings as they spoke their vows. Once the ceremony was complete, the “brud hlaup” occurred. This was a race run by both wedding parties to the feasting hall. Whoever arrived last served the ale. But before the bride could enter, she had to be escorted over the threshold by the groom. The Norse, like many pagan peoples, believed thresholds were dangerous places for in transition to a new stage in their life.

The groom would then thrust a new sword, a gift from his bride, into the central pillar of the house. The depth of the resulting cut was used to determine the success of their union. Then, after the feast, eight witnesses lighted the bridal couple to bed. The groom then removed the bridal wreath from the bride- a ritual deflowering before the real event.

Viking Sexual Euphemisms

The Vikings could be quite ˜direct’ about certain matters. However, they could also be rather coy about sex – or at least, so their stories suggest. The sagas had various ways to refer to sex that describe it in a rather round about way. A man about to have sex with a woman was said to ˜turn towards’ her, “laying his hand/arm/thigh ” on her. The rest was up to the audience’s imagination. However, what was clear was the man was in charge. He took the lead. His partner followed.

Once the action warmed up, the sagas implied the increased activity in similarly guarded terms. A couple in the throes of passion would ˜crowd together in bed” (hviluthrong) and ‘enjoy each other. ‘ If things were particularly raunchy, the tales would describe the man as enjoying a good old brolta a maga or ˜romp on her belly’ or describe the couple as ˜travelling together.” Once they had exhausted themselves, the couple spent the aftermath at ˜hvila meth henna ” (rest with her), or he would ˜amuse one’s self.’ This activity referred to him enjoying a quiet conversation or game of cards with his partner.

However, the everyday terms used by the Vikings were probably not quite so reserved, judging by sexual words they have bequeathed to modern times. The Old Norse ˜thviet’ for a cut or slit began life as a sexual euphemism for a particular part of the female anatomy. Gradually it evolved into the old English ˜thwat’ and later into the more familiar twat which is used today as a term of abuse. The same occurred with another Old Norse word for the female genitals “Kunta’.

However, not all euphemisms were this crude. In contrast to these rather basic sexual terms, the Old Norse for sexual desire was “munuth.” This word derives from the root word for love “mun‘ and that of thought or memory ˜hugr,’ making the sexual impulse a ˜love thought.’ So perhaps the Vikings could be romantic souls after all.

Adultery was acceptable for Viking men, but not their wives

Many Norse men adored their wives, judging by the last words of one man just before he was hung:

” Happy am I to have won the joy of such a consort; ” said the condemned man of his wife. “I shall not go down basely in loneliness to the gods of Tartarus. So let the encircling bonds grip my throat in the midst; the final anguish shall bring with it pleasure only, since the certain hope remains of renewed love, and death shall prove to have its own delights. Each world holds joy, and in the twin regions shall the repose of our united souls win fame, our equal faithfulness in love “(Saxo Grammaticus)

Sadly, however, not everyone practiced “faithfulness in love” The basic requirement of a Norse man was to produce children with his wife. He was not, however, obliged to be faithful. Norse men could keep concubines known as frilles – lower status women who they did not marry and who lived with the man and his wife. According to Adam of Breman, a man could keep as many frilles as he could afford. Society regarded any children from these liaisons as legitimate.

Norse men also kept bed slaves. These unfortunate women had little choice in whether or not they lay with their master. Nor was it a great advantage to be the master’s favorite. Ibn Fadlan described witnessing a Viking funeral where the favoured bed slave of the deceased man was killed to accompany him to the afterlife. However, the one taboo liaison for a Norseman was to lie with another man’s wife. For this, he could be fined or killed.

Wives, however, were expected to remain faithful, probably because of the possibility of falling pregnant with a child that was not her husband’s. It’s unlikely that every wife did remain constant. However, if anyone caught a woman being unfaithful, the penalties varied. At best, her hair would be cut off. At worst, she could be divorced or fined- or killed. Adam of Breman even states that she could be enslaved.

Viking women could divorce their husbands

Viking women may have had to put up with their spouse’s affairs. However, they didn’t have to put up with their husbands ‘until death‘. Although a Norse wife could not divorce her husband for being unfaithful, there were other circumstances where it was perfectly acceptable. If her husband hit her, a woman could fine him. If he abused her in front of witnesses, not only did the fine apply, but his wife could divorce him after the third blow.

There were also various sexual reasons why a wife could divorce a husband. Men who dressed in feminine clothing such as low cut shirts, for instance, could be cast off, as could those who were homosexual- even if they were the dominant partner. A wife could object to the lack of discretion in homosexual liaisons – or the attention they distracted from her relationship with her spouse. In each case, the now ex-wife could claim back her original dowry and any inheritances she received during the marriage.

Another, perhaps surprising reason for divorce was if a man did not satisfy his wife sexually. A man who had refused to have sex with his wife for three years could be set aside. Likewise, if he could not perform or was leaving his wife sexually unfulfilled, he was at risk of being divorced. For if a couple wasn’t having sex, they weren’t producing children. Also, an unhappy marriage bred bitterness and resentment that could boil over into violence and family feuds. So it was better for a sexually unsatisfied woman to look elsewhere for a partner.

Judging by the sagas, it was the women who generally instigated divorce. All that was required was for them to assemble witnesses, cite their reasons and declare themselves divorced. This had to occur three times: in their bedroom, in front of the house and before a public assembly. It was Norse women’s one significant freedom. For if they were to remain tied to one man, run his home and land and put up with his lovers, the least they could expect was satisfying sex life.

[ipatrichor]

OKAY SO. content warnings for near-drowning, injury, death, and eldritch horror stuff typical of a call of cthulu oneshot. (dw tho i promise no pets die)

in the back of the cabinet under the front counter, there's a tiny coraline door that leads nowhere- just a white wall. however, when you touch this wall you go right through it into an unknown space beyond. ronnie spots it first and decides to ignore it until the old man who works with us, van (yes we called him old man van) crawls through and disappears at which point we investigate.

the premise is that we all work at 7-11. no one schedules the shifts bc the manager doesn't fucking care, so we've all showed up today. our group is comprised of:

- ronnie, she/her, a herbo with a dog who shits on the floor of the 7-11

- morgs (short for morgan), she/they, a punk lesbian who used to date ronnie before things ended badly

- cody, they/them, an amateur ghost hunter who's always high and has more parkour skills than sense

- eide (pronounced eed), they/them, a mystery with a backpack they keep almost as close as they keep their secrets.

ronnie's dog, commander ozzy, goes through and eide ends up following to retrieve him. thankfully commander ozzy didn't go far, and all eide sees is a room with winding tunnels leading away from it and pipes along the walls. when they return they tell us not to go in, closing the cabinet and keeping watch. the group splits- cody and morgs smoke outside and discuss their curiosity, eide texts an unknown party, and ronnie waits behind the counter.

eide goes to the back to snack on inventory while leaving their phone behind. morgs and cody return while the coast is clear, and cody takes their backpack and sneaks inside. two men come looking for eide, but ronnie and morgs lie and say they don't know an eide so the men leave. eide comes back out, learns what happens, and goes out into the front parking lot but is too late to catch them.

around this time, the manager comes back and insists on going after old man van despite ronnie's protests. after sticking his head inside, though, his sanity is greatly damaged and he returns nearly catatonic, barely aware of the world around him. ronnie does her best to deal with this, but is left with no assistance.

meanwhile, cody records their trip and leaves a trail of pencils. they begin to explore the tunnels while morgs keeps watch back in the 7-11 with cody's beloved pet lizard, galcan (short for galactic cannibalism). morgs glances inside to take another look, and while she does ronnie returns from stuffing the manager in a closet and yanks her out despite her resistance.

they argue, bringing up their messy breakup. morgs reveals that cody is in the tunnels, and ronnie is horrified and insists on going to find them and bring them back. the two do so, following the pencil trail.

eide comes back inside, finds them gone, and frustratedly enters the tunnels to find them. ronnie and morgs argue again, and morgs ends up splitting off from the group while eide finds a sacrificial dagger and ronnie follows the pencil trail looking for cody, who is having just a lovely time filming things.

they all hear a loud banging noise and rush towards it, reconvening in a cafeteria-esque room. galcan is happily returned to cody’s pocket, and a child's ball bounces by itself from a hallway leading to a weird door with an old-fashioned padlock and a tray of food next to it. ronnie is desperate to leave, and morgs teases her for being scared while eide investigates the food and cody films the door.

morgs promises to leave if ronnie goes and touches the scary door, which she reluctantly does. on the way out, though, a curtain separating the cafeteria from the kitchen moves somewhat and morgs just has to investigate. she calls cody over and the two joke around about the meat grinder and the gross hair in the sink. cody pokes it with a pencil and it feels squishy, which grosses them out. the drain starts to bubble and flood, alarming the trio who quickly make up their minds to leave- much to ronnie’s relief.

meanwhile, eide has gone further down the hallway, past windows that reveal only flat blue, and finds the bridge of a submarine. there’s a radar with nothing showing up, and a parascope that reveals nothing but more blue. the other three follow, and are trying to all get their shit together and persuade everyone to leave when something shows up on the rader. it’s getting closer, and when ronnie looks through the parascope she sees huge, indescribable creatures heading toward the submarine at impossible speeds. they slam into the submarine, loud bangs sounding and pipes beginning to burst.

they start running, only to find that there are several inches of water and rising on the floor. the pencil trail has been washed away, but ronnie remembers the way back and runs that way, cody pulling morgs along after her while eide pauses to investigate the strange door that’s now unlocked. they find a book and some information in a car’s glove box, and then take off to try and catch up with the others.

the water is rising fast, and as they come to an intersection all three see something that gives them pause. off to the right, ronnie sees commander ozzy swimming and runs towards him. on the left, cody sees galcan swimming and checks their pocket, confused to find her still safely inside. directly ahead, morgs sees a horrifying disproportionate creature waiting for them.

when ronnie reaches commander ozzy, instead of her dog she finds a piece of broken off pipe floating in the water and takes it. further down the tunnel is a green sign that she hopes will lead to an exit, and she wades toward it. eide catches up as the others follow her, all panicked.

the sign says exeunt, but cody points out that they’re in a submarine- any exit here will likely lead to the ocean instead of to the 7-11. despairing and resigned to swimming back through the tunnels looking for the original passage, they turn back only to find space bending around them and the green sign in front of them again. out of options, ronnie opens the door next to it. water rushes out into the rooms beyond, and they follow and quickly work together to shut the heavy door behind them to trap the water out.

they find themselves in a room with a single table in the middle, and a pitch black doorway on the other end with a bloody handprint on the wall next to it. with nowhere else to go, the group ventures onward- ronnie in the lead with a phone flashlight and metal pipe, morgs next with two knives she doesn’t know how to use, eide following and keeping their backpack close, and cody bringing up the rear with galcan and a vape pen because there’s no way they’re dealing with any of this sober.

as they move, the walls around them become narrower. they move, remaining metal but rhythmically expanding and contracting as if breathing. this tunnel ends in another room, empty except for what looks like a person sitting in a chair with their back towards the entryway. they breathe oddly, in a way that moves their whole body, and it’s the same rhythm as the walls.

ronnie, pushed to her absolute limit, wastes no time attacking the figure. she gets in a few solid swings with the pipe, refusing to stop as the others stare. the creature rises and turns, revealing itself to be a twisted abomination, and roars- lashing out at ronnie, who ducks out of the way and hits it again. she keeps attacking it until it lashes out and grabs her with a massive hand, squeezing and doing a fair bit of damage.

cody is afraid enough that it turns to anger, shouting ‘hey! that’s my coworker!’ and lunging. they latch onto the wrist and stab it, causing pain but failing to make it let go of ronnie. she manages to struggle out of its grip, but its other hand lashes out and impales cody through the ribs- missing vital organs and galcan’s hoodie pocket, but now dangling them from its hand as it moves.

meanwhile, the sound of the roar reverberating through her head and now cursed with the knowledge that the submarine itself is alive and the creature is just part of it, morgs examines the walls and pipes and starts turning nozzles, hoping to hurt the entity in some way.

catching on to her plan, ronnie hefts her pipe and starts smashing the pipes on the walls. these attacks cause steam to fill the room and hallway, gradually reducing visibility but also seeming to hurt the creature as the submarine itself screams.

kept functioning by adrenaline, cody starts sawing at the three fingers impaling them, trying to cut themself loose without removing the objects to minimize blood loss. it’s slow going, however, because all they have to work with is their pocket knife.

with the hand not wearing cody as a decoration, the creature swings at ronnie and morgs. morgs manages to dodge, rolling and coming up with knives ready and a wildness in her eyes, but ronnie is less nimble and gets slammed into a wall. behind them, eide finally pulls the secret from their backpack- a double barrel shotgun- and fires, staggering the creature. they then move to help cut cody lose, using the sacrificial knife they found earlier.

ronnie continues to attack the pipes, more steam spilling out and greatly impacting visibility. morgs tries to escape but gets turned around, running into the creature and getting grabbed. it knocks her unconscious and tosses her aside as eide gets cody loose, dragging them away to relative safety and reloading their shotgun.

ronnie, meanwhile, can hear the cries and yelling of her coworkers. she has a moment, remembering their frequently shit interactions and all the things she calls them assholes for, and decides- fuck it, if she’s going to die for her shitty coworkers, then so be it. she keeps breaking the pipes, even as the steam spilling out keeps burning her, until she’s gone.

ronnie is dead. morgs lies on the floor unconscious. cody still has three giant fingers impaling their stomach, likely bleeding out. eide stands functionally alone, their shotgun and their determination against the creature. they stand their ground, take aim, fire-

and everything goes black.

when they’re aware again, they’re sitting in a chair next to two hospital beds. in one lies cody, asleep but on the road to healing. in the other is morgs, who still has yet to awaken. her heart moniter flatlines, and all eide can do is watch, barely aware of the world around them, as the hospital fights to keep her alive and manages to restart her heart. whether she’ll ever wake up again or not, there’s no way to know.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 11

masterlist

it’s 1:40 am and I finally finished proofreading this thing, thank god. in this chapter eivor and the reader fight it out, then fuck it out.

content warning for choking/breathplay, nudity, rough lesbian sex, spit and just general filth. if you’re not into that, you can stop reading when the reader and eivor go back to their hut and come back for the next chapter.

inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions​

Sapphism

“What are you talking about, Eivor?”

You were standing with your back to the wall of the longhouse, Eivor’s hands pinning your shoulders to the cold wood. Her eyes were full of rage and her face completely white with anger, making the red rune on her forehead stand out even more.

“I’m talking about you snuggling up with that little roach all day. Were you actually right where you belonged when I pulled him off of you the other night? Have I made a fool of myself chasing after you while you enjoy yourself with Norvid?” She spat out his name like a curse.

“Eivor, I did nothing of the sort! He apologized to me this afternoon and I forgave him, he was a drunken fool after all!” You shot her a meaningful look. “After that, he just kept appearing at my side, which was neither my desire nor my fault!”

She shook her head and now there was not only anger but also hurt in her gaze.

“I had you on my mind all day, through everything, and I come back to see you huddled together with Norvid, whispering sweet nothings and not even noticing me. What is it, did he offer you a bed to sleep in as well? Was I just a temporary solution until you found something better?”

You had enough of this nonsense. In one quick motion, you slammed down your hands on Eivor’s arms so her elbows bent and she had to let go of you. Then you grabbed her and pulled her around you, knocking her against the wall and pressing your forearm against the base of her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise. She could have easily fought you off and thrown you halfway through the village, but she stayed where she was.

“That’s enough!" you yelled. "I have never shared more than that stupid drunken hug with Norvid! He is a nice person and he just so happened to turn up at all the wrong times today. But that does not change how I feel about you! Put yourself in my shoes, I spent all day waiting for you!" Y ou added more pressure to your arm on her throat and saw the anger in Eivor’s gaze fade slowly, leaving behind only confusion and sorrow.

“Imagine running to meet your lover and being greeted with a blonde corpse!” You slapped her chest in frustration, tears streaming down your face. “I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea how that felt? And when I finally saw you, you did not even look at me, not a single word of greeting. You did not even give me a chance to comfort you, to tell you what I had been waiting forever to tell you! Instead, you run away as soon as you see me talking to Norvid and ignore me for the rest of the day. And now this! What gives you the right to insult me like this, to put all the blame on me when all I wanted was to be yours ?!”

You let go of her and pressed your palms to your cheeks, trying to regain control of your breathing. Eivor stared at you, a storm of emotions washing over her face. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I wanted to tell you today. Tell you that I am ready to face this new year with you at my side, that I choose you for now and forever, that there is no one else I would rather give my heart to.”

Your chest was convulsing from the cries you were trying to hold back.

“But I cannot give you my heart anymore...” You let out a desperate sob and Eivor’s eyes widened in fear. “- because you have already stolen it from me the day you rescued me from my terrible fate and brought me here with you. I am yours, I have always been only yours. Why can’t you see that?”

