#she became my muse for art for a long time but i doubt how much of it i will share

[asexu-alto]

Im putting shit under a read more because im probably gonna talk alot though I'll try not to go into detail about everything. Spoilers for Curse of Strahd under the cut as well, though my DM did use alot of homebrew.

So, Playing Curse of Strahd right? Its a horror campaign and I had an idea that would fit perfect, and from that my sweet baby Maple was made! I apologize in advance because I will not explain everything that happens, just whats relevant when needed. Sorry if its confusing, some knowledge of Curse of Strahd may be required or else this would go on forever. I drew her alot so I will be providing pictures as well.

Heres the first art I made of her. She is a Tiefling Wild Magic Sorceress! The fun idea thing I mentioned earlier is the fact she is actually a Carrionette. If you are unfamiliar with that creature, they are dolls that are given life from the wish of a child. They have the ability to use a silver needle to take bodies for themselves, with the soul of the person entering and staying in the doll. She took the body of her creator, Madelyne who was 12 at the time, the day before she was meant to go to a magic school in a different town. Maple then buried Madelyne, now in her doll body, in the garden under a maple tree. Because Maple inhabits a body that is not her own, the magic in it revolts against her, causing wild magic surges. 6 years later, when Madelyne would be 18, Maple is getting kicked out of the magic school due to her inability to control her wild magic. She packs her bags, ready to leave the next morning, but as she went to sleep she had a dream of Madam Eva and got her Tarokka card, The Charlatan. She woke up in the forest next to Raldira, a cleric of Lathander, Desmond, a hobo wizard, Zethius, a monk of the cobalt soul, and Talmor, a farmer native to Barovia. And their adventure began. The party accepted her and her wild magic quirks and through them, she learned to accept the surges as a part of her. Everyone was given personal quests from Madam Eva and hers lead to a toy store owner in Vallaki, who was opening an toy store island and already moved a bunch of his favorite things there. (Blinksy's toy store on dmguild if anyone wants a creepy toystore, though spoilers ahead.) It took a couple of days before the store was opened, we had dinner with Strahd where Maple was grilled about her childhood, the burning sun festival where shit went south and we saved a child from being drowned. When we do finally get to the store, Maple find her Tarokka card, proof that this is her quest and they enter. All the toys have come to life because of a sentient tiara holding an evil mage that has been placed on a monkey and possessed it. The party deals with the toys and save the employees of the store and make it up the tower to Blinskys room. We save him from illusions and he shares the details of what happened, including how he has a living doll named Madelyne upstairs with the monkey. This is where Maple freaks out, and she tells everyone in the party about who and what she is. They, to Maple's surprise, accept her, with a lil bit of hesitance from the cleric but it turns around. They go upstairs, deal with the monkey/tiara and Maple and Madelyne have a talk. This mostly involved Madelyne begging for her body back and being mad that her childhood was taken from her. This ended with Maple promising to return Madelynes body to her the first chance she gets (thinking that would be the end of campaign).

More art of her at this time, because shes cute and part of her personality is knowing she can't eat, sleep, drink, or dress how she likes as her normal doll form so she takes every opportunity to indulge. (And i like drawing her in cute dresses.) The party continues on, doing all the fun things to thwart Strahd and his plans. During which, a particular wild magic surge goes off. One which ages Maple/Madelyne's body down 9 years to be 9 years old.

(Also She did get a wild magic surge to make her feet blue) At that moment, Maple swore that she would return to Madelyne to return her body. The party returns to Vallaki to warn Ireena that Strahd is making plans and they intend to bring her out of Vallaki to Kresk. After they tell Ireena this, they go on the long trip to the island (2hr-ish round trip, great business location i know) and Maple returns Madelynes body to her (Which is also how we learn Dark gifts/all curses stay with bodies, i will explain more about dark gifts a bit later.) Maple is now in her Original doll body, with the intention of taking the body of a soulless person next chance they get (There are soulless people in barovia because Barovia is cut off from the rest of the planes). And while Maple is like this, she cannot cast any spells, though she retains all mental stats she has.

Of course during this time, Ireena gets kidnapped and Maple is 100% useless (she does try and stab strahd to steal his body though, which wouldve been funny as hell if it worked) The party, mostly the monk through some fucking wild ass rolls, save Ireena and we quickly head to Kresk. In Kresk, Ireena's soul is protected from Strahd via a pool of Lathander's Magic, and Maple is able to take the body of a soulless human. Due to the magic of Barovia, this body still has magic but still wild. (I like wild magic sorc and didnt wanna swap classes/subclasses) And she got another dark gift because she took someone elses body. (dark gift gonna be fully explained in next section)

Now that she has a body of her own, she can finally do stuff she never felt comfortable with when she had a body that was "on loan". This included some romance. Which, happened very suddenly. I didnt mention much of the party up to this point other than introduction, but some personal quests happen here. Raldira, the cleric of Lathander redeems a Deva/angel of Lathander who was the Abbot of Kresk. Talmor has the job of restoring the fey of the land, though we all help, and along the way we discover Talmor is the son of Strahd due a dark elf who took some dark gift power to temporarily make Strahd mortal long enough for some conceiving hanky panky. Zethius the monk is following the trail of his teacher who entered Barovia willing to attempt to help out. And the Dirty hobo Wizard Desmond, who got alot cleaner after effort on his part and Maple using prestidigitation on all the party every morning. His personal quest happens next.

From Kresk, we go to speak with a pack of werewolves who stolen many children from around Barovia, and they have an item we need to restore the fey for Talmors quest. While there, Desmond found his Tarokka card to show this is his personal quest. Once in the cave, we learn he is infact the grandchild of a werewolf there, his parents having left to try and be safe during a time of turmoil/power shift within the pack. Desmond mother, while pregnant with him, was able to leave Barovia, but lost half of a spellscroll she had in order return when times were better. She later died in Faerun, leaving Desmond to fend for himself and learn what magic he could to understand this scroll that his mother had. Desmond is at this point, bit by his grandma and becomes a werewolf.

So, at this point, we still need the item for the fey restoration. We try to convince the Alpha, who is an asshole that kidnaps kids, to let us have it. That fails. Maple tries to steal it with an construct she had, but he is caught. We discuss options and end up falling on "Desmond challenges the alpha to a fight and we use the distraction to steal the item." The fight starts and it does not go well. Desmond is a wizard and became a werewolf literally hours before, he is a bladesinger but he is not well suited for hand to hand combat. The alpha almost kills Desmond on his first turn. Desmond at that point, opens himself to the dark vestiges for a gift in order to survive. This is where I will explain dark gifts like I promised. In this game, if you do something evil to innocent people, you get a dark gift from a dark vestige/deity of Barovia. If you already have one, it gets upgraded. Maple had 2 dark gifts, she lightning bolted a man in the back after she threatened the party but was leaving peaceful and when she got her human body for stealing a body. Talmor joined the killing the dude who threatened us and his became worse when he committed a genocide (in the middle of the night so we couldnt stop him). Raldira and Zethius both tried to negotiate hostage situations and failed to the point of the hostage being hurt/killed, though they did join in killed the dude, but their gift didnt not upgrade. While we were with the redeemed Deva, he mentioned how our given dark gifts can be removed. Desmond however, never got one, and he opened himself up to a gift. In asking for one instead of being given, he got a stronger one, with stronger drawbacks and the inability for the connection to severed like the Deva mentioned. He was linked with a dark god of the Werewolves and became a loup garou. Desmond killed the alpha and ate his heart, becoming the Alpha of the pack. Which required him to also have a mate. Which is where we get back to Maple. The 2 arcane casters were good friends and Desmond is a very paranoid person. When Desmond was being forced to pick someone to be linked with for the rest of his life, Maple volunteered herself so that he wouldnt have to pick a complete stranger. After that point they were together, with Maple helping him with controlling himself when he transformed (wall of force is a great spell) and him protecting her and her doll body. After they discuss a bit, and Maple nearly becomes a vampire spawn because of a crit that was canceled via cleric magic, Desmond bites her and she instantly becomes a werewolf due to Loup garou magic.

Now, the next relevant step of there journey was going to the amber temple. This temple is the home of the dark vestiges that can reach out to the people in the land. Inside you can touch amber to talk directly to a vestige and get a stronger power like Desmond did. In the temple, Maple finds and attunes to a staff that is curses her with the flaw "I crave power above all else, and will do anything to obtain more of it" After this, the party ends up split. Raldira and Maple remain in the temple as Raldira found a tome of +2 Wisdom but needed to read it for 48 hours. Desmond, Zethius and Talmor go to collect an item for us to trade with the protector of the temple for what we need. They are gone for about 24 hours, and during this time, Maple makes a deal with a vestige named the Kingmaker, gains +3 to charisma and is cursed with red skin, a 6th finger, horns and a tail. She became a discount tiefling, which was very funny considering her past. After some more time, she takes a 2nd gift, from a vestige named The Lady of Delights, her charisma is now added to her ac, she has a 24 hr long charm and Maple becomes part succubus with red hair, which brings alot of quirks. Both gifts also gave an activatable power that if Maple failed a check, she would become the creature she took the deal from until she was able to succeed, Cambion for Kingmaker, Succubus for Lady of Delights. (I will also add as a funny aside, with a magic robe item she had her ac was 10+her spellcasting mod, which as a sorcerer is her charisma. So with that and the succubus ac boost, she had 10+5+5, so an Ac of 20 without wearing armor as a sorcerer.)

I decided to make her final art her Tarokka card. Red skin, new horns and tail, and 6 fingers (though its hard to see). I added her needle since shes a carrionette and a moon like in Coraline because i think its neat.

This brings us to the end of the campaign. Last session we killed Strahd in a long, 4 hour final battle. Next session we seal Vampyr once more inside the Amber temple and our almost 2 year campaign ends.

Post campaign plans for her is she wants to become the Last queen of Barovia, bring the land into stability, make it so no one in the land goes hungry and after she feels the time is right, give up her current body to travel the world with Desmond. There is my long and rambling timeline of my sweet "was a teifling, is now a diet tiefling" baby gorl, I missed alot of little detail but this shit is long enough. I want to make an animatic of her backstory and I might do a long rambling thing for some of my other characters. if you made it this far, drink some water and thanks. Im sorry for how confusing some of it is but hey, thats what happens when you explain your dnd campaign to someone else. lmao

hey im drunk and love my dnd characters. If this get any notes im gonna make a timeline of my Curse of Strahd dnd character cause shes cute and I love her.

[number1mingyustan]

Expiration Date (2/2) ☾✹

GIF by shatsusik

artist!joshua x model!fem!reader

Genre: smut, hurt, angst

Warnings: cursing, brief smut, explicit smut, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage, arguments, a lot of angsty sad stuff

Summary: there’s only one way to go from here

Word Count: 4.1k

_______________________________________________

part 1

Out of the 206 bones in your body, you don't have a doubtful one that believes Joshua Hong is not your soulmate. Everything in you believes you were meant to be together.

You'd bet money that it was written somewhere in the stars.

He loved you and you loved him.

When you first met, everything fell into place with him so easily. He was kind and caring and things were simple with him. He would never shy away from compliments, often painting you because he thought you were so beautiful.

His muse.

It wasn't until he started painting you that his career really began to take off. His previous work was less abstract and interpretive, often capturing different colors and shapes. He never painted people, but of course that all changed when you came around.

His work was known before you, but his popularity skyrocketed, gaining worldwide attention and giving him much more credit within the art world.

You became a large part of his art. He's often mix different shapes and colors with your features. Your eyes, your breasts, your legs, everything he found beautiful about you really.

It gained a lot of attention and people grew curious to know who the mystery woman that appeared in all his new art was. Much like Joshua himself, they too thought she was beautiful.

But that was then. When your relationships still made you feel like you were floating and the honeymoon phase felt like it would never end.

You and Joshua Hong were meant to be part of each other's lives, you don't question that. However, you do question how long you were meant to be together.

---------------Two Years Ago ---------------

"I'm just so glad you guys were able to come down here and visit," Mrs.Hong says for the fourth time since the two of you arrived in LA.

You smile at her excitement.

"I hardly hear from my son since he moved all the way up to New York," she continues, shooting her son a glare.

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully. "I call you every week. Don't be so dramatic."

"It's not the same," she frowns. "I like having you here with me."

"Yeah well I've been busy with my art and everything," he sighs, pulling you closer to his side. His hand is on yours, thumb drawing small circles on your knuckles.

You lean into his touch, breathing in his natural scent. He's so warm and comforting. "Yes... extremely busy," you pout. "He does so much nowadays I can't even keep up with it all. All kinds of projects and interviews, don't know how he does it."

He smiles at you. "I've got the best support backing me up," he pats your head lightly. "With you by my side, I can handle anything."

He opens his mouth to speak again, but he's interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

"Oh- one second. Angel is calling," He excuses himself from the table and exits to take his phone call.

Angelina Yoon, his manager. You absolutely despised her. She was a great manager, you give her credit for that. She's incredibly smart and good at her job, but on a personal level? Couldn't stand her.

You didn't like the way she talked to you or the way she talked to Joshua. She flirted often and acted rudely toward you. Of course any time you brought it up to Joshua, he brushed it off. He'd tell you 'you're being dramatic' or 'she's just doing her job.'

Fucking Angel.

Not a very fitting name for her.

"Soooo where's the ring?" His mother asks, grabbing your hand and inspecting your fingers.

"Ring?" you ask.

"He hasn't asked yet?" she raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Aishh this boy," she sighs. "Four years and he still hasn't popped the question."

You retreat, pulling your hand back slowly and pushing your hair behind your ear. "Oh yeah... I mean it's fine. He works so much you know? I think he's just waiting for a better time.... did he mention anything to you about it? L-Like is he planning something?"

"No, I'm afraid not. If he is planning for it, he hasn't told me about it yet at least. I just assumed after all this time he would have done it already. I'll have to talk some sense into that boy," she scoffs.

Your heart breaks a little, but you don't let it show. It's already been a few months since it was first brought up. It was in a similar manner, his mother had brought it up in conversation months prior and put ideas into your head. But that time, Joshua was sitting at the table and he didn't seem too keen on the way his mother had suggested it.

You asked him about it that night and he explained to you how it wasn't the right time with his career taking off. It hurt, but you were understanding. It was something you strayed away from even bringing up.

It stung though.

When Joshua's art first started to gain popularity, Angel suggested keeping your relationship and identity a secret. No one knew who you were, they just thought you were pretty and that Joshua captured your beauty perfectly.

It would create more buzz for him to be capturing some sort of mystery woman. Angel talked about how much it would help his career to keep you in the shadows and him in the light. So you did it.

For nearly the first three years of your relationship, you were a secret. A mystery, a pretty face on a canvas with no name, a nobody. It wasn't easy, having to sneak around and keep your entire life private.

Part of you thinks you lost yourself in those first three years, but that's an entirely different issue.

Thankfully, after you did finally go public with things, the modeling agencies came flooding in and you were in high demand.

"Don't worry about it... I don't want to put any more pressure on him," you give her a half-smile.

She feels for you. "You're too nice sweetheart."

Before anything else can be said, Joshua walks back into the kitchen with an excited smile. You and his mother both look at him as he sits back down.

"So.. Angel just told me there's a huge art exhibit coming up in Sydney, Australia and their main exhibit just fell through so they want me to replace them," he beams.

"That's so great Joshie!" you smile and hug him. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks honey, they want me to do all new pieces though, and they need me in Australia in two days. The exhibit is in three weeks," he explains.

"But we're supposed to stay down here for another week... and then we have our trip planned for Aruba. Josh... the whole point of this trip was so that we could spend our time together and with family. I cleared my schedule for this Joshua." you sigh. "Besides how are you gonna put together a whole exhibit's worth of pieces in two weeks."

"I know baby... but this is important work stuff. You understand, right? We can always plan another trip, but this is a big opportunity for me. My work would be extending all the way into Australia," he places his hand on your shoulder. "Besides I'll probably just use those sketches I've been working on"

"I mean yeah... it's really great Josh, for you. What about me? I cleared my entire schedule for this," you frown.

"I know baby, I'm sorry. I'm sure we can just book two tickets and you can come with me if you want," he suggests.

"I think I'd rather we just go home. You'll be working a whole bunch in Australia anyway," you bite the inside of your cheek.

"There's no time to go back to New York honey. They want me out there in two days. If you want me to book you a flight home, I can do that if you really wanna go back, but I can't go with you. I'm gonna have to leave straight from here. I was hoping you'd come with me."

You frown. "I don't really want to fly alone."

"I mean, you can stay here with mom, until I get back of course. I won't object to it, but I've got to book my flight in the next few hours. So just let me know ASAP," he leaves a quick kiss on your head and stands back up.

"Sorry ma, I'll come visit soon," he hugs his mother and kisses her cheek. "I promise... love you"

His footsteps grown faint as he makes his way upstairs for the night. Your heart breaks a little more. His mother glances at you, she really feels for you.

"I'm getting tired... think I'll go join him," you tell her with a sad smile. "Thank you so much for dinner, I appreciate it."

You give her a light hug before disappearing into the bedroom with Joshua.

_____

He got you pregnant that night. He was much more excited than you were, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Pulled you onto his lap not long after you walked into the room.

He was quick to strip you and pin you down onto the bed. You were still upset, but the pleasure was a temporary fix for the pain.

Sweaty and passionate lovemaking between the thin sheets of the old bed. His hands were all over you that night. You let the pleasure consume you, allowed it to pull you away from reality.

He told you how much he loved you as he drilled his cock inside of you, even had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you from being too loud. He whispered dirty words and sweet nothings into your ear and left purple hickies along your skin. He pounded into you over and over again that night, switching positions halfway through.

The bed was old, creaked and shifted every time he thrusted his hips into you. You came twice, once on his fingers and once on his cock.

And when he came, he came inside of you. It wasn't unusual for him to do so, but for some reason your birth control wasn't very effective that time.

You wouldn't know it that night, but you realize that was the best and worse night of your life.

Because as quickly as it came, it went.

You stayed with his mom in LA for the next month while he was in Australia. He didn't call you every day the way he said he would, but that wasn't the least bit shocking. He ended up having to stay another week after the showcase to meet with different people about his work.

While he was sitting in meetings and being interviewed, you were pacing around the bathroom anxiously awaiting the results of the pregnancy test sitting on the edge of the sink.

You didn't tell him until you went back home to New York. You ended up flying alone anyway, Joshua thought it was pointless to fly to LA and then New York when both of you could just go to New York and see each other at home.

He was beyond excited when you did tell him and foolishly got your hopes up about what the baby would mean for the two of you. You'd convinced yourself that having the baby would make Joshua more involved. You thought his excitement would translate into him being more present.

But then you lost the baby two months later and it caused you two to drift more. The doctors told you it was a miracle you were even able to conceive in the first place. They said you were basically infertile and if you were ever able to somehow conceive again, the fetus wouldn't even make it through the first trimester. You fell into a depressive episode, making reckless decisions driven by hurt and pain.

You had to quit modeling and be admitted. The next 9 weeks you got treated and you got better. Although things got better, you'd never say they reached the level of good.

Better is simply and improvement, not necessarily success.

Joshua never saw it that way. He didn't see the way you were still hurting and suffering. He thought you getting treatment and getting better meant that everything was okay. He thought that because you saw a therapist twice a week, that you would just be okay. Because you took two small pills every morning, he thought you were no longer suffering.

It's your own fault partially, you played the role. You hid your hurt well, contributed to his thoughts about you being fine. At first, it seemed like he cared a lot more. But with him constantly asking "Are you Okay?" it was easier for you to just say yes. It was easier for him to believe it too. He threw himself back into his art and didn't put in the extra effort to ensure the well-being of your mental health after that.

It took two years and a very heated argument for him to really see it.

---------------Modern Day ---------------

The bed is empty when you wake up in the morning. It's not a foreign feeling, unfortunately. But with everything that occurred last night, it feels worse than usual.

You're not sure where your relationship stands right now. There's a tightness constricting in your chest and you're dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

After nearly ten minutes of you rolling around in the bed and avoiding it, you finally got yourself out of the bed. You wince when your foot first meet the bedroom floor. A reminder of everything that occurred last night.

After you go into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face, you walk cautiously and quietly through the penthouse. The temperature dropped again and the marble floors are cold on your bare feet.

When you reach the living room, you don't see Joshua anywhere. His blanket and pillow are still on the couch, but you don't see him anywhere.

You let out a breath of relief. You're really not ready to speak with him yet.

You walk into the kitchen, seeing that the glass is still shattered on the ground. You reach down, picking up some of the larger shards.

"Don't worry about it, I'll clean it up," Joshua says from behind you.

You jump at the sound of his voice. You weren't expecting him to come up behind you and startle you. However, you remain silent.

"You need to take your meds, it's past 11. You were asleep for a while," he says and begins picking up the other large shards of glass.

You stand to your feet and nod. You don't look at him, you can't. You simply walk around the island and open on of the cabinets to grab your medicine.

"You have been taking your meds everyday, right?" he asks.

It feels even colder in the kitchen suddenly. The tension in the air hasn't subsided. If anything, it's grown thicker.

"Yes Josh," you say.

Even after all those nights of sleeping alone, Joshua greeted you with a good morning and a kiss. At the very least you could expect some sort of greeting.

But now? Nothing.

"Don't forget to eat something," he reminds you quietly.

You nod. "Right."

You pop a slice of bread into the toaster and wait. It only takes two minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Joshua grabs the dustpan and broom to sweet up the glass.

It's uncomfortable quiet. Your stomach is turning in knots and your leg is bouncing anxiously.

"Where did you just come from? I didn't know where you were," you finally break the unbearable silence.

"On the balcony, needed some fresh air," he says, continuing to sweep up the remaining glass.

"It's thirty degrees outside."

He shrugs, disposing of the glass properly. "Just needed some fresh air. It's not much warmer in here anyway, damn thermostat is broken."

He avoids eye contact with you, stepping away from the kitchen quietly. Your heart rate spikes.

"Joshua..." you start. "We have to talk about-"

You're cut off when your toast pops up.

"Your breakfast is ready," he says shortly and fully leaves the kitchen.

Your eyes follow him. He walks back into the living room, grabbing the blanket he slept under and folding it back up. His footsteps fade as he disappears into the penthouse toward your bedroom.

You sigh and take a few bites out of your toast. You don't have much of an appetite with the way your stomach is churning. You chase the two small pills with a sip of water before walking toward your bedroom.