Eivor pushed herself off the wall and started pacing back and forth. You turned around to her, waiting for the final blow. It felt like your heart was slowly eating itself, the pain was unbearable. Finally, the warrior turned to you.

“Freya’s tears. I have been so stupid.”

She took a few steps toward you and fell to her knees in front of you.

“Oh Y/N, I have been so terribly wrong. Gods, I was blind. Blind with love, with passion, with jealousy. I should have trusted you more, but I was so scared of losing you, I could not see that you felt the same. My love, will you forgive me one more time? I know I do not deserve it after all the pain I have put you through -”

She fell forward and wrapped her arms around your hips, pressing herself against your legs and looking up at you, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Please forgive me Y/N, forgive me for my foolishness! I promise to cherish and care for you for the rest of my life and eternity in the afterlife, I promise to never doubt or hurt you again. Just please, please, take me back. I love you!”

You gently placed your hand on the top of her head and traced the red sigil on her forehead with your thumb.

“Get up,” you whispered softly.

She stood up and took both of your hands into hers. Her skin was warm and rough, her fingers calloused from hard work and fighting. Her eyes were full of desperation and you could feel her breath on your face.

“I forgive you. I wish I could say this was the last time, but I know I could not hold the worst crime against you for long. Our hearts are bound together, as painful or wonderful that may be.” You brushed a strand of that beautiful blonde hair behind her ear.

“I love you, too, Eivor. I will love you fiercely, deeply, and sincerely until this world turns to ashes and even after that.”

Your hand rested on her cheek. Carefully, you raised yourself on your tiptoes, your faces now at eye level, Eivor’s shaky breath dancing over your lips. Time seemed to stand still when your lips finally met. Eivor’s lips were incredibly soft and did not move against yours, not yet fully taking in what was happening.

You kissed her again, with a little more pressure this time and finally, your drengr reacted. You both drew in a breath at the same time, desperate, as if you had been underwater for too long and now finally breached the surface. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you in, her lips still innocently closed until you ran the tip of your tongue over them. She opened her mouth for you and for a moment, you both just breathed each other’s air. Then Eivor pressed her lips to yours again, her tongue pushing against yours as she pushed you back against the wall.

When your back hit the wood, you let out a small whimper and Eivor immediately pulled back, concern on her face as she cupped your cheek with her hand.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No,” you mumbled before wrapping your hands around the back of her neck and burying your fingers in her beautiful blonde hair, gripping it tightly and pulling her closer. Something changed in her expression, a spark ignited behind those icy blue eyes and she kissed you fiercely, teeth clashing together and her tongue dancing around yours as her hands on your back wandered lower.

You lifted a knee to her side and she immediately picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing you against the wall. You felt almost drunk, completely encased in the beautiful chaos of the last minutes. Was this really happening? Eivor rolled her hips forward against you and you sighed into her mouth. Yes, this was real. The tension between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. You grabbed another fistful of hair and pulled the drengr’ s head back so she had to stare up at you, her throat exposed and her jawline as sharp as a knife.

“Take me to bed, Eivor.”

You could actually see her pupils widen, her eyes almost completely black as she slowly let you down. She took your hand, then you both walked in silence, passing the great bonfire and the people around it without paying them any mind, and finally rushing up the path to Eivor’s hut. She opened the door with shaky fingers. The room was dimly lit by the fireplace and Birna was still laying on Eivor’s clothes. You sighed in relief - you would have felt guilty for banishing her from the bed.

You had just stepped over the threshold when Eivor turned around, pushing the door shut behind you and trapping you between her and hard wood yet again. You leaned your head back against it and let your eyes wander over your lover’s face, her smooth forehead, her fiery eyes, the deep scar on her cheek, her chiseled cheekbones, the other small scar splitting her upper lip. You could not imagine how much pain and violence Eivor had seen in the course of her life.

You lifted a hand and slowly drew your digit along the scar on her cheek. She closed her eyes. You went on to her lip, feeling the notch where the scar was, a healing cut on her bottom lip, the soft skin on her chin. She swallowed as your hand wandered lower to her throat, caressing the little dent between her collarbones and then slowly pulling the strings that held the fur around her shoulders, loosening the knot and letting the fur fall to the floor.

In turn, Eivor gently slid her hands under your coat and slipped it from your shoulders. She smiled as her hands encased your waist, content with your choice of clothing.

“Beautiful,” she mumbled as she loosened the golden buttons on the short, pale blue overdress, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side. You were left in the forget-me-not-blue long linen dress that was closed with a golden brooch at the back. Giving Eivor an eager smile, you turned around and placed your hands on the door while you waited for her to open the brooch.

She gently brushed your hair to the front before opening the clasp and letting the dress slip to the floor. The only thing still covering your body was a long strip of linen wrapped around your hips and covering your most intimate places. Eivor softly whistled through her teeth and you suddenly remembered the runes Valka had painted on your skin. You could feel the drengr trace them with her fingers, slowly wandering down your back until your entire body was covered in goosebumps.

You turned back around and Eivor let out another small, surprised noise when she saw the rune on your chest. She lifted a hand and placed it between your breasts, closing her eyes as she took in the warmth of your skin. You opened the clasps on her belt and the holster around her chest, letting the heavy leather fall to the floor, then you pulled on the strings that closed her pants. They immediately fell to the ground and Eivor, now only wearing a tunic, stepped out of them, pulling you with her toward the bed.

She let you sink on the mattress first, then she lowered herself on top of you, her legs intertwined with yours. You placed both of your hands on her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It got heated quickly, the pressure of her thigh between your legs a godsend. When Eivor pushed her hips forward, grinding into you, you moaned into the silence, immediately covering your eyes in embarassment. What were you, a little harlot?

Eivor gently took your hand from your face, grinning down at you.

“Don’t hide. I love hearing your voice, especially when it tells me how good I make you feel.”

Before you could reply, she had pinned down your wrists next to your head and started kissing your jaw and your neck, nipping the soft skin there and sucking on it, making you arch your back involuntarily. You had to fight not to cry out when Eivor rocked her hips forward again, her hot breath in the crook of your neck and the skin tingling where she had bitten into it. Your fingers found her tunic and pulled it toward you, revealing the same undergarments and a tattooed back, muscles dancing under pale skin. Eivor let out an annoyed grunt and ripped the tunic over her head, throwing it to the side before returning to you.

She kissed her way down your chest, grabbing one breast while sucking on the other and leaving red marks where her mouth had been. You had seen those marks on some of the other maids and stableboys before, but you had never understood how they had come by them. Now you knew. Oh, what a beautiful pain.

Eivor’s lips wandered lower, softly kissing your stomach while your fingers frantically worked the linen around her chest until the strip finally loosened and you could pull it off. She was now kneeling between your legs and you felt a strange thill come over you. How perfectly scandalous, how hot, how wonderfully forbidden this moment was. Flushed and spread out before her, your Viking lover gloriously decorated with tattoos, her breasts illuminated by the light of the fire, her small, hard nipples standing out in the cool air.

She lifted up one of your legs and kissed her way from your ankle up to your hipbone, then her nose wandered over the thin fabric that still separated her from you. You knew far too well how drenched the linen was, how wet you were with anticipation, ready for her to take you, to do whatever she wanted with you.

But Eivor was slow, she was careful and gentle. You knew she was still scared of hurting you. You lifted up your hips and caught her gaze as she began to tug on the linen, revealing you in your entirety.

“I am all yours,” you whispered. “Only yours.”

She nodded, her eyes nothing but dark abysses of lust, and lowered her head, her breath on your sensitive skin sending shivers up your spine. Finally, she opened her mouth and dragged her tongue all the way from deep between your legs up to that sensitive spot that was already pulsating in tune with the drumming in your ears. You could not resist pushing your hips up against her and Eivor took that as a final yes, wrapping her arms around your legs and holding down your hips as she attacked your core with her mouth.

Her tongue that had been so soft at first was now roughly pressing against your folds, tasting your juices, prodding into you, and making your gasp her name. You lost all sense of direction and reason, dragging your nails over her shoulders and fighting against her hands on your hips, burying your fingers in her hair as you begged her for more. She took her time driving you to the brink of madness, one moment licking you with broad strokes, then flicking the tip of her tongue over that little bundle of nerves, then pushing it deep inside you, making you jerk up and fall back into the soft pillows. You were yearning for her to fill you, to put those long, strong fingers to use, but you could not bring yourself to ask.

When Eivor finally looked up at you, you saw a vicious gleam in her eye that could mean nothing else but her already knowing what you wanted and toying with you anyway. She knew you were still shy despite everything and she would not go any further without you asking for it.

“Eivor… more… please,” you mumbled while taking her hand and pushing it down between your legs.

“What do you want, dove?” She was teasing you and she knew you would have to oblige.

“Your fingers.” You felt yourself blush, but before you could think any further Eivor had pushed a slender finger inside you, just halfway, looking up at you as her pink tongue slowly ran up and down over your folds. Your breath stopped as you watched her push in further. You were mesmerized by her eyes, her magnificent mouth, and her digit that slowly curled inside you. Slowly, you let your head fall back and closed your eyes, feeling Eivor pump her finger in and out a few times before adding a second, stretching you out while dragging her tongue over you lazily. Your eyes rolled back into your head as she started stroking you faster, her mouth joining in the rhythm of her fingers until you started to feel a familiar pull between your hips, all of your muscles beginning to flex and cramp up as your breath got quicker and your whines louder.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down at Eivor as you came closer and closer, your legs starting to shake on her shoulders. There was an explosion of heat in your core, sending sparks through your limbs and making you cry out in ecstasy. Eivor was still caressing you with her tongue, your flesh becoming more and more sensitive until you had to push her head away, breathing hard and not yet fully in control of your senses.

The blonde gave you a devilish grin and made her way up your stomach, then she kissed you hard. You could smell yourself on her skin and taste your juices on her tongue. It was incredibly dirty and so, so heavenly. Eivor wanted to roll off of you but you held her close.

“Lay on me, my love. I want to feel you, to prove that this is real.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she lowered herself down on you, resting her full weight on your body. You felt as if she might crush you, but it was the most wonderful feeling. You could feel her heartbeat echoing through your chest, the thin layer of sweat between you both, her hips pressing down on yours, her thick thighs between yours. Slowly, your hands wandered over her warm back, exploring the soft skin interrupted by old scars, the tiny hairs at the back of her waist, the linen still covering the parts of her you wanted to see the most.

Your hands wandered lower, caressing her firm, round ass and squeezing it playfully. Eivor immediately rolled her hips forward, chuckling into the crook of your neck. You hooked your thumbs under the linen bandages around her hips and she lifted them slightly so you could loosen them and pull them off to the side.

She let herself roll off to the side, one leg still between yours, both of you completely bare now.

“How do you feel, little dove? We don’t have to do anything you do not want, we can just sleep.”

Sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. You brushed some stray hairs out of Eivor’s face.

“I feel reborn. You truly are a master at anything involving your hands.” You grinned at her and she had to smile, too. You could almost swear she was blushing.

“Eivor, I never want to sleep as long as I can love you. I want to explore every inch of your beautiful body, I want to learn about every kind of pleasure from you. I want you to show me heaven with a single twist of your fingers.”

She placed the tips of her digit and middle finger on your bottom lip. You slowly opened your lips and sucked her fingers into your mouth, your tongue pressing up against them. Eivor’s mouth hung open in awe, her breath hot on your cheek. You kept eye contact as you sucked her fingers in all the way to the knuckle, your hand slowly making its way down her toned stomach. She was paralyzed by your gaze, incapable of doing anything but letting out a shaky sigh as your hand finally found soft curls and her hot, wet cunt. You had never felt anything like it. You wanted to make her feel the way she had made you feel before, make her moan your name, taste her and feel her, fuck her until she lost her mind.

You dropped her fingers from your mouth while pushing the leg she had draped over yours away so she lay open and bare, her legs spread wide for you. You drew your fingers along her drenched lips and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Without thinking, you pushed two fingers inside her, moaning as you felt her soft walls encase you. Eivor gasped, pressing her forehead to yours. Slowly, you pulled your fingers out again and played with her pulsing lips, choosing to torture her some more.

“Again…” Eivor whispered. “More. Please.” She stretched her neck to kiss you and you dragged your tongue over hers, pushing your fingers inside her at the same time and relishing at the sound of her moaning into your mouth. Her cunt made a deliciously filthy noise as you continued to thrust into her, plastering wet kisses on her neck and chest.

Your drengr was writhing beneath you, her breath quick and her hands all over you as your mouth finally reached her hips. You dug your fingers into the firm muscles of her thighs as you settled between her legs, then you lowered your head and inhaled the wonderful musk of your lover, the familiar mix of sweat and tree bark, pine soap, and the sweet scent of her juices. Eivor was getting impatient, burying her fingers in your hair and pulling you toward her, yearning for some kind of friction.

With a sigh, you obliged and dove in. You had never even seen another woman’s private parts before, let alone touched them, but somehow it was the most natural thing. You dragged your tongue over her slowly, then you spread her lips with your fingers and began swirling your tongue around her pink nub, answered with hissing and cursing from the top of the bed. You decided to take it slow, lapping at her at a more moderate pace and massaging the insides of her thighs with your hands.

“More, please... Y/N, your fingers…”

You ignored her and when she pushed her hips up against you, you stopped altogether, giving her a stern look. She mumbled an apology and you had to force yourself not to laugh. She was all flustered and sulky, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her cheeks flushed and her stomach convulsing every time you touched her. You began your slow pace again, your hands resting on her hips. She groaned but did not dare to rush you again.

Finally, you ate her out harder and faster, sucking on her folds, pushing your tongue inside her, drowning in her wetness and in sweet bliss at finally tasting your lover, having her all to yourself. You dragged your nails along the inside of her thigh and Eivor started whining as you caressed the skin just next to the center of her pleasure.

“Please, Y/N, dove, please don’t make me wait any longer, this is torture!” she cried out, her voice breaking in desperation.

You pressed your tongue to her pulsing nub and slowly pushed two fingers inside her. Her cunt sucked your fingers in eagerly, contracting around you as Eivor moaned in relief. You curled your fingers upward and she cried out your name, grabbing your free wrist so hard you were certain she would leave a bruise. Having found her sweet spot, you continued to fuck her while leaving lovebites on her hips and thighs, the sting making her hiss and close her thighs around your head. Her moans got raspier, her breathing faster and her curses more ungodly.

Just when you thought she would reach her peak, she hooked a leg under your hip and flipped you both around in one swift motion. You were now lying on your back and Eivor was straightening up on top of you, her thick thighs framing your face and her shins pinning your shoulders to the mattress. You took in the breathtaking view, her flushed face, looking down at you with blown pupils, her round breasts, her slender stomach, and her throbbing heat right over your mouth.

Eivor wasted no time getting back to where you left off, grinding down on your face and almost smothering you with that perfect, swollen cunt. You gave up any autonomy and just opened your mouth, reveling in the softness and the sweet and sour taste of her juices on your tongue. Eivor leaned back and braced herself on your hips. She looked glorious riding your face, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders and shining in the light of the fire, the droplets of sweat on her chest sparkling like diamonds. She threw her head back and moved faster, her moans getting higher and higher as you tried to control your breathing. You would have been happy to die right there on the spot, smothered by Eivor’s thighs as she found her release on your tongue.

And she did find it, panting and moaning on top of you, her legs beginning to shake as she pushed down into your mouth, her body twitching and her hands digging into your hips as she rode out her high. Breathless, she fell to your side and lay splayed out on her back, her eyes closed as she tried to regain control of herself. You were just as thunderstruck, staring at the ceiling and trying to comprehend how monumentally your world had changed in the course of an hour.

“You’re going to be the death of me, little bird. Tell me who taught you to torture a woman like that, I will kiss them and then rip their head off.” Eivor’s voice was shaky and as you turned your head, you could see her thighs still twitching. You reached out and gently brushed your fingers over her pulsing mound. She jerked up and slapped your hand away.

“Don’t make me punish you. You’ve done enough.” Her expression was stern, but her eyes were still cloudy from the high. You just threw her an innocent smile and she gave you her wonderful crooked grin.

You sat up. How could you tell her that this was your first time without scaring her off? She had been gentle with you at first, yes, but that was surely because she knew of her own strength and did not want to hurt you.

“No one taught me," you said. She raised her eyebrows.

“So you just naturally know your way around a woman’s loins and did everything right from the first time?”

You lowered your head.

“Well, you tell me. Did I?”

She sat up as well and lifted your chin with her fingers, forcing you to look at her. The fire lit her face from the side and her eyes were practically smoldering.

“Are you telling me this was your first time? Come on, don’t joke about those things.” You swallowed.

“It was. Forgive me for not telling you, I thought it did not matter. You were perfect, everything was perfect.” You cupped her cheek with your hand. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief, concern, and astonishment.

“Freya’s tears,” she mumbled, “you should have told me. I would have been more gentle, more careful. My love, did I hurt you?”

You smiled at her, overwhelmed by your love for your gentle warrior.

“Eivor, as I said, you were perfect.” You crawled on her lap, straddling her thighs while holding her face in both hands. “In fact, you were almost too gentle. I am not made of glass, my fierce drengr .”

You licked your lips, grinding your hips against her. Eivor rolled her eyes at you. She wrapped one arm around you and held you tight to her chest, then she pushed herself up with the other and scooted up to the headboard, leaning her back against it. She ran her fingers through your hair, looking up at you in awe.

“Y/N, you are incredible. You amaze me every day.”

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before moving on to her jaw and down her neck.

“I’m learning from the best,” you mumbled against her skin and gently bit down. A small moan escaped Eivor’s lips and you rolled your hips forward again. Her hands wandered up your thighs and around to cup your ass, gently at first. As you left another love bite on her neck, her grip on your ass tightened and she began guiding your hips, rocking them against her, grabbing your cheeks so hard you felt your already wet cunt open up for her.

You moaned and pulled her hair back so she would look up at you. You could see her strained throat contract as she swallowed. She opened her mouth and you let a string of spit drip from your bottom lip onto her tongue. Her eyes were full of raw desire, a hunger that you had only seen in them when Eivor had set out for her last raid. A wave of heat came over you and you lowered your head, running your tongue over your lover's and mixing your spit with hers, your tongues dancing between you as more blood rushed between your legs and you could feel your own wetness run down your thigh.

You placed one leg between Eivor’s and began rocking back and forth on her thigh, her hands so tight on your ass you knew she would leave more marks. As you looked down, you could see her skin glisten where your dripping cunt had slid over it. The sight only made you hungrier and you pressed down on her, groaning at the friction. You grabbed Eivor’s jaw and made her look at you, then you pushed your thumb into her mouth, watching as she sucked on it, her hands never leaving your body. God, she was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

One of her hands wandered further down between your cheeks and suddenly you felt her fingertips at your entrance. You let out a deep, almost feral moan as you pushed back against her and they slid in easily. Continuing to rub yourself over her thigh, you arched your back so Eivor could go deeper and she did, pushing them in to the knuckle and twisting them until your eyes rolled back and you could not even scream, your lungs giving out at the overwhelming sensation.

“More,” you whispered. Eivor grabbed you and threw you to the side. You landed on all fours, her fingers still inside you as she knelt next to your hips and thrust into you from behind. She added a third finger, filling you up, stretching you, and making you cry out first in pleasure, then in pain when her hand came down hard on your ass. You pressed your face into the mattress to stifle a scream. The sting was delightful.

Eivor was ravenous, thrusting into you at a relentless pace, slapping your ass again and again, the sound ringing in your ears and the sharp pain making your blood rush. You were almost there, a whining, moaning mess beneath your warrior, and she knew. She reached around your stomach with her other hand and began rubbing circles into your pulsing flesh, brushing the rough pads of her fingers over your sensitive nub, riding the knife’s edge of not enough and too much. You saw nothing but red, heard nothing but the wet sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of you and her groans, then something inside you dissolved and your high hit you like a gigantic wave. It knocked the wind out of your lungs at first, then it made you scream out, Eivor’s fingers pressing on the perfect spots inside and out as your juices covered her hand and you collapsed on the bed, devoid of all control of your muscles.

Eivor lifted you up with ease, pulling you into her arms so your head could rest on her shoulder and pulling the thick quilt over your body. Her fingertips caressed your back as you fought for air and she pressed her lips against the top of your head, humming into your hair.

“I think you broke me,” you mumbled, your voice cracking. Eivor chuckled and pulled you closer.

“I think I finally wore you out for the first time. I always wondered during training how much you would take without complaining or tiring, now I know.”

You wanted to protest, to tell her you were still ready for more, but you could not even lift your head. Instead, you sighed and asked for a kiss. Eivor smiled at you and gently pressed her lips against yours.

“Sleep now, my precious dove. We have all the time in the world.”

The last thing you felt was Birna jumping on the bed and curling up at your feet. You had completely forgotten about her. Sending her a mental apology, you drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

-

When you woke the next morning, you were no longer in Eivor’s arms. Your eyes flew open in alarm - had she left again? But she was still next to you, a thin blanket covering only her legs and hips while her bare chest lay free, her muscular arms thrown over her head. Her long, blonde hair was splayed out on the pillow around her head, making it seem as if she was blessed with a halo. Her breath was deep and steady, her mouth hanging slightly open. God, she was a sight to behold.

The next thing you noticed were your sore muscles. Every part of your body hurt, partly still from training, partly from what had happened last night. You felt blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of what you and Eivor had done. How excitingly forbidden, how perfectly blasphemous, how deliciously vulgar it had been to finally give yourself to the woman you loved. And for her to give herself to you as well. You laid flat on your back and stretched your arms over your head, trying to get rid of some of the pain, but it was no use. You closed your eyes and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep again.

The second time you woke, you kept your eyes closed for a moment longer, drinking in the beauty of the morning. The fire was crackling again - Eivor must have already woken up and started it - and the air was so warm you had balled up the blanket next to you in your sleep and now lay naked on the mattress. You could feel Eivor lying next to you, the heat radiating off her body and her breathing, now different than before. She was no longer asleep.

“I know you’re awake,” came her voice from next to you and you opened your eyes, turning your head to look into the deep blue eyes of your lover. She gave you a vicious smile.

“Spread your legs.” You blinked at her in confusion, instinctively closing your thighs at first. Blood rushed right to your core and you noticed how swollen you were, your cunt still sticky from last night’s juices and already wet again, ready for your drengr to take you. You felt untamed and fantastically filthy.

“Eivor, I’m still so sore from yesterday,” you whined, but you knew your eyes were saying something entirely different, wandering over her lips and down to her breasts, finally resting on her hand that casually waited on the bed between you.

“Open up,” she ordered, her voice deeper and more stern. Slowly, you opened your knees and let them fall to the side, the muscles in your thighs screaming at the strain.

Eivor’s hand began to move over your breasts, your nipples hardening right away at the mere thought of her touch. She rolled one of them between her fingers and you gasped at the sensation. Her fingers slowly brushed over your stomach and hipbones, then she scooted closer, bracing herself on her elbow and cupping your mound with her hand. You could not keep your hips still and they buckled up into her touch.

She hummed in satisfaction, then one of her fingers dipped into your pooling wetness and dragged it up between your folds. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying out, but Eivor gave you a fierce look and you let your mouth hang open, taking a deep breath to brace yourself for what was to come. Before you could tell what was happening, she had pushed three fingers deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your body. Eivor swallowed your moan with a deep, wet kiss, then she began pumping her fingers in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace, opening you up for her and making you hers.

After a while, she sat up and knelt between your legs, her eyes fixed on your swollen cunt and her fingers inside you. Slowly, she reached down and her hand vanished beneath the dark curls at her center. She looked down at you through half-closed eyelids, her tongue quickly running over her bottom lip before she let out a low groan. Part of you wanted to get up and touch her, another part wanted to lay down and watch her in all her glory.

Eivor made that decision for you when she lifted one of your legs and scooted closer, straddling your thigh at first. Then she rolled her hips forward against you and your cores suddenly touched. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. Hot and wet, her pulse beating against yours, connected at your most intimate points as Eivor let her head fall back and groaned your name. You quickly found a perfect pace, both of you grinding your hips together and interlocking your fingers with each other as your voices got louder and your moans got higher.

You were close and you could tell Eivor was, too. You wanted to reach the peak with her, to experience this high together. She lowered her head and your eyes met. Her movements got smaller and she increased the pressure, the smacking noises of your cunts rubbing against each other filling your head along with the rush of your own blood.

“Come for me,” Eivor growled and just like that, you were over the edge. You held on to her hand for dear life as you watched her arch her back and cry out on top of you, both of your moans and whines building a beautiful song of pleasure.

Your warrior collapsed on top of you and you relished in the feeling of her weight pressing down on your chest, her body encasing yours and shielding you from the world while you laid in intimate togetherness and breathed each other’s air.

After a few moments of silence, Eivor let herself fall to the side and stroked your cheek with her thumb. Her gaze was full of love.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, wrapping an arm around her waist.

A meow from the door made you both lift your heads and look over to a grumpy Birna. Eivor laughed.

“I’m sorry my dear, I will free you in a moment. You will get a feast from me tonight, I promise.”

She turned to you.

“Fancy a bath?”

-

Author’s note: As always, thank you for reading, I hope you’re doing well! If you like my work, feel free to drop me a message or buy me a coffee 💕

[morceid]

Beating the Dead Swan

Chapter 2: lonely angels wrapped in silk

read on ao3

<- chapter one

Summary: Penelope gives the profiles of Camille and other victims like her to the team.

Word Count: 1928

Category: angst

Content Warnings: general criminal minds murder stuff

A/N: noting here that this fic takes place in 2005 when criminal minds starts and spencer is 24

It started out a simple equivocal death investigation. Seven women had been found in their apartments, dead with their wrists slashed. Unfortunately not an unusual occurrence, Detective Conner thought nothing of it. Upon trying to contact the employers of each victim, Conner found they all worked for the same people, and decided to mark them down for further investigation just in case. When the fourth victim was found in her father’s beach house just outside of Virginia, the case became federal and handed to the FBI.

The case, being low priority, was given to Derek Morgan to monitor the progress of. 

“You’re completely sure there’s nothing about the bodies that connect these victims?”

“Agent Morgan, if there was anything I would tell you. I think it’s time you tell Detective Conner to rule these deaths a suicide.”

“Alright, will do.” Derek hung up with the coroner. Just then his mobile phone rang with the number of the detective displayed on the top of the screen. Derek sighed.

“Agent Morgan.” He answered.

“Agent, there’s another victim-”

“Conner, listen, they aren’t connected, there is no signature unless you can consider the suicide, I think you oughtta-”

“She was called in by a friend. Not a family member, not an apartment manager, not a coworker, a real friend. Derek, he’s devolving.”

Derek sighed, “Detective, I’ll let you send her body over to the coroner but I doubt there will be anything remarkable.”

There was some mumbling on the other end of the line before Detective Conner gave a response.

“That’s the thing, Agent Morgan, this victim is remarkable. She had piercing holes in her ears just like the others.”

“And how is that remarkable?”

“Her ears weren’t pierced.”

“And you’re sure about that, Detective?”

“Her best friend swears it. Do you think they could be puncture marks?”

“I’m not sure, let me tell Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek set down his mobile phone and dialed the coroner on his office phone.

“Doctor Phyllis?”

“You back again so soon, Agent?”

“Look, we got a new victim, she's got puncture marks on her ears. Not piercings, puncture marks. Can you check the other victims to make sure they’re not puncture marks?”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

Derek heard the sound of doors opening.

“Well, shit, they are puncture marks. On every single ear.”

“Thanks, Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek hung up on the office phone.

“Do I still have you here, Detective?”

“Yep. Were they piercings?”

“Nope. Bring in the girl’s friend and call in the family members of the other victims. We’re gonna need to talk to them.”

Derek hung up the phone and ran up to Hotch’s office.

“Something up, Morgan?” Hotch asked.

“You know that case Detective Conner asked me to look into?”

“The one with the suicides?”

“Yeah, well they might not be suicides. I’m having Conner bring in some people to ask them some questions. You mind if I ask Rossi and Prentiss to help?”

“Of course not, but if we get another case then leave the questioning for Detective Conner, alright?”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Derek gathered Rossi, Prentiss, and Penelope in the break room to discuss the case.

“Babygirl, you want to read out the profiles of our victims?”

“Reluctantly,” Penelope pulled up each of the files onto her laptop. “Danica Wilson, a 45 year old woman, was found by her landlord. She grew up in Victoria, Canada, but when she was 12, her parents got a divorce. Her mother moved her and her three siblings to North Dakota shortly after. All throughout highschool she seemed immensely interested in biology and chemistry. She was really good at it too, she took AP classes and she was a promising student. Unfortunately, her mom didn’t want her to do anything of the sort, and set her up for ballet classes her junior year. To appease her mom she studied the history of dance during college and ended up climbing up from an intern at a dance company all the way to a choreographer. Her love for science was still there the whole way through though, she’s been taking free college courses online for biology for about a year. She was found with her wrists slashed and spread out in a star shape on the middle of her bed. There were no fingerprints anywhere in her home and the slashes appeared to be self inflicted. Her mom died a week before she was found, all of her siblings live in other states, and she didn't have any close friends. She never dated, even though she had perfect brown eyes and blonde hair. According to her siblings she had all of the boys at her school after her. Despite there being no evidence of depression or other mental illness officers deemed her mothers death as a stressor and marked her death a suicide.”

“Then we have Maya Peto, 22 years old, found by her sister.”

“So there’s no age preference?” Rossi asked.

“Precisely,” Penelope continued, “She grew up in Detroit. Her parents raised her in a Christian household and shes been openly gay since she was 18. Her dad died when she was 14, leaving Maya and one sister to be raised by their mother. She did exceptionally well in math, but seemed to have no interest in pursuing it as a career. Instead, she became captain of her dance team in highschool and went to Wirtson’s Dance Academy for college. Her last year there, she was picked by Next Star Theatre Company, the same one as all of the other victims, to be on their ballet team. She was found just like Danica, and would be just like the rest of the victims. Her now ex-girlfriend and her had a kid, his name is Gene, he’s a year old, and Maya had full custody of him because Khloe, the girlfriend, had begun doing drugs about a week after Gene was born. How could lesbians have a child? Khloe was cheating. Maya gained full custody of Gene after a year long legal battle, and she had left him with her sister for a weekend while she baby proofed her house. Unfortunately, when she went to Maya’s apartment to return Gene, she found her dead. It was the anniversary of her father’s death when she was found, so the ever so ignorant officers deemed it another suicide.

“Then we have Annie Carr, 24. A coworker found her. Born here in Virginia, Annie was raised by her dad after her mom died when she was about one. She seemed to have a pretty awesome life. Her dad worked two jobs and she’s never had all that much money, but she was a happy kid. She went to a community college and ended up taking the same internship that Danica Wilson took, but she has stayed in that internship for years, mooching money off of her dad and siblings. Mabel Golden, the coworker that found her, claims that there’s no way Annie could’ve killed herself. She didn’t show any signs of depression or mental illness, though she could be pessimistic at times. Mabel said their boss was threatening to let her go, seeing as she hasn’t improved her work ethic in the last five years. Deemed another suicide.

“The fourth victim was Valentine Orange, 36, found by her father. She grew up in Maryland, started acting and dancing at six, her family was pretty wealthy, and she got accepted into the same dance academy and theatre company as Maya Peto. She also danced on the same ballet team. She told her team leader she was going away for a week to her father’s beach house, and when her father came to get her on the day she was supposed to leave, he found her in the guest bedroom, just like the other victims. The beach house was located in Maryland, and due to Detective Cooper’s hunch, the case got handed to us for an equivocal death investigation.

“Francis Falstaff, our fifth victim, was found by her adoptive mother. She was 22. Both of her parents died in a car crash a month after she was born, so she grew up in a multitude of foster homes. When she was ten her and her sister were adopted by Baron Falstaff and Maggie Falstaff. They seemed to be good parents. They went to all of their school events and paid for both of the girls’ college tuition. Francis was trying to make it into the same theatre company that employed the rest of the victims, specifically to work as a jazz dancer. She seemed to have killed herself, just like the rest of the victims, but her mom insists that she couldn’t have. She had a very promising life ahead of her. When they dissected her room they found an evidence board in the back of her closet. Her sister, Yvette, was stabbed to death a couple years back on the way to a party, and Francis was obsessed with finding the killer. Which is why she didn’t have many friends. When it was all processed, they found that the evidence led to Yvette’s boyfriend at the time. It was assumed that this weighed heavily enough on Francis that she ended up, well you know, on the same day she found out.

“Jane Sweeney, the second to last victim who worked on the Next Star Theatre Company ballet team, was 29. She’s been with the company since she was 20, and unfortunately her private teacher was the one who found her. Her father left when she was young. She liked expressing all of her success, almost narcissistically so. According to some other people on the dance team she was the best dancer and loved flaunting it. She was a kind of queen bee and seemed to value herself more than others most of the time. It just doesn’t make sense for her to kill herself.

“Lillian Bonner was the next victim. She was 54. She taught modern dance at the company. She lived with and was found by her only son, Tyrell, who she had with her husband Ivan. Though they were still legally married, the two were separated. Tyrell, who’s 16, said she was a fantastic mom. She always made sure he was fed and had someone to talk to. He told her practically everything about his life and he is having a really difficult time without her. He doesn’t believe that she would do that to herself.

“Our last victim was Camille Price. She was 25. Her best friend, Spencer Reid, who was on the same ballet team, found her. She was the only one who really had people around her. She grew up in Virginia with her parents and two brothers, one older, one younger. She visited them whenever she could. Everyone in her apartment building loved her, she even made dinner for one of the elderly occupants every Friday. Spencer doubts there is anything that would want to make her commit suicide, and to put the icing on the cake, there were puncture marks on her ears that police mistook for piercings. ‘What were they?’ you ask? Injection sites. How do we know this? Spencer swore that there was no way they could be piercings because Camille never wore earrings the entire 8 years he knew her because the Next Star Theatre Company does not allow their dancers to wear piercings or jewelry.”