When you step into the room, Joshua is already in there making up your bed. He's cleaning to distract himself, to avoid you.

" 'Shua," You say quietly, leaning against the door frame.

"Wait," he continues folding the blankets on your bed. "I'm doing something right now."

" 'Shua," you say a little louder.

"Did you wash your dishes? I know you used a glass for the water," he asks.

"Joshua." You say firmly.

He sighs, giving up and sitting down on the bed. He runs his hands from his face up to his hair. You sit down on the bed next to him. In reality it's only a few moments, but it feels like an eternity of silence.

"I'm sorry," he starts.

"Don't apologize... we both said some hurtful, but truthful things last night," you bite the inside of your cheek.

A beat.

"You were right... I did give up on us a long time ago. But it wasn't unprompted, and I want you to understand that. I gave up before you could."

"What?" he asks, turning his head to look at you.

"You work so much... and so hard. I had no idea artists did so much until I met you, but your work has always been your priority. I love that you're passionate about your art, but you'll always put your work before me."

"That's not true," he defends.

"It is."

A beat.

You and Joshua Hong were meant to be, not meant to last. You shared your best and worst moments with him. You spent nearly 6 years creating unforgettable memories and sharing experiences you hold dear to your heart.

Your love was like a candle, it was once lit and burned with fiery passion. But it eventually burned out and faded into nothing but melted wax.

Fire may be pretty to look at, but touch it and you get burned.

"But I love you,"

"You don't.... not anymore"

"Don't try to tell me how I feel."

"Josh-"

"I don't know what it is you're trying to get at or do here, but it's fucked up. If this is you're way of trying to make excuses for falling out of love with me or something, then that’s just wrong Y/n.”

"Joshua! This relationship is not the way it was five years ago and you know it. You couldn't even thank me in your speech last night."

"You told me you were over that. I told you tha-"

"Stop cutting me off and let me speak!" you shout. "You forgot to thank me in your speech while I was standing in front of you with a painting of me displayed in my background. I have become an afterthought in your life and not a priority anymore. You managed to forget about me while looking directly at me... and a painting you did of me. If you loved me, if you really loved me, I would have been the first person you thanked. I wouldn't have slipped your mind Joshua. It may have been a mistake, but it told me everything I needed to know."

He frowns.

"You think you still love me because you love the idea of me. You-you love the way I look on a canvas and in exhibits. You love that even after 5 years of painting me, it still makes you money. But those fucking paintings don't have feelings he way I do," your eyes start to water. "You love the way Angel validates your artwork of me and is constantly working to get your work out there. You would never forget to thank Angel, because she's not just an idea or an afterthought to you. She gets you what you want and I just... don't."

"Oh my gosh how many times do I need to prove to you that I'm not fucking Angel?" he groans and stands up.

"Are you seriously still not listening to me? Not once did I accuse you of fucking her, and that's all you took away?! Fuck's sake Joshua!" You exclaim and stand to your feet. "I'm done."

"What do you mean 'you're done?'"

"It means... I can't do this anymore."

"So what... that's it? You wanna break up because of an argument?"

"IT IS NOT JUST AN ARGUMENT!" You scream. "I don't know how many ways there are for me to say it. I am exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally. Last night... you said you weren't the only one who lost the baby. But when was the last time I modeled Joshua? I didn't get that chance to just jump back into my work after the loss. I'm sure it affected you, it was a horrible thing to go through, but I didn't just throw myself back into my work and move on. I am still struggling every day and you don't love me anymore. I have no reason to stay here with you."

The truth is... Joshua knows exactly what you're saying. For the first time, he's really really listening to you. He knows what you're saying is true, but he's having a hard time accepting it.

Joshua has never been good with criticism, being an artist and all.

The room is silent aside from you sniffling as you wipe away your tears. Joshua feels the knots twisting in his stomach and it's making him feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry… I know I should just accept it but I can’t. I’m hearing you, I really am. I just don’t want to let go… I won’t just throw away the last five years between us.”

“We can’t keep doing this Josh… holding onto nothing. There’s nothing that could really fix us at this point.”

“We could do therapy..” he suggests.

“Pay $200 a week just to have someone tell us what we already know? C’mon Josh, you know you don’t have the time for that.”

“I’d make the time.”

“You haven’t for the last few years… let’s not kid ourselves”

“So… you just wanna give up? You don’t want to try anymore?”

“I have been trying Josh. But it’s exhausting and there’s no point if there’s nothing worth holding onto anymore.”

“So… you don’t love me anymore either?”

“What?”

“You don’t love me anymore, do you? It’s not just me, right?”

“Yeah Josh, it’s mutual.”

His heart aches when you say it. The words leave a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

"Okay," he says finally.

"Okay what?" You sniffle.

“Okay then… we’re done. There’s no point in staying together anymore.”

He runs the palms of his hands from his face to his hair and inhales.

“I hate that is had to come to this,” you say quietly.

“Yeah… me too” his voice breaks. “I can be out of here by tonight… you can keep the penthouse.”

“I couldn’t afford to live here on my own anyway, I’ll probably just uh- go back with my parents” You sniffle.

“You don’t-“

“It’s better that way, really.”

Silence fills the room. There’s so much to process. You really just ended things with the love of your life, your soulmate, your Joshie.

He sits on the floor with his back against the bed. He tilts his head back and sighs. You join him, sitting in an identical position next to him.

It doesn’t even feel real yet.

You’ve spent the last 5 years by his side with your mind filled with thoughts of how your story would unfold.

The aching in your heart hasn’t stopped, but you know this is for the best. It was long overdue, past the expiration date.

Much like a carton of milk, you can only drink it until it expires. Once it expires, it's no longer good and there's no way of restoring it to the way it used to be.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Vee honey?? If you're ok with me still sending in some thoughts/thots, might I?? I really, really need to start screaming about Professor!Bob again, it's been sitting in the back of my brain for far too long.

Yours and Bob's home has always been a place of deep creativity. Since Bob's a professor of art history, he's really passionate about what he does and tries to impart that to his students. He's even a painter himself and you've been his muse countless times.

During the summer, he's painted you in the back garden, sometimes as a figure from Greek Mythology or a character from a fairy tale. When the kids started to appear in the family, they too became his inspiration. Your favorite painting in the house is one of when you brought your daughter, Deidre, home and she was asleep in her little wicker sleeping basket on the picnic blanket while you had woven freshly picked wildflowers into the straw.

Your older sons are also regular artists as well. Bob will sometimes set up finger paints or watercolors for Auggie and Patrick to use. They've created some really wild pictures which Bob readily hangs up in his office at the college and which you keep on your desk at the school where you teach.

Your house is always readily full of music, doesn't matter what era or what artists, you and Bob fully believe that the kids need to hear good music. You were really surprised when Auggie wanted to take up piano and Bob was always eager to teach him. You would think that Bob would be a stickler and teach him how to play Beethoven or Schubert (of course he did, no doubt) but Bob was a die hard fan of the movie soundtracks that Hans Zimmer has written and taught Auggie how to play those first.

When Auggie grew up, he took up playing the violin in an orchestra because he inherited his father's deep love of music. You, Bob, Patrick, Deidre and Rudy all were in attendance at the theater that night along with Bob's parents since they were doing a tribute to Hans Zimmer. Auggie's fianc�� was also a part of the choir and got to be on stage next to him. Bob was almost in tears when he saw his son and future daughter-in-law on stage together as the group performed Chevaliers de Sangreal from The Da Vinci Code and a whole bunch of others. Bob again almost lost it when they did Now We Are Free from Gladiator and when they did The Lion King? Forget it, Bob was one of the first people to stand up and applaud his son.

I'm so sorry this got lost in my inbox!!!! 😭💖 But thank you so much for sending it in!

Bob would definitely be the most supportive parent ever, regardless what his kids wanted to do. And while he would never push his own interests on his kids, he would take extra pleasure if/when they followed in his footsteps or picked a career in a related field.

[rufamaeferrer]

EXQUISITE ELEGANCE: A GLAMOROUS WANDERING THROUGH THE STREETS OF PARIS

My trip to Louvre Museum was quite enlightening and a wonderful experience in approaching and perceiving art in the most effective way, where history is alive as witnessed by the impressions that were apparent in every corner of this historically rich art gallery. From the time I saw the glass pyramid I knew this was going to be very different type of trip. Entering the museum I felt surprised by the size of the place, every room a hall, every hall a time period, and every piece of art a legend that formed the art genre of the world. The Mona Lisa painted with her mysterious look was there and her physical size was less than I expected still she had a magical presence that made her dominate the room. The Winged Victory of Samothrace and the Venus de Milo maintained their ageless elegance as a symbol of the sophistication of ancient counterparts As I navigated further deeper into the interiors of the museum I found myself in a loophole of history with magnificent embroideried velvets, fine ceramics and ancient treasures showing the silent narration of the times gone by. Not only the size, but also the variety of the pieces that can be found in the Louvre museum left me in awe, for it made me appreciate the endless potential of human mind which has inspired people for thousands of years. At the end of the day, which was turning into dusk while lighting the glass top of the pyramid and the yard, I felt that I made a part of the long chain of people who were visiting this place and experiencing the feelings of admiration. Contrary to just being a museum, Louvre can be described as a work of art equally; it is a living history; it is a synthesis of the past and the present; and it is an evolving story which every visitor, myself inclusive, comes across.

Musee d'Orsay, located in a former railway station and brimming with artistic genius. The sheer quantity of masterpieces, from Impressionism to Post-Impressionsm works, was too much for my senses. Each brushstroke was an eloquent word, and the museum became a chronicle of time in which I traveled through the history of art.

Chateau de Versailles, a monument of French monarchy enchanted me with its luxuriousness and vast green spaces. The Hall of Mirrors, the grandiosity of the palace and its perfectly manicured gardens revealed an elaborate historical canvas. It was a trip to the past, revisiting the magnificence of Louis XIV’s era.

The Arc de Triomphe was high, and it stood there as a symbol of victory. In the shadow of its arches, I saw Paris in all her glory unfolding panoramically before my eyes with every landmark telling a tale about how resilient and persistent this city is. It was a timely reminder of the historical tapestry embedded in Paris’s fabric.

The Eiffel Tower was covered with snow one magical morning, and this turned the iconic landmark into a winter wonderland. The contrast between the beautiful building and white canvas of snow produced a magnificent sight. It was an image that stayed in my memory, immortalizing the Eiffel Tower with a hint of magic.

My trip into the magical world of Paris commenced with an indelible day at Kong Paris. The meal went far beyond sustenance to become an orchestra of tastes and sophistication. From the atmosphere to dishes, every detail made an imprint on my soul. Kong Paris became the symbol of culinary refinement, which determined a trip filled with astonishing moments.

It was a unique pleasure to stay at the Hôtel Plaza Athénée there is no doubt in its becoming one of the most prestigious hotels in Paris. Since entering between the two swinging doors, red trimmed with white, the world of sophistication has embraced me whole-heartedly. Due to its exquisite combination of chateau-souvenir style façade that is French and innovative modern architectural designs in the hotel, the place was a home. My suite also had neat decor of modernity and royal taste with a beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower and its location was perfect away from the noise of the outside world. Breakfast looked like the continental type which I enjoyed at the lovely La Cour Jardin with croissant, coffee, and other assorted pastries while admiring the vines of the courtyard. Walking around the nearby Avenue Montaigne with its flashy expensive shops, contributed my Parisian touch to my stay. Every aspect of the hotel from the conduct of the staff to the opulence that was apparent in each and every corner of the Hôtel Plaza Athénée allowed me create memories that will remain etched in my heart for the rest of my life.

My Parisian odyssey reached its perfect finale in Pink Mamma, an incredible place with a marvelous ambiance and delicious Italian food. The atmosphere was a feast for the senses as it had an eclectic decor, the smell of freshly baked pizza and conviviality. Pink Mamma was not just an eating place; it embodied the spirit of good food and togetherness, leaving me with a heart full of memories from my incredible journey across Paris.

As soon as I entered this place literally I felt as if I was in a place now defunct i. e. bell ‘epsoque with a touch of modern French food. When I entered the restaurant through the impressive front doors I noticed the opulent atmosphere of the place with stuccoed ceilings adorned with chandeliers hanging above beautiful mirrored tables and chairs, soft candle light and large luxurious sofas. The lighting and décor were ethereal, hence setting the tone for the culinary experience that followed suit. Every meal, for appetizers to dessert was exceptional, royal and was full of the most divine taste: from the foie gras to duck confit waiting to be discovered. The service was exceptionally impressive as each of the waiter, literally waited on me hand and foot in the royal manner. While drinking a glass of vintage Bordeaux I couldn’t help but admiring the beautiful setting of Le Train Bleu, the restaurant perfect for a history and art lover, as well as a gourmet, or more specifically – a wine lover, located in the heart of Paris.

[hwaightme]

hello its me again and im back!

i just got done and im AAAAAAHHHHHH so please forgive me if this seems all over the place its because it is...

also for anyone who might be reading this please read long exposure BEFORE reading this cause imma bout to spoil like there's no tomorrow beacause i loved it so much and i need to get all this excitement out somehow.

SPOILERS UNDER THIS PART

__________________________________

i didn't know it was possible for you or even for any mere mortal to top the absolute masterpiece that was Use Me… Honestly you know how much i loved use me… me??? a mingi biased??? it seemed impossible. But you didddd!!!!!! like gorllll. everything about long exposure was PERFECT

ok so first of all the setting! you set the mood so expertly right from the get go! i felt mc’s drive and passion for her job and also the admiration she had for hwa like you could feel he was her hero. and then i love how you introduced woo in the middle of this. he appears like a disgracious spot in the middle of the beautiful photograph between mc and hwa. and you feel the real switch in mc’s heart. like you can feel her resentment and i loved ittttt.

i want to ENDLESSLY praise your character development!!!!! you are so soooo soooooooo good at that! you said in the intro that everyone was toxic in this fic and it’s true but exactly like hwa’s picture they seem only black and white at first glance but all three of them are SO MUCH MORE!!! they all are a beautiful palette of grays. as i was reading i felt even if all of the characters were making the unethical/immoral decisions none of them were evil per se. none of them were unidimensional. They all had so much depthhhh!!! it’s insane!!!! Like honestly i couldn’t even bring myself to hate woo because you did such a great job at painting him through his vulnerable side. even though he was clearly the asshole here. But honestly that phone call… where he wanted to protect mc from hwa who he thought became violent that was so sweet and it made my heart ache honestly but at the same time i was sooo happy for mc to finally let go of woo because she deserved better. somehow i felt all of them deserved better. also that's just pure speculation on my part but i cant help to doubt seonghwa’s passion will pass the test of time like so many artists switching from one muse to another. because so many artists are fuel by frustration, imagination, desire and even pain, rejection. and once you touch the dream, once you grasp the unreachable and you leave the realm of possibilities then the passion turns routine and the mystery turns habit… im scared seonghwa will grow tired of mc and she will end up hurt again and im rooting for her so baddddd.

i wanted to also talk about just the way you write…. girl it’s insane it’s just pure art!!!!! like the way every single sentence flow naturally after the previous one and you paint perfectly every picture, every emotion. You articulated this triangle so well. like as a reader i connected so well with all three of them. and the way you used photography analogies and just figures of speech beautifully some passages felt like poetry!!!! like damn you’re insane for this one!!!

And that brings me right to the next thing! girl are you a shapeshifter of sumn? like everytime i read one of your pieces, you can easily pass yourself as an expert in that field. Like i read motivate me i was convinced you majored in psychology and now im like is bai a photographer too???? like you make it so real!!!!! 

and hwa speaking french here and there i was about to LOSE MY MIND!!!!! (french is my native language) like i pictured it soooo welllllll with his low and quiet voice and it got me melted into a puddle! like he was so assertive but so respectful and so just ugh perfect. and him going to Brussels!!! i was like THIS IS MY CITYYYYY!!!!! like i was so happy!!!

and girl the smutSSSS (plural what???) like the first scene with woo i loved it really gave the vibe “it feels so wrong but so right” at the same time! i love how woo knew exactly what mc was picturing and she was so parched for seonghwa’s touch that she didn’t even take the time to deny it and used him to get off to the thought of her boss. so scandalous i LIVE FOR IT!!!! and the scene with the man of the hour ??????? omg!!!! like when he asked mc to start by herself while he took the pics i was like AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH and just losing it! and then the rest i can’t even talk about because im still in my feels and yeah…

AND GORL THE ENDING!!!!!!!! the things it implies!!!!!!! i like to think the woo did it!!! i love unhappy/bad endings!! i love to see the villain win so that really was the cherry on top for me!!!! 

so yeah! this was perfect to me like everything! i loved it so much!!!! all across the board it was just 10s everywhere! 

Thank you so much for writing this!!!!!!!! im so glad i found your page!!! you write the best fics ever and you’re an absolute sweetheart <3

ILYSM <333333

Hello there I am speaking to you from the afterlife because the Seonghwa Paris live just made me feel all types of ways and I was repeatedly destroyed but ANYWAYS MY ANGEL YOU ARE THE KINDEST SWEETEST BEAUTY I CANNOT <3 <3 PLEASE This is the highest praise of all time and I am a sobbing mess on the floor…. and omg…… I am thinking back to just how my heart fluttered when you sent in your thoughts about Use Me… you know I still come back to that post? AND NOW I WILL BE LOSING OVER THIS ONE FOR ALL OF ETERNITY BECAUSE ;~; my word this is just…. this just means infinity to me. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

It was really interesting to try and immerse myself into the photography world, as I feel like this is just such a beautiful, deep realm that very much connects with inner emotions and their expression, so I am so OVERJOYED that you felt the mood of mc and her relationships with both Seonghwa and Wooyoung! Also omg that analogy is just so brilliant - the disgracious spot… I am genuinely floored and so grateful for this!! And yes, I find that professional pursuits and the arts are just such an interesting driver, so really the fact that you found my attempts at integrating that to make sense is just making my heart sing.

I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU LIKED THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT OMG!!!!!!!!! This is something that I am constantly trying to improve upon, because I truly believe that every single individual is so multifaceted - quite literally a universe in a body, so to make someone have only one trait is… it is unjust, so with each work I try my best to learn how to deliver emotion and feelings as best as I can. I bow to you… your words are an infinite motivation and inspiration, and really make me want to continue on this beautiful journey that is writing and reading and appreciating the world itself. Thank you. And not me ceasing to breathe for a second when you said the 'beautiful palette of grays' - I am legit tearing up…. One of my favourite quotes of all time is from Sir William Shakespeare's Hamlet, which is "there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so", and so I want to try my best to make even the one who is initially an antagonist, or portrayed to be one, to have their reasons, their rationality, their own heart (how you describe the personality and decision-making that Woo has here is just…. I am…. I am speechless because this is making me overwhelmed in the best way, I am so grateful). Also, the point you make about Seonghwa, it is just sending me into such a wondrous spiral of ideating what this world in Long Exposure could become and be - as you say, there really is the risk of him moving on - he is a chaser, he wants to capture what cannot be captured, and while it is a permanent frustration it is what drives him, and here he is, with the world in his hands…. and what would that mean for the future? Can this artist, this visionary, this innovator live with reality when he wishes to invent his own?

I am currently SPEECHLESS… really I am stunned…. coming from such a gifted writer (seriously, I reread your work - Partition at least three times) this is just beyond what I could ever hope for. I know I am saying thank you in every sentence but really…. again, to quote Shakespeare, this time taking from Twelfth Night: "I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever thanks". The triangle was definitely an experiment for me, since before Long Exposure I have mainly (if not completely) focused on singular pairings with low 'romantic conflict' if you will, so this is just so unbelievably encouraging, and I am going insane from your kind words ;~;

AHAHAHAH I am lowkey obsessed with researching different careers and professions, because seriously… there is so much cool stuff out there, everything has such amazing intricacy and the little things that make a job are just so beautiful… I want to try my best to do this justice, so I am so happy that you enjoy my little deep dives <3 And ahem…. not me… being um… inspired by you O_O because this was around the time when you were talking about the Brussels concert and were posting about your experiences…. Anyways imma just hide right now ahah ily <3 (also not Seonghwa saying a few words in French during the live!?!!? SWOON)

EHEH INDEED THE PLURAL; Genuinely the first scene had me… thinking thoughts as I was typing it ahah - exactly as you say, "it feels so wrong but so right" ahah; so much for Wooyoung trying to sculpt MC in to what he wanted to see, only for her to envision someone completely different. Slowly but surely, Woo disappeared from her viewfinder (due to his own… interesting decisions)… AAAH I am so so honoured that you enjoyed the second scene~ really it was interesting to figure out how to blend photography and intimacy, considering that really… in many ways this is what Seonghwa is trying to express but is the first time it is done so explicitly… AND GUUURL I AM IN MY FEELS RN!!!!

I am a sucker for ambiguous, open endings ahah, it may be cruel so very sorry ahah but I am so so glad that you liked it!!! EXACTLY WHO KNOWS WHAT IF WOOYOUNG PULLED A "OH YOU ARE NOT MINE? THEN YOU CANNOT BE ANYBODY ELSE'S EITHER";

Again, you are stunning, you are perfection, you give me all the serotonin and dopamine and I feel so truly blessed. Thank you so much, I love you 3000 and I AM SO UNBELIEVABLY GRATFUL THAT I HAVE MET YOU AND HAVE THE PLEASURE OF SPEAKING WITH YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU TALENTED, KIND ANGEL ILYSM!!!! MUCH LOVE AND BIGGEST HUGS <3333333333

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 25//

(Masterlist)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia, @fantasyshadowhunters) *bold tags don't work!

Thank you all so much for your patience during ACONAS's hiatus! I hope you all enjoy this update! Chapter 26 will be coming on Monday, May 24th to keep in line with my regular posting schedule!