“Alright, let’s go see if these people got any info for us.” Rossi got out of his seat and headed towards the interview rooms.

TAGLIST: @hotchrocket @hotpotatowoman @thisdeathtollbringsnopeace @endingsbeginnings @d3pr3ss3d-w33d-wh0re @nonbinary-spencie @moss0ntherocks @scandinavian-punk @drinkingcroissants @penemily @izzyl13 @leomo0n @tiedyedrose1705 @natclis

[mythicamagic]

Hey there~ I was just wondering, how are you feeling about Castlevania's ending? :)

Hii, ghostflora!

Well, it's a mixed bag. SPOILERS BELOW:

I think I'm torn because while I am happy many characters got their happy endings- I'm disappointed because it clashes with the pre-established tone and feels like there are absolutely no consequences for the main characters.

Season 3 and Season 4 may as well be different series for the amount of stuff they dropped or shoved under the rug; 

Lenore being confident and secure in her established role as a diplomat who can also kick ass? Now she's a fretting wilting flower who confides in Hector all her worries and insecurities. Despite him being ya know...her pet in Season 3.

Camilla being a confident, ruthless, intelligent woman? Now she's gone mad with power! Muhohaha! Makes it easyyy

Striga and Morana being die-hard loyal to their sisters? Pssshh they can leave them without a backwards glance in season 4. 

St Germain? Ehhh let's drop all intrigue and just say he's a simp who 'did it all for love' plus he's mad now too. Makes it easyyy

However I think the worst examples of arcs or themes being dropped are Hector and Alucard. Hector is now in love with Lenore despite every abusive thing that's happened to him. This wouldn't be a problem if it was shown as an abusive attachment- something he's done time and time again, trusting the wrong people- but nope, the cycle continues and we're expected to feel something when Lenore dies. Oh such sweet sorrow. 

Alucard though...oh my sweet boy. My sweet sweet boy. The writers have friggin tortured this poor man with trauma after trauma...only for none of it to matter pretty much by the end of episode 1 season 4. He's a 'little' cautious of people but give him a hot second and he's blurting everything to Greta and him impaling people who betrayed him on spikes is treated lightly. Again, he's like Hector in that he hasn't learned. He's trusting so quickly and easily by blurting his secrets because he’s so friggin lonely and desperate for connection. And I get that, I really, really do. But Season 3 may as well never have happened. There is no way he'd open up so quickly again after what he's been through, I'm sorry, it's shitty, rushed writing that undermines what happened to him. Alucard in season 4 is written as someone who is grieving, not traumatised. 

 If you want an example of a character whose trauma is handled well - look at Guts from Berserk. Even in the anime, which doesn't go into Gut's past (enduring rape) you can tell this guy has been hurt, badly. He won't allow touch, and he distances himself from everyone in the group. 

When he does finally warm up to Casca and sleeps with her in the manga - he's triggered, and it's an extremely harrowing scene. I'm not saying Alucard's trauma needs to be deeply covered but fuck give us something. Otherwise it completely undermines what he went through.

A few - UWU I'm too shy to play with the children moments is so friggin tame. There's a reason the majority of fanfic writers apparently wrote Alucard as distrusting of humans and fearful of getting close to them- Because they get that Trauma. Has. Consequences. But yeah, aside from that I am very happy Alucard is surrounded by people at the end, since he's an extremely lonely character. It's a lovely thing that he gains a village and exactly what he needs. I just wish it had been handled better. 

Greta needed a flashback scene too, I wasn't particularly invested in her but that would've helped. The true MVP of Castlevania is Isaac though. Best arc and best culmination of his journey. His story flows well and I loved watching him.

I haven't been all too interested in Trevor and Sypha since season 2 but eh they were fine. The 'bickering' couple isn't my fav trope and Trevor seems two seconds away from referring to her as 'the old ball and chain.' 

And as much as I love my OTP for the show, my sun and stars, light of my life, monster boyfriend x human loving ass- I do think Dracula and Lisa should have died. And stayed dead. Like show Alucard seeing them in the netherworld being at peace. They could carve out a place for themselves in hell, Dracula has enough loyal followers there to do so. They could be content while also showing there are consequences. 

Because that's what this show used to be. It didn't shy away from showing the masses die and suffer. The main characters were no different. But now in season 4 they're suddenly exempt. I wouldn't mind the happy ending at all if it didn't clash so hard with the pre-established tone of other seasons where the past is framed as something golden and gentle...

...but the present is awful and people must face harsh realities in order to carry on living.

Again, if you want more examples of grimdark shows staying faithful to their tone, look at Berserk or Devilman Crybaby. If you want Castlevania's tone to change, then more emphasis on HEALING is needed. And that could be done by confronting trauma and moving on. I like Isaacs journey because it SHOWED that change.

I mean friggin Princess Tutu felt like it had more consequences for characters actions than this show. I personally think an ending similar to Madoka Magica (first series, I haven't seen any others) where everything is 'fixed' but there's still loss would be a more fitting end for what was built up in Castlevania. But yeah...I liked Death's character, Isaac's arc, Alucard’s ending and that the lesbians survived and kicked ass. Striga's scene with that armour was oof. That was cool. I LOVED seeing Dracula x Lisa again too (that scene of them being combined had me screaming at the tv going - No, no, NOOOO!) 

Everything else is like a big mess of feels. I want to like it, but I can't turn my brain off and ignore the writing flaws. So...ultimately I don't think I'll rewatch it again despite really liking the promise shown in the first few seasons. It's by no means a complete train wreck, but it is disappointing to me.

[ciggylungz]

Summer bummer pt.2

y/n x harry pairing

summary- y/n and Harry are part of a cast of a reality show called ‘summer bummer’ that’s a uk version of the jersey shore and things are chaotic

pnot proofread, not sure if its any good pt.2

_3.9k words

 Waking up smooshed between a warm body and a hard wooden wall was what Y/n was currently experiencing, but soon the pounding headache and nausea took the front seat in her brain as she let out a low groan shifting in the hold of the man beside her as she sat up rubbing her eyes, mascara from the night before flaking onto her fist getting another irritated groan to bubble in her throat.

“quiet, try’n sleep here” Harry mumbled and turned over as she climbed out of his bed yawning and stumbling to the bathroom, peeing and taking off her messy makeup from the night before, taking a quick shower and going back upstairs to her shared room to change into some comfy shorts and a big sweatshirt pulling the hood over her damp hair to help block the brightness that’s making her head pound like a drum.

Y/n made her way into the confessional room, sitting on the couch in front of the green screen and turning on the camera the producers had there for them to do their periodic self interviews.

“so it’s like noon, I just woke up and I realized ‘holy shit, im in bed with Harry’…” she made a point to tilt her head and widen her eyes at the camera showing her bit of shock at the situation. “I was blackout wasted last night, the last thing I remember was dancing and making out with him so I’m gonna wait till he’s up to ask if we did the deed or not because I don’t remember, god first day in the house and I’m already blacking out.” She paused to laugh at herself a little before continuing, “ugh, we’ll see. My moms gonna kill me when she see this episode_- fuck_”

She sighed as she turned off the camera and went back out into the living room where some of her roommates were, all of them sleepy and hungover chatting to themselves but Y/n raised an eyebrow when she noticed Tommy give her a side eye and stop talking when she walked into the room, the camera men that were in the house filming panning their cameras between the two young adults.

“what? Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t waste any time in brining attention to his behavior, not in the mood for the pricks little attitude problem getting a scoff and a snarky little turn of his lips as he waved her off like a dog, and Y/n was having none of it. She stood up straighter, squaring her shoulders and pointing at the man. “Obviously you have a fucking problem so say it, fuck are you acting like a little bitch for? Thought you were a fucking tough guy.” She wasn’t scared of that guy In the slightest, he had the most punch worthy face she’s ever seen and god was he making the urge more prominent with every move of his ugly face.

“shut the fuck up bitch, you talk too fucking much. You talked shit about me at the club last night, probably just mad because I was making out with other girls and not giving your ugly ass any fucking attention you stupid bitch.” He glared at her giving her a disrespectful little smile and every other person in the room was now staring at the pair, engaged and waiting on the edge of their seats for what was gonna happen next.

Y/n couldn’t stop the laugh that came from her mouth, looking at Tommy like he was the stupidest person on the planet, because right now he sure did fit the description. “You’re joking right? I was saying how I felt sorry for those girls because you’re such a piece of shit wanker. You hit on me from the moment I walked in this house and pouty like a fucking baby when I told you to fuck off after dinner, it was on camera you prick. I’m perfectly content having you and your non existent lips far away from me.”

She was annoyed, but also amused. This guy had no fucking clue how much everyone already hated him and she loved it. He stayed silent for a minute and she took the chance to get closer to him pointing her finger right in his face, making eye contact with him, “watch who the fuck you call a bitch around here Tommy because I’ll punch you right in your smug fucking mouth, lets see how much of a tough guy you are when you get your teeth knocked in by a fucking girl.”

At this point Ryan was up off the couch and making his way between the two when he saw both of them getting even more agitated, Tom standing up and Y/n refusing to back down as he tried to intimidate her.

“alright guys, chill out. Drop it, it’s not a big deal don’t fight over stupid shit like this.” Ryan stuck his arm between them Tommy trying to push it away while Y/n started to tie up her hair yelling back and fourth with him as Ryan tried to keep them apart. “what you gonna fucking hit me Tom? Huh? You gonna hit a girl? Makes sense, you’re a pussy and act so tough till you’re throwing a tantrum when you don’t get your way. Gonna go cry to mommy because I didn’t want anything to do with you or your 2 inch dick?”

This comment of course got the reaction she was hoping, his face grew red and his body tensed just making her smirk more. “the fuck did you just say to me?” he was pissed, and Y/n was loving how she got him so mad over her comment, that’s how she knew she struck a nerve because it was definitely true. She even got some laughs from the roommates who were sitting around watching the show. Ryan turned so his left arm and part of his body was between them, looking at Tommy raising an eyebrow at him. “Watch it mate, you’re on thin ice. Lay a hand on a female in this house and you’ll never get to walk this earth again.”

Tommy clenched his jaw flickering his eyes between Ryan and Y/n like an angry child who didn’t get their way, and god was Y/n loving how he’s embarrassing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

The pair continued to argue back and fourth, him trying to insult her and her pushing his buttons – (because lets face it, he was too damn easy)- and in the midst of it Harry decided to emerge from his room, hair a mess and all sleepy. His tattoos were on full display as his shirtless body started advancing towards the arguing duo. Y/n gasped when Harry pushed her back a bit to get right in Toms face using his large body to completely cover Y/n’s as he looked down at Tommy with stone cold eyes.

“Mate I suggest you fucking keep it moving because I’m not gonna put up with you being disrespectful to anyone in this house, let alone a younger girl who didn’t do anything to you. I won’t let her fight you, but I sure as hell have no problem pounding your face in. Step off before I make you, I promise you that you don’t want that.”

Harry’s tone was serious, his muscles were taunt and flexed as he towered over the other man. Tommy of course tried to play it off and muttered a ‘whatever asshole’ as he sulked off to his room, but everyone in there knew he was almost shitting his pants from how afraid he was of Harry.

Everyone took a second to take everything in before they really spoke. Ryan gave Harry a pat on the back, “Thanks mate, dudes a proper prick. And Y/n, you’re a bad ass fuckin’ girl, that was crazy!” he chuckled and shook his head, plopping down on the couch again as Harry turned to the girl raising and eyebrow as he looked down at her. “try to not get yourself involved in any more trouble, at least until I’ve had some fucking coffee. Was sleeping love, bit rude to wake me up for a brawl.”

Y/n laughed a little and pushed his chest, “Hey! I didn’t wake you up, I could have taken him I didn’t need you to jump in.” she put her hands on her hips and gave him a sassy little face, the man laughing in return. “ ‘m sure you could have, babbled last night about how you’re brothers taught you boxing growing up, but if that kid was to try to fight you I’d go down for a murder charge. Me mum taught me to respect women and women beaters aren’t in my good graces. Now you, miss thang need to keep your ass out of problems.”

Harry gave her the stern bossy eyes and she caved, nodding her head and pouting a little as he went into the kitchen and grabbed himself a Gatorade and some crackers nodding his head to the deck door,           “ ‘cmere rocky, need to talk to you.” Harry teased her with the name, getting laughs from everyone including her as she walked out on the deck with him sitting down on one of the couches as he fed himself.

“need to talk to you about last night.” He mumbled through a mouthful of sports drink getting a nod from Y/n as she tried her best to ignore the camera getting a little too close for comfort. “Wanted to ask you about it too, was waiting till you got up..i’m just gonna ask, did we bang?” she twisted her stray hairs around her pointer finger as she asked, slightly nervous for the answer.

Harry shook his head laughing a little bit to himself. “Nope, told you I wasn’t gonna do anything when you were drunk unless I talked to sober you about it first. Plus, love if we would have fucked you would still feel me. wouldn’t have to ask because your trouble walking would answer that question for you sweetheart.” Harry wore a slight smirk on his lips as he said it, watching the younger girl roll her eyes and lick over her lips. “god you’re such a boy.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m a man, a gentlemen actually. Not like the little boys where you’re from, I’m a grown man love and I’m cocky because I know I have the skills to back it up. Maybe you’ll get lucky to experience that yourself sometimes little girl.”

Y/n was a bit in shock. She was turned on, overwhelmed and a little bit offended by his attitude but god if she wasn’t turned on. “Oh my god. I can’t, guys are too much for me right now. I might have to take up Selena’s offer and become a lesbian over summer because you guys are stressing me out!”

Y/n smacked his arm playfully and Harry grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckled. “Yea, let’s see how long that lasts since last night you were almost In tears any time I broke the kiss to open the damn door. You’ll be knocking at my door by the end of the week guarantee it.”

“Ok mister confidence, shut up.” Y/n covered her face with her hands to hide her smile and growing blush, both of them just talking about the night before until the camera crew left for a while before they were going to go out that night.

“hey Harry?” Y/n stood in his doorway, calling out his name as he rummaged through his suitcase to find whatever he was looking for. “Whatsup love?” he peered at her for a second to let her know he was listening before going back to what he was doing “about what you said, sober me says if neither of us come home with someone we can fool around a bit, you have my permission. Just know I fully plan on bringing someone home tonight and I already called the spare room. I wanna start my summer off with good booze and an orgasm.”

Harry let out a little snort, pulling the brush he was looking for out of his bag and turning to Y/n, “I’ll keep that in mind, good luck with your plans tonight, I hope you get your wish and don’t end up with some dude who doesn’t know where the clit is.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Don’t speak that into existence asshole, if he fails me I’ll just do it the old fashion way.” This got the mans attention and his eyes to meet hers, “Old fashion way?” he rubbed his stubbly chin a bit, moving the brush between his right and left hand, “yea, just masturbate in the shower or whatever. I brought some tools that could lend a helping hand in that. I’ll make do.”

Harry had to stop himself from groaning. His mind flashed with images of her in the shower using toys on herself, biting a wash cloth to keep quiet since everyone’s here. He was able to collect himself after a few seconds and give her a playful smile nodding “sounds like a plan love, now get out of here it’s time to get ready.”

__

The music was blaring and the booze running through Y/n’s system made it ten times better, she was dancing- not caring about anything as she danced on this nice looking guy she met and who she decided she was gonna bring back that night and occupy the spare room she’d already called. He was tall, dark hair, tan just a typical good looking guy and the vodka helped make him look more attractive. She just hoped that he could give her what she so desperately needed. A good fucking.

“ ‘cmon, lets go now so we have extra time before my roommates get back, I wanna play.”

Little else was said between the two as they darted out of the club and back to the shared house, clothes coming off quickly as they got up the steps and now she’s panting, groping her tits while the stranger who she can’t remember the name of is tongue deep in her cunt. He’s average at giving head, but she’s desperate and so horny she doesn’t care.

Her hips rock against his mouth as he brings her right to the edge before stopping, Y/n let out a loud protest at this feeling the coil that was forming in her stomach and about to come undone fade.

“what the hell?!” she was pissed, and between her legs was aching at this point from needing attention. “I’m sorry, mouth got tired and I wanna fuck you now..” the man slipped his shirt off while Y/n laid under him, irritated but hopeful his cock can give her the relief she really needs.

But just her luck, it doesn’t. He lasts 5 minutes before he’s cumming into the condom and panting leaving Y/n angry and horribly deprived, and so she wasted no time in kicking him out and storming into her room, grabbing her black vibrator she had brought and marching to the bathroom turning the shower on getting it nice and arm before she stepped in.

__

Y/n had her head resting against the tile as she sat on the shower floor, legs spread and vibrator rubbing up and down her needy slit while her free hand was plunging 2 fingers in and out of herself. She always loved being fingered, but she wishes her fingers were just a bit longer as she worked herself letting herself be loud since no one else was in the house, but she just couldn’t reach the spot she needed to. It was so close yet so far, and she was so upset she was almost close to tears.

She was in the middle of a fit of cursing everyone in existence when a knock on the bathroom door made her jump, her heart almost burst from surprise and now she was wondering how long she’s been in here since her roommates weren’t coming back till at least 6 am.

“Can I come in? it gotta pee” the voice on the other side of the door asked loudly so she could hear them over the water, and when she realized it was Harry she yelled out an agreement, as soon as he opened the door she peaked her head around from behind the curtain to look at him while still shielding her body.

Harry chuckled a little bit and gave her a funny look, “Can I take a leak in private please?”. Y/n groaned and stomped her foot on the shower floor like a child. “Fine! Please pee and then get in the shower with me, I’m so horny it literally hurts and that guy lasted 5 minutes and I swear to god if I don’t get to cum I’m going to cry please!”

Harry stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in pushing his hair off his face and shrugging. “what do you want me to do love?” he could see just how desperate she was, eyes close to tears, lip stuck between her teeth and he felt both bad for her but also so fucking turned on.

“Anything, please finger me? play with me? please I need it my fingers aren’t long enough and you said you’d play with me, I’m not even that drunk please Harry.”

Y/n didn’t care about the cameras in the hall that were probably picking up the audio, or how desperate and crazy she sounded, she needed his touch.

“Okay..Okay doll relax, let me do what I need to do and then I’ll join you alright?”

Y/n nodded and moved back behind the curtain, she took her original place sitting on the cool tile floor of spacious shower as he went to the bathroom before stripping down to his boxers and pulling the curtain back seeing the younger girl naked, legs spread a bit giving him a glimpse of how swollen and flushed between her legs was letting him know she was probably a bit too rough on herself when she got frustrated, which only made her problem worse.

Her tits sat perky on her chest, her nipples pebbled with water droplets running down over them before dripping off onto her thighs. Harry let out a low groan at the sight, “Have m’ boxers on just because I’m not gonna fuck ya’ , honestly don’t think I even can because I got whiskey dick right now. Need to lay off the booze so I can take care of you properly next time. Cmon, stand up sweetheart.”

Harry held his hand out to the girl who took it, standing on wobbly legs as he stepped in the shower with her, skin tight black boxers covering his goods which disappointed her a bit but she couldn’t care too much since there was so much else going on.

His big hands ran up and down her back, thumbs digging into the dimples right at the base of her spine as he pulled her closer to him, kissing down her neck, mumbling into her skin about how pretty she is, and promising he’s going to make her feel better.

“Pussy is all swollen doll, gotta be careful. Don’t want you to hurt yourself just ‘cause you get frustrated, that’s no fun…” His voice was deep, slow and made her stomach tense from how it vibrated through her getting a whimper and tug on his wet matted locks.

“Talk to me darling..tell me what you want, tell me what you need baby” his fingers were trailing downward, squeezing her ass and brushing his finger tips on the backs on her thighs. “need you to touch me, please put your fingers in me I need it”

Her voice was pathetic and she knew it, she was needy to the highest capacity and almost let a ‘daddy’ slip through her lips but she managed to bite her tongue just in time. Harry hummed as he brough his right hand around her front, moving it between her thighs and coaxing them open wider while he brushed two digits up and down her slit, mouthing at her neck while he gets a feel for her exterior, taking the vibrator from her hand and setting it down on the rack holding their shampoos and soaps while he tapped the pad of his middle finger against her entrance before sinking it in.

Her reaction was immediate. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a long relieved moan falling from her plush lips as he slipped a second one in with ease from how eager her body was. “Got t’ give me a minute to find tha’ special spot love, deep breaths don’t need ya’ passing out on me.” Harry was on a mission to find that spongey spot inside her that would have her cumming in no time, and Y/n was practically riding his fingers as she stood in his grip, her body going rigid when he pressed against the spot she needed the most attention on, mumbling a low “found it” as he pressed on it again, rubbing over it as he fucked his fingers in and out of the younger girl who was holding onto him for dear life as he massaged her G-spot with vigor.

“There you go, that’s a good girl Y/n you’re doin’ so good love, know you’re close can cum whenever you feel it. Know you need it baby, let go.”

Y/n could barely hear him as her body started to tingle, everything was muffled and her mind was hyper focused on the pleasure pulsing through her core. She was gearing up for a strong one, she hasn’t had one quite this big since the winter when she had a 4 week dry spell and finally got some action the day after Christmas, she soaked through the poor dudes sheets that night.

Her moans and gasps picked up, frequent bursts of pleasured moans passed her lips as she started to pant her nails digging into his tattooed shoulders while her held her to him so she didn’t fall.

“Doing so well, almost there huh? Almost there…” his fingers moved with purpose and unfaltering speed as he massaged her special spot faster, her legs becoming jelly as she started to cum. She couldn’t help the loud moan that shot out of her throat, Harry quickly grabbing the wash cloth and stuffing it in her mouth since he knew Ryan was here. He cooed in the girls ear, talking to her the entire time she was cumming feeling her cunt squeezing his digits while her own juices dribbled down his wrist.

She was dizzy, tired, spent and completely drained. She finally got what she needed and was now dead weight clinging to Harry who peppered her face with kisses as he withdrew his hand from her cunt rinsing her off down there and kissing her lips a few times.

“That was fucking amazing… god Harry you’re gonna make me fall in love with you with fingers like those…”

He only chuckled at her dazed comment before shutting the water off, wrapping the girl in a towel and sitting her down on the counter

“Lucky for you, you have all summer to do so, I might just be up for it too.”

[elizabeth-mitchells]

the only touchstone of truth

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 2:

There was something different about Marla that day. She wasn’t bored, she wasn’t idly waiting. She was waiting, true, but only because that was part of her plan. Standing behind her counter, her shop more or less back in shape, she wore a different blouse, higher heels, and a smile that sharpened, even more, when somebody came in. Marla sent a quick nod to Curtis, who had instructions on what to do. He pulled out his phone and walked away toward the storage room of the place.

“Marla,” the man greeted her with a perfectly polite and respectful tone that already started to crumble on his second sentence, “I wonder, what on Earth are you trying to do?”

“Mr. Nelson, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marla replied, “It’s a pleasure to have you visit us.” What an honor to have you millionaire, corporate, chain store, ugly ass step on my broken dreams physically this time.

“You cleaned up the store,” he sighed, looking around as if to take a hold of his emotions.

This promptly reminded the blonde of the couple of hours she spent with Curtis destroying her own shop and then putting it back together again. In the upcoming years, Marla would learn just how far she was capable of playing dirty, and many would accuse her of being unscrupulous, among worse adjectives, but nobody would ever dare call her lazy, that was for sure. With or without morals, Marla was an extremely hardworking woman, and she wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, for better or for worse. A practical habit that she cultivated during her days of playing fair, and kept, for some reason. Most likely because idleness simply went against her nature, and she had promised herself not to rest until she achieved her goals. 

“We did, yes. Lots of hard work,” the blonde nodded, “such a shame what happened.”

“Such a shame,” the man echoed the sentiment, speaking on autopilot, but when he focused his eyes on Marla again he was all ice. “You’re accusing us of doing it,” he said.

Purposefully, Marla gave him a deep shrug and another shark-like smile. “I believe it’s the police who marked your company as suspects,” she replied in a mockingly innocent tone.

“We didn’t do it. And the accusation is bad publicity for our business. Drop the lawsuit,” he ordered, his voice starting to shake just slightly. When Marla only shook her head slowly, he scoffed. “You’re nothing, Marla Gray,” he seethed, “Your little business is over. Why would we try to boycott you out of all people? You’re not even competition. Drop the lawsuit.”

“Grayson.”

“What?” he was still laughing with a combination of awkwardness and annoyance.

“My name is Marla Grayson,” she stated using the full power of the commanding nature that she knew she had, “and I will fight for this shop until the end.”

He scoffed again, clearly losing his patience. The man walked to the door of the store and back to the counter once, twice, until he calmed down and not quite looking Marla in the eyes, he offered, “Twenty thousand dollars, and you’ll drop the lawsuit.”

“No,” Marla denied it immediately and before she could fully think about how offensive the offer was, he continued.

“Fifty thousand, Marla,” he said, his face red and his voice trembling. It was a pretty number that put Marla at a crossroads between the attempt to feel offended and the impulse to just ask for more. Either way, that number would not do. She only tilted her head and her expression said it all. “A hundred thousand dollars, dammit! Final offer!”

At this point, Marla made it a point to pick up her vape pen and look as bored as possible. “Please get out of my store, Mr. Nelson. I’ll see you in court,” she concluded.

He shook his head, he was breathing heavily and wildly waved a finger in her direction. “No! This is not over,” he protested, “How dare you say no to me?! I’ll make you regret it, you know?” He made a pause and after seeing that his threat did nothing to disturb her, and in fact, she only exhaled the smoke in a terribly irritating way, he slammed his hands on the counter right in front of her, “Dammit just take the money!”

“I will not,” Marla fumed back at him, barely letting show a hint of her patience running out.

“And you better stop screaming.”

Both Marla and her unwanted guest hastily looked toward the door of the shop. There was Fran, casually leaning against the doorway, not so casually showing off her plaque. At first, the man didn’t even move from his place. But Fran let out a quick whistle and said, “This aggressive visit will not look on your case, Mr. Nelson.”

Finally, the big store owner groaned loudly and without even sparing either woman a word, he stormed away from the place for good.

This quick turn of events left Marla and Fran alone in the shop. Marla stayed behind the counter that she managed to handle like an equivalent to a throne, and Fran took a couple of effortless steps forward until she stood in the middle of the place, directing a small and easy smile at the other woman.

“I must say,” Fran started to say, “I didn’t expect to receive this ‘Marla needs help, come over right now’ text from a number, I assume, that isn’t yours.” She waved her phone once for emphasis.

“Personally, I don’t usually give my number to strangers,” Marla replied, earning herself a chuckle from Fran, who looked away for a second, but when their eyes met again, Marla was sincere as she said, “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Fran nodded, accepting her gratitude without making a big deal of it. This gave Marla an opportunity to study her again. Fran looked similar to what she did that night showing up to the shop after the staged attack. A ponytail holding on for dear life to wild hair that just begged to be freed, a more or less regular detective’s outfit that most likely wasn’t designed with the purpose of fitting Fran’s curves so scandalously well on every single right place. And then there was the way she simply stood in the middle of the store with immeasurable confidence. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to lean into, just her in an open space without any issue with Marla’s eyes glued to her. She wasn’t standing there like she owned the place, not exactly. It looked like she couldn’t care less about ownership, but her world consisted of only her, and she didn’t care enough about any authority to give them the power of deciding if she belonged or if she was out of place. Fran carried herself as if the rest of the world’s ideas of right or wrong were mere suggestions. Nothing sounded more appealing to Marla.

“You weren’t exactly in trouble though,” Fran contemplated, reluctantly breaking the silence, “you looked like you had it handled.”

“But you did scare him off,” Marla grinned.

“And you didn’t take the money.”

“Do I look like someone that would have taken the money?”

Fran laughed, because they both knew the answer to that question very well. She walked forward until she could lean her arms on the infamous counter, not quite in front of Marla, just a little to the side. “Maybe you should have,” she finally mused, “this might be bigger than you, gorgeous.”

This development in their interactions came with considerable consequences for Marla, who had underestimated the effect it would have on her to have Fran again standing so close to her. She wouldn’t back down though, she wouldn’t lose her higher ground, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Fran shook her to her core in a magnitude previously unknown to Marla. She couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer until it was obviously too late, so she stayed silent, picked up her pen, and after taking a drag she left it on the counter. This seemed to spark Fran’s attention, who had previously been content to just study Marla’s face from up close and during the daylight.

“So, are you going to offer me one of these,” the brunette wondered, lightly tapping with her fingertip the tip of the pen standing between them, “or a coffee… a drink… should you at least walk me to my car?”

“I will… walk you to your car,” Marla decided, after a quick and not exactly pleasant assessment of the situation. There was nothing she’d love more than to take Fran’s hand and either lead her out of that damned store or guide her to the other side of the locked door of her office. But there were already smoke signals in the air between them that she couldn’t ignore. This could be dangerous, this was possibly great, this was certainly bigger than either of them was accustomed to. Marla was stunned by the undeniable fact that she wasn’t sure how to handle Fran, and equally as unsettled but no less excited about the fact that she had no idea how Fran would handle her. She had no doubt they could handle each other, but until she felt completely confident in a perfect plan of action, she would have to see for how long and how much she could feed this ferocious and inexplicable fire that was burning between them.

As they approached Fran’s vehicle, Marla made two statements. “I will not take the money,” she said, followed by, “and that’s not a car.”

Fran winked, “My mistake.” She leaned back on the motorcycle and focused her attention on the blonde in front of her.

“I’m taking that asshole to court,” Marla managed to say, despite that unexpected and entirely alluring image of Fran standing just like that. She should have known that even the safest option among all that the brunette had offered would still come with a trick to test Marla’s hesitant boundaries.

“For something you did?”

“I’ll have to close either way,” Marla rolled her eyes, “He took me out of business. I have to take something from him. Something big.”

Fran tilted her head. “Do you have experience in court?” she wondered.

“I’m confident I can manage,” Marla smiled.

“Of course,” the other woman chuckled. “Though,” she added, “if only you had… an acquaintance, who happened to be knowledgeable in the shady alleyways of court and would be willing to give you a hand.”

Fran was barely done with her word when suddenly Marla was almost on top of her. Marla had moved quickly and swiftly, standing impossibly close to Fran, somehow not touching, but if any of them were to so much as breathe a little harder than usual their bodies would meet in all the right places. Which was maybe the reason Fran was suddenly holding her breath. Marla had placed both hands on the bike, on either side of Fran’s hips, trapping her in place, while holding her face just inches away from the other woman.

“What do you want,” Marla slowly asked, “Fran?”

“Why do you assume I want something?”

Being softly hit with Fran’s breath on her cheek was an unexpected consequence of Marla’s plan, but she held her ground. Very deliberately, one of her hands moved slowly and confidently to one of the back pockets of Fran’s pants. The brunette, to her credit, her only reaction was a noticeable clench of her jaw, but she stood still while Marla pulled out her phone and mercifully stepped away to let both of them breathe a little easier.

“Unlock it, I’ll save my number,” Marla held out Fran’s own phone for her and proceeded to follow through with her words. 

Fran got her heart rate almost back to normal as she watched Marla quickly tap the screen, and deciding the only right thing to possibly say at that moment was to answer Marla’s question, she said, “Give me a percentage of the money you’ll make with the lawsuit. So I can finally quit the police.”

Beyond pleased with that answer, Marla bit her lip for a moment then returned the phone. “And here I thought you were just trying to have dinner with me,” she said to Fran right before walking away from her, but not before looking back just in time to catch the other woman staring, and adding a final smile she threw over her shoulder, “See you soon, Fran.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian!

--

Caduceus Clay is finally starting to find his feet in the city, ever since he moved away from the family graveyard. He's opened his own cafe, he's found his own friends, he's found the freedom he's been looking for.

However, with his cafe growing, he's realised he needs an assistant. Fortunately, his friends know someone who would be perfect- Fjord, back in town and looking for a job before he can go out on the ocean again.

And things get complicated from there.

---

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3!

---

Caduceus didn’t know how to have friends.

He knew how to have siblings. How to love and hate them with the same ferocity and at the same time, for how they reflected your own flaws back at you and made you laugh so hard you didn’t think your jaw would ever be the same again. He knew how to have parents. To have them hold your face and tell you they loved you so deeply and sincerely you thought your heart might burst and then have them make decisions you couldn’t understand. He knew how to have family.

But Caduceus did not know how to have friends.

That hadn’t worried him too much when he’d first moved out of the grove and into the city. The only thing he’d been concerned with then was getting to be himself. Learning how to be alone, finally of his own free will. Silence by choice.

And he’d managed that. Hours and hours of silence, in the tiny apartment he’d rented and then made even tinier by stuffing it full of plants. And, after he’d eventually figured out how banks worked, silence in the storefront he’d bought, with the sagging roof and the warped flooring and the rats. Hours and hours of silence, broken only by his sawing and hammering and holding long conversations with the rats, promising to drive them up to the woods and find them new nests.

And finally, silence after a long, long day in his cafe, called the Blooming Grove in a fit of questionable humour, the silence that fell after the bell rang out at the retreating back of the last customer, the silence that wasn’t really a silence because the coffee machine would always be humming, the ovens grumbling, the clink of mugs as he washed them one by one, the music he’d play and keep on as he closed up.

But then something happened that surprised Caduceus, as much as his own contentment had.

Friends found him. And they taught him how it was done.

“That’s the third yawn you’ve stifled behind a mug today, Caduceus.”