Sending all you beautiful readers love and healing! ❤️

-Rhysand-

I noticed the change in my mate almost immediately after her period of nesting had lasted a full week. The change was subtle at first; beginning after a long afternoon of Feyre rearranging clothes and ordering my brothers and I to move around the furniture in the nursery no less than ten times that day alone, then choosing to spend the rest of the evening walking the gardens with Elain. It was there, watching from the library window, that I felt the call in my blood—the call that urged me to find a sanctuary for my mate. Months ago, after the birth of his daughter, Kallias had warned me that this instinct would come. As mated fae males, the compulsions we felt in regard to our mates always traced back to the beasts our ancestors were and became especially prominent when they were with child. I had noted as much the minute I scented my offspring present in Feyre's womb, and though I had not been fully aware of her pregnancy until she was, I had instinctually known and formed a new attachment to her—to our son. Like the mating bond, the ties I formed with my unborn child were just as strong and prominent; however silent. I could sense those occasional glimmers that Feyre felt; had even felt that warning tug when they had been in trouble during the attack on Velaris. However, this tug, this preternatural warning, was different—stronger than before.

He was ready. Sebastian was ready to enter the world.

XXX

-Feyre-

"It's time, my love," Rhys purred in my ear as I stared out into the gardens, sitting on the cushioned loveseat on our balcony.

Once I had returned from my earlier walk with Elain, warm and content despite the late autumn chill—thanks to my mates magic warming the grounds, I chose to skip dinner. Somehow finding it more appealing to retreat to the privacy of my bedroom when I realized I had no appetite at all. While that should've alarmed me, my feelings of content remained as I changed into the comfiest clothes I could find; the softest pair of leggings I owned and a long-sleeved oversized tunic that was large enough to fit over my large belly comfortably. It wasn't long after I had found my seat on the balcony that Rhys was at my ear with a warm mug of tea in hand. I took it from him gratefully and relished in the warmth enveloping my face as I smiled at him in return.

"Time for what?" I asked softly, resting a hand on the apex of my belly.

He kneeled in front of me, hands holding either side of my belly as those star-flecked violet eyes looked into mine meaningfully. "For us to retreat to the Cabin," came his equally soft response.

My heart stuttered for a second as I realized what this meant, but instead of feeling the panic I thought I ought to have, I nodded slowly—an all too familiar glimmer pulsing between my mate and I, between that bond that existed between the three of us and loosed a calm exhale.

"Should we tell the others?" I quietly asked.

Rhys shook his head as he again stood, summoning those dark and beautiful Illyrian wings from the shadows. "I already told them, while you were up here getting comfortable," he said with a warm smile. "They expected as much, and they know how...sensitive this is, so they aren't expecting any heartfelt goodbyes."

I nodded, again surprised from the lack of emotion I felt at that sentiment; that I had no real urge to even say goodbye and be showered with well wishes from our family. Suddenly, I registered what was happening; my diffident state had finally arrived. It was such a strange and foreign feeling as the full weight of what was occurring naturally in my body overcame me. While part of me wanted to feel nervous and be comforted by our loved ones, all I could do was look at my mate and felt all the reassurance I needed.

Finishing my tea, I set the mug aside and allowed Rhys to help me to my feet; a small laugh escaping my lips at the effort it took to ease me upright and returned my stare into those violet eyes.

"Let's go," I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before he lifted me into his arms with heartbreaking ease and took to the skies. I closed my eyes as the wind whipped through my hair, relishing in the cool breeze as I rested my head against Rhys's shoulder; one hand looped around his shoulders and the other caressing my belly. In spite of the awareness of what was to come looming in the back of my mind—the pain I would soon endure, my trepidation was nearly nonexistent.

The healer and our midwife had warned that my withdrawn state could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days before I officially went into labor, but some innate part of me felt that this notion wouldn't drag on for long at all. Sebastian had dropped into his head down position weeks ago and had calmed considerably since my period of nesting began. While his lack of movement had alarmed Rhys and I at first, Madja and the midwife assured that this was also normal. Our youngling, our son, was preparing himself for arrival. His loving glimmer still remained and pulsed through our bond, letting his father and I know that he was there, and that he was just as ready as we were to meet him.

As soon as we touched down to the front steps leading up to the Cabin, I let down my mental shields to Rhys, letting him read my thoughts as he carried me inside. His gentle kiss to my forehead was his only response until we were within the safe walls of the Cabin, the fireplace immediately springing to life as we entered the small living area and he set me on the couch. He came to kneel in front of me as he had earlier, the starlight in his eyes shimmering as they met mine again.

"However long this does last, at least we know we won't be leaving this Cabin until our son is born," Rhys said, a hand coming to stroke my belly gently.

I loosed a long breath as I nodded, my hand joining his. "The next time we go back to the estate...we'll have a baby," I mused as I watched our hands continue to caress the expanse of my stomach.

Our son, our baby Sebastian was just underneath layers of skin and muscle, lying in wait and ready to be born in what could be hours or days. The process would be grueling and long...but that intuitive and serene sense told me that I was prepared, that I could do this.

"You can," Rhysand interjected quietly; my mental shields still left down for him, "and I will be at your side through every second of it."

I gave him a slow smile in return, bringing my hand to touch his face gently. "I have no doubt about that, Rhysand," I said softly.

He kissed my palm before moving from his kneeled position to a seated one beside me, his hand lingering on my belly.

Will you tell me what happens in the Night Court when an heir is born now? I asked through the bond.

Rhys's chuckle sent a warm shudder down the bond as he pressed another kiss to my brow. "You'll find out soon enough, my love," he answered aloud.

Prick.

XXX

-Rhysand-

The labor pains began the next morning.

Only an hour after our arrival at the Cabin the night before, my mate had fallen into a deep slumber while we lingered together in the sitting area. I carried her to bed not long after, keeping a watchful eye on her during the night and sending as many updates as possible to our awaiting family in Velaris. After Mor's persistent "check-in's" every hour, at Cassian's insistence she claimed, I decided to communicate mind-to-mind with Az; who's ever-present composed demeanor was always a comfort no matter the situation, even as I could sense his underlying worry for his High Lady. However, in between the few hours of sleep I allowed myself through the night, I updated and reassured him of Feyre's condition. But, when my mate awoke with a furrowed brow and a pained expression, I sent a direct order for him to send for the midwife and healer.

XXX

-Feyre-

The labor pains came in waves.

When I first awoke from the most tranquil state of sleep I had ever found for the duration of my pregnancy, the muscle contractions in my lower abdomen had felt like the twinges of pain I experienced during my previous cycles—uncomfortable and excruciating, but in the last decade I had learned different techniques in order to cope, such as curling up in a certain position on my side or alternating between heating and cooling blankets laid across my abdomen and back. Like the cramps associated with my cycles, these contractions pulsed and throbbed through my lower body, ripping across my back, stomach, and thighs, but were thankfully manageable with Rhysand's help. The minute a groan escaped my lips, Rhys sprang into action, sitting on his knees beside me and helping me sit upright. He let me squeeze his hand and led me through the controlled breathing exercises the midwife had shown us in preparation for this moment, and for the first few hours they were completely doable.

The tightening would build and build, washing over my body in a flood; my deep and cleansing breaths pushing them back down into nothing...until it all happened again minutes later. From the time the first wave consumed me and dissipated, a minute had barely gone by, and Rhys was still at my ear whispering terms of endearment and encouragement until Madja and our midwife arrived. The duo immediately began setting up our space with the supplies needed for the duration of my labor, and I watched them in a trance. Thanks to the healer and midwife's many lectures leading up to this event, I knew that part of me would be so focused on making it through this arduous process that the rest of the world would melt away. However, there was still a small part of me—perhaps the part tethered to the bond I shared with my mate, that was acutely aware of everything that was happening.

It was all so...primal. As the hours passed, my body continued to endure the waves of contractions and pain that continued to surge, mount, and flood my entire being. I knew what was happening, and despite the pain affecting my innermost being, that innate female shouldered on. Meanwhile, a tiny part of my consciousness watched from a distance at the bridge that connected me to my mate. It was that part of my psyche, the only part unaffected by the unadulterated anguish brought on contraction after contraction, that could hear Rhysand's words; that could register them and find the encouragement I needed in order to push past pain after insurmountable pain.

XXX

-Rhysand-

Feyre's cries and shouts of agony were truly the worst form of torment I had ever withstood in the centuries I had been alive. For every pulse of pain that washed over her body, I wished with every fiber of my being that I could take it away. Despite knowing that I could was easily the hardest part in watching her suffer, but my mate had made me vow months in advance not to.

"Promise me you won't use your daemati abilities to ease my pain," Feyre had said softly.

It had still been fairly early in her pregnancy when she uttered those words; when we had taken a few days to ourselves in this very Cabin and whispered words of comfort and reassured each other that we would be different from our own parents. I had just promised my mate of the outstanding mother she would become for our son, and she assured me the same—dissuading any insecurities either of us had for our ability to be good parents. My forehead was still pressed against hers, eyes imploring as she stared at me meaningfully.

I raised my head, my gaze leveling with those stunning blue-grey eyes as I asked, "Are you sure, Feyre? The pain will be...considerable."

Kallias warned me as much in his letters following Eira's birth. While the experience had passed in a blur, those hours leading up to his daughter's birth had tortured a once vivacious and bright female. If the pains of labor could bring down even Viviane, I knew the same would be true for my mate.

Feyre simply nodded. "If Viviane could do it, if your mother could do it, then so can I," she insisted.

My gaze had softened as I cupped her face gently. "I have no doubt that you can do it Feyre, darling, but if I could make it easier for you-"

"No," she repeated. "Females have been doing it for centuries without any kind of pain relief, and as High Lady of the Night Court, I've more than proven I can handle this as well."

I brushed my thumb along her cheek gently as I nodded in agreement. While every feral instinct in me protested the allowance of my mates suffering, I shoved those intolerant compulsions away. This was Feyre's choice, she was the one carrying my child and would ultimately bring him into the world, so it was her decision on how she wanted to accomplish that task. My job now, as Kallias had outlined to me from his own account, was to support my mate through the ordeal.

"As my High Lady wishes," I purred before pressing another reassuring kiss to her brow.

Her returning smile was bright, those blue-grey eyes shimmering with adoration before either of us noticed the new tattoo forming in the shape of three small stars on both of our right pinky fingers. A small laugh rumbled in my chest as we both watched the stars take shape and solidify on our skin—evidence of our new promise.

"I must say, Feyre darling, if the centuries we have together are filled with more and more oaths between us, I may run out of skin," I teased.

My beautiful, perfect, mate only laughed, the sound resounding through our bond; its melody causing Sebastian's glimmer of delight to thrum between us a moment later.

XXX

-Feyre-

Rhys's was the only voice I could hear over my misery, and during those couple precious moments of respite in between surges of hurt. I was vaguely aware of my own howls of agony as my mate continued to coach me through each breathing exercise; guiding me back to calmer and more controlled breaths whenever they turned into angry or pain-filled sobs. I could hardly keep track of how much time had passed, or anything at all for that matter; my mind too focused on getting me to the end of each earth-shattering contraction. That innate part of me left on the bridge of my bond couldn't tell if the ground beneath me was actually trembling or not, and I was too exhausted to actually ask whenever the conscious part of my being was alert to my present surroundings.

There were slivers of minutes when I was able to hear Madja and the midwife, mostly talking to Rhys and offering advice; one suggestion being to actually get me out of bed and walking around the space of the Cabin. From what I could actually discern of the conversation the older females were having with my mate, they explained that any movement might help things along—staying idle and writhing in pain while lying in bed would apparently only prolong my suffering. So, while I was still aware, Rhys helped me out of bed; one arm wrapped around my back to keep me supported, and his free hand gripping mine. I kept my other on my hip, eyes closed as I shuffled out of the small bedroom with his help.

I could hear Rhys's voice again in my ear, full of nothing but love and support, as I felt the beginnings of the stabbing pain return. "You're doing so well, my love," he said softly.

I yearned for the peace the timbre of his voice once offered me, clung to the shreds of it as the next contraction sent me from my feet onto all fours on the ground beneath me. I could only feel Rhysand's hands on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I howled in pain, my groans staying loud as I followed the patterned breathing as best as I could. Somehow, this position—being on my hands and knees, made the contractions easier to cope with. Remembering the midwife's explanation that labor was such an exacting primal act in itself, that instinctual female in me realized that in order to carry on for the duration of this process I would need to follow whatever natural tendency wanted to take control.

Once the pain finally began to ebb away and my breathing regulated, I felt Rhys's hands try to lift me up. I shook my head immediately.

"No," I rasped. "This feels good," I said as I turned my head to meet his starlit gaze.

He nodded in return, hands resuming the comforting circles he made on my back whilst the magic of the Cabin supplied a plush blanket underneath me—to keep my bare hands and knees from being pressed to the hardwood floors. I realized then that my loose nighttime shift was the only piece of clothing I donned. Sometime between waking and now, Rhys must've used his magic to change me into simpler clothing.

"You won't be needing much else for this process," came the midwife's voice from behind my place on the floor in the middle of the sitting room; probably guessing my thoughts as I looked over my attire.

I raised my weary gaze to her, both her and Madja offering a kind smile in return as they sat on the settee across from me. "We've been performing hourly pelvic exams in order to check your progression in between contractions," the healer explained.

I nodded, vaguely remembering their voices explaining what they were doing and when during the few moments of alertness I had been granted thus far. Another part of me recalling the crucial details the midwife had previously explained to my mate and me. In order to reach the final stage of labor, the pushing stage, the opening of my womb had to reach a certain level of thinning out and my bag of waters hosting the baby would have to burst in order for him to pass through and officially enter the world.

"You're about halfway there," Rhys said, answering my unasked question.

"Of course, when the time comes, you'll feel that preternatural urge to begin pushing, which is a tall-tale sign for the final stage of delivery to occur," the midwife explained.

"How long has it been?" I asked, my voice hoarse from my earlier groans.

"Hours," Madja answered, waving a nonchalant hand. "The timing doesn't matter, so long as you and your youngling continue to tolerate the process well, there isn't anything to worry about."

"Which you are," the midwife added. "Doing well, I mean."

"You're doing brilliantly, Feyre darling," Rhys repeated, pressing a kiss to the side of my temple as he continued working those reposeful circles on my back.

I could only offer a brief smile in return before another gut-wrenching wave overwhelmed me once again.

XXX

-Rhysand-

There seemed to be no end to Feyre's suffering as pain continued to seize her body, the intervals of contractions growing shorter and shorter as the hours continued to pass. Still, in spite of my heart shattering every time the Cabin was filled with her agonizing wails, part of me watched my mate in admiration as she fought her way through the excruciating convulsions and followed whatever insights her body called her to do in order to manage each one. We switched from her position on the floor, to walking around the small space of the Cabin, leaning against walls and different pieces of furniture for support as the contractions persisted; the midwife and healer checking her progression with pelvic exams at every mark of the hour. The day was now transitioning into early evening, and the contractions were starting to last longer—to the point where Feyre could hardly speak, or barely register anything at all as she endured them. During those pain-free intervals, she was able to nod in acknowledgement at whatever few words were spoken to her, engage in brief conversation, or give a simple shake of her head when she wanted to continue moving around the room or into a new relieving position.

The stronger the contractions grew, so did Feyre's reaction to them. She still whimpered in pain, her groans nearly coming out as growls as she battled to keep pace with the breathing exercises I coached her through. But with my focus kept solely on my mate, I hadn't realized I was no longer updating Azriel until I felt a gentle plea from Mor. Feyre had just undergone another contraction when I heard Mor's timid entreatment. Apparently, my mate's roars of pain had been so profound, that they had shook the expanse of mountains across our court. I had been too engrossed with guiding Feyre's breathing to notice, but our family back in Velaris had. They knew it was a sign of things advancing; that the next heir of the Night Court would soon make his entrance. So, I updated them as quickly as possible, promising that my next update would come when Sebastian did, and turned my attention back onto Feyre.

XXX

-Feyre-

Somehow my journey around the Cabin had come full circle, and I ended up on all fours on the cushioned bed in the bedroom. In the time my last contraction ebbed away, and I found Rhysand's violet eyes to offer a bleary-eyed appreciative smile, I felt my body shift. Still panting and recovering the breath I had used during the last contraction, I gripped Rhys's hand, silently asking him to help me upright. He obeyed, and I leaned back against his chest for support as I rested on my knees with a sigh of relief...my eyes widening a second later when I felt a gush of water burst between my legs.

My head snapped in the direction of the mess now spreading on the once clean sheets of the bed before Rhys helped me off and back onto my feet, the magic of the house changing the sheets without a second thought. I stared wide-eyed at my mate, but he only smiled warmly in return before pressing a kiss to my brow.

"M-My...bag of waters broke," I said, still astonished.

He nodded. "Just like the midwife told us it would," he added, rubbing my back in reassuring strokes.

My hands held my stomach, suddenly feeling lighter at the loss of fluid that had built up over the last several months. "T-This is really happening, Rhys," I whispered, knowing this moment of clarity would soon pass as the next contraction started to edge back in.

"You're doing it, Feyre," he said with another kiss to my brow. "It's almost over."

I didn't have enough time to respond before the full weight of the contraction hit in an entirely different way than I had previously felt. Rhys helped me back onto the edge of the bed, and I gripped his hand hard as the pain began to mount and surge through me—a newfound pressure building at the base of my pelvis alongside with it, and my breaths came in fuller and deeper rasps. Madja and the healer, who had remained in another room of the Cabin to allow Rhys and me some privacy, must've heard the change in my breathing because they entered the room seconds later.

The words exchanged between the older females and my mate seemed far away, barely discernible to me as I closed my eyes in concentration. The painful pressure I felt continued to build, and I realized that preternatural urge to push was here. The groan that slipped through my lips must've been indication enough, because I soon found myself in the center of the bed with Rhys holding me upright and the midwife at my feet as she performed her final pelvic exam.

"It's time, my Lady," the midwife said, as I forced my attention on her. "It's time to start pushing."

My heart shuttered at the words, and I turned wide eyes to my mate, who kept an arm wrapped around my back, allowing me to partially rest against him while I squeezed his free hand.

You can do this, Feyre, darling

His warm voice echoed through the bond, reaching my innermost self left on the bridge between us, and I nodded as I felt the surge of pain return. I groaned as the intense pressure grew stronger, the urge to push becoming forceful by the second, and heard the combined voices of Madja and the midwife quickly instructing me on how to position myself on the bed. With my upper body being supported by Rhys, and my legs drawn up and open, I quickly sucked in a deep breath as the females instructed and bore down in my first push.

XXX

-Rhysand-

Feyre pushed and pushed for what felt like hours, but in reality, I knew it had only been one—judging by the path of vanishing sunlight outside the window that finally gave way to night as it always did; dark orange blending into a mix of magenta and indigo before the all-consuming dark sea of stars swallowed them up and lit up the sky. I was all too familiar with that pattern, had watched it countless times in my lifetime, but had never felt it drag on as long as it had tonight. Perhaps Feyre's continued screams of anguish as she pushed were the reason why it felt so prolonged now, but I forced myself not to linger on watching it as I honed in on my mate.

She slumped against my chest, exhausted and spent after offering another hard push, and I dabbed at her brow and neck with a cool, damp cloth. I lost track of how many she had done but kept a brave face as I encouraged her further. She was indeed the strongest female I had ever seen in my centuries of life, and I held onto that reverence in order to battle the guilt that raged within me. It was my offspring she had grown in her belly; mine she now choked back tears for as she drew in another deep breath and pushed again, brows sweaty and furrowed in pure concentration, face red with splotches as she growled in pain with her effort.

It was both the most beautiful I had ever seen her, and the most harrowing.

While my chest ached with remorse for seeing my mate in such a state, it was also filled with so much more love and devotion I had ever felt towards her. I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she pushed, silently letting her know how much I loved her in this moment.

XXX

-Feyre-

"I can see the head my lady," Madja cheered as I pushed.

A snarl of agony ripped from my throat; my eyes still clenched in concentration. "Get it out!" I growled without breaking my effort.

"You're nearly there," came the midwife's response.

I groaned, panting heavily as I slumped against Rhys again. He whispered loving words of support as he dabbed at my face and neck to cool me down, and I knew the all-consuming heat I felt had nothing to do with my powers and everything to do with this struggle. Not even the messy bun I had thrown my hair into seemed to cool me down in between my endeavors, so I was grateful when Rhys had begun using a damp washcloth to provide relief—the only kind afforded to me during this ordeal. It was all starting to become too overwhelming to endure for much longer, and I felt my resolve slipping. My eyes met with Rhys's for a brief moment, and instead of offering him a tired half-smile I had done so far, I broke into sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Rhys," I cried.

His hand squeezed mine, the starlight in his eyes flickering as the hand on my back tightened gently. "You can," he promised. "Sebastian is almost here, Feyre, just imagine our little Bash here at last,"

I sobbed at the thought, the images of my baby I had been dreaming of for months flashing through my mind before I felt the devastating pain returned. I cried again, loudly claiming I couldn't do it, and was met with a chorus of voices encouraging me—claiming I could, and would. Deciding not to keep fighting it, I rallied my strength together with another gulp of air and bore down with the hardest push I could offer.

My attempt heralded in another round of voices animatedly telling me to continue, and though I couldn't differentiate the female's voices, I heard one of them tell Rhys to watch as our son's head began to emerge. My eyes were squeezed shut with my effort, so I couldn't see the look on his face, but a yelp of pain emerged from my throat a second later as I felt the strain of my baby's head coming through with the force of my pushing. The midwife quickly told me to take several deep breaths instead, and I did as I was told, gasping aloud when I felt a painful burst.

"The head is out, my lady," the midwife said with a meaningful look as I finally opened my eyes.

I gasped for even breaths, nodding before I looked to Rhys; whose violet eyes were silver lined as they met mine. He had shifted to my side for a better view of our son coming forth, his and Madja's hands holding either side of me, balancing me upright.

"He's so beautiful, Feyre," Rhys said tearfully as he lowered his head to rest his forehead against mine, a tear trailing down the side of his cheek.

I sobbed again, bringing a hand to brush that tear away briefly before grasping his free one as my body yielded to another throbbing contraction. "Just one more big push, my lady, and your babe will be in your arms." Madja promised.

"One more, and you're done," Rhys vowed, repeating the healer's words.

Instead of voicing my agreement, I continued my hold on to Rhys's hand while I gripped my knee with the other and sucked in a quick gasp of air before offering what now had to be the strongest and hardest push my body could muster. My eyes squeezed shut as I fixed all of my attention into this push, near-feral growls emerging from my throat at the unbearable pain that tore through me, my cries drowning out the myriad of voices cheering me on.

Soon, however, all the pain vanished the second I heard the tiniest, most magnificent wail I would ever hear in my entire life.

[teaandatale]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.

Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.

Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: Thoughts on Jane Birkin? - Talented elegant actor-musician-model? Overrated at everything but she was pretty? Or, never thought about it, but she did design a nice bag for Hermes?

My thoughts about Jane Birkin is that she is and will always remain an all round feminine icon. Plain and simple.

That’s not just my contrarian view because she was an icon that overlapped into my grandparents’ and parents’ generation of the late 60s and 70s but it’s also the view of many French today too. I knew of her because her songs alongside Françoise Hardy and other French chanteuse were always playing on my parents stereo system growing up overseas. Indeed so well-documented is the love affair between Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, that to picture it retrospectively is to watch a flickering series of film stills in one’s mind. Enter the young British actress in 1970s Paris, basket swinging nonchalantly from one arm, baby daughter clasped carefully in the other, dancing down Boulevard Saint-Germain with the thoughtful French musician’s adoring figure at her side. They loved, smoked and fought fervently, their ten-year-long affair an archetype of that between musician and muse in bohemian Paris, and 40 years after its dissolution, the French still can’t get enough.

As you allude to in your question, she has famously said of herself and Serg Gainsbourg that, “He was a great man. I was just pretty.” Which has led a small minority - especially those in her native England - to be dismissive of her as a long forgotten pretty face of the 70s and who was over-rated because she was nothing without riding on the coat tails of the crooning bad boy, Gainsbourg. On the face of it it was a very disingenuous remark to make because Gainsbourg was indeed a great man (as a musician and French cultural male icon) but she was so much more than a pretty face. I strongly suggest that she was just being her usual self-deprecating Anglo-self and one who remains to be a tad embarrassed at 73 years old to be continued to be lauded as a genuine timeless French style and chanteuse icon.

No one can doubt that Jane Birkin has always had some talent as an artist. Birkin has enjoyed a long career in the arts as a singer, songwriter, actress, and director. Her longevity is one proof of her staying power. Arguably though, it is her reputation as a style icon, and more specifically being the namesake of the iconic Hermès Birkin bag for which she is best known today. She might well have been Gainsbourg’s baby doll (his words) but she was very much her own popular muse and actress.

This may surprise many but Jane Birkin has appeared in over 70 films over several decades. As an actress it is often forgotten how good she is because most of her films were made in France and she rarely did films outside of France.

She was already known even before she hooked up with Gainsbourg. She was born in 1946 to an actress mother, Judy Campbell, and her Royal Navy lieutenant-commander and spy, David Birkin. Her mother was an acclaimed actress of her generation and muse to the older Noel Coward. She had a typical upbringing that one might call comfortably posh upper middle class. She was already married at 17 to film composer, John Barry (yes, the same John Barry who composed all the music for the James Bond films and other Hollywood films (Out of Africa, Dances with Wolves, Cotton Club etc) in 1965 but divorced in 1968 with custody of their daughter. Birkin quickly became part of the swinging London scene in the 1960s and appeared briefly in a handful of films.

Birkin was already well known but it was her nude turn in Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film Blow-Up that really put her on the map. Even today it’s seen as one of the iconic films of the swinging sixties.

She famously arrived in Paris unable to speak French with her newborn daughter in her arms. The story goes that she was offered the lead role in the 1968 French film Slogan alongside Gainsbourg after sobbing through her screen test. Starring alongside Serge Gainsbourg, Birkin performed with him on the movie’s theme song. It was on that film set that they would begin their truly passionate relationship as well as artistic collaborations throughout the 1970s.

Indeed a year later in 1969 they both released the song that has forever defined them both to non-French people around the world, the duet  “Je t’aime…moi non plus” which was met with scandal and disapproval by the Vatican and banned in many countries.

It may have solidified Birkin’s status as the British-born emblem of French chic but in all honesty it also drowned out her notable acting talents. Although Birkin took a brief hiatus from acting to return as Bardot's lover in the 1973 film Don Juan or If Don Juan Were A Woman (for which she got rave reviews because she held her own against Bardot),

it was only until 1975 in Gainsbourg’s own first film Je t’aime…moi non plus that her acting was properly honoured. Again, because of the damn song, people forget that she was nominated for Best Actress César Award (The French version of the Oscars or the Brit’s version of the BAFTAs). To be nominated for a César as best actress in a culture of truly talented actresses is saying something.

This wasn’t a flash in the pan. She was nominated again in 1984 for Best Actress César Award for her role as Alma in La Pirate  - directed by her then partner, Jacques Doillon with whom she did another critically acclaimed film La Fille Prodigue (1981). Her work led her to work on stage with critically acclaimed directors such as Patrice Chéreau. She worked with director Herbert Vesely on Egon Schiele Exzess und Bestrafung in 1980, appearing as the mistress of Austrian artist Egon Schiele, played by Mathieu Carrière. Jacques Rivette collaborated with her in Love on the Ground (1983). The jury of the 1985 Venice Film Festival recognised Birkin's performance in Dust as amongst the best of the year, but decided not to award a best actress prize because it was decided by the jury that all of the actresses they judged to have made the best performances were in films that already won major awards - Dust won the Silver Lion prize so she lost out.

In 1991 she was again nominated for a César Award but this time as best supporting actress in the classic La Belle Noiseuse directed by Jacques Rivette and starring Michel Piccoli and Emmanuelle Béart.

She did of course English films but much more sporadically. She put in a famous turn in both the delightful Hercule Poirot movies starring Peter Ustinov, Death on the Nile and Evil Under the Sun. She also appeared in Merchant Ivory's A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries (1998) (which also used her song "Di Doo Dah”). In 2016 she had the lead role in La femme et le TGV, a short film directed by Swiss filmmaker Timo von Gunten. The film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film. I believe after it was widely reported that she had no plans to return to acting.

I think it’s the parochialism of the Anglo cultural world that has led to this misconception that she wasn’t an actress of note when in fact she has always been up there with the best of French actresses of her generation.

As a singing icon she has been frozen in time. Her fame for one song have clouded a proper critical appraisal of her singing talents. And I think here I have to be honest and say that her critics - from a purely singing technical point of view - might have a point her being over hyped. Not that Jane Birkin ever said she was a great singer as she described herself self-deprecatingly as singing through more keys than a locksmith.

As a singer, Birkin is of course is known for that song that cheekily and perhaps even enviously reinforces the tropes the non-French world have about the French and amour. In 1969, she and Gainsbourg released the duet "Je t'aime... moi non plus" ("I love you ... me neither"). Gainsbourg originally wrote the song for Brigitte Bardot. But Bardot famously declined to sing the track because she found it "too erotic" and she was married at the time.

Although Birkin started out in films, she preferred to focus more on singing than acting. This was primarily because of Serg Gainsbourg who saw Birkin as his muse and wrote songs for her. She released an album in 1975 entitled Lolita Go Home and in 1978 called Ex Fan des Sixties, with the help of Gainsbourg's songwriting. Her music was successful in France, but not in her home country of England. She has made more than a dozen albums, nearly all in French and perhaps one or two in her native English. 

One cannot escape the nagging feeling when I listen to some of her albums - really the later ones - that if she had attempted a career as an English recording artist, she would have stayed a minor singer. If fished out of her small pond and dropped into the music ocean, then Birkin would surely in the words of one music critic, “be engulfed by the plankton of mediocrity”.

And so the troubling truth that must be faced is that because she has been granted access to the ranks of the iconic, it is more because of our interest in the intriguing liaison she had with the maverick Gainsbourg more than anything else.

There is no doubt that her marshmallow accent, reedy voice and modern look made Jane Birkin a singing idol. She has a sense of discretion that is inversely proportional to her dazzling repertoire, which is studded with such astounding masterpieces as ‘Je t’aime… moi non plus’, ‘Swimming Pool’, ‘The Pirate’ and ‘Les dessous chics’. But her later recordings such as Le Symphonique, in which she is accompanied by a 90-piece orchestra - are mostly re-worked recordings of her songs with Gainsbourg who had died in 1991. Or take her 1996 album Arabesque which featured re-workings of Gainsbourg’s music, along with instrumentals backed by five Arabic musicians. Nearly all her later albums are quite mediocre.

This isn’t her fault so much as it is the musical artistry of Gainsbourg. He was the puppeteer behind the promulgation of this 'veule aesthetic', this aesthetic of weak plaintive croaking. But he was perhaps the first French singer who knew that manipulating the media would lead to manipulating record sales. Gainsbourg once had a job punching holes into métro tickets on Paris' underground before this ‘poinçonneur de lilas’ went on to almost single-handedly drag France's chanson tradition into the postmodern age. He sat in the opposite corner to the great chanson Musketeers: Leo Ferré, Georges Brassens and Jacques Brel. Gainsbourg is known in France for having cast himself in twin roles: Gainsbourg the musician and Gainsbarre the provocateur.

But there is also a definite divide in his musical production with a pre-1971 period that has a foot in chanson with driving melodies and Boris Vian narratives and the other foot in the fledgling pop tradition, and a post-1971 period that was driven more and more by dodgy electronic drumbeats, tiresome perpetual punning, and repetitive allusions to la femme enfant and Lolita-esque love (his last partner, Bambou, was 30 years his junior).

It remains difficult, therefore, to see how anyone with an ear for melody could think that much of Gainbourg's non-chanson output is melodiously pleasing. Much of his production seems so excruciatingly the work of an ageing pervert with personal hygiene issues.

My French friends, including one of my apartment neighbours in particular - of an older generation with whom I’ve grown close to - will put me through the wringer for saying anything bad about Gainsbourg and Birkin as singers. I just feel no one should be above a critical appraisal. Worse, it becomes very difficult to say anything critical for fear of being told that you just have not understood Gainsbourg's genius (surely Jarvis Cocker and Portishead can't be wrong!) But in reality there is very little to understand. He gave up trying to sing early on - the songs I really do like and find interesting - and quickly became the one-trick pony until his unfortunate death in May 1991 at 62 years old: a suggestive lyric about a questionable relationship here, a pun on every other word as an excuse for poetics there, slurred together with the voice of a sneering old man. The man stood out, broke away from troubadour-like folklore, but ultimately a tad mediocre.

The truth is Birkin without Gainsbourg was never much of a truly great singer. Combined with their public spats, Birkin reportedly grew tired of Gainsbourg's drinking and melancholy habits, so much so it became impossible to live with. They separated in 1980 despite never being married, despite reports of the contrary. Birkin later said that their friendship and his songwriting improved after they split. “You could talk back to him for once,” she said. “You were not just his creation any more.” As much as she was his muse, she was Pygmalion to his Prof. Henry Higgins. But the sad and prosaic truth is that without his unique style of songs to carry her limited singing range she was dreadfully exposed outside of Gainsbourg’s repertoire.

This was brought home to me when I listened to her cover version of Cohen’s iconic song, ‘Hallelujah’. Cohen's lyrics tell of David composing a song in praise of God, he describes the euphony that 'hallelujah' forms in his prayer, "the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift." Birkin on the other hand warbled her way through. As she said once of her singing, she went through more keys than a locksmith.

Does Jane Birkin fare better as a style icon? Yes, she does. Absolutely.

To understand the Birkin bag one has to understand how Jane Birkin a Parisienne fashion style icon without her necessarily wanting to be one.

The quintessential trope of Parisienne woman is a conflation we likely owe to the framing of the 1950s and ’60s mavens of French popular culture like Françoise Hardy, Catherine Deneuve, and Brigitte Bardot as French icons, but who remain eminently tied to Parisian mythology - their reverence to a billion-dollar fashion archetype (thank you LVMH) is as reductive to the real women of Paris as it is to the women aspiring to be them. Of course this kind of Parisienne chic exists - a walk down the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré in the 8th arrondissement of Paris should satisfy the many star struck ‘American Emily’s’ coming to Paris (what a God awful Netflix drama it is). 

But like London or New York or even Rome and Milan, there is no such thing as one Parisian style. There’s a plurality of Parisian styles and personalities - that’s obvious from walking the different arrondissements of Paris.

Jane Birkin in her day brought her own style to fit her British personality that was a far cry from the elegantly and expensively dressed mavens. From her laissez-faire fringe, to her layered necklaces, vintage denim, peasant blouses and white t-shirts, she wowed Parisienne women.

Today if you ever wander around Paris looking at the younger girls - or look at French young girls sporting their Paris street chic style on instagram or other social media - they call it Paris street chic. It’s not fashion, it’s a street style.

It’s really bunch of every day clothing items and accessories stylishly thrown together. So it’s not surprising to learn that the original source of French street chic started with Jane Birkin. It was Birkin who ‘pioneered’ the kind of off-duty dressing you now see all over the streets of Paris. I say pioneered but the truth is she dressed for herself without even wanting or trying to become a French style icon.

Still as fashionistas will tell you, Birkin was always several decades ahead of the style curve (easy for them to say). It was stylish but above all it was timeless. It amuses me no end that when one sees doe eyed American girls who are so enamoured by French girl fashion but don’t realise they owe their thanks to an English girl.

I’m sure it amuses Birkin too because she always thought her Haute-hippie style and free spirit was her way to insulate her personal insecurities about how well dressed and stylish haute bourgeois Parisian women were in their Chanel and YSL clothing. Her style is her own, as she said to Vogue, “I buy things often, but I sleep in them for two weeks, and then they really look quite rough.”

If there is common ground between the elegantly dressed mavens of high end brand fashion houses and the ultra casual minimalist street wear it is around the very simple Parisian quality of simplicity. Simplicity - not necessarily in colour or print but in the total look. Simple but important enough for a younger generation of Parisienne women should be free to express themselves free  from the grips of a generations-old myth.

In a nutshell if Birkin’s style and influence endures it’s because her style is about simplicity.

Nevertheless her place as a style icon rests upon a simple straw basket (or wicker basket). However, in 1981 a chance encounter on a plane would result in the straw basket’s replacement by the world’s most desired leather bag - the Hermès Birkin bag.

In the 70s she was mainly known for her use of a straw/wicker basket which she used instead of a regular handbag. She was famous for her straw basket as she went everywhere with it, even dancing at the most exclusive of clubs or eating at the finest dining places. She carried all kinds of bits and bobs, including baby milk bottles, diapers, and baby change wear as well as collecting trinkets on her journeys around Paris. It was seen as a stylish English eccentricity by the Parisians.

There is famous story about Jane Birkin and her straw basket that has entered into legend. The straw basket bag’s anonymous shape and generous size lent it to concealment, so when, during a lavish Christmas evening spent at the famous Parisian Bistro Maxim’s with Gainsbourg, the young English actress slipped a few pieces of the institution’s fine monogrammed crockery into it, nobody batted an eyelid. It was only later, when the basket slipped from her wrist while signing an autograph and sent her stash of china flying across the floor, that she was found out. In a perfect act of Parisian discretion a kindly waiter collected it up for her and replaced it in the basket. “A gift from Maxim’s,” he is reported to have whispered to her. “If you require more, you only have to ask.”

In 1981, Birkin was on a short flight from Paris to London. Carrying her famous straw basket, she placed it in the overhead compartment of her seat. However, the lid of the basket opened, and the contents spilled all over the floor and on the seats around her. Sitting next to her and assisting her in retrieving the contents of her basket was the late executive of Hermès, Jean-Louis Dumas. Birkin complained to Dumas that she was unable to find a suitable leather weekend bag that she liked. According to folklore, the remainder of the flight consisted of the pair designing a bag together and sketching ideas on an air sickness bag.

Fast forward three years and a prototype handbag was developed and presented to Jane Birkin – the Hermès Birkin bag. The bag, crafted from supple leather and handmade in France by a single, highly trained artisan, and takes up to 24 hours to complete. Designed specifically to provide ample room for jet-setting women, the bag quickly became a fashion icon and status symbol for women worldwide. The Birkin bag comes in a range of sizes, leathers, exotic skins, and hardware, with new colours introduced each season and limited edition versions of the bag crafted occasionally.

Since the creation of the very first Birkin bag, Jane Birkin had always carried one. However, true to her unique style and fashion, she continually customised her bags with beads, trinkets, protest stickers, and other titbits to create a unique look. Birkin even defaced her namesake’s bag on Japanese TV in 2008. The fashion icon repeatedly stamped on a tan-coloured Birkin bag to make it look “unique.” 

Not surprisingly, the customisation of the Birkin bag caught on quickly and “defacing” Birkin bags is now a modern and trendy pastime practiced by D list celebrities including Kim Kardashian, Tamara Ecclestone, and many of today’s so-called fashion icons and social media style influencers.

Commendably Birkin auctions off her complimentary Birkin bags from Hermès for charitable causes. She often works with Amnesty International on humanitarian issues and donates her yearly royalties for the Birkin bag (approximately $50,000 per year) to a charity of her choice. Jane Birkin has said she now rarely uses the famous handbag that bears her name. In an interview with the BBC she told the BBC that if, like her, she used to fill the bag with "junk... and half the furniture from your house, it's a very, very heavy bag. Now I fill my pockets like a man, because then you don't actually have to carry anything."

In typical Jane Birkin style, she doesn't own one.

Jane Birkin will always be France’s favourite “petite Anglaise” as she was often known. And therein lies the clue why she remains beloved French icon despite her being English for two main reasons that come to mind.

Firstly, I suspect it’s because of her remarkable quality to be down to earth and cheerfully optimistic in public. Above all she displays a wonderful talent for mocking herself and not taking herself seriously. When for instance she was invited to take a role in a theatre production of a play by the 17th-century French writer Marivaux, she thought she was in a play by Marie Vau! The French have always been beguiled by her because of the stardust of the Sixties.

Despite Birkin being diagnosed with leukaemia in 2002, she said she conducted her life and love affairs with “an absolutely unfounded optimism”. That is not in doubt. With the recent publication of her diaries (Munkey Diaries 1957-1982 - a fantastic read) a more fuller picture has emerged that have further endeared her to the French.

Birkin was always riddled with insecurities, “I think I’m nothing, I’m persecuted by women who I love more than myself... Oh for the face of Nastassja Kinski, of Fanny Ardant, oh, the talent, the courage, the qualities. I have nothing interesting to say...” Above all she was convinced she was “suffering from mediocrity and no personality”, and wanted above all was to be loved. England never gave her that love, France did so happily. Even today France openly loves her.

Secondly, the French, especially the Parisians, love her because she embraces the French way of life with gusto and gaeity. Birkin speaks French fine but she stumbles in her heavily accented French. But she doesn’t mind and neither do the French. She was schooled in England into a culture where it’s okay to stumble, to try and fail, to be less than perfect. However, the old, rote, didactic, shame-based French schooling system dies hard. French people are often afraid to speak English unless they can feel assured it is impeccable at the same time - alomost in contradiction - they feel put out by foreigners who simply speak English to them without even having the courtesy to speak a little French, they think it rude and respond accordingly. But Birkin is so transparent and open to falling flat on her face that I think the Parisians find it strangely endearing.

Birkin is that living truism that you don’t have to be French to be a Parisian icon of style and especially when beauty pertains to age.

Outside of native born French women, Brigitte Bardot, Françoise Hardy, Catherine Deneueve, Jeanne Moreau, Fanny Ardant, Juliette Binoche, Inés de la Fressange and one or two others (Isabelle Huppert is an outlier of arthouse chic style), there have been other non-French women besides Jane Birkin who have personified Parisian chic and style: Sylvia Vartan, Charlotte Rampling, Nastassja Kinski, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Carla Bruni, to name but a few. Each has come to embody ‘Parisian style’ without ever being raised here but now very much live and breathe the Parisienne spirit.

Just as importantly Paris, like French culture as a whole, values beauty especially as it ages. There are many seasons to women as there are to make fine wine. This is one reason why Jane Birkin endures even at the age of 73 years old. Style icons like Jane Birkin and others like Inés de la Fressange (who was the face of Chanel for so long and is now going strong at 63 years old) have given a well deserved middle finger to the notion that there is a codified set of rules for fashion and beauty for women over 50 years old.

Indeed this is one of the secrets of living in Paris, it knows how to renew and refresh itself without losing its unique identity e.g. the model and actress Jeanne Damas, is arguably this current generation’s Jane Birkin and all power to her.

The stylish contributions of all these iconic women, and especially Jane Birkin, is a testament of why the allure of Paris as a cultural centre will continue to endure seamlessly because it values the aesthetic truth that true style is beauty that timelessly matures.  

Birkin said once she was in no doubt she would always be best known for her erotic record Je t'aime, moi non plus. Of course she under sells herself as she has always done because she is so much more.

Compare her to modern style icons. Kim Kardashian would be the nearest but her fame as a style icon rests on one cynically contrived (and boring) sex tape, a narcissistic family TV reality show, and being married to a grossly deluded rap singer. I don’t think the modern day airheads are true style icons but fashion victims because as Yves Saint Laurent once memorably put it, “Fashions fade, style endures”.

Jane Birkin will endure. Her contribution to French cultural life has been immense. The gap-tooth smile that looks irrepressibly cool, the messy fringe, the long string bean legs, the ability to elegantly wear denim for any and every situation, the reason she made a lowly wicker basket her bag of choice all year long. We may never know why, but honestly it’s not worth questioning at this point because it was so seriously chic - is one even allowed to say the word chic again? When it comes to Birkin, it’s a word that bears repeating.

Birkin might cheerfully be accepting of the fact that for an older generation much of her fame still rests on one scandalous song but for the contemporary generation it will be the Hermès Birkin bag.

"It's a rather extraordinary record," Birkin said once. "Perhaps more interesting than the bag." I daresay Serg Gainsbourg would agree about the song and the bag.

Ah yes that bag. The Birkin bag. To me it’s not a fashion item but a life saver.

From mothers juggling diapers and milk bottles whilst chasing after their toddlers in stores to busy career women hurriedly scooping up and stuffing in reams of files, phone and lap top while rushing off their feet to their next meeting all can thank ‘la petite Anglaise’ for her Birkin bag.

I know I do. I use mine for a work lap top, mobile phone, work files and folders, pens, chewing gum, girls stuff (make up kit and tampons), a spare pair of knickers, sun glasses, gloves, an apple, a bottle of water, playing cards, a cigar case (and cutter and lighter), and a few books to read when I fly on a business trip.

Thanks for your question.

[mercuryonparklane]

I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009. 

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

 They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.  

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me. 

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him. 

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent. 

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress...  Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day. 

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc). 

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway. 

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion... 