Caleb had a habit of stating his observations aloud, often not realising what he was observing was something another person was trying to hide. It was endearing in its way, except when you were that person.

“Another late night?” Molly stood next to Caleb, as always. Lately the two had been impossible to separate, ever since they’d officially become an item after making eyes at each other for months, all while insisting there was no way the other would ever be into someone like them. Caleb’s arm, threaded through Molly’s, the tielfing’s head resting lightly on top of the human’s, proved that they’d kind of been idiots about the whole thing.

“Not that late,” Caduceus shrugged and busied himself with the pair’s drink orders. He’d memorised them both, of course, but if he looked like he was concentrating maybe they’d stop asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. Not that it didn’t brighten his day when his friends came in- which happened every day- but he knew where this was leading.

Caduceus wandered down to where his counter turned into the domain of two immense hulking beasts of steel and copper, his drinks machines, cantankerous old things that would only work for him. He began pressing buttons and twisting dials like he was playing a very broken organ, trying to appear busy. Unfortunately, Molly followed him down, Caleb in tow, peering over the glass cloches full of the day’s baked goods.

“Was it last night? Or technically this morning?” he pressed, concern in his voice.

Cad pulled a lever down, sending up a gout of caffeine scented steam, and sighed. He didn’t like to lie. But he also didn’t like the discussion the truth would invite. So he said nothing.

He focused on the coffees instead. Dark as sin for Caleb, with a number of espresso shots that made him feel guilty for his part in his friend’s inevitable early grave, no sugar at all because his stomach couldn’t process it properly. Spoonfuls of cinnamon and chai spice in Molly’s along with generous spoonfuls of caramel just on the verge of burnt and clouds of whipped cream so the drink was bitter, spicy, sweet and rich all at once.

The tiefling clearly did not appreciate being ignored and wouldn’t let it stop him. He leaned forward, over the box of lemon and poppyseed cake bars that weren’t selling as well as Cad had hoped, like not getting the firbolg’s attention was the problem.

“Cad, you are going to run yourself into the ground if you keep on like this,” he said seriously, red eyes narrowed, “This place is getting bigger, which is great, but if you keep trying to run it single handedly, pretty soon you’ll be getting no sleep at all and you’ll die and we’ll have to bury you here.”

Cad frowned, setting their mugs on the counter above the ‘Collect Here’ sign, “This isn’t where I want to be buried…”

“Then hire an assistant!” Molly threw his hands in the air, making his bangles and bracelets clatter, “Like I’ve been telling you over and over and I know Beau and Jester and Yasha have been telling you too!”

“I don’t need an assistant,” Cad’s ears dropped and he folded his skinny arms defensively across his chest, “You have all told me and I’ve told you all the same thing.”

Molly rolled his eyes with a noise of frustration but Caleb piped up instead, voice quiet and soft, like every word was carefully chosen before he said it, “We are just worried about you, Caduceus.”

Cad’s shoulders fell, some of the tension leaving them, “I know.”

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t say their worry was unfounded. It was getting difficult, as his cafe became more and more popular, particularly with the students from the Academy nearby, particularly non humans who found their tastes weren’t catered to elsewhere in the city. There were new faces every day, new people to talk to and new stories to learn, though of course there would always be that knot of colourful students who had piled into the booth on that first day and showed Caduceus how to have friends.

Whereas before he’d have fiddled with his machines and idly tweaking recipes to fill the hours, there were now some days where he didn’t even sit down until the sign on the door had been turned over. Fixing drinks behind the counter, taking food orders and running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables, trying desperately not to knock anything over and keeping track of what went where with an elaborate system of scrawled notes that would be incomprehensible to anyone but him. Loading dirty dishes into the washer, bussing tables, watering plants and rotating them around so the ones that needed shade got shade and the ones that needed sun got sun, talking to the ones that were lonely and scolding the ones that had been greedy. Prep for the dishes, cutting vegetables when he inevitably didn’t make enough in the hours before opening, keeping track of when to take the fresh pastries out and when to turn the things under the grill and when he could spare a second to run and get a band aid to put on his burns or cuts.

It all needed to be done. And yes, sometimes it took so much time that he didn’t get back to his apartment before it was technically tomorrow.

“You guys are sweet to worry,” he conceded, palms flat on the counter, fingers stroking all the nicks and scratches in the old wood, sanded down smooth, it always made him feel better, “But it’s just...adjustment. Pretty soon I’ll get used to it or it’ll level off and things will be fine again. I’ll get a handle on it.”

He was met by two disbelieving gazes, Molly’s open and challenging, Caleb’s mixed with worry.

Cad felt a bitterness rise in his throat, the need to snap and pout and insist that he could do it, though stares like that weren’t helping, no matter how many people thought he should spend the rest of his life alone in a graveyard, keeping it nice and clean for whenever his family decided to come home and pat him on the head for being such a good boy.

But he stopped himself, leaning back and inhaling deeply, the way he’d learned to do. He thought he’d left thoughts like that behind…

Either way, Molly and Caleb didn’t deserve those words. He knew their concern came from a good place.

That was part of having friends, he’d learned. They would say things you didn't agree with because they were worried about you. The big difference between them and your family was you weren’t obliged to do as they said.

You could just appreciate the fact that they cared.

“Things will fall into place,” Cad said with confidence, clearing the tiredness from his voice and making himself stand up straight with bright eyes, “They will. I’ve gotten this far.”

Molly looked like he wanted to argue more but Caleb squeezed the crook of his arm and spoke first, “We know, Caduceus. And you know we’re here if you need help.”

Cad nodded slowly, mollified and already ashamed for his own thoughts, “Thank you. Enjoy your drinks.”

Caleb gave him a small smile behind his beard. Caduceus often got the sensation that he understood him most, out of all their ramshackle little group. Molly didn’t seem as pleased but he relented, as he always did when his boyfriend asked anything of him. The two of them retreated to the table they always took when they were on one of their post-Caleb’s-classes dates and Cad turned back to his work.

He already had more customers waiting.

It seemed simultaneously like no time at all and an eternity before the windows were letting in the burnt orange of the sunset and Cad could turn the sign over.

As he turned to the empty cafe, he was already making a list of jobs in his head. Take in the dishes still sat hastily piled on the tables, wipe them down, wash the crockery all through in the kitchen, sweep the floor, mop, get the ingredients ready for tomorrow…

Cad sighed and hung up his cooking apron behind the counter and pulled out his cleaning one instead, trying to click his neck and back and win himself a few more hours before they became unusable. Tomorrow, he told himself firmly as he went to change the music to something more suited to his tastes, he’d be able to tell his friends that he was home and in bed by eleven.

He found a song he liked with far too many panpipes to be suitable for his customers and tucked his long braid into the back of his shirt to keep it out of the way. The list in his mind was still growing so he’d need to make a start soon.

First, he let himself have a sit down on the few tables surrounded by sagging, comfortable sofas. Just for a few minutes, just to reset the deep, throbbing ache in his ankles. Then he’d be up, get everything done and be home in time to do some sewing. Things falling into place, just like he’d promised.

The next thing Caduceus was aware of was his eyes opening to the sound of cars blasting horns outside and harsh morning sun hitting him right in the face. He winced, curling himself up like a woodlouse that just had it’s log pulled out from above it, though he found himself tipping too far over and hitting his head with a thunk on the arm of the sofa. Groaning, he wrapped his arms over his head, ninety per cent of his thoughts bubbling up in frantic panic at just how much stuff was now undone for the start of the day and how he had no time to do it at all.

The remaining ten percent was in some state of mania induced calm, humming that at least he could confidently tell Molly he’d been asleep way before eleven. Even if he hadn’t been in bed.

Before the panic could swallow him completely, one of the strings of ivy he’d allowed to grow through a specially made net across the ceiling stretched out it’s longest frond, just above his head, and tickled his nose pointedly.

“Yeah…” Cad groaned to the plant, knowing very well who was sending him this particular message. Someone he really did need to listen to, “I get the idea.”

The day after next, all of his friends found themselves at their usual table, the biggest in the place, an oaken monstrosity backed by benches rather than chairs that Cad had rescued from a garage sale and revarnished. It was a little rare to see absolutely all of them together, with everything going on in their lives but every so often things would align just right. Beau and Caleb would have an afternoon off their classes, Molly and Yasha would be able to duck out of work early if there was a show that evening, Veth would leave her husband in charge of the lab and Jester would just float in on her usual cloud of bustle and low level chaos from doing whatever she’d been doing. They’d all sit and that corner of the cafe would be filled with laughter and loud conversation, a lot of it the well intended insults of bone deep friendship.

Often Cad would wish he could be over with them. He’d go and say hello, of course, but there would always be things that needed doing, things that would keep him from sitting down and really feeling part of them.

But not today. Today, as soon as they all gravitated together, Caduceus cleared the last of his customers still waiting, saw them off with whatever they needed and one of his broad smiles, then slipped out from behind the counter and sank into the chair they always left open for him, even if he was too busy to occupy it.

All of their eyes turned to him, surprised and happy and a little confused. Before any of them could open their mouths, he sighed and looked down at his hands.

“I need an assistant. Do you guys know anyone?”

There were a lot of relieved exhalations, Molly rolling his eyes and Caleb nudging him with an elbow, Jester’s face brightening as she gasped and slapped the table repeatedly in excitement.

“Oh! Oh! We do! We know someone who’d be perfect!”

Beau caught on, she had a knack for interpreting her girlfriend’s bursts of energy, “Ahhh...you know what, I think he would be ideal actually.”

“Who?” Caduceus was already starting to fidget, fingers drumming.

“A friend of ours,” Beau stirred her ice coffee, “He is...or was, I guess, a sailor. But his contract’s up and he’s looking to spend a little time on dry land. Needs a way to pay the rent until he can get a thingy on another ship.”

“Berth,” Caleb piped up from where he was eating a beetroot brownie while pulling it apart into crumbs, “It’s a berth on a ship.”

“Yeah,” Beau waved her fingers in his direction, “One of those.”

Cad nodded slowly. If he was a friend of his friends, surely it wouldn’t be so bad. That must be someone he could trust to water the plants and man the counter and look after the place he’d built from the ground up and represented his first chance at real freedom.

He took a deep breath, the drumming getting worse, “What’s his name? Maybe we can talk...I mean, maybe a trial period or...or something...”

Jester already had her phone out, fingers tapping energetically on the keys, grinning to herself and talking animatedly about how great this all was. Beau smiled fondly at her and turned to answer.

“Your new assistant is called Fjord.”

[suhmayzooka]

cursed child broadway, feb. 23, 2020

third time seeing cc in three months for one reason: my sister is, in her words, “in love with joey labrasca” (karl).  she thinks he’s absolutely perfect.  this past week i’ve endured her talking about how hot he is.  i mean, i’ve gotten quite a bit of good lily luna material for my fics now, but at what expense? did i need to know that joey’s (very mild) acne made him look handsomer? did i need to know about how deep his eyes are? did I?

i teased her about what she’d do if he wasn’t on, and she said she’d be so upset.  

we get to the theatre, i look at the cast…and james romney was karl.

my sister was shocked.  the love of her life, who most likely has forgotten about her existence, wasn’t there for what looks to be our final time seeing the year 2 cast.  she was devastated.

we also got to see antoinette robinson as hermione and tom patrick stephens as ron!  and sarita amani nash was myrtle!!  and kimberly dodson as polly!!

james!karl was great and i will bombard my sister with as much james romney content as i can in order to piss her off further :)

patrick du laney was the sorting hat and aaron bartz was the station master.  we actually saw aaron walking into the theatre as we waited outside for part 2.  he definitely has the draco swagger.

anyway let’s get to the good stuff!

~james snyder as harry! great as usual. i don’t think he did much differently than last time, or if he did it wasn’t very noticeable.

~diane davis as ginny – same w james.  i think she held on to albus longer when they hug in godric’s hollow this time?

~jonno roberts as draco: okay this guy singlehandedly inspired me to start a fic back in december (that has…….yet to be finished………) with how his draco and bubba’s scorpius behaved and this was no exception.  idk whether his mic got caught on something or if he was really bringing it all out, but when he shoves scorpius’s head against his desk in the dark world, he GROWLED the “you do NOT use her name in vain” line ???? i’ve never heard him say it like that, it’s usually more of a hiss.  idk how to describe how he said it other than “growl.” almost like an animal.

then when he said “do it safely, i can’t lose you too” he’s looking directly at scorpius.  it’s different from how i’m used to seeing him and closer how i picture him saying it; usually he’s looking away, like he’s afraid of showing vulnerability to scorpius.  but here, with him looking directly at him, and said with so much emotion and love, even in such a dark place…oOOF

he refused to let go of scorpius when they met again in godric’s hollow.  my heart…..always one arm around scorpius’s shoulders, or one hand on his chest, as scorpius clings on to him.

~kimberly!polly SMILED and giggled when she stepped in blood? “oh, potter, i’ve got blood on my shoe!” *delighted* and then as the staircase rolled away, she turned on her stomach to gaze down at scorpius, grinning flirtatiously.  this is my second time seeing her as polly, but from what i remember, katherine!polly wasn’t as sadistic in the dark au as she was.  i personally prefer kimberly!polly.

~sarita!myrtle!! like w kimberly!polly this is my second time seeing sarita!myrtle and i don’t really remember much about lauren!myrtle to compare, but sarita!myrtle was hilarious.  she got a round of applause just for appearing.  “girls….*turns around, stares directly @ albus* AND BOYS” *albus turns around, confused, as if she’s talking to someone behind him* UGHHH she’s so good and she’ll absolutely kill it as (main) polly, i can feel it.

~this was my first time seeing jack pravda as young harry! his voice is deeper than zell’s, and he was so adorably confused in the graveyard scene.  “why are there so many flowers?”

~antoinette!hermione was a lot less playful than jenny!hermione.  she does try for comedic effect, but she’s a bit more serious overall.  she was so scary in the first timeline!  when she waves her wand to dismiss the class and she’s standing all alone, she looks out with such a distant, despairing expression, then composes herself immediately. 

~tom!ron was very funny!  again, my issue with ron in cc comes down to how he was written.  he may have been relegated to shitty comic relief (why……is one of the first things he says……a fart joke…..?), but it’s up to the actors do what they can to flesh out some semblance of a likeable character from the bs that the script gave us.  and tom!ron was great!! he’s not as…dopey? dorky? as matt!ron, who’s very funny but a bit—childish? i guess? tom!ron feels more like an adult who still has a childish sense of humor, if that makes sense.

~ROMIONE.  watching a new take on romione was like falling in love w romione all over again.  tom/antoinette was a very loving pair.  jenny/matt tease each other a lot more, but tom/antoinette are more tactile.  their kiss was so sweet

~there’s hardly any love for sara farb’s delphi for some reason. i’m not sure why; her shift from delphi diggory to delphi riddle is so chilling. delphi diggory has a high pitched voice and is really goofy around albus.  scorpius absolutely hates her lmao.  as soon as she switches, her voice drops to a low growl and she’s downright terrifying.  i’m sad to see her go!

~WILL CARLYON.  is it possible to fall in love with the portrayal of a character in a handful of scenes? he’s got like five lines total but oh my god.  one thing a lot of people note about nicholas!albus is the way he’s so obviously a fourteen-year-old child.  will’s james sirius potter is SUCH a thirteen-year-old in the opening scene…it’s somewhat disconcerting watching this very-obviously-twenty-something-year-old man flap his arms going “WATCH OUTTT FOR THE THESTTRRAAAAAAALS” but it works? it’s believable?? he’s so close with lily luna.  this is my third time seeing him and every time he pretends to pounce on her and hug her during the thestral line i fall in love?? ginny scolds him and he is sheepish, but he won’t stop making the troll face at albus.  “SLITHERING SLYTHERIN STOP WITH YOUR DITHERING” *smacks albus*

~yeah i promised jsp content and i’m fucking delivering

~he’s sO excited watching albus get sorted. when the hat goes “SLYTHERIN” he’s absolutely shocked.  he’s confused.  he just stares at albus, confused, until yann (jonathan gordon, who once again gives us a delightfully dislikable yann) says some shit and james just turns to him and swats his hand at him.  he genuinely looked ready to fight yann.  i couldn’t tell but i think he tells him to stop?? it was hard to hear but his mouth definitely moved, i think to tell yann to cut it out.

~the scene with the students eavesdropping on mcgonagall’s meeting with the parents.  oh my god i don’t think he did anything that much differently than last time but i need to talk about this because i didn’t do it justice in my last recap.

~they sit on the stairs (iirc) top to bottom craig, yann, karl, rose, james.  i’m gonna ignore craig, yann, and karl since there are some serious family feels going on w rose and james

~jsp and rose begin the scene smiling, snickering as they hear that albus and scorpius fucked up.  “ahaha they got into deep shit” but then when they learn that they wrote rose and hugo (??whom??) out of time and then killed harry, their faces fall.  james’s eyes become vacant, far-off as he learns what happened to his brother.  his breathing becomes heavier and faster until he’s a few breaths from hyperventilating.  he leans his forehead against the stairwell/banister and shakes his head, mouthing/whispering “no…no…”

~nadia brown’s rose is such a little shit but she’s so good in this scene.  when she learns that she didn’t exist in the new timeline, she grabs james’s shoulder and he grabs her hand.  they don’t let go for the rest of the scene.

~i’m like half convinced that will got the part because of his amazingly expressive eyebrows.  i think my sister calls it “back row acting?” his eyebrows can probably be seen from the back row.  after the mcgonagall scene is over he sits on the stairs, raising one eyebrow at rose and hermione, then goes back to reading the scroll.

~i didn’t mean for this to become a will carlyon fan account but he deserves it.  according to nicholas he’s the biggest potterhead in the cast. he’s a ravenclaw. he can sing.  he’s so fucking valid and i’m so glad he’s staying for year 3.  he’s got two followers on youtube and one of them is me.  please guys like no one talks about him and i’ll fill this niche.  same with the lovely sarita. she’s so kind and so beautiful and so talented she can sing so well and she gives everything during wand dance listen i spent the beginning of this thing making fun of my sister for liking joey so much but sarita……..

~cc nyc said straight girl/lesbian solidarity  

~anyway…

~nicholas podany as albus.  so. Many. Tears.  i didn’t realize this before but his whole body trembles when he cries?? i first noticed this when he and harry were in the slytherin common room.  i was like “are his pajamas vibrating?? is this an optical illusion (they’re striped pajamas)???” no, his whole body was shaking with suppressed crying.  once i noticed i couldn’t un-notice and this continued for the rest of the show.

~bubba weiler’s scorpius didn’t seem much different from usual? i could go on about him but….that’s what my unfinished fic is for……one day……….

~okay so this is where i elaborate on the scorbus moments that made me want to YEET myself off the roof of the theatre (if you had to make sense of my typos on discord: i am Sorry)

~the slytherin dorm scene: scorpius tickles albus to wake him up.  he then makes himself comfortable on albus’s bed and won’t stop rubbing and patting his thigh.

~in addition to being austistic, bubba!scorp is bisexual (jon case would be proud) and here is PROOF: to flirt, bubba!scorpius leans against objects, sprawls his body out, plays with his hair, etc all extremely cheesy, greasy, suave moves.  he blows a kiss to polly as he’s sprawled across the stairs.  when he ROLLS down the stairs (looked painful…) to see rose at the end, he plays with his hair, shoots her a finger gun (further proof he’s bi), and lowers his voice.  but the comparison i need to highlight is THIS: when he says rose smells like bread, (1) he leans against the suitcases, trying to look suave, and (2) his face is instant regret. he silently bends back and mouths “WHAT WHY BREAD?? WHAT??? WHY???” and now…when he delivers his “ENGORGIMPRESSED” line to albus, he (1) leans against the sink, (2) grins, lowering his voice, and when the pun doesn’t land, (3) his face immediately falls, instant regret, the literal definition of “oH MY GOD WHAT WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT” the same expression he had when rose wasn’t impressed.  coincidence? i think NOT.  he’s trying so hard to flirt but he has no idea how to interact w people im --

~delphi in the church: when the adults have all surrounded delphi with their magic in the center of the stage, albus, ginny, and scorpius are huddled together. scorpius is behind albus, clutching his shoulder and hand.  albus breaks free for “SHE’S A MURDERER I’VE SEEN HER MURDER” (an underappreciated line imo) and scorpius just watches him, clearly wanting to help but not knowing how

~the final hug.  my initial, endorphin-fueled reaction was, verbatim: “THE FUNAL HUG NSCWR SEEN IR LAST SO LLNG NEVER SAW NICJ HUG HIM BACK NOSES ALMOST TOYCHONF.”  not even this is enough to convey my reaction to the final hug, but i’ll try my best to transcribe it.  

scorpius: runs up the stairs, grabs albus into a hug

albus: stunned for a moment, then wraps his arms around scorpius’s shoulders and hugs him back, burying his face into the crook of scorpius’s neck.  this is the first time i’ve seen him hug back, at least so fiercely.  they stand there for a good 3-5 seconds, then albus says, quietly, “what’s this? i thought we didn’t hug.”

scorpius, pulling back but still close to albus: “i wasn’t sure whether we should…” *looks up at albus, literal inches from his face* “in this new version of us…” *more gazing into each other’s eyes for a few seconds*

albus: “well…you better ask rose if it’s the right thing to do…” he sounded unsure? not as playful as before?

scorpius: *stares at albus for a few seconds* “a..aaha………..yeah right!”

he turns around and runs down the stairs.  albus goes “i’ll see you at dinner!” and scorpius turns around, smiles at him, and walks off, albus grinning and gazing so lovingly as he departs i’m gonna c r y

i can’t think of anything else to say about the show itself?  but my sister has given me a lot of material so i’m gonna talk about what went on with her because it’s relevant to our stage door interactions.

as we ate, she described how she would rewrite cc.  she has valid and absolutely invalid suggestions.  she would keep the father/son issues, make scorbus canon, remove or rewrite rose, and rewrite delphi’s backstory (valid).  she would remove the sorting hat and the dark timeline (not valid).  

during the intermission between acts 3 and 4, we started looking through the playbill and she started gossiping/venting about how much she hates the people in her school’s theatre (valid, since they’re bullying assholes).  i brought up a meme i sent her that i saw on twitter about how no high school theatre guys can sing, act, dance, and not be sexist.  somehow this discussion went back to nicholas podany? she was like, “i’ve been listening to his songs and deep blue is a low-key bop.” i asked if she heard his most recent song, telling myself.  she hadn’t and she immediately went to soundcloud to listen to it.  her reaction was PRICELESS.  she absolutely adored it.  she was dancing in her seat, going “okay this is actually really good??” like ofc it is? i don’t recommend bad songs? she tried to replay it but then her data ran out and the lyric theatre wifi is shit so she got very upset.  then the lights turned off and she reluctantly took out her earbuds.

there was a little girl (around 6-7ish, i’d say) in the very first row dressed as hermione for part one--complete with a doll and a broom.  for part two she was wearing a hedwig costume that looked homemade! she was very adorable, and bubba waved hello to her when he came for the curtain call.

stage door:

~sarita came out first! we told her that this was our third time at the show and second time seeing her.  i congratulated her on being cast as polly and she was so happy! dare i say…..loml

~tom and antoinette were so happy to have been the first cover romione we saw! tom was like “ah, you saw the best ron (himself)!” we were in front of a man from the uk who had seen the london show five times, and he and tom struck up a conversation about where they were from.

~nadia brown was so happy to see us! she didn’t remember us lmao but she’s so friendly

~edward james hyland (amos/dumbledore) was…politically campaigning?? the people in front of us were from vermont and he was like “ah…vermont…do you support bernie??” just like that.  they were caught off guard but i think they gave an affirmative answer, and he was like “and if he doesn’t get the nomination…?” they were still caught off guard and he just went “you’ll vote blue, right…? cause it’s the right thing to do….?” idk i’m firmly liberal but i thought this was a weird place to get political but okay

~EVERYONE was telling nicholas podany about how much they love telling myself.  he was telling the people in front of us about how it was mastered/mixed by solange’s producer(?) and my sister and i exchanged :0 looks.  she was getting shy, but i was like “tell him! he’ll love to talk about it, i guarantee it!” because even though i produce 0 content, i *am* an artist and i *do* know that we artists love validation

~so he came to us and she started talking about his songs! we’re fortunate that it was a more rock-y song so we’re…able to sound like we know what we’re talking about lmao.  growing up our mom would play us classical music (check out beethoven’s wig yo) and our dad would play us the ramones.  one of my earliest memories was arguing with my sister (probably around 4 at the time) about the lyrics to “i wanna be sedated” ahh… (she was correct btw)

~(don’t argue with me the ramones may not be poets but they’re valid)

~i was right! he was SO excited to talk to us!! my sister complimented the song and the production.  she said “i ADORE your new song!! it’s a high key bop!” and he broke into the BIGGEST smile.  she was like “i’m gonna play it until i hate it” and he said something along the lines of “i was in the studio listening to it nonstop for 8(??) hours i can’t stand it.”  he was talking about how he made the song with his “own scorpius” but i forgot who…he said scorpius and my mind blanked lmao.  he’s brought this person up before in interviews so i can probably find it.  she complimented the fact that it was different from his usual stuff and he told us about how he had a rock band in high school.  @nick where tf is your rock content pls deliver

~i actually spoke this time and cut in to tell him about how she was trying to listen to it on repeat but the signal gave out. she was trying to tell me to shut up but it’s my legal duty as the older sister to embarrass her.  

me: “I told her about your song during the intermission—”

her: “don’t!”

me: “no, nO, i told her and she was listening and then she ran out of data—”

him: “aaAa noo!”

her: “I listened to it!”

~then i told him that we loved seeing how he played albus and that we’re going to miss him, that we were going to see the cast change show but we couldn’t get tickets (i kindly left off the reason why), and he was so sweet about it *clenches heart* he told us how much he loves being able to experience this, that we’ll be so lucky to have james romney take over, etc etc i kinda wasn’t listening bc I was too emo, but I remember going “…but I don’t want to say goodbye…” and he just. gave me a sad look like “I know.”  there was so much pity in his expression.  why is he leaving us.

~the uk guy behind us was talking about how he’d seen the london year 3 and 4.  nicholas was like “oh, joe and dom? yeah i’ve spoken to joe and dom—wait, no, i haven’t met dom? i know he has an impressive social media presence” and they started talking about how different actors bring different things to albus and how the show allows them to explore different aspects to their characters and he just…wasn’t making any of this any easier for me lmao i’m mourning the loss of nick!albus and it’s not even march

~i feel bad that we weren’t able to speak with fiona reid (petunia/umbridge) because nicholas was talking to us.  

~jonno roberts.  this was the first time i’ve interacted w him at sd.  his draco has made such an impact on me, he’s my favorite actor in the show, and what do i say? what great words come out of my mouth? “hi you were great.” my sister KICKED me with her heeled boots. good thing i’m a lesbian because my doc martens protected my feet from the force of her anger.

~james snyder was enraptured in conversation with the people in front of us and just took our playbills to sign as he spoke with them. then he went “hi,” passed over us to talk to the guy behind us.  my sister was like “you were great!”

~tbh sd was kinda messy bc we were at the end of the line and the barrier things didn’t allow for the actors to get enough room to interact with the fans at the back. also jonno was standing there and he’s not a small man.

~saw several male actors leaving sd, waving goodbye at us and just walking away.  MOOD.  i was exhausted and i wasn’t the one running around on stage!

[hollandroos]

just to see you smile | peter parker

summary: you and your boyfriend are in europe for a school trip and you sneak into his and neds room.

words: 1.1k

warnings: none, it’s all fluff

a/n: this was inspired by the far from home trailer!! i wrote it on my phone so there are no capital letters.

“you’re such an idiot, did you even pack your toothbrush?”

peter furrows his brows together, trying to remember what he chucked into the large suitcase just yesterday. “uhh… i think so?”

you laugh and rummage through the boy's bag, attempting to find even one jacket besides the one he was wearing himself. peter was known for forever being in a hurry, throwing things together instead of making sure he was prepared.

that was one of the reasons you worried so much about him being spider-man, especially after the events just a few months ago.

peter didn’t like to admit it out loud but he was still riddled with persistent nightmares and fears that he’d have to relive everything he did right from the point where he was thrown into outer space to seeing Tony Stark turn into nothing but ash.

but peter parker as determined and selfless as he was had made you promise not to bring up the events of the past starting the second you landed. you planned to stick to that promise.

outside, europe waited for you both in all its glory. your trip was planned in great detail, with a different activity each day to keep you both occupied. for you, this wasn’t just a school trip but another step in your relationship.

“oh so i see you remembered the toothbrush but not the toothpaste.” you hold up the plastic stick and shake your head at him. “smart, parker. real smart.”

knowing you were ever so sarcastic, your boyfriend takes the toothbrush from you and chucks it back into his suitcase. “oh and i can’t wait to see what you forgot.”

“bold of you to assume that i forgot anything. i’m prepared… unlike someone here.” you raise a brow in suggestion and gaze up. from your spot on the floor, you could make out a hint of adoration in his coffee coloured eyes, laced with swirls of amusement and affection.

you didn’t realise it then but you’d left your hairbrush at home.

you knew that you’d get in trouble for sneaking into his room but ned wasn’t going to say anything- wherever he was and honestly? you didn’t expect the teachers to be knocking down the doors at nine pm.

besides, all you were going to do was have a few laughs and hopefully catch up on some rest.

peter stood a few feet away above you with his phone in hand right after sending may a text. you knew it was may because he’d previously chuckled about something she’d said. you liked seeing him happy like this, carefree and content.

“you’re staring at me.”

you blink and screw up your face, nearly missing the way his cheeks flushed red. after a long flight, you both looked exhausted, dark circles lined the area beneath both of his eyes and his cheeks looked drawn but maybe that was from a few nights of missed sleep. at that moment, you couldn’t think about it twice.

your hand rested on his open suitcase, right on top of the spider-man suit and you grasp the material, feeling web shooters beneath them.

“i am not.” you defend yourself.

“you are, and that usually means that you’re thinking.” peter gets down in front of you and crosses his legs, sitting right beside the discarded suitcase holding items of clothing you had yet to steal. he strokes the area just above your brows once where a crease had formed. “what’s going on inside my loves head?”

his simple action was enough to make you relax- somehow even more then you already were. peter may be clumsy but he was also gentle in the way he spoke, moved and touched when he was around you.

if he tried hard enough, every small circle drawn on your arm or stomach or ever gentle twirl or your hair could feel like nothing more then being brushed by a butterfly. you ease closer to him until your knees are touching, hands laced. outside the streets hurl into chaos as taxis force their way through traffic and men and women shout between streets.

“we’ve been together for two years and i still love you as much as i did the day i said i love you for the very first time.” you speak over the chanting of teens down the hotel halls. “you still have every inch of my heart and there is no one else i’d rather be here with right now.”

peter feels his chest swell with love, corners of his lips curling up and in his back pocket his phone vibrates only once but he ignores it.

“and here i was thinking you were thinking about something serious.” he shakes his head playfully and presses a kiss to the side of your face. they say actions spoke louder then words.

“this is serious!” you exclaim. “I’m proclaiming my love for you despite having done it yesterday too.”

peter throws his head back in laughter, thumb running circles across your knuckles and you smile, small creases forming beneath your eyes in the darkened room illuminated by street lights and a dull, overhanging bulb.

“pretty girl, you proclaim your love to me every single day and i never get tired of it. you’re a huge sap.” he brings a hand away and you almost whine at the loss of contact before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “by the way, i love you too.”

you raise a brow and inch your face closer, basking in the fact that for the first time today there were no teachers staring you both down, waiting for one of you to step out of line so they could scold you.

“do you though?”

peter gasps in faux offence and places a hand over his chest. the smell of mint settles between you. but still, peter smiles a real smile.

“are you questioning my love?”

“depends, are you insulting my romantic gestures?” you tease.

peters lips come down, soft and gentle at first as they run over your own only barely before he captures them in a love filled kiss. the taste of his mint gum lingered on his lips and yours too, but from the piece you stole from his back pocket when he wasn’t paying attention.

fun fact: he was paying attention and he was aware of your hand snacking into his pocket. at first, he thought you were using it as leverage to pull him closer for a much-needed hug but soon noticed you popping a piece into your mouth.

the gum wasn’t important- despite the fact that he had bought mint over strawberry knowing it was your favourite.

you truly loved him and you’d tell him every day if it meant giving him something to smile about.

-

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[nebulous-frog]

Not-So-Straight Best Friends

Summary: Based off this post from @pseudophan. Basically, what if Dan and Phil really were queerbaiting us this whole time but suddenly they realized they were in love?

Word Count: 1832

Genre: Getting Together, AU, crack!fic (ish? idek man)

Warnings: Vague descriptions of queerbaiting, swearing, dumbassery, first kiss... honestly idek

Author’s Note: I literally just wrote this in like. An hour or something? Hour and a half? on my phone and then found my laptop to post it. Not entirely sure what this is, pretty sure I was possessed when I started writing, but now we’re here I guess lmao

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

When Dan and Phil first started talking, it was because Dan genuinely wanted editing tips from Phil.

They pretended they became friends after that from a shared interest in Muse, but it really wasn’t anything like that. Instead, their friendship formed from a shared love of sports. The first time they met each other in person, they went out for beers at a pub in Manchester and then kicked a football around at Phil’s place. They didn’t hug, they didn’t have an emotional moment. They did a manly handshake and carried on. That night, Dan slept on the floor, a respectful, definitely-straight, no-homo-possible distance from Phil.

Years down the line, they wouldn’t remember whose idea it was. Dan would suggest it was Phil’s, since Phil was the one who knew about publicity already, but Phil would suggest it was Dan’s, since he was so keen on being friends in the first place. Whoever started it, they had long ago decided to pretend to be in a relationship that they were intentionally hiding from their audiences.