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

[starrysupercell]

Sooo... Now that its my wif- Tara's birthday... Are the Mystics (And Bo) gonna celebrate it :D? I can imagine Gene trying to set up some kind of surprise party for her, that would remain a surprise for like 4 minutes...

DANG IT. Past 12. TwT

But here you go! An outline for how Tara’s birthday is celebrated this year. 🧿 best fortune teller in Starr Park tbh. Your wife says hi 💜

I really gotta start keeping track of the Birthdays to have these things planned out.

~

One of the many good things about how much time Tara and Gene have known each other, is he knows she'll figure it out.

The surprise for her will be not the fact that there's a party because she can easily see that, but the extent of it, because she can promise not to sneak a peek at it.

(But now she's curious! Also, she's so used to checking on the future,* it takes a very conscious effort to not do so.)

So, while Gene keeps Tara preoccupied by taking a walk around the Park, Sandy, the Tribe, Gale and Mortis (because they're also friends with the Mysticals bc of the skins, shush.) are in charge of decorating.

So, with only two responsible adults in this group, how well do you think this is going to go? :)

Gale: So do you have a plan for the setup?

Sandy: hm? >.o oh. Yy*yawns*eah. here you go... *hands him a paper*

Gale: ...this just has a rough sketch of the main room and a couple of balloons.

Sandy- mm..felt sleepy but there's still.... -.-...time to...zzzz....

Gale:

Mortis laughs because well they'd just have to wing it! (He would definitely ask Emz for help, but she's busy with the teen crew for plot convenience) As long as decorations are already bought, it should an easy thing in setting it up the way they want it to look.

....decorations are already bought, right?

Sandy softly snores, and the Party Crew realizes that's their answer.

~

Meanwhile, Gene and Tara walk through the Park. The plan is picking up a few extra gifts along the way before heading back to the main party.

Their first stop is Barley's for some drinks! He gifts one bottle of Tara’s preferred drink, but does charge for the rest. Along the way, we see Brawlers greeting Tara and wishing her well on her birthday.

Colette’s very enthusiastic! She knows all the Brawler’s birthdays, and wanted to make something for Tara!

She doesn’t really have extra money recently, since there was some recent change in management, and she usually makes more detailed items, but because of the money problem, couldn’t buy as many materials she needed, but she’s derailing, so she hands Tara her wrapped gift.

It’s a cute hand-made Shade Plush!

Tara is delighted and thanks her for it. It’s a pleasant surprise, and she appreciates it. Colette fangirls a bit, thanking her, and then waving bye as the Mystics carry on.

~

Back at the Bazaar, they're trying to brainstorm on what to do. Well, half of them present are. Sandy is asleep and Nita + Leon are playing around the house.

Mortis says the only things he has back home are.. well, decorations of a more... gothic type..you know,.. (Halloween decors. they’re Halloween decors.)

Gale also offers up... some Snowtel hangings, but again, ‘tis not quite the right season to be jolly.

Bo suggests makeshift decorations. The twins are good at crafts! .. but more so along the lines of forest materials, not sand and...

Everyone’s drawing a blank, and decide that they could gather up their own share of materials, and see what could work best. Their time limit won’t really allow a break after all.

So Gale contacts Lou and asks him if he could meet him halfway with everything he can carry. Try not to get caught by the Penguin boss. Lou, ever the chaotic good guy agrees.

Bo gathers up Leon and Nita and they head out to see what they can scrounge up.

Mortis wonders if he should call up Frank too since he’ll be here later to set up and provide the music, but decides to be ~generous~  and just send a flock of his Bats to pick some things up for him. He sees them off adoringly.

With a content sigh, he lounges back and waits for his precious lovelies to return with his ideal decorations. Sandy sleeps on...

~

Back with Gene and Tara, the next item to pick up is the cake. Piper has the order ready-- a black forest chateau cake.

“Magnificent taste, darlings!” she compliments. she has it all boxed up very fancily. “It’s on the house. Take it as my gift for you. Happy birthday!”

She’ll also be attending the party later. Tara thanks her for the cake. She and Gene then take their leave.

Along the way to their last stop at the new Castle environment for the food, (because while they don’t know Ash very well yet, Tara loves trying out the new items and pizza is always great for a party.)

“Hey, Tara! ...hold up.” Edgar jumps down from a building they’re passing, just because he can and . “...this is from the rest of the Gang. Me too, I guess. Happy birthday.”

~

The party squad are actually worse off than before.

The Shaman Tribe are back, and the Twins became interested in using fabrics to try and make something too. so they’re playing around with it pretty much.

Gale just arrived, with Lou joined along because he was interested in the party planning too. (So, the snowtel is understaffed right now.) but they’re just chatting instead of working.

Mortis’ bats haven’t arrived yet, and he’s getting worried. They don’t usually take this long in running errands for him.

Leon and Nita are practically playing catch right now. They knock over something that looked priceless. Oh, a crystal ball, perhaps. Bo reprimands them.

They haven’t gotten much closer to making up the room...

There’s a knock, and the group freezes because oh no, they’re out of time. but it ends up being Frank. A very unhappy Frank who was suddenly surrounded by screeching batties who kept picking apart the house while he was packing up his set up for the party. They followed him there afterwards, along with several things.

Mortis tries joking it off ;; , and then very quietly and off-handedly apologizes when Frank doesn’t find it very funny.

But then so hey!!! you’re here so decoration time, everybody! let’s hop to it!

Gene’s Lamp, Sliver, floats in. Sent by Gene himself to check on the progress. They were nearing after all. The Lamp’s alarmed by what it sees. That is, absolutely nothing.

It glares around, and spots Sandy still sleeping. Sliver floats over to him, and hops on him-- Wake up!

Sandy does so, but is very grumpy. “what?”

Tara’s Birthday.

“yeah? what about it?”

Don’t you care?

“obviously.” he swats at the lamp. “it’s tomorrow.”

>:( Today. It’s TODAY.

“,” Sandy looks around, as wide-eyed as he could be.

broken crystal ball, a mix of decorations, and nobody currently fixing up anything from the looks of it.

They’re on the way.

Sandy makes a face. “ok... game plan on the fly.”

~

The final stretch of the day out.

Gene and Tara are nearing the Bazaar, and along the way, Gene starts to get heartfelt.

He reminisces how they first met, how far they’ve traveled together, how much longer they’ve yet to go.

He wishes he could think of something to give her that meant something like the other gifts that she received that day.

He was a Genie, but after everything they’ve been through, she deserves much, much more than what he could ever imagine to conjure up for her.

Tara smiles. “(Don’t... put me on too high a pedestal, my Friend.”)

Don’t sell yourself short either. You’ve done so much.

“(Yes. I have.)” Tara muses unhappily, thumbing the doll.

Gene suddenly gets the idea of what his gift could be, but he needs his Lamp to start on it.

~

Right before the two opened the door, a pair of bats were hanging up the last decoration.

And when the two walked in with the final party supplies at hand and are amazed at the display.

intricate ice sculptures and a more snowy feel set up where the food would go. the music section where Frank set up (who was talking with Mortis.) had a darker aesthetic, including the balloons over there.

Lastly the rest of the place was decorated with very cute works of art. no doubt the Tribe kid’s handiwork. she recognized it from when they stayed over, and the gifts Bo’s gotten from them and shown her.

You’d think that the seemed like the mix of fancier silver decorations, a more gothic theme and natural crafts would look odd together... and well, it was quaint, but it was very pleasing to see.

a patchwork of oddities, not unlike this park, really. She’s always been fond of odds and ends. Tara loved it!

Sandy yawns and walks over to them. “we actually just got done with the set up. but if it makes you feel better, we can still hide right now and yell surprise.”

Tara laughs. It’s okay.. it isn’t like she could be-- but she appreciates it. Sandy shrugs, like he didn’t just call all the shots and work in a hurry with the other eight. “you’re welcome.”

Lou offers to help set up the food and cake. Gale helps too, after presenting his gift too.

Frank and Mortis notice the arrival of the Birthday Gal and wave her over. They chat animatedly-- it’s been so long since they’ve had the chance to catch up! They should plan something soon. Tara agrees, and their gift is from the both of them. I can see it being a very nice piece of clothing, though I’m drawing a blank as to what.

The Lamp reunites with Gene, and their perspectives merge again. Oh. the party was really cut close, huh? but it worked out well! what a relief. a scrap book of actual memories is what you have in mind? how very sappy.... She would like it.

Lastly, Bo walks up to Tara, greeting her and wishing her well on this day. He hopes she likes what they helped with ....he then has the Twins apologize for breaking a few things around the house--

Tara dismisses it easily. They can be replaced. The Twins, that is. (joke to scare them.) But really, as long as they were careful from now on, it was okay. the cub and chameleon agree with no hesitation and then run off to cause more mayhem, but quieter this time.

The Psychic smiles. The guests would be arriving soon, and it was already so lively.

Time to party~!

_______

*I’m still deciding on the extent of her powers, so future sight might not be a thing, because of the characterization I have for her. I’m thinking something along the lines of “Can see past events, and make very informed guesses based on what she knows about people, but cannot see the future itself.”

[fischerfrey]

Chapter 1: What Lies Ahead

Summary: A new year is starting at Hogwarts and Verna Malinda is entering her fifth year. She may have a little too much on her plate for the upcoming year though, because she’s been elected prefect...

Pairings: Eventual OC/Merula Snyde

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Matthew Luther belongs to @hphmmatthewluther

As this is a rewrite, some of the dialogue is from the game either directly, or modified to fit the new narrative.

If anyone is interested in being tagged to new upates, let me know!

(Verna was born in December 1972, so she was 13 during the autumn term of her 2nd year)

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Chapter 1: What Lies Ahead

Verna Malinda had been anxiously awaiting the beginning of her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even with a detention of indeterminate length looming in front of her. She knew in her heart that this year was going to be important, and not just because of the O.W.L. examinations but because of the events of last June, and the chance of finding Jacob in the next vault. For Verna, summers had, for the past four years, felt like an inescapable limbo. Every year she longed to be back at Hogwarts, delving into the mystery of the Cursed Vaults. This year, however, she had been elected as a prefect to her great surprise. She hadn’t really considered prefectdom as something to aspire to, because all her time was spent either breaking the rules or planning to break them. Was it really appropriate for a Hogwarts prefect to be serving detention? Mysterious were the ways of Professor Dumbledore.

~

As the Hogwarts Express whistled as a signal for departure, Verna waved to her father from the train’s window and then turned to her friend, Rowan Khanna, the one out of the two of them who should’ve been the prefect. Rowan pushed their glasses up their nose and smiled.

“What is it?”

“I ought to go find Charlie,” Verna said as the train picked up speed. She’d been feeling all kinds of weird about talking to Rowan ever since she got the letter proclaiming her prefect. It had been Rowan’s ambition to claim that spot ever since year one, and somehow Verna had managed it even though she hadn’t even tried.

“Alright, I’ll find Ben. We’ll hold a spot for you, if you get a moment to come sit with us,” Rowan replied and the two headed their separate ways. So far it didn’t seem like Rowan was holding Verna’s election as a prefect against her. Even in their letters, Rowan had only seemed supportive and proud. They had been friends since first year, and Verna hadn’t exactly stolen Rowan’s spot on purpose. In fact, she was fairly certain she had entirely too much on her plate for this year even without being a prefect.

~

Once Verna located Charlie Weasley, Gryffindor’s resident Dragon-enthusiast and Quidditch hero, and as it happened, her fellow prefect, the two of them headed to the special carriage meant for prefects and the Head Boy and Girl.

“What in Merlin’s name possessed Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall to make you and I prefects?” asked Charlie, sounding genuinely confused, although in his defence, it was truly baffling.

“I have a theory that it’s to make us so busy we won’t have time to do any curse-breaking,” Verna reasoned.

“Bill’s a prefect and he’s had plenty of time,” Charlie argued but then added: “Though maybe that’s why he became the Head Boy… Wow, actually you might be right.”

“Thanks Chaz,” Verna laughed as the two entered the prefect carriage. It was already quite packed with new and old prefects, as well as Bill and the Head Girl, Ella Higgs.

“Are we late because I had to wait for you…?” Charlie whispered and Verna shushed him as Ella and Bill started to congratulate them on their achievement. Verna locked eyes with a certain Slytherin student across the carriage. Apparently Merula Snyde had also become a prefect. Verna should’ve expected as much. Her hair looked tousled as usual, but she had elected to sport a dark eye-makeup, which somehow made the purple of her eyes look even more prominent. Merula gave her a look of loathing and then promptly ignored her. Verna’s mood sunk.

“Hi Verna!” came a greeting from among the other fifth-year prefects. It was Matthew Luther, a Ravenclaw chaser who had given Verna a run for her galleons last quidditch season. Verna was pleased to see not only complete arseholes had become prefects.

“Hey!” Verna replied, taking her place among the others.

“Hi Luther,” Charlie whispered, smiling.

“Nice to see you two made it as prefects.”

Verna was about to answer but was quickly silenced by Bill who very deliberately raised his voice and started his introduction to the wonderful world of prefectdom, looking at the three of them meaningfully.

~

After nearly an hour of instruction, Bill and Ella bade them pleasant journey and reminded them of their job to patrol the corridors in regular intervals. After that, many returned to their friends or settled down in the prefects’ carriage. Bill walked up to Verna and Charlie.

“Congrats on becoming a prefect Verna!” he said and slapped her arm for good measure.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to be as responsible as you, William.”

Bill laughed and Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Well, I for one think you two will do just fine,” added Bill.

“If you say so…” Charlie mused. “Should we find Rowan and Ben?” he asked Verna.

“Yeah, see you later Bill!”

“Remember to patrol the corridors! And don’t abuse your power!” Bill called after them as Verna and Charlie headed back to find the compartment their friends were sitting in.

“I don’t think he actually has as much faith in us as he lets on…” Charlie said.

“Yeah, probably not. After all he lives with you, and I’m the one who roped him into this curse-breaking stuff in the first place.”

“Yeah, at the ripe old age of 13.” reminded Charlie. Verna was really starting to doubt Professor Dumbledore’s judgement.

~

Rowan and Ben had found a carriage and reserved spots for them. The two seemed in good spirits and Verna felt much more relaxed. If Rowan was on her side, then everything was going to be okay. Even Ben seemed to be okay, even after he was used to attack Verna under the imperius curse last year.

“How was it?” asked Ben as Verna and Charlie took their seats. He glanced quickly at Rowan, who nodded encouragingly. Verna figured Rowan and Ben had been discussing the incident before she and Charlie arrived. The food trolley had passed ages ago, so Verna nicked a treacle tart from Rowan who gave her an exasperated but amused look.

“Pretty standard stuff, honestly. They explained everything we were told in the briefing about prefects at the end of last year,” explained Charlie.

“Who else was elected?” Rowan inquired.

“Oh you’ll never guess Slytherin’s-“

“Merula,” Rowan said before Charlie could finish.

“Yeah, and she seemed right pleased about it too, I bet she’s gonna have a blast abusing her position,” Verna grumbled. She really was not looking forward to yet another thing to compete over with Merula.

“Not if we abuse our position first,” Charlie said, grinning.

“No,” Rowan admonished them when they saw Verna’s matching grin.

“I’ll disown you both if you sink to her level.”

Both Charlie and Verna stopped grinning.

“Sorry Rowan,” Verna said bashfully. “We’ll try our best to make you proud.”

Rowan groaned in mock-annoyance, and all four of them laughed at the absurdity of the notion of Charlie and Verna as prefects. Even Ben. Verna’s hopes for the year were rejuvenated a little.

~

The rest of the journey went by in a relatively normal manner. Verna and Charlie patrolled the corridors every now and then but didn’t face any incidents. Tonks gave them both grief about becoming prefects though, and loudly announced that this is why she had trust issues. Verna couldn’t exactly blame her, they had after, pulled pranks together in the past and prefects had a well-earned reputation of being spoilsports. After sunset, the train arrived at the Hogsmeade Station and Charlie and Verna were again required to perform their new duties. Verna hadn’t really thought about how small the first years looked until they all filed out of the train and followed Hagrid to the boats. It wasn’t that long ago she had been in their shoes, completely terrified and anxious to start looking for her brother. Jacob. The thought stung like a wasp. It had taken four years and she was no closer to finding him as she was to finding the next cursed vault. Jacob had always been there to protect her and help her and what good was she, if she couldn’t do the same for him?

~

The Great Hall was all decked out for the Welcome Feast when they entered. Verna always felt a sense of belonging at the sight of Hogwarts, but it was also always mixed with something like dread. This year instead of Professor Dumbledore, it was Professor McGonagall taking the podium to hold the traditional speech after the Sorting. Apparently, the Headmaster was on an errand outside of Hogwarts. They were also going to have a new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which at this point surprised no one. The new DADA professor did surprise Verna, though. It was Madam Rakepick, the curse breaker Dumbledore had hired to investigate the vaults last year. Rakepick turned her eyes to Verna and something passed across her features, but Verna couldn’t place the expression. Then, just as fast as it had arrived, it passed, and McGonagall bid everyone dig in their food.

~

After the feast, as Verna and Charlie were getting ready to herd all the new Gryffindors (including Bill and Charlie’s little brother Percy) to their common room, Penny walked up to them, looking excited.

“Hey!” she beamed and tailing behind her was a small blonde girl who looked very much like Penny. “How was your summer?”

“Oh, you know, researching advanced curses, eagerly awaiting for my detention this year, the usual” Verna joked.

“I worked on my extra credit stuff for Professor Kettleburn,” Charlie said. “And hung out with my siblings. Fred and George have gotten it into their heads they wanna be the best quidditch players in the world and I have to be their coach.”

“That sounds really nice! We need to catch up more later, I just wanted to introduce you two to my sister, Beatrice,” Penny exclaimed, and the younger girl waved her hand at them.

“Hi,” she said, rather excitably.

“Hi Beatrice, I’m Verna and this is Charlie.”

Next to her Charlie smiled wide and shook Beatrice’s hand. It seemed to Verna that she appreciated being treated like a grown-up.

“Figured you were Penny’s sister when they called Haywood during the Sorting,” Charlie said.

Beatrice nodded. “And now we’re both in Hufflepuff! I was hoping for it, but I would’ve been happy with Gryffindor too.”

“Bea is… sort of a fan of yours,” Penny explained looking at Verna. “She’s always asking me to tell her stories of my adventures with the famous curse-breaker Verna Malinda.”

“Now I can join you!” Beatrice said. “To find your brother and the cursed vaults.”

This, admittedly, took Verna by surprise. She glanced at Penny who, by the look on her face, had not expected this either.

“Bea…” Penny whispered.

“I mean it, I want to help,” Beatrice insisted.

“Well… Maybe you can help with some small things, but I’ll be honest with you, it’s really dangerous stuff,” Verna told the young witch and hoped that was the end of it. No such luck.

“You investigated the cursed ice when you were just first-years,” Beatrice protested.

“That’s… true…” Penny admitted but didn’t look happy about it.

“And Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who when he was just a baby!”

“She has a point, you know,” Charlie cut in.

“Knock it off, Weasley. There’ll be plenty of time for death-defying adventures when you’re older Bea, for now you can just show Verna what you made for her,” Penny said with a glare at Charlie, who seemed vaguely apologetic.

With only a little complaining, Beatrice presented Verna with a yellow, self-made puffskein toy. It was extremely cute, and the gesture made Verna wonder how much Penny had exaggerated her stories.

“Thank you, Beatrice, this is super cool,” she said as she inspected the stuffed animal. After that, she was served to a story about shaving the Haywoods’ pet puffskein every week for the hairs to make the toy, after which Penny had clearly had her fill, because she whisked Beatrice away and Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Wow, they really do just keep getting smaller.”

~

Up in the Gryffindor Tower, the young students were excited but obviously tired, so Verna kept her introduction short and let them explore on their own or just go to bed. After that, the two new prefects made their way to their favourite corner of the common room. The couch there was already occupied by Rowan and Ben.

“Hey guys,” said Ben meekly behind his new Charms textbook.

Charlie squished into the vacant spot between Rowan and the armrest, while Verna sat on the floor, not bothering to drag the nearest chair closer.

“I think I’m going to possibly have a mental breakdown this year,” she mused. “I mean I still have to find my brother, do normal homework, play Quidditch, study for O.W.L.s, and now be a prefect.”

“If you had started studying for the O.W.L.s first year like I told you, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Rowan simply said. It’s not like they were wrong, but Verna still rolled her eyes.

“Literally no one else but you does that, Rowan” Charlie jumped into her defence, which Verna appreciated. She fist bumped Charlie over Rowan’s lap.

“You two are impossible,” Rowan said warmly and turned to look at Ben. Verna followed their gaze and noticed Ben looked distinctly uncomfortable. Well, more than usual.

“Ben…” she started.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry,” Ben blurted out. “I know you already said it’s fine last year, but I don’t think it’s fine. I’m too easy a target to use against you, and I don’t think you should include me in your plans anymore.”

Verna stared at him for a moment, trying to find words. Any one of her friends could’ve been used as a pawn by a dark wizard. After all, they were only students up against adult wizards.

“Ben, I get it. I’d probably feel the same way if it was me in your shoes right now, because it easily could be. You’re not weak for losing against an adult.”

Ben bit his lip nervously. “But I-“

“We need you. You’re one of my best friends and nobody blames you for what happened,” Verna countered before Ben could form a proper argument.

“In the train you lot acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary when everything is!” he slumped against the couch and let the textbook fall into his lap. “I’m going to bed.”

With that, Ben got up and disappeared into the boys’ dormitory, his friends’ pleas falling on deaf ears. Verna looked at Charlie and Rowan.

“Maybe he just needs some more time…” Charlie mused.

“I think I was too harsh on him last year,” Rowan said. “I apologized though. In the train. We had a whole chat about it.”

“I’m glad,” Verna said with a smile. It hadn’t felt right, when Ben and Rowan weren’t on speaking terms.

“He just hasn’t had the easiest time at Hogwarts,” Rowan continued. “And all this business with the vaults… I think it has us all on edge.”

“Understatement of the year…” muttered Charlie.

“Well… It’s only the first day of it, we’ll have plenty of time to make more understatements,” said Rowan gloomily.

[ninjakasuga]

Sonsally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Four!

Sonally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Four!

Another day of Sonsally Week, unlike the last few entries, this is where I break linearity and go travel back to a prior period in the timeline. When the prompt of ‘Power’ was shown my mind of course went to the Super-Forms, the Deep Power Stones, and the like. Yet also my mind went back to some fanart from last year about a certain someone I would have loved to have seen share a Super Form with Sonic… Y’all can see where this is going.~

Forward: Timeline wise, this is 9-10yrs before Crossroads; the last battle of the war with Dr. Eggman. I admit I’m once again sprinkling tidbits from my still WIP Archie-Sonic-Verse that has yet to be published, but I think the easter eggs and hints of things yet to be seen will be fun for the reader.

Power:

“Sal, are you flipping insane?!” Cried Sonic as he stared Sally down at her suggestion. “You want to use the Deep Power Stones to amplify our Super Forms? What about all that ‘overload potential’ nonsense?!”

Standing beside Sonic, one eye on the half of the Deep Power Stone in her hand, the other on the approaching Egg Armada. A legion of robots, ships, and what other mechanical horrors Eggman had left to try and quash them all for good. With the world-wide alliances winning victory, after victory, Eggman grew desperate and now was throwing everything he had at them in a ‘If I can’t have it no one will!’ tantrum of a scorched world move. Basically it was done to the wire, and now they were as desperate as Eggman.

Her grip tightened on the stone, that madman would not have the last laugh. He wouldn’t end their world as he did the Mobius he came from! “It’s something I was thinking about for awhile, Sonic. We’ve seen what the stones can do just augmenting the individuals who bring the stones together. If we bring that kind of augmentation to the Super Forms? We have the Master Emerald already channeling to empower the Seven Chaos Emeralds, imagine channeling the Stones through it to the Emeralds and the Power Rings. All of you could not just have a greater power boost, but potentially the forms will last longer, long enough to wreck most if not all of the Egg Armada and put an end to this war for good!”

“It might work…” Murmured Tails, standing on the other side to Sally. “Channeling the Stones' power through the Master Emerald, which itself is a beacon and conduit for the Seven Servers…” He began to murmur as his brain went over the numbers and possible calculations. As the two-tailed fox finished his thoughts, he turned to the Guardian of Angel Island, wanting his thoughts. “The Master Emerald is your expertise Knuckles, you think it will work?”

The red-furred Guardian furrowed his brow as he contemplated this. “Maybe, I admit while my communion with Tikal or my Great Grandfather has given me greater insight to the mystical aspects of the Master Emerald, I’m still a novice truth be told.” He sighed, looking apologetic. “Sadly I know more of the scientific side of things given the Brotherhood’s data mostly focuses around that. Even my Father’s old notes are more historical musings than proven theory.” He sighed again, mentally cursing his forebears for yet another aspect of oversight the Brotherhood neglected during their long tenure of guarding Angel Island. Then again, save for the Lost Tribe, it would seem most of the old mystic arts were lost to the Echidna of today, what few were left. “Given we’ve found many connections to the old mystical artifacts of the world, there’s a good chance they’ll work together as Sally thinks.”

A low growl-like ‘hmm’ punctuated the air, before a stern voice interjected aloud. “Or it will overload the Emerald, destroy it, and fry all of us, or potentially create a super-bomb.” Shadow stated with arms crossed, and looking pensive. As all looked his way, he spoke on. “I’m not saying we ditch the idea, but it’s something to consider. I have a vow to protect this world to uphold, as well as too many I care about to let them die.” His thoughts dwelled on Rouge, Omega, and Hope especially. His other comrades within G.U.N. and the Thorndyke Labs. Even of those here, despite any past animosity, he wanted them and their loved ones to equally live. They all had family, and friends to protect. 

The last member of the group, his expression uneasy, yet a deep resolve in his eyes looked about his comrades, and then the horizon as their enemy continued to fly toward them. “We don’t really have a choice do we? This is the last chance, for all of you, as well as the Future I want to prevent from coming to pass.” Clenching his fists, Silver felt his powers hum through his being. It had been a long journey, and one not without many hurdles. From his bungling to interpret data from then Future, and its founding in the past, to dealing with the truths of his own ‘Master’ and the struggle of wondering if he was truly a pawn to bring about ‘his’ world versus a world for everyone to be happy. In the end he was wiser, more experienced and ever resolute to ensure the dark future never came to pass. All other obstacles save Eggman had been dealt with. This was the final hour. “So, save for Sonic we’re all in agreement?”

Hands on his hips, Sonic frowned deeply, looking rather indignant. “Hey, hey! I never said scrap the plan, I was just pointing out how before everyone kept yammering about doing something stupid with the Stones. Given either configuration usage done wrong could lead to KAB-BOOM! Jus’ pointing that out!” Eyeing everyone, his gaze rested on Sally, those deep blue pools that always sucked him in. Reaching for her hand, he wrapped his hand over hers, their wedding rings shining in the sun together. “You think this is our best bet, Sal? If you’re really onboard, so’m I.”

In truth, Sally did share the same concerns as Sonic and everyone else. She knew even using just the ‘boost’ augment which so far had been the safest, could lead to disaster as much as the other configuration which always ended destructively. Plus this would be the last time they could use them. As per Merlin Prower’s warning, the Deep Power Stones could be used a handful of times, and the mystic had given them warning they were on their last usage. This was due to a special magical limiter the Neo-Walkers put on the Stones, halving their ability so the Freedom Fighters and their allies could have an edge. However with the last use, the limiter was off, and so it was full power, and potentially the best opportunity for the worst case scenario. After this the Stones would vanish for another millennia until they were recharged and reappear randomly about the planet again.

Yet as Silver pointed out, what choice did they really have? Eggman was going all out; and thus, their hands were tied. “It’s the best shot we have. G.U.N.’s mechanized forces are exhausted and what isn’t in the repair bay is out fighting the forces encroaching their borders. None of the rest of the allied nations have any armies big enough to fight this horde. We can’t call for help from Blaze or any other friends from other dimensions because the Zone Cops sealed all dimension travel to Mobius Prime to prevent Eggman from escaping. This, this, is all we can do.” Her resolve sounded unshakable, despite her internal doubt, she had to sound resolute. Matching her gaze with Sonic, she managed a grin as she laced her fingers with his. “Let’s do-it-to-it, gang!”

Smiles formed about at the catch-phrase that was so infectious even Shadow was sucked in. One by one, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and Silver joined in placing their hands over each other, forming a lock. “Let’s do-it-to-it! They all cried, before breaking to get into place. While Sally stood by the Master Emerald with Knuckles, the others began to loop around the Master Emerald, each linking their hands together. From Shadow to Silver, to Tails, to Sonic. Instead of holding Knuckles’ hand, Sonic placed his own on the Echidna’s shoulder. Knuckles did the same with Sally, while his free hand touched the Master Emerald. Sally held the Deep Power Stones in each hand, waiting for the right moment to place them together. Craning her head to Knuckles she nodded, and he nodded back, his gaze shifting to the large emerald his bloodline made their mission to protect along with Angel Island itself (well Echidna population for them, Knuckles was out to protect everyone).

“The servers are the Seven Chaos… Chaos is power, enriched by the heart… The controller exists to unify the chaos!” As he started the chant, he briefly saw a flash of Tikal within the Master Emerald, smiling at them all. This allowed Knuckles to smile, but he didn’t let this distract him. “We who are blessed by the Chaos, beseech to wield your power and wisdom, to save the planet and the innocent lives that dwell upon it. Let us be the Guardians of Mobius, of the Chaos, and the Light of Gaia!”

“We will gladly give our lives if you can let us protect all we love, please help us.” Murmured Sally, interjecting her own addition once Knuckles’ incantation chant was finished. Staring at the two halves of the stones, Sally placed them together, the halves flashed as they became one. An intense glow emanating from the black object that soon blinded them all. A bright, green glow from the Master Emerald broke through the white, with the gathered Power Rings (including Sonic’s Billionth Special Ring) all giving off a golden glow as the colors mingled together. A pillar of the mingled colors erupts from the Master Emerald’s resting place, shooting up, and up into space as the island is bathed in its warm glow.

Tails was the first to regain his sight, and once the relief they did not explode passed through him, a wide grin formed on his face as he felt it, the power of his Super Form. Not only that but he could ‘feel’ the power was increased. “Alright I think it worked!” He hollered, pumping his arms as he felt the power of Turbo Tails peak and flare briefly. “Hooo it’s been a long spell!”

Shadow merely made a ‘heh’ sound, yet smiled as he stared at his own glowing hands. “Yes, I can feel it, now those machines can feel Super Shadow’s fists and Chaos Spears.”

“This still blows me away with how powerful it makes me feel.” Murmured Silver as he marveled at his Super Silver transformation.

“Oh holy crap…” They heard Knuckles utter, followed by Sonic stammering “S-S-Sal?”. Everyone turned their heads and gasped in awe.

“Oh, my God…” Was all Sally could murmur. Her fur was a pink-orange tinge, and her hair a golden glow, flowing freely from the sheer power itself. “H-how? I thought only those with a tie to the Chaos Force could achieve super form?!”

“Maybe the powers that be felt you were worthy.” Knuckles mused, giving a nodding approval to this development. The light-pink glow of his Hyper Knuckles form, arcing with energy like everyone else. “In any case it looks like it worked.”

“I’m not a fan of the colors, they remind me of when I spent hours scrubbing chemicals out of my fur.” Muttered Sally, recalling the chemical splash that caused her fur and hair to change colors twice, before finally returning to her proper brown and auburn tones. She shuddered at the memory; she was lucky Rotor and Quack were able to make a fur-shampoo solution to cleanse the stuff from her fur, and luckier she wasn’t exposed long enough to cause any health issues.

Rubbing his chin, Sonic flashed a wide smile as he drew in his wife’s Super Form. “I dunno Sal, you rock the colors, and do’. It’s giving me ideas-.”

Tails held up one hand, and the other he put a finger to his mouth. Making a faux-gagging sound. “Sonic, I’m right here, don’t wanna hear that stuff!”

Snorting, Sonic rolled his eyes, “Hey, hey Li’Bro who said my mind was going to the gutter?”

Knuckles shot Sonic an incredulous look. “And I quote, “I’m always horny for Sal.”, end quote.”

Both Sonic and Sally managed to blush through the color of their super forms. Each coughing, and averting their gazes from their friends for a time.

“How about we can the small talk, and focus on saving the world?” Shadow stated, breaking up the moment as he turned and pointed towards the approaching Armada. “I’m sure Eggman saw that light show and is going to get even more antsy to try and finish us off.”

Clearing her throat, Sally stepped forward from the Master Emerald, letting Shadow’s comment further help to put that momentary embarrassment behind them. FAR behind them hopefully! “Shadow’s right, we got the power, now let’s use it.”

Pounding his fists together, Sonic began to jog and jump in place to pump himself up. “Juice and jam time folks, let’s show ol’ Eggy he should’ve stayed on that satellite in his home dimension.”

“If not just shriveled up and died.” Growled Knuckles as he flexed his fists before slamming them together.

“For everyone here, and those yet to come, we must win.” Silver uttered as he began to float, flexing his psychokinetic powers in anticipation.

Spinning his twin-tails, Tails began to hover as well. “Sally, give the word, we’re ready!”

“Everyone, it’s been an honor… LET’S GO!!”

[snidgetwidgeon]

Insurrection Recollections Series: Art Festival

Every year Hyrule Castle hosts an art festival where artisans from across the land can come together and share their culture with the added element of friendly competition. Having been far too long since Urbosa attended, she decides to surprise young Zelda with a visit. While there, she happens upon, and is very intrigued by the Castle Guard's most talented recruit.

Sivul’s Scimitar that I doodled as a prompt from Linktober 2020

Urbosa gingerly ran her fingers over the exquisite gems and sculpted hilt of the curved blade crafted by her master artisan. “This is your finest work, Sivul,” she commented in awe as she looked at her reflection in its polished, mirrored surface.

Sivul grinned and rolled her eyes good naturedly. “You always say that, Chief.” She stretched her neck both ways and rolled her shoulders, finally free of the project. She had fixated on it with such a single minded passion that she had no life outside the workshop, just as she did with every project really.

Urbosa drew her own blade from its horizontal sheath at her hip and compared the two. They were both thick, inlaid with designs reminiscent of Gerudo script and perfectly balanced. “I’d say you have even surpassed your master. The Scimitar of the Seven now has a counterpart, and almost pales in comparison.”

Sivul respectfully went down on one knee, recognizing when she ought to be gracious. “You honor me with such praise. I am glad to have lived up to my master’s craftsmanship.” She heard both blades sliding back into their sheaths and rose. After placing the scabbard back in its pedestal, she started to tidy her workspace a little.

Urbosa leaned against the smooth stone wall, continuing the conversation in a more casual way. “I’m also impressed that you always manage to finish well before your deadlines.”

“Yes, well... that’s just due to possession by my muse- to the detriment of every other aspect of my life,” Sivul admitted self-deprecatingly.

“Hmm, haven’t I told you to get an assistant? An apprentice, perhaps?”

“You have.”

Urbosa’s teal painted lips turned up in a wry smile when Sivul offered nothing beyond that. Cheeky vai. “Well then, you’ll have space for me to accompany you to the festival. I’d like to be there when you win popular choice.”

Sivul’s eyes were suddenly saucers. “Chief! I would- that would be- are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“My dear friend started the festival when she became Queen as a way to bring the people and cultures of Hyrule together through the sharing and appreciation of their art. I’ve missed one too many of them in the past couple of years and I will not do it again. It wasn’t a coincidence that I commissioned this work from you,” she winked. “Let’s give those yuppie Zora a run for their rupees.”

Their arrival to Hyrule Castle was heralded and the standard procession of pageantry was observed as they entered the King’s Court. Urbosa led proudly up the long red carpet, passing between numerous large pillars bedecked with banners bearing the colors and crest of the Royal Family. She was followed closely by Sivul, four attendants that carried an ornate chest perched on two poles, and finally, a group of five warriors armed with a display of Gerudo’s finest spears, scimitars and decadent round shields. The Gerudo always brought a colorful palette that was a feast for the eyes.

As she bowed, Urbosa wondered where her Little Bird could be but was sure it wouldn’t be very long before they were together. This was somewhat of a surprise visit, so she couldn’t fault the girl for not being present to receive her- she had a very busy schedule. Too busy, in her opinion.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa,” the King’s voice boomed through the Hall. “Welcome.” Rhoam held a smile for his friend but she did not miss the tired shadow under his eyes. It was the very same one she saw in the mirror when she felt particularly run down with her own responsibilities.

“Is this a gift you have brought, perchance?” He asked, gesturing to the chest.

“You’ll wish it was once you’ve seen it.” She felt satisfied when her comment elicited genuine mirth from his features.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t dare contradict you.”

“Gerudo Town’s finest artisan, Sivul,” she took a step back and gestured to her companion, “has brought her craft for everyone to see. We intend to leave with all due accolades.”

He smiled again and very diplomatically stated, “May the best artist win. Please enjoy your stay during the festival.”

With the formalities out of the way, he closed the distance down the few steps between them and shook her hand, transitioning into his standard volume. “I’d invite you and yours to rest from your journey but I was hoping you could entertain me in my chambers for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” She turned to the others, “Don’t wait up, and remember to have fun. This is a visit for pleasure.” Her entourage all nodded respectfully and turned to leave except for two warrior attendants. She looked between them both, “That means you too. Let’s not insult poor Rhoam’s security. I’ll be fine in the castle,” she smirked. They bowed and acquiesced.

The two rulers made their way out of the Great Hall via the East wing. This led down a short hallway to a council chamber that had a very long, dark wooden oval table in the middle. The King offered some small talk as they crossed the room along the wall lined with windows, “It’s quite a surprise that you have made it this year. Zelda will be delighted.”

Urbosa smiled, slightly distracted, and nodded. She had been in these chambers many times negotiating and going over various policies and was glad to finally have a visit that was not duty-bound; though by Rhoam’s demeanor, it seemed she wouldn’t be able to escape it completely. She wondered what news was forthcoming that could not be delivered by official communications.

They entered his private chambers and he closed the door behind them. It was simply furnished with a desk and only a few chairs. There was a bookshelf against the wall and one window that looked out into a courtyard. This room was mainly used for private deliberation during larger meetings or simply as a retreat for when the King felt he needed a breather from all the political squabbling. He took a chair in front of the desk and gestured to the other, “Please, have a seat.”

She was intrigued by this meeting already; he was seated across from her casually as an equal rather than having positioned himself in a place of authority behind the desk. She crossed her legs languidly and pushed her vibrant and thick red hair off her shoulder, waiting politely for him to speak.

“My Adviser Impa has not long returned from an audience with the Deku Tree where she was able to confirm our discovery of the final Divine Beast’s location. Preparations are underway to begin another excavation mission to the Eldin region.”

“Hm, that makes sense. A beast for each race,” she laced her fingers together in thought, elbows resting on either side of her chair. “Then that could mean the soul of the hero will reside in a Hylian.”

“Still as sharp as ever. I sometimes wish you could stay at my table permanently,” he chuckled. As quickly as the humor came, it also went, and King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule revealed his vulnerability to her, as one in a very small circle he would even dare show since the passing of his wife. “I can only hope that it is not to be in our time. Perhaps we are merely a step in the grander destiny of those that come after us, and we must ready the machines for them. Perhaps the sealing power is meant to awaken within another Princess...” He scoffed at himself after a moment’s deep thought, “I sound like a cowardly fool.”

Urbosa uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, taking the hand that had been resting on the arm of his chair. Looking into his tired eyes, she said, “A good ruler always wishes they could reign over a time of peace. But some make the mistake of not being ready for war. You’re taking all the necessary steps. All we can do is try to prepare the best we can against an enemy we know little about.”

He squeezed her hand slightly and replied, a bit comforted, “You have always been a good friend to me as you were to my wife. Thank you.” He pulled away and stood. “I’ve no doubt that I’ll be in need of your ally ship more than ever in the coming-”

The doors to his chambers were suddenly thrust open and Zelda stood there in her white prayer robes, hair frazzled, panting. “Urbosa!” Her sandals flapped on the tiles and were then muffled on carpet as she ran into the room and wrapped her arms around the waist of the much taller Gerudo woman. Rhoam and Urbosa shared a bemused look as she returned the embrace.

Zelda looked up and asked accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“And miss this glorious display of surprise?” She laughed in husky, low tones. “How else am I supposed to entertain myself after a long journey?” She smoothed Zelda’s hair as she smiled with a maternal sentiment. “Would you like to see our entry for the festival?”

“You’re entering?! Of course! Is it down in the courtyards already? I’ll have to go change first.”

“I think it’s still in our chambers until installation tomorrow, but yes, let’s get you into something more casual.” As Zelda flitted out the door, Urbosa bowed politely, “King Rhoam.”

Rhoam returned the bow with a respectful nod, “Chief Urbosa.”

Urbosa practically had to chase Zelda to catch up with her in the Grand Hall but once she strode alongside, Zelda had to try and keep pace with her long gait. They chatted about nonsensical things while in the public eye: Zelda’s studies, devotions and hobbies; Urbosa’s new sand seal, her latest public works, and her continuous bragging that the Gerudo would win the competition this year. Once they were in private, however, Urbosa intended to ask the real questions. When they arrived in Zelda’s room, she smiled politely and waited until the attendant who was dusting made her way out.

“My apologies Princess, I thought you would still be out for quite some time. I’ll come back later and give you two some privacy.” The middle aged woman adjusted her glasses, stuck the duster under her arm and scooped up her skirts in a quick curtsy before attempting to make a hasty exit.

“It’s ok Fria. Actually- before you go, do you know where my light blue spring dress is? I’d like to wear it for the festival. I haven’t worn it recently but I wonder if it’s still accidentally with the wash?”

“I’ll go check for you now, Princess. Is there anything else I can help with while I’m out?”

Zelda pondered the question as she removed her devotional jewelry, placing the pieces in their custom, blue-velvet lined cases, “Hmm. Yes! Could you please lay out my sirwal for supper this evening? I’d like to dress in honor of our wonderful guest, Gerudo Chief Urbosa.” Zelda gestured happily to Urbosa as if Fria didn’t already know she was there; she was just so excited to have her visit.

Urbosa nodded kindly when she was mentioned.

“Of course,” Fria answered. She gave another polite curtsy to them both and gently shut the big wooden door behind her.

Zelda started talking about how dinner was going to be so lovely later, and about the smaller events that would be tied to the annual art festival. As she moved about the room to change out of her prayer robe behind a dividing screen, Urbosa made her way to the large four poster bed with the elegant red drapes and sat down. She stroked the blankets, the decorative one on top was chosen by her dear friend for her baby girl when she visited Gerudo Town twelve long years ago. “How are you really Little Bird?”

Her gentle, yet stern question caused Zelda to fall silent behind her changing screen. “I’m...” She thought of her days, always full to the brim with the same repetitive classes, courtly obligations and fruitless prayers. She came out from behind the screen in her day dress, a less formal version than the elegant long-sleeved blue one she wore to court. Her eyes bore the weight of too much responsibility. “I’m tired.” She walked over to the bed and sat next to Urbosa who wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I’m tired of having to change into numerous different attire. It’s not fair. Father has much fewer task-related outfits.”

“Hm... I know clothes aren’t the only thing on your mind.”

“Praying is still useless. I don’t understand why I have to keep doing it.”

She let out such a deep sigh that Urbosa baled her up in her lap for comfort. “I’m so sorry Zelda. I wish your mother or I had had the foresight to consider that she might not have been able to teach you.” She stroked Zelda’s hair as she felt her small body starting to shake slightly from finally letting her emotions out.

“I can learn anything else from books, why not this?” A short sob escaped her quivering lip.

“I don’t know vehvi, I wish I knew how to help. You know you can come see me anytime you need to get away from it all.”

Zelda smiled bitterly, “If I could, I would stay with you all the time.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a much needed break during dinner. The way to get what you want is to make a good case to your father in public. That way he can’t refuse or he looks like crappy father of the year.” She wiggled her eyebrows and succeeded in eliciting some giggles out of her girl.

“Feeling a bit better already, I see,” she squeezed Zelda’s arm affectionately. “Now, shall we go and meet the others?”

Zelda nodded and hugged Urbosa tight before sliding out of her lap. “Thank you for the cuddles. They remind me of mom,” she said with a sad smile.

Urbosa stood as well, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She leaned down and gave Zelda a kiss on the forehead. “You remind me of your mom too.”