They created imaginary stories and scenarios and sent them out to the public, watching as their fans ate up every last bit of the fake relationship.

It was all an elaborate ruse to keep fans invested and draw in a wider audience. They even made their personas intentionally nerdy to really grasp the attention of a specific demographic.

To really sell it, they went on a few holidays together and tweeted about each other all the time. Eventually, they moved in together, partly maintain the shady lie.

But it wasn’t all a lie. They really were best friends and did everything together, just as any other guy best friends would do. They knew each other’s favorite athletes, attended sporting events together, played wingman for each other (whenever possible, that is; they had to be careful so no fan would see them dating or flirting with someone else).

And so it went for years. Dan and Phil hid their true sports-loving lad personalities from the internet successfully, even going so far as to act differently around friends so they wouldn’t accidentally let it slip. They were content with this, too. It made them money and people looked up to them, respected them, loved them. It was everything they’d ever wanted.

Except it wasn’t.

Dan was totally straight, of course. Of course. But he couldn’t help but admire Phil’s physique. He’d stopped exercising quite so much a long time ago to help with the nerdy image, but his arms were toned in just the right way for a camera not to notice. Plus, it wasn’t like Phil ever took his shirt off on camera. His abs were killer. The only reason they made Dan feel weak was because he literally wasn’t as strong as Phil. Right? Right.

And then Phil started asking Dan to play wingman more often.

“Come on,” he’d whine. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages and you’re such a good wingman.”

And Dan would feel his jaw clench, his hands twitch. “No,” he’d say. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll buy your drinks, though,” Phil would promise.

Dan would scoff and shake his head.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Phil would accuse with a glare.

And so it went, over and over until Dan finally agreed to just do it already so Phil would quit bothering him.

They went out to a higher-end bar to avoid fans. The lighting was dim and the music was loud to encourage closeness, but Dan just found it annoying. He wanted to go home.

Not long after they arrived and got their beers, Phil bumped Dan’s arm with his own.

“Look at her, over by the loo. Wavy brown hair.”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned his head to find the girl in question. He could see why Phil had noticed her. Her crop top showed off a flat stomach and her short shorts showed off long legs stuffed into knee-high stiletto boots. Her pale skin shone through the darkness of the bar. Dan turned back to his drink.

“You gonna go talk to her or do I have to?” Dan asked, voice betraying no emotion as he raised his beer to his lips.

“Well, obviously you have to. You’re my wingman, remember? Go talk me up.”

Dan sighed through his nose, too quiet for Phil to hear, and downed the rest of his drink in one.

“Here goes,” he said with a nod at Phil. He crossed the room to stand in front of the girl Phil fancied, thoughts racing with every step. The closer he got, the more repulsed he was by this whole plan. All he had to do was talk to her but that was supposed to get Phil laid and Dan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with some strange girl. Come to think of it, he didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with anybody. Well. Anyone but one specific person…

Dan stopped a few feet from the girl, eyes wide. He didn’t want to do this. He wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t possibly. It would break his heart, right as he’d finally discovered how it beat. He sized the girl up once more, then turned to look at Phil, who was nonchalantly leaning up against the bar and pretending not to pay attention. Phil would be so pissed, but Dan couldn’t help it. He had to do what had to be done.

He crossed the last few steps towards the girl.

“Hey, that guy over there? Black hair, quiff?”

The girl looked disinterestedly over his shoulder at Phil. “Yeah, what about him?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“He’s got…” Dan grasped for an excuse- “he’s got chlamydia.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Sucks to be him, then.” Then she stalked away, boots clicking on the tiled floor as she walked out the door.

Moments later, Phil appeared at Dan’s elbow.

“The hell was that? You’re usually so good!” he asked, perplexed.

Dan fought the blush threatening to creep onto his cheeks at the compliment and scrambled for an explanation. “She- uh- she said she’s a lesbian.”

Phil frowned. “Oh. Guess it wasn’t meant to be, then.”

“Guess not,” Dan agreed with a pitying nod. “Alright, let’s go home, then. We’ll try another night.”

Phil’s brow scrunched up and Dan had to fight the desperate urge to rub away the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Give up after only one failure? No way, Howell, we’re not going home tonight until one of us gets fucked.”

Dan sighed again. He wasn’t really in the mood for getting fucked, at least, not by anyone who wasn’t Phil.

The realization hit him like a train again, but he had no time to recover as Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bar so they could scout their options once more.

Phil sent Dan out to try three more girls, and each time Dan purposefully botched the interactions.

Finally, a defeated Phil agreed to give up for the night.

Life continued on as normal for the two of them for a while as Dan desperately tied to figure out what to do with himself. His jealousy had awakened feelings inside himself that he’d never expected to feel and suddenly he wasn’t quite as straight as he thought he was and being around Phil was simultaneously too much and not enough.

He was in love with his best friend. His straight best friend, who he half-pretended to be in love with.

God, it was complicated.

Every little thing Phil did would send butterflies racing through Dan’s digestive system or blood rushing to places it ought not be rushing to and Dan was having a very hard time coping with his body doing all of that all at once and could Phil be a little less sexy for two minutes?

He was a goddamn mess, basically.

And then there came a day when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

They were playing FIFA together and nothing in particular caused it but Phil laughed at something Dan said and he looked so pretty and suddenly there it was.

“I love you.”

Dan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud to Phil, not ever, and here he had. Shit, what could he do? What should he do? Play it off as a joke? The thought of turning something so serious, so heartfelt, so real into a joke was almost too much to bear-

Phil snorted. “Yeah, of course, I love you, too.”

In a split second, Dan realized he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to come clean.

“No, really.” He paused the game, ignoring Phil’s protests but refusing to meet his eyes. “I love you but, like, not work-related.”

He was met with a deafening silence. The tension was killing him, so he forced himself to look up at Phil.

Shock, confusion, and something unnameable played in his expression, his jaw dropped open and eyes searching Dan’s face. Dan had expected anger, disgust, betrayal maybe, but this was very different. He thought he’d known every possible expression Phil could make after being friends and living together for so long, but this was something new and unexpected and frightening but the tiniest bit exciting, as well.

The seconds crawled by until finally Phil shut his mouth with a soft clop and his eyes stopped their searching, landing on Dan’s mouth. Time stopped then, and then suddenly Phil’s lips were on Dan’s and hands were grabbing and feeling and wandering and Dan felt dizzy with it all when Phil pulled back a few seconds later, eyes wide again and his hands still buried in Dan’s curls.

“I’ve never done that before,” he blurted. “Kissed a guy, I mean. I’ve never felt like this before, either, though, so I guess it makes sense that it would make me do things I’d never done. What the hell is wrong with me? This is insane-“

Dan’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I understand you don’t feel the same-“

Phil’s lips were on his again and Dan let out a squeak and then a moan as Phil took his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“Sorry, you were getting the wrong idea,” Phil hurried to say when he properly pulled back, hands still in Dan’s curls and holding him in place so he couldn’t chase after Phil’s lips like he so desperately wanted to. “I love you, too, not work-related. Well, I mean, sort of work-related because that’s how I fell in love with you and why I thought this would never happen and wanted a distraction and-“

Now it was Dan’s turn to interrupt Phil.

“We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?” Dan gasped when he broke the kiss.

“I guess you’re right,” Phil replied. “Carry on, then.”

And “carry on” they did.

[artificialqueens]

Attention (Scyvie) - Imposterzoe

Just a little Lesbian Au Scyvie IZ

Scarlet comes into the apartment whining. "Yvieeeeee!"

Yvie promptly rolls her eyes to the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

You see Scarlet had many moods and Yvie could tell which mood she was in based on how she came in the door.

She slammed the door and stalked to her room when she was mad.

She shut the door and leaned against it with her eyes closed when she was sad.

She bounced in and collapsed dramatically on the couch when she had a good day.

She came in and sat on the floor when she was tired.

But when she came in whining?

Well that meant she was in her needy mood. Which meant that Yvie had to give Scarlet her full attention at all times or she'd be a bratty pain in the ass.

Yvie sighed softly and placed herself on patience mode as Scarlet walked in her room.

"Hey Scar. How was your day?" She asked because she knows Scarlet wants her to.

Scarlet leapt onto the bed, crossing her arms and pouting.

She's like a five year old, Yvie muses to herself.

"My day was awful! First-" Scarlet's probably long and whiny rant was cut off by Yvie's cell ringing. Scarlet glares at the phone like it just insulted one of her mothers.

Yvie grabs it, preparing to ignore the call when she sees it's her boss.

"I'm sorry Scarlet. I want to hear about your day, I really do. But I have to take this call."

Scarlet gives a tense smile. "No sweat. I can wait."

Yvie smiles in thanks as she slips out of the room, knowing how desperately Scarlet wants her attention.

Scarlet wanders the room, slowly getting more worked up.

After what Scarlet was sure was an eternity, (but was 15 minutes regular time), Yvie slid inside the room, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"What was that about?" Scarlet grumbles.

Yvie sighs. "My boss was being his normal idiotic self and he almost fucked up our filing system. He's a sweet boss and all but come on! If you're going to call a desk jockey instead of your fucking assistant, I say just make me the assistant."

Scarlet sighs. "You'll get a promotion soon Yvie, I'm sure of it. That place would be in ruins if it wasn't for you."

Yvie sat crossed legged on the bed, putting her attention back where it was needed.

"Thanks Scar. How was your day?"

Scarlet places her head in Yvie's lap, silently instructing Yvie to stroke her hair. Yvie obliges and sets a steady pace in her hair.

"Well today was awful. First, I was stuck in an elevator with Brooke Lynn for 30 minutes and you know how much she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Yvie murmurs, "you're just…someone people have to get to know, so they can see how much different you are than how they think."

Scarlet mumbles a soft, "You're right."

"So what else happened today?"

Scarlet almost answers before giving Yvie a weird look. "Is something burning?"

Yvie sniffs and suddenly her eyes widen in alarm. She jumps up, Scarlet's head smacking the bed as she runs out of the room. Scarlet wanders behind her, pouting as the attention was once again diverted from her.

She walks in the kitchen to see Yvie staring at what might've once been a pizza but now probably could've worked as charcoal.

"Well there goes dinner," Yvie mumbles.

Scarlet grabs a plate, scoops up the smoking pizza, and rushes it to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Once she was sure it wouldn't burn through the trash can, she dumped it in.

"We can order in," she grumbles.

The rush of trying to not burning the apartment down made Yvie momentarily forget that Scarlet was in her needy mood. Which was not good for anyone involved.

"Yvieeeee," Scarlet whines, jumping on the counter. Yvie had been staring at her phone and glanced up.

"What?"

Scarlet waved her over silently. Yvie slid over with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Look, I'm sorry about the pizza. I'll pay for the takeout ok?"

Scarlet was silently staring at her girlfriend when Yvie realized her slip up.

"Oh, right! You were stuck in an elevator with Brooke. What else happened today?"

Scarlet smiled and pulled Yvie to her, resting her head on her chest.

"Well after we got out, the bus was late, so I was late to work. Then when I get there I find Ra'jah talking shit about us."

Yvie pops an eyebrow. "Us?"

Scarlet blushes and nods. "I talk a lot about you at the office. Anyways, she took the stories I told and she got it into her head that you're a stuck up pillow princess that thinks she's all that. Obviously, she mixed us up. But anyways, I told her off in front of everyone and I was just tense all day after that. I was popping off more than you."

Yvie stroked Scarlet's back. "Aw Scar. Thanks for sticking up for me. The day's over now. You can relax."

Scarlet sighed, pouting. Yvie tried to think of a way that would help.

Then she brightens with an idea.

"Want me to run you a bath, baby?" She cooed, rubbing Scarlet's shoulders.

One thing Yvie had learned about Scarlet's needy mood? She acted like a child so it was best to treat her like a child.

Scarlet nodded, still pouting. "Yes."

Yvie smiles and leads Scarlet to her room.

"Get in your towel and I'll start your bath, ok?"

Scarlet nods and Yvie slides smoothly into their sizeable bathroom. She hums quietly as she starts the water, adding the bubble bath, and gathering Scarlet's favorite combination of essential oils.

Scarlet slips into the bathroom, wrapped in the fuzzy pink towel Yvie got her for her birthday.

Yvie peels the towel off of her girlfriend, kissing her neck softly.

Once the towel's gone, Yvie lead Scarlet to the tub, watching as she slid into the water, her body disappearing into the bubbles.

"Does it make you feel better, Baby?" Yvie whispered as she grabbed a wash cloth.

Scarlet smiles as Yvie starts to clean her. "Much better."

Yvie continued to scrub Scarlet, ringing the water out down her back, just like she liked it.

Scarlet sighed contently, her tension slowly being released.

Yvie slathered her hands in shampoo and starts to massage it into Scarlet's scalp.

Scarlet relaxes into Yvie's hands as they work their way through her hair. She sighs softly and Yvie's hands momentarily still in her hair.

"You like it baby? You like me washing your hair? It makes you feel good?" She purrs and Scarlet realizes her little sigh was very much a moan.

"Yvie...Mommy...Yvie," Scarlet stumbles over her words, always a bit hesitant to call Yvie, "Mommy."

Yvie never forced her to say it, only giving Scarlet her, "That's my good girl," smile when she said it.

Yvie had that smile on now. "You're good, baby. What's up?"

Scarlet flushed. "M-mommy can you…?" She was bright red, just uttering the name.

Yvie slowly tipped Scarlet backward, rinsing the soap out of her hair.

"Don't be scared Baby. Anything you say to me, stays with me. Mommy won't tell anyone."

"Promise?" Scarlet squeaks. Yvie leans forward and kisses Scarlet softly.

"Promise. Cross my heart." Yvie made the X over her heart, a reassuring smile on her face.

Scarlet sits up, connecting her lips to Yvie's. Yvie kisses her back, running her fingers through Scarlet's wet hair.

Scarlet pulls back and takes a deep breath.

"Mommy, can you come in with me? Please. There's enough room."

Yvie sighs. She really didn't feel like taking a bath, (she was more of a shower girl), but one look at Scarlet's pleading eyes makes her relent.

"Ok baby. I'll be right back." Yvie hurries to her room, stripping and wrapping herself in the matching blue towel she got herself for Scarlet's birthday.

She creeps to the bathroom door, deciding to just peek in first. Scarlet had her head back on the tile, her eyes shut. She shifted slightly, the light hitting her perfectly and in that moment Yvie feels like the luckiest person in the world.

She crept in, dropping her towel as she went. She slides into the warm water, laughing as Scarlet's eyes pop open when their legs touch.

"Something's wrong with this picture." Scarlet mumbles. They think on it for a minute when Yvie leans forward.

There's a bit moving and splashing but they settle in. Yvie's now in Scarlet's old spot, with Scarlet settled between her legs. They both sigh as their skin touches. Scarlet leans against Yvie chest, laying a small kiss to it.

"This is feels better. You always make me feel better, Mommy." Scarlet whispers.

Yvie presses a kiss to her forehead. "I try my best, baby girl."

And she does.

When Scarlet slammed her room door, Yvie sat outside until Scarlet was ready to talk. Scarlet sometimes opened the door to see Yvie sleeping against the wall, still waiting until Scarlet was ready.

When she leaned against the door with her eyes shut, Yvie would hold her. Scarlet would cry as soon as Yvie wrapped her arms around her and Yvie would rub her back whispering that it would be ok.

When Scarlet dramatically collapsed on the couch, Yvie would sit with her and watch her eyes light up as she spoke about her day.

When Scarlet sat on the floor, Yvie would coax her up and lead her to bed. She'd tuck her in and sit beside her. Sometimes reading to her, sometimes talking about her day, sometimes just crawling in with her because Scarlet slept best in her arms.

And when Scarlet came in whining, Yvie would sit there and give Scarlet all her attention. She'd listen to her and relax her. She'd hug Scarlet and kiss her and ask the questions that proved she cared.

They sat in the tub for the better part of an hour before Yvie made them get out.

"Get in your pj's. I'll turn on a movie." Scarlet nodded and slips into her room. Yvie throws on a tank top and flannel pants and zooms to the living room.

She slides The Princess and The Frog into the DVD player and finally orders takeout.

She's just completed the order when she hears Scarlet squeals behind her as she sees what's playing.

Yvie turns to see Scarlet on the couch in a unicorn onesie, her eyes locked on the screen as the movie turns on.

She doesn't shift her eyes, just holds her hands out, making a 'gimme' motion. Yvie obliges and sits on the couch, pulling Scarlet to her.

"I love you, Mommy." Scarlet whispers as she snuggles into Yvie.

"I love you too, baby." Yvie whispers back, turning Scarlet's face towards hers.

Yvie kisses Scarlet softly, sliding her tongue over Scarlet's.

Scarlet's sighs softly and in the back of her mind she wondered if there was anyone else in the world as attentive as Yvie.

But as Yvie pulls her to her chest, she realizes that even if there was, she wouldn't change being Yvie's center of attention for the world.