They made their way to the wing that housed the ambassadorial chambers. These were rather overtly opulent and tried a bit too hard to impress visitors in Zelda’s opinion. On the other hand, some guests had stated what a treat it was to stay in such a lavish room so it couldn’t be all that pretentious. When they entered, they found Urbosa’s entourage in varying states of relaxation and inebriation. A few of them greeted her informally, ‘Hey Chief,’ and ‘welcome back Chief.’

Zelda was intrigued by their lackadaisical manner. Urbosa saw the quizzical look on her little companion’s face. “This is a holiday, Zelda. I don’t expect anyone to be putting on airs. Being proper in court is tiresome enough.”

“I’ll say! I put on so many airs during our arrival, I nearly floated away.” The relatable sentiment came from a jovial, dark-skinned woman with dusty pink hair cut short enough that it was spiking messily all over her head, no doubt to be well out of the way while she was metalworking. She had the largest muscles Zelda had ever seen on a woman and she caught herself staring a bit in awe.

Urbosa chuckled at the joke and introduced them. “Zelda, this is Sivul, Gerudo’s finest artisan. Sivul, Princess Zelda.”

“By the sands, you look just like your mother. Such a dainty little vai.” Sivul crouched down in front of Zelda which brought her eye level, and took one of her small hands into her own in greeting.

“You knew my mother?” Zelda asked incredulously.

“Yes, Princess. She was a lovely artist. I even helped her learn how to make jewelry.” Sivul stood again and inquired with a friendly smile. “Tell me, do you have any favorite crafts?”

Zelda’s cheeks went a tad pink with embarrassment. She wished she could be more impressive. “N-no. I just study a lot, really.”

“Oh, but cultivating the mind is one of the most important crafting we can do. I have to put just as much time into myself as I do my work in order for it to be harmonious.”

One of the other women almost spat out her drink, “Oh, that’s sealshit, Siv.” She immediately became sheepish under Urbosa’s stern look, directing her to watch her mouth in front of the present company. She continued with her comment, albeit more politely, “You barely stop to eat or sleep when you get nose-deep in a project.”

“Excuse you, I do my preparation beforehand. That’s all just part of the process.” She placed her fists squarely on her wide hips and gave her detractor a withering gaze, which included a wink at the end to prove she was not actually offended. She then turned her attention back to Zelda. “Would you like to see what I brought before the unveiling tomorrow?”

Zelda lit up and nodded emphatically. “I would, yes!” She followed Sivul over to a chest that sat upon poles on the ground, ready to be easily lifted later. When Sivul waited a beat to open the lid, Zelda glanced over at her expectantly, excitement written all over her face.

Sivul laughed with an alto timbre rivaling Urbosa’s and said, “Sorry Princess, I do love building the suspense.” She unclasped the latches and opened the curved lid to reveal the most ornate and detailed sword and scabbard Zelda had ever seen. They both sat in a frame, the blade on the higher level and the scabbard below.

“Urbosa, this looks like your scimitar!”

“Yes. Sivul’s teacher crafted my blade. She has surpassed her master, something each instructor always hopes for in their students. Well, good instructors anyway.”

“I’ll definitely count my vote for you, Sivul!” Zelda exclaimed.

Sivul grinned and closed the chest. “Hey now,” she began in mock sternness, “I’ll not be having you playing favorites. You vote for it if you truly feel it is the best after seeing what everyone has to offer. They all worked very hard too.”

Zelda smiled and nodded earnestly. She then looked to Urbosa, “May I stay here with you until dinner time?”

Urbosa tackled her with another hug. “Are you kidding!? I’m not going to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day. We have too much to catch up on!”

~~~

The next morning, Urbosa had to rally her troops after they had caroused much too late into the night. She was even missing a couple, no doubt hunting for available voes... They washed with the basins of hot water delivered to their rooms and donned their sirwals, though the warriors remained in their supportive breast plates and boofy pants. After eating a quick breakfast from the fruits, nuts, breads and cheeses that came complimentary to their stay, they departed to see to the unveiling of Sivul’s scimitar.

Walking briskly, they turned heads as they passed through the halls. Even if Hylians had seen the Gerudo many times, it was hard not to marvel at their impressive physique. Their exceptional height, wide hips and toned midriffs were iconic, and admired by many, as well as the bright red hair most Gerudo shared.

In her haste, Urbosa almost led everyone astray, right past the registry room for the festival. “I could have sworn this used to be at the end of the hall...” she trailed off.

One of the exhibition organizers ran over and lead them to a small queue. “My apologies, Gerudo Chief Urbosa. You’re quite correct, we used to check everyone in down that way before but we’ve actually outgrown the space. Isn’t that wonderful? Participation has increased steadily the past few years.”

“The Queen would be so proud.”

She received a genuine smile and nod in response and was shown to the registry where she pulled Sivul out from lurking behind to do her own paperwork. Once that was all done they were taken to an available space in the courtyards that was undercover, as had been requested on their form. Quite a few sculptures they passed were on display out in the elements, while just as many it seemed, had protection. An empty pedestal awaited the sleek and simple frame that would hold the blade and scabbard. Sivul took it from the chest and held it toward Urbosa asking reverently, “Do you wish to unveil the blade, my Chief?”

Urbosa was amused and crossed her arms coyly. “This is your show Sivul, you do the honors.”

Shhhhiiinnng

Sivul drew quickly and smoothly and smirked with pleasure at the faint ring echoing afterward. It had turned heads and a small crowd gathered to watch her place the two pieces in their frame.

Urbosa heartily clapped her on the shoulder, “Well, you have fun playing Q & A with your fans. I’m going to join the Princess.”

Sivul gave her a reproachful look for being left alone to deal with the crowds but she would not begrudge her leader the free time she most definitely needed, and deserved. She then turned to one of her interested parties, a couple with an infant, who had asked how long it took.

“How long? Time is relative. How long did it take you to make that baby? This blade is my baby. Nine months?! Are you sure it’s finished? Our babies take twelve. Yes, really. I was just kidding, it took me three months- if you don’t count the gathering of materials. No, I meant the blade. Our babies still take twelve months. No, really! ...... and on and on.

Urbosa found Zelda in the castle shrine at her morning devotions. She was standing waist deep in a pool before the serenely smiling Hylia, hands clasped together, bedecked with the heirloom jewelry. Her long hair floated on the surface of the water behind her. Urbosa looked on in sadness between the statue of the Goddess and the small Hylian she supposedly inhabited. The poor girl was so devoid of comfort, never acknowledged by the one she entreated endlessly. The serene smile appeared more and more as a mocking smirk the longer she looked upon it.

Without a second thought, Urbosa silently descended the steps into the pool. As she drew near, the water rippled and made a soft swishing noise, alerting Zelda to her presence. She started to turn but Urbosa spoke softly as she sank to her knees behind the child Goddess, “Don’t let me interrupt, my vehvi.” She wrapped her arms around Zelda and held her to her chest, covering her small hands with her own and resting her cheek on the golden hair. There they stayed for an age, sending silent prayers to the Goddess together. And Zelda was comforted.

Eventually, Zelda needed to attend her classes, so with the promise that they would be together again the moment she was finished, Urbosa went for a walk to dry off and collect her thoughts. Short of taking the Princess away, something she selfishly wished she could do, she had to believe that what little she could do would be enough.

She swung by her chambers to collect some attendants. They would be cross with her if she kept parading around by herself, no matter that she was fully capable. Culture, tradition and appearances were also important. They strolled through the courtyards, viewing a section of impressive wooden sculptures from the Rito before reaching the stables. After passing by the horses, which had a similar but distinct aroma all their own from sand seals, her ears perked to the faint clangs and thumps of fighting followed by a whistle. The training grounds were nearby. She grinned to herself wondering if she would be welcome to observe.

Rounding a stone tower, they crossed an archery range to get to the main field. The area was walled on three sides and the upper levels contained viewing alcoves which would also be used for announcements. She could imagine troops being neatly lined up below, attentive to their commanders, ready to serve Hyrule. She casually joined the small throng of instructors, some of whom did a double take as she appeared next to them.

The eldest, most likely mid to late sixties, recovered first. “G-Gerudo Chief Urbosa, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” He bowed politely. “Forgive me, I’m Captain Auru. At your service.”

“I like watching a good tussle so I thought I’d have a sticky-beak with my free time. I hope I’m not intruding?” She stood casually, hip jutting out above her split skirt, making her muscled torso even more of a prominent feature.

Captain Auru stroked his goatee with mild interest at her statement. “Not at all. We’re just finishing the melee portion before moving on to duels.”

“I see. Please continue.”

He nodded and whistled for the final bout to begin. A dozen or so armored fighters wearing a white tabard with the royal crest entered the roped arena, which served to contain the battle. They carried a combination of their weapons of choice. Some preferred the classic pairing of broadsword and shield while others chose to fight with a two handed claymore or spear. Urbosa watched with interest as a smaller fighter quickly caught her eye. They carried a blade only and were so swift on their feet, they seemed to glide through the fight like water, dodging opponents so they ended up engaged with another, or parrying before back flipping out of reach.

Melees had one goal: to be the last fighter standing. How you got to that point is anyone’s choice, and a few fighters decided they wanted to work together against the slinky one.

While she was here, she had another agenda she could bring up. She deviously addressed Auru, “So Captain, do the soldiers get any time to enjoy the festival or is it all work and no play around here?”

He looked to be between distraction from the proceedings and not wanting to be rude so he leaned in slightly and spoke while still keeping an eye on the battle. “I’m not sure we’re too fussed actually. That’s more of a court and populace thing, give them a chance to come up to the castle every now and then, you know?”

“Hmm,” she replied with loose interest. She looked at the arena again just in time to see the group of four succeed in taking down their smaller competitor, though not without losing three of their number. The survivor proceeded to engage the next available opponent where they were summarily disposed of; all of their strength had relied on teamwork apparently. Not a complete negative, but one should most certainly be able to stand on their own if they were to be a competent warrior.

A loose smattering of applause rippled through the training grounds for the victor and Captain Auru blew the whistle to announce the line up for duels. The list keeper shouted for a five minute break for hydration and toilet and everyone peeled off to wherever they needed to be whether it was the privies, benches or water station.

Captain Auru excused himself momentarily to confer with the instructors and he returned with a gleam in his eye. “Chief Urbosa, my colleagues are quite excited about your presence here today. It’s not often we might get the opportunity to let the students spar against different fighting styles. I wonder, would one of your warriors be willing to step into the ring with us?”

Urbosa grinned with a glint in her eye. This was the perfect opportunity to bargain for what she wanted. If she could rustle up some votes from the soldiers, there was a good chance they’d appreciate the art of a finely crafted blade over some abstract shapes in the courtyards.

“I could be persuaded to enter the ring for a bit of fun myself, Captain.”

He and the fellow instructors responded with varying degrees of shock and excited approval.

“But I have two conditions.”

Captain Auru stroked his goatee again. “Name your price, Chief Urbosa.”

“I pick my opponent.”

“Easily done.”

“And you must give me your word that all of you will attend the festival and vote.”

He turned to look at the other instructors and was met with answers of shrugs and unopposed compliance.

“Right,” she grinned and put her hand on the pommel of the scimitar at her hip, “are there any hard rules I should know about?”

“Please don’t kill our students,” Auru jested. “Ah, the usual. Nothing below the belt. If a limb is ‘struck,’” he emphasized a simulation of it, “then that limb may not be used for the remainder of the battle.” He continued with a few more things before she put up her hand to interrupt.

“Captain, I appreciate you have a way of doing things but did you not want to see the way a Gerudo fights? Or would you have me merely demonstrate your own style to you?”

“Eh, you got me there Chief Urbosa. Right you are.” There was an awkward pause before he continued after clearing his throat. “Well then, not killing our students will work just fine. Please,” he gestured to the field, “choose your opponent.”

“I want the short one.”

“Oh, he’s just a boy still, perhaps-”

“And the most skilled of the group.”

“Uh, yes. He is quite the prodigy. Very well.”

She took to the arena and Auru sent one of the others to collect her choice. His day had gone from monotonous to suspenseful excitement and he couldn’t wait to see how this would pan out. He knew Link was starved for a challenge and he knew his class mates would love nothing more than to see him brought down. The outcome of this should suit both parties quite well no matter how it ended.

The competitors entered the arena and stood a few paces away from one another. The whole area had gone deathly quiet. Usually there was low chatter among the peanut gallery but the two opponents on the duel field today had everyone riveted.

Link saw she wore no armor and took off his helmet, chucking it out of the arena, then went down on one knee. The gesture not only humbled him, but also made him appear even smaller. Her inquisitiveness about him only rose.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa, you honor me with your presence here today. I hope to learn much from you.”

She drew her blade, “Ha! Let’s have some fun, kid.”

Not a moment after he’d risen, Link was taken aback by her quick movements. The crowd gasped as she attacked without ceremony, lining up her scimitar to connect with his head. 

Link quickly rolled out of the way and shot up to his feet, grinning. He’d been waiting for this for so long. He was itching to really fight.

She pivoted in place, following where he’d dodged, kicking up dust as she slashed down. He parried with a surprising strength for his size but she quickly recovered and jabbed. 

He escaped with a back flip. She’d seen this move from him a few times already during his earlier bouts and anticipated what she could do next when he returned with a flurry of slashes.This boy was quick, but a bit predictable. 

That might have been due to a lack of challenging opponents. He was sussing her out, seeing what she could match. He was focused and calculating; something she did not usually see in Gerudo warriors until they were older.

Finally, she sidestepped his onslaught and rammed her knee into his chest. Link fell back in the dirt but rather than be laid bare to a potential stabbing, he used the momentum of his fall to continue in a backward somersault. He stood and regained his balance.

She gave him a short breather, knowing she’d probably winded him a little. The break was long enough for him to decide that he needed to relieve her of the shield on her back.

She nodded at him as she slowly circled a small distance away. “Crafty, aren’t you.”

Link was struck by an idea. He could try it with her, the move he’d recently discovered while training with his dad. Everyone else he had sparred with never challenged him enough to warrant using it. Would he be able to focus enough?

“Again!” she barked as she ran toward him. 

All he had to do was dodge and get behind her... just dodge, and slip past. He took a deep breath through his nose and as it left him her pace slowed before she reached him. He hopped to the side, but rather than take the opening to make a shot, he dashed around and jump kicked the shield up and off her back. He slipped it on and stood there with a smirk as she whipped around with wide eyes.

“How could you possibly-” her face morphed from surprise into a challenging grin, “much craftier than I thought.” She twirled her blade twice in excitement as she tried to work out what he’d done.

Even with just that small bit of practice, he felt he could put everything into his next move. He had always been exceptional at parrying blows, even more so with a shield. However, she now spoke again instead of attacking as had been the pattern of the battle so far. 

“Why don’t you come at me for a change?” She stood at the ready, a bend in her knee, curved blade held in a relaxed grip, ready to react to his move.

He had to rethink his approach now. His technique had been defensive, but he now knew where he could improve. This was the perfect time to try his attack a different way, see if he could succeed on the offense. 

“Hah!” he kicked the gravel out behind him as he lunged forward, watching her weapon arm closely. As he closed in, Link lost focus and they exchanged blows once more. To avoid another knee to the chest, he flipped out of reach before trying again.

She almost lost sight of him as he came for her a second time. How is he doing that!? She blocked his strike just in time and noticed his disappointment. 

He was testing a new technique on her. A wry smile spread from the corner of her mouth and she felt momentarily flattered. She wasn’t going to let him have all the fun though. It was time to show him he still had a long way to go, if only to keep him on his toes rather than bored with their current gawking audience. 

The side lines were full of wide eyes and gaping mouths as she pinned the tip of his blade into the sand with a swirling down-thrust of her scimitar. Before he could recover she grabbed the shield he’d stolen with her other hand to keep him close and used it as a conductor for her own final move.

His hair stood on end and he was ejected several feet away when she ran her electricity through his body. It wasn’t nearly enough to cause serious injury but it had certainly ended the fight. She was met with a wave of gasps but shrugged them off as she approached him. “Relax, he’s just a little toasty.” 

She reached a hand down and he grasped her wrist firmly, letting her easily pull him to his feet. “You alright, kid?” 

He hung on for a tick as he gained his balance in the midst of a sway before looking at her dead serious and asking, “Can you teach me that?”

She burst into a husky laugh. “I’m afraid that attack is a one of a kind specialty.” She leaned in closer to say privately, “But you keep it up with those moves you were pulling, you’ll no doubt be going places.”

[claudiasjeancregg]

also, 48 for joshdonna? for the intimacy prompts? <3

48. offering the other your coat

Josh Lyman/Donna Moss (2.1k words) 

posted on ao3 here

engraved upon my heart (in letters deeply worn)

Donna can feel the bitter chill against her skin as she slips out of the house. She presses the phone to her ear, waiting for Josh to pick up.

She wouldn’t usually go outside to talk on the phone- it’s D.C. in February, and she’d rather not catch a cold for no reason. But Noah’s already asleep and Jo has a geometry test tomorrow, so she’s trying not to make too much noise. Not that they’re disturbed very easily- especially not Jo. Once she gets started with something, it’s almost impossible to pull her away from it. Donna and Noah call it “laser focus.” She gets it from Josh, though he claims to have perfected the whole “work life balance” thing. It doesn't surprise Donna in the least- the list of traits the two of them share is a mile long. And having such a good work ethic has always helped her, especially now that she’s in 8th grade.

Damn.

She feels old all of a sudden, wishing Josh would pick up so she has someone to complain to.

The repetitive ringing drones on in her ear for a long moment before he answers and it stops. Donna has to hide her smile at the noises coming from Josh’s end- he sounds out of breath, like he’s on a jog or something. But it’s 9 P.M., and he’s on the campaign trail, so it’s most definitely not that.

“Wait-”

Something, probably the phone, crashes to the ground. She can hear him cursing under his breath. After a moment, he picks it back up.

“Are the kids okay? Are you okay?”

“What?”  She looks around for a place to sit, settling on the front porch step. She can hear him moving around, probably on the bus or in his office. She has no idea where they are today- maybe Maryland? California? She remembers Josh talking about touching base at home states, but she doesn’t have the energy to figure out what exactly he was saying.

“It’s late. You’re usually in bed by now, all cozied up with a book and a little fluffy robe.”

“A robe?” she teases.

“Well, you know,” he amends. “My sweatshirt and a pile of briefing memos.”

She shakes her head fondly before remembering he can’t see her.

“The kids are- I’m- we’re all fine. And it’s 9, Josh. I’m never in bed by now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He pauses, and all of the movement on his end stops too.

“Hi,” he says.

She can hear his smile, and can’t help but smile back. “Hey.”

Donna huffs out a laugh at the absurdity of it all- they’re married, for God’s sakes, but he can still make her smile like an idiot for no reason. It still shakes her to her core, everytime they say “I love you” or they talk about the kids.

This is her life. Their life. They’ve built a life together, a far cry from the too-long glances and energetic banter of the White House days. They’re calmer, now- older and wiser and steady. But she loves him just as much as she ever has.

He used to be a whirlwind of motion that she couldn’t help but get sucked into, constantly talking and working and creating and never standing still. But somewhere along the line, between the hushed conversations in hospital rooms and the way his hand molded to the small of her back, he became her home. His love is the feeling in her chest when she watches him with the kids, the weight of a hand in hers whenever she has a nightmare about Gaza, the constant support when she talks about a new project she’s working on.

And he’s a jackass sometimes, obviously, but he never does anything to hurt her on purpose. And when he says something that makes her want to slap him, his eyes get wide and he frantically apologizes, begging her not to cry.

One of the things she’s learned since they first started dating is that her tears are his worst nightmare. She asked him why, once. “It feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest,” he said. She almost stopped breathing. He turned bright red as soon as he said it, but still. They’ve settled into this thing, this domestic life that she never imagined he would want. Or that she would, honestly.

“Donna? You there?”

She snaps back to the present- “Yeah. Sorry. How’s it going? You guys are in Maryland now, right?”

He updates her on how their polls have been looking since they got to the state and she listens intently.

“How are Andy’s approval ratings? You’re right to keep Toby behind the scenes- I bet he’s going crazy.”

Josh relays a story from earlier that day about Toby throwing a fit because Andy refuses to let him write for her. He can barely stop laughing long enough to tell her, but she doesn’t mind.

“I should call her,” she muses.

The two of them grew closer after Gaza- once Andy got over the guilt and the absurd worry that Donna blamed her for the accident, they became fast friends. She’d always admired Andy- the woman had made driving Toby out of his mind into an art form, not to mention how damn good she was at her job. And as soon as they had been tasked with finding possible VPs, Andy was Donna’s first call.

“Yeah, I think she’s a bit tired of all the testosterone here now that you’ve gone.”

He laughs, and Donna can feel the ache in her stomach. She wishes he was here, or that she was there- it’s nice to have a break from work for a while, but she’d grown used to the pace of the campaign trail. There’s so much to do all the time, and so much to learn. Donna knows how to run a campaign, of course, but re-election was nothing like this campaign. This is new, and fun and exciting- and extremely hard. Putting a young, up-and-coming candidate in office is a whole different ball game, and she has a front row seat. She still misses the frantic pace of the White House from time to time, but what she’s doing now is so much more fulfilling. She has the power to change the country- or to give them a President who could, at least.

It’s the kind of job Donna from twenty years ago didn't know existed, and the kind of job Donna from ten years ago wouldn't dream of.

She’s no longer an also-dead- she’ll get her own damn obituary. She’s gotten past all of the struggles and the self-doubt, and now she’s putting one of her best friends in the White House.

Sam Seaborn as President.

The victory is a long time away, she knows- both Toby and Josh would make her go outside, turn around, and spit if they knew she was thinking about it, but she can’t help it. President Sam Seaborn. It’s a bright, shining light at the end of the tunnel. That’s why she’s doing this- for Sam, for her friends, for her country. For anyone and everyone who deserves a President that cares about them- she’s working her hardest to make sure they get him. That’s what makes this all worth it.

That thought reminds her why she called in the first place- she waits for Josh to finish what he’s telling her about Andy’s speech today.

“Have the results come in yet?”

“No, and you know what I was thinking?”

“Josh, I’m not going to talk to the Flenders again.”

“Donna!”

She can picture him vividly- pacing around his office, the same pouting look on his face that he always gets when he whines.

“I’m not your assistant anymore, Josh. I’m your wife- and your co-campaign manager. Get someone else to do your illegal activities.”

She expects him to complain some more, but instead his voice grows soft.

“I can’t,” he says.

She lets out a breathy laugh, trying to hide her reaction at the tone of his voice.

“Josh, I’m serious. I have enough work to do.”

Her stomach is on a roller coaster ride as his voice fills her ear. She’s taken back to Inauguration Day, years ago- sitting on his lap as they both tried to keep the inevitable from happening. He had whispered in her ear the entire cab ride from her apartment, hands resting on her waist in a manner that wasn’t remotely professional. The way his touch had felt that night- and later, when they danced together- had filled her thoughts for weeks after.

“No, I mean-” he laughs sheepishly and she can picture exactly how he looks on the other side of the phone.

“No one’s here to ask. Or, I’m not there to ask them, I guess.”

Donna’s eyebrows knit together.

“What do you-”

“Turn around.”

He interrupts her, the big smile on his face easy to hear.

She does, still confused, and drops the phone. Josh is leaning against the porch column, exactly how she had pictured him. Donna stands there for a minute, dumbstruck. Then she races over to him, enveloping him in a hug.

God, she’s missed this- the way his body instantly reacts to hers, the way he can’t seem to hold her tight enough. She can’t believe he just showed up here. She pulls out from the hug and he groans, like a five year old who just got his toy taken away. She would know- that’s exactly what Noah looked like whenever that happened to him.

“Joshua!!”

His pout turns into a wide-eyed expression immediately.

“How are you mad at me for this?” Josh asks incredulously, ducking to avoid the punch on the arm he knows is coming his way.

“It’s the first day of the primaries! You shouldn’t be here, you should be having a panic attack in your office over the Hartsfield’s Landing results!”

He reaches his hands out for her waist.

“I wanted to have a panic attack here.”

She gives into his touch, wrapping herself in Josh’s arms like a blanket.

“Okay,” she smiles.

He does not. “Jesus, Donna, you’re freezing!”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms, like he thinks he can warm her entire body up himself. He probably does- knowing Josh, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. She places her hands on his like an anchor, calming him.

“I’m fine!”

The goosebumps on her arms betray her, though, and Josh barely hesitates before whipping off his coat and handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers as he wraps it around her tightly. It still catches her by surprise, sometimes. He knows her, inside and out- like the map of her heart was given to him long ago, and he’s memorized in by now.. He can always see right through her lies or false reassurances, like no one else can. Somehow, he always knows what she needs- even when she’s too stubborn to ask.

He buries his head in the nape of her neck, his arms secure around her waist. She laughs at how affectionate he’s being- before they started dating, she would have never guessed how much he loves to touch her. Gently touching her knee on the bus, squeezing her hand as they walk, holding her in his arms every night- he always wants to know she’s there, that she’s still with him. It’s one of her favorite things about him.

Donna leans into his arms and takes a deep breath, savoring the cold air. She’s always loved this time of year. It always used to remind her of growing up, of playing in the snow with her older sister while their parents watched in the back. But now it reminds her of winter at the White House, too- of thoughtful gifts and failed vacations and Josh, and Josh, and Josh.

She had always been with him when it was coldest. Somehow, it felt right that he was standing next to her now.

Donna turns around, framing Josh’s face with her cold hands. She presses her lips to his for a moment. It’s been almost 15 years of moments like this, and she isn’t tired of it. She’s not tired of him, of kissing him and talking to him and waking up next to him every single morning. And she never would.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips. She walks to the front door, pulling his coat tighter around her.

“At least this time I didn't have to steal your coat,” she teases.

Josh rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move.

“You didn't steal it,” he says.

She stares at him. He rubs his head awkwardly.

“I, uh- I left it there on purpose. Your coat sucked.”

She can feel her eyes growing wet.

“Donna, please don't-”

“Joshua!!”

She dabs at her eyes, trying not to cry. It isn’t the nicest thing he has ever done for her, not even close. And it was almost twenty years ago, but still. She takes a deep breath and grabs his hand, pulling him inside.

“Come on. Hartsfield votes in a few minutes.”

As they walk towards the house, hand in hand, it starts to snow.

this took a million years and i’m so sorry. this turned into something WAY beyond what i meant it to be lol- but i’m OBSESSED with this universe. and you BET i have ideas for all the other characters. 

so basically- sam is running for president, josh and donna are co-campaign managers bc one of them works in DC and stays with the kids, and then the other one comes back from the campaign trail and they switch off. this takes place on the first night of the primaries- so it’s like “hartsfield’s landing” but 18-ish years later. 

andy wyatt is the VP candidate!! is this extremely random? yes! but i love her to pieces SO. 

what else... cj and toby both work with them on this campaign. there may or may not be some cj/toby in this- or some ot3, i need advice!!! 

oh and before josh decided to run sam’s campaign, he was retired and was living the good life as a stay at home dad. jo and noah (YES FOR JOANIE AND JOSH’S DAD, LET ME HAVE MY ANGST) are 13 and 10, respectively. donna was working somewhere very important- i think she was working as a senator’s COS, then she moved to a policy center that focuses on women’s rights and outreach in foreign countries. 

title from “fair” by the amazing devil: this song is everything good in the universe and i’m obsessed with it. PLEASE everyone- go listen to it and come back and TELL ME it doesn’t give you soft josh/donna feelings. and just... feelings in general.

ANYWAY hope you enjoyed!!! i’m kind of incapable of writing good fluff but i really really really hope this was a good choice for this prompt- it felt fitting with the reunion and all :DDD 

thank you for the prompt!!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #441

“all alone, he turns to stone while holding his breath after death  /  terrified of what’s inside, to save his life he crawls like a worm from a bird”

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry? Yep, a few. What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about? If I'm having a really bad day, I can tolerate as early as 7:00. :x What is you favorite type of lunch meat? Honey ham, probably. What time of the year do you dislike the most? Summer is disgusting. It's too hot, too humid, too many bugs, and I just hate it. Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs? No, that sounds gross. What is your favorite color to wear? b l a c k Are you an overachiever? Oh, hunny. What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)? Maybe uhhhh big eyes. What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'hara) would you marry? Darkiplier bc he is merely a misunderstood soft boi. How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)? Legs: It's been nearly a year. Pits: not that long, considering I shave them every time I get in the shower. What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else? I'm sure it would be something in one of the letters I sent Jason. Or Dad. Idk. Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry? The phase never ended lmao. What is your favorite thing about your life? My loved ones. Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire? Sorry, but I'm picking the animals. Have you ever painted a picture of somebody? Yes. How many real bfs/gfs have you had? Two. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yes. Except for when I was with Tyler. Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. Could you wait until marriage for sex? Yeah. What’s the best Nirvana song? I'm not sure, really... Maybe "Drain You?" What was the last thing that impressed you? No clue. When was the last time you were in a pet store? Several months ago when I went in to get more rats for Venus. What nationality is your last name? Irish. What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip? Plain, rippled Lays in French onion dip. Who was the last boy that you saw cry? I don't know, actually. It may have been Sara's dad, which was years ago. Does your mom know you do surveys? I mean no, it's not like it's come up in conversation. Have you ever had a serious injury? When I was a kid, there was this one time I was running down the road with my friend, and I tripped; I was a fast runner, so I skinned the everliving FUCK out of my knees to the point there was even pus. I was SOBBING, and it took weeks to heal; I had the scars for years. What was the last thing you achieved? Losing weight at the gymmmm. Staying dedicated to going. Would you enjoy being famous? No. I couldn't take all the eyes on me and even ONE person's negative judgment. What’s under your bed? A big box of my art supplies. Do you enjoy travelling? Yeah. I wish I could do it more. Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it? No. When was the last time you drank strawberry milk? Not since I first tried it at elementary school. It was absolutely disgusting. Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set? I doubt it. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher? No. If I'd listened to him while driving, I could've gotten myself killed while merging onto the highway. People are assholes and didn't want to move over. Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite? Probably "Freakshow." Does mind over matter work for you? Not usually, no. Are you paranoid? Oh yes. What is the best thing about winter? Everything!!! Literally the only BAD thing about winter is the dry skin/lips. I love the cold, Christmas and all that comes with it, the decor, hot chocolate, snow, getting all cuddly... Everything. :') Have you ever been truly in love? Absolutely. Are you currently planning a trip? No. A trip to Illinois is just a wish right now. How many plants are in your home? None, I think? What is your favorite possession? Excluding my pets (because I don't like calling them "possessions"), probably my laptop. Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked? I have before, yes. What movies have tripped you out? Off the top of my head, the only entertainment media in general that has ever truly "tripped me out" was the first time I played the Silent Hill game. The movie didn't affect me to that level because I already understood the concept. When I watched Jason play it for the first time, I was SO confused and just blown away by the concept that I did loads of research and just thinking about it all. That franchise is just cool as shit, okay. Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade? I LOVED rollerblading. I haven't done it in years, though. Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night? NO. I will NOT settle. Being genuinely in love with my partner is too important to me for me to ever do so. I don't know if any of my friends are in that situation. Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating? With my current body? FUCK no. If I was happy with my body, the answer is still probably no. I'm too self-conscious and awkward with that kind of stuff, and besides, I really don't think I want a picture like that to exist of myself to avoid potential trouble. Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep? No. What summertime treats do you love? We have this local slushy place that is FUCKING BOMB. It may sound basic, but they have SUCH a vast variety of flavors and goodies you can top it with that it's truly just so amazing. How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. Save for how things were with Tyler... I just felt like I was supposed to. What do you hate most about moving? I. Hate. The process. Of moving. It is just so, so stressful to me. I have a very hard time confronting big tasks, and that's exactly what packing and unpacking entails. Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting? Not necessarily. Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks? No. Has anyone ever whistled at you? I don't think so. Do you like scarves? No. Is your father homophobic? Possibly. I don't actually know. I honestly don't think he took Sara's and my relationship seriously, so that may be a sign. Do you take gummy vitamins? The only vitamin I take now is vitamin D, which isn't a gummy. Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all? Ha, yeah. I gave Jason a makeover once. Who would you like to meet before you die? MARK. I am so determined, alsdjfkaj;wek;rj. I just want to hug him and say thank you and ugly-cry. If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? No. Even if I had the body of a model. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of? The fuckin' flat earth theory, probably. If Heaven and Hell exists, where you going when you die? Well, considering I have an, uh, very negative opinion of the Christian god... Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else? My mom. The day she passes is a day I am inexplicably horrified of. What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday? My life. If there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy? My mom really could use it. Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself? I love "Supermassive Black Hole" by Muse, but idk if it was actually written for the movie. How old was the first person you kissed? He was 18 when we first kissed. Will you be a strict parent one day? I never want to be a parent. If I hypothetically became one, I don't think I'd be strict, necessarily, but very protective. Last person to stand up for you? Probably Mom, idk. Have you been to a baby shower? Yeah, a few. Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater? My dad. What’s your favorite high school memory? Just... a lot with Jason. Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single? I prefer being in a (healthy) relationship, but I won't get into one just for the sake of having one. What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do? Hmmm... scuba-dive, maybe? What subject at school did you absolutely hate? Math. Italian food or Chinese food? Italian. I don't really like (most) Chinese food. Do you like to make flash cards when you study? I rarely did that. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer? Yes, somehow. Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online? No. I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike. Ashley. What do you think about Marilyn Manson? He's one of my favorite musical artists, but he's a disgusting dick personally. Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school? Nothing, really. I was a very well-behaved kid. Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras? Yeah, I have a Canon. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets? No. Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother? Not every year, but most. Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome? No. Jalapeños: yay or nay? I loooove them. Did you ever play Minecraft? Nah. My niece is getting into it. Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member? I did have one. I wasn't one of those premium members or anything like that; I just had a basic account. Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense? Bitch me. It's extremely embarrassing. I 100% got it from my dad. What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you? The manner through which Jason broke up with me. It left me traumatized. What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it? I'd lose a shitload of weight, for one. My teeth would be whiter, my eyes bigger and bluer, I'd want my hair colored/able to hold color far better, I'd lighten and lessen my body hair, make my skin clearer, thin my eyebrows... I'd change a lot. What are your feelings on feminism? MANDATORY. Absolutely necessary in a misogynistic society. However, I do believe some people take it way too far to a point it is anti-man and puts women on a holy pedestal. It is about equality. Describe your first relationship? Perfect, until it wasn't. Describe your last relationship? Wonderful and healthy, but distance and our health were issues at the time. Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex? My history with sex is confusing and complicated and I really don't know. Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply? Thinking about it... it's probably because of how Simba runs from his problems and bad memories, but returns to confront them and is victorious. That's how I want to be. What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you? That I'm nice and clearly sincerely cared about them and their feelings. Do you feel protective over someone? My sisters, nieces and nephews, Sara... What perfume/cologne do you wear? It's called "Blush." Where did your vehicle come from? I don't have my own, but Mom's came from a girl at the dance studio. She ran into a deer, and the front got fucked up, but the sweetheart paid to fix it up to being operable so Mom had her own car. The front bumper is kept intact with zip ties and duct tape, but hey... it works and has for many, many years now, lol. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? Ummmm... I actually don't remember. What is your favorite way to eat chicken? As tenders, probably. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is: Red velvet. This year for my bday, our controlling-as-fuck family friend bought me my birthday cake without consulting ANYBODY, and I was so fucking annoyed. It was a very kind gesture, yes, but um, can I have a say, please? What do you wear to bed? Usually men's pj pants and a tank top. What were you doing at 8pm last night? Sleeping, actually. I was extremely tired and went to bed early.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

I love Fairy Tale AUs! And your sleeping beauty one was soo great! Could I request a Snow White AU with yandere EvilQueen!Diavolo x snow white reader x yandere prince!Bruno? Unless that’s too weird, thanks anyway!

Aww thanks

I'm going to upload this in two parts, as well as a few other requests I got but here you go

Fairest of them all pt1

(yandere Diavolo and Bruno X Female Reader)

Warning: mindbreak

"oh my dear... To soon marry the fairest in the land is nothing short of a dream come true" your captor chuckled as he pulled you closer by your leash. You simply let out a groan in pain.

"Yes my king... I've dreamt of marrying you for my whole life" you croaked to the the man with many title's The evil king, The crimson king, emperor crimson but he preferred that you called him by his real name, Diavolo.

You were convinced that you were made for him, you never knew why you ever testified against it to begin with. It was a sick form of Stockholm syndrome that you had developed after weeks of starvation in a cold cell but you now believed that you were the one at fault and not your captor.

"My love..." He cooed before grabbing out a knife, causing you to cower back.

"Don't be afraid, this is just to ensure that we'll be together forever" he explained to make you comply

"Now just lay down" he said and like an obedient dog you laid down on your back as the male began to strip you down.

He wanted to make sure that the fairest in the land was his and his alone, and what better then to litter you with scars... He intended to make sure that he'd be the only one in the world to see you as beautiful.

Slowly the pink haired male graze the blade against your body.

"Where oh where should I mark you first?" he chirped however you didn't respond, you were there with him but also far away in your own delusions. You loved Diavolo but you didn't want this.

"Maybe I'll carve my name into your stomach, that will let any man who tries to have their way with you know who you belong to" he said as he pressed the blade against your stomach, blood soon appeared like little red pearls as it pierced your skin. Tears formed in your eyes as you felt the harsh sting but you refused to let him hear your screams in pain, you were his compliant little doll after all.

He soon began to carve each little letter in his name nearly into your skin. You hicuped lightly as you tried to deny the pain until he finished but it almost felt like a burn as you continued to deny until you could hold it no longer. You screamed and cried but you did not dare to thrash in his grasp.

"My dear... You have taken it so well, just a little longer and it will be over" he cooed before kissing your forehead and carving the last letter.

He looked down at his name carved into your skin like it was a fine work of art.

"My beautiful girl, how you make me so happy" he cooed.

🍎🍎🍎

Bruno hated king Diavolo like many others in the his kingdom but as a prince he was obligated to attend  the soirèe that King Diavolo had organised. As he arrived he was given a mask from one of the servants. Inside he saw all of the luxuries that the king claimed for himself over the well being of his citizens.

Every masked attendee was of a higher status, generals, aristocrats, political figures or royalty. Many chatted away with drinks in hand or stood to admire all the works of art displayed around the palace but amongst all the crowd of masked stranger one stood out to the ravenette prince. A young (H/C) female who wore a black dress with red lace and a red mask with a white diamond pattern and black feathers.

The male approached her and became entranced by her beauty but soon it turned into disgust as the realised the golden bangles on her wrists were actually a pair of handcuffs, the golden chain draped along the ground and her elegant choker did not have ivory or jewels but another chain link which made it look more like a dog leash then a piece of jewelry.

Without a doubt the lady was a unwilling wife, not even a cocubine, just a slave. Yet the male still dared to speak to the young lady who's (E/C) eyes were hazy and lifeless.

"It's a wonderful night is it not?" Bruno asked in an attempt to start a conversation with you.

"Yes" you replied in a hushed tone.

"My name is Bruno Bucciallati and I am the prince of Bergian" he introduced himself with bow, you looked around before you spoke but we're quickly silenced by the rattle of your chains.

"Oh Prince Bucciallati it seems like years since I last saw you" a man in a similar mask to yours spoke to him in a voice of mocking delight.

"...and I see you have met my fianceé (Y/n)" he smiled as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Diavolo" you almost sung in delight, the life seemed to return to your eyes as you looked at him.

"You see Bruno my beautiful girl was considered as a treasure to here kingdom... They called her Snow White because she was the only child to ever be born alive on the first day of snow... They saw her as a blessing" Diavolo explained.

"they also saw great beauty in her... She was adopted into the royal bloodline and many saw her as a muse, many wrote songs and poems, many created paintings and sculptures to immortalize her beauty... Many all over the world claimed that she was the fairest of them all" he continued to brag, he had no shame in telling other of you like you were another trophy in his collection... You were simply another prize he had claimed from another conquered kingdom.

Bruno felt his blood boil, he knew what he thought of you all to well but he could only bite his tongue. You were a poor innocent girl that had been brainwashed into loving such a evil and cruel man. On the other had Diavolo knew that Bruno was already falling in love with you. He knew that you had a way of making people fall in love with you, even if it wasn't intentional.

A servant quickly broke the conversation between the King and Prince.

"Your majesty, the Huntsman of the east has arrived and is ready to speak with you" he whispered in Diavolo's ear, just loud enough for only him to hear.

"Take him to the drawing room on the west wing, I will meet him there" he ordered and the servant replied before leaving.

"I'm sorry Bruno but our reunion must come to an end, I have a few personal matters to attend to but I'm sure my dear (Y/n) is willing to keep you entertained until I return" Diavolo spoke as he handed Bruno the end of your chain before swiftly disappearing into the crowd as an orchestra hummed to life.

"Would you care to dance?" Bruno asked and you nodded in response as he took your gloved hand. As he lead you to the to the dance floor. He held you by the waist with his left arm while holding your hand with his right  as he gently took the lead of the waltz.

You tried your hardest to look away from the male, even if Diavolo had given you the permission to be with this stranger it still felt just as scandalous as if he hadn't.

"Have you ever done the waltz before?" Bruno asked.

"Yes... With my adoptive brother, but those times are long gone" you told him like your brother had died years ago but in reality it had only been a few weeks since he held you in his dying arm as you cried in fear and uncertainty.

And while you danced the night away Diavolo made his way to the drawing room. He open the door to see a masked man who's hair was as white as snow and pupils as red as blood amongst the deep black of his scelra.

"You requested my services your majesty?" He asked.

"Yes I did Risotto Nero, I have heard so much about you... I've been told that you are the best Huntsman in the land" he explained before sitting down, Risotto stood silently as he watched the king.

"I've heard you killed thousands... Men, women and monsters of many kinds, some tell me you have even slain a dragon" the king continued.

"However the job in which I'm tasking you with probably the easiest you've ever received"

"And that is?" Risotto asked.

"You see... I am to marry in a few weeks time however my future wife was a very persistent woman at first, she use to try to escape me... Luckily that has come to an end" he explained.

"I will have my guards take her to the forest tomorrow, they will then leave her there alone and that is where you come in. I want you to scare her, cut her up a little bit if you so desire. I want you to scare her to the point where she'll never leave my side" Diavolo concluded.

"And how much will you pay me?" The tall man asked.

"Oh so demanding... Well my offer is three bags of silver-"

"You expect me to do your dirty work for three bags of silver, it's an insult!" Risotto cut the king off with a scowl.

"A bargainer... Well maybe I could up it to five" Diavolo said but the male simply turn his back and headed towards the door.

"And a bag of precious jewels..." Diavolo added and Risotto turned back towards him.

"Will you take my offer now?" Diavolo asked and Risotto nodded in approval.

"Alright the it's set, I will have my servants show you to a room to stay in until the time comes.

🍎🍎🍎

"Where are you taking me?" You asked the guards.

"The king has ordered us to take you to the forest, he has a surprise waiting for you" one of the guards replied. Your conversation attracted the attention of Prince Bruno however soon his attention had shifted to the other hall in which was odd, surely the king would accompany his fianceé for such a thing.

Bruno silently stalked Diavolo around the castle until he saw him go through a secret passage. Bruno carefully followed, hiding behind any corner until Diavolo entered a small room with only a mirror inside, however the mirror did not reflect Diavolo but instead a man with long brown hair and deep red eyes. Bruno peered from behind the corner and watched.

"Hmm it seems you've let your little dove go, the question now is will she return?" The man in the mirror asked.

"I'm certain she will Illusio" Diavolo replied.

"You must be careful thou, if you seek to break the girl further she may just shatter like China... After all you can only break something so many times before it can no longer be fixed" the male chuckled.

"I'll have no need to break her again after this... Once the Huntsman of the east has done his job, I will no longer have to worry about such" Diavolo stated in a cold tone which shocked Bruno, may the king have possibly lost interest in the young lady and wanted to kill her off.

Bruno quickly ran away in search of you, hoping to catch you in time before the huntsman did. He ran though the castle and took one of the swords on display as he exited.

🍎🍎🍎

"Hello? Where did everyone go?" You called out as you realised that the guards had disappeared.

"Is anyone here" you called out again as anxiety built inside of you, had Diavolo found you no long of interest? Had he sent you to be eaten by wolves?

No it couldn't possibly be, Diavolo would come. You just had to wait and so you did. You waited with not a single word until you heard footsteps slowly approach.

"Diavo-" you called out as you turned your head only to see someone else